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EPICURUS 
 Bronze Bust in National Museum, Naples. 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 BY 
 
 GEORGE LINCOLN WALTON, M.D. 
 
 CONSTJLTING NEUROLOGIST 
 TO THE MASSACHUSETTS GENERAL HOSPITAL 
 
 The legs of the stork are long, the legs 
 of the duck are short ; you cannot make 
 the legs of the stork short, neither can 
 you make the legs of the duck long. 
 Why v/oriy'^—Chwang Tsze. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA & LONDON 
 J. B. LIPPINCOTT COjVIPANY 
 
 1908 
 
 \ 
 
 Va 
 
 ^ C-^ 
 
UE;r/A«YofC©N6RESS 
 Two r.ies Hecw'ved 
 
 MAY 16 1908 
 
 
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 <.i-\ 
 
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 Copyright, 1907 
 By J. B. LippixcoTT Company 
 
 Copyright, 190S 
 By J. B. Lippincott Company 
 
 Published May, 1908 
 
 Printed by J. B. Lippincott Company 
 The Washington Square Press, Philadelphia, U. S. A. 
 
.r- 
 
 TO 
 
 MY LONG-SUFFERING FAMILY 
 
 AND 
 
 CIRCLE OP FRIENDS, 
 
 WHOSE PATIENCE HAS BEEN TRIED BY 
 
 MY EFFORTS TO ELIMINATE WORRY, THIS 
 
 BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 No apology is needed for adding 
 another to the treatises on a subject 
 whose importance is evidenced by the 
 number already offered the public. 
 
 The habit of worry is not to be 
 overcome by unaided resolution. It 
 is hoped that the victim of this un- 
 fortunate tendency may find, among 
 the homely illustrations and common- 
 place suggestions here offered, some- 
 thing to turn his mind into more 
 healthy channels. It is not the aim 
 of the writer to transform the busy 
 man into a philosopher of the indol- 
 ent and contemplative type, but 
 rather to enable him to do his work 
 more effectively by eliminating un- 
 due solicitude. This elimination is 
 consistent even with the ** strenuous 
 life." 
 
PREFACE 
 
 One writer has distinguislied be- 
 tween normal and abnormal worry, 
 and directed his efforts against the 
 latter. Webster's definition of worry 
 (A state of nndue solicitude) obvi- 
 ates the necessity of deciding what 
 degree and kind of worry is abnor- 
 mal, and directs attention rather to 
 deciding what degree of solicitude 
 may be fairly adjudged undue. 
 
 In the treatment of a subject of 
 this character a certain amount of 
 repetition is unavoidable. But it is 
 hoped that the reiteration of funda- 
 mental principles and of practical 
 hints will aid in the application of 
 the latter. The aim is the gradual 
 establishment of a frame of mind. 
 The reader who looks for the annihi- 
 lation of individual worries, or who 
 hopes to influence another by the 
 direct application of the suggestions, 
 
PREFACE 
 
 may prepare, in the first instance for 
 disappointment, in the second, for 
 trouble. 
 
 The thanks of the writer are due 
 to Miss Amy Morris Homans, Direc- 
 tor of the Boston Normal School of 
 Gymnastics, for requesting him to 
 make to her students the address 
 which forms the nucleus of these 
 
 pages. 
 
 George L. Walton. 
 
 Boston, April, 1908. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. Introductory 13 
 
 11. Epicurus as a Mental Healer 22 
 
 III. The Psycho - Therapy of Marcus 
 
 AURELIUS 30 
 
 IV. Analysis of Worry 39 
 
 V. Worry and Obsession 53 
 
 VI. The Doubting Folly 82 
 
 VII. Hyponchondria 101 
 
 VIII. Neurasthenia 129 
 
 IX. Sleeplessness 147 
 
 X. Occupation Neurosis 166 
 
 XI. The Worrier at Home 172 
 
 XII. The Worrier on his Travels 184 
 
 XIII. The Worrier at the Table 190 
 
 XVI. The Fear of Becoming Insane 197 
 
 XV. Recapitulatory 210 
 
 XVI. Maxims Misapplied 215 
 
 XVII. The Fad 222 
 
 XVIII. Home Treatment 242 
 
 XIX. Home Treatment Continued 259 
 
DEFINITIONS. 
 
 Worry. A state of undue solicitude. 
 
 Hypochondria. A morbid mental condition 
 characterized by undue solicitude regarding 
 the health, and undue attention to matters 
 thereto pertaining. 
 
 Obsession. An unduly insistent and compulsive 
 thought, habit of mind, or tendency to action. 
 
 Doubting Folly {Folie du doute.) A state of 
 mind characterized by a tendency unduly to 
 question, argue and speculate upon ordinary 
 matters. 
 
 Neurasthenia. A form of nervous disturbance 
 characterized by exhaustion and irritability. 
 
 Phobia. An insistent and engrossing fear with- 
 out adequate cause, as judged by ordinary 
 standards. 
 
 Occupation Neurosis. A nervous disorder in 
 which pain, sometimes with weakness and 
 cramp, results from continued use of a part. 
 
 Psycho-Therapy. Treatment through the mind. 
 
 No other technical terms are used. 
 
 H 
 
I. 
 
 INTRODUCTORY 
 
 When Thales was asked what was difficult he said, 
 " To know oneself " ; and what was easy, " To advise 
 another." 
 
 Marcus Aurelius counselled, '^Let 
 another pray, ^Save Thou my child,' 
 but do thou pray, ^Let me not fear to 
 lose him.' " 
 
 Few of us are likely to attain this 
 level; few, perhaps, aspire to do so. 
 Nevertheless, the training which falls 
 short of producing complete self-con- 
 trol may yet accomplish something in 
 the way of fitting us, by taking the 
 edge off our worry, to react more 
 comfortably to our surroundings, 
 thus not only rendering us more de- 
 sirable companions, but contribut- 
 ing directly to our own health and 
 happiness. 
 
 13 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 Under the ills produced by faulty 
 mental tendencies I do not include 
 cancer and the like. This inclusion 
 seems to me as subversive of the laws 
 of nature as the cure of such disease 
 by mental treatment would be mirac- 
 ulous. At the same time, serious 
 disorders siu^ely result from faulty 
 mental tendencies. 
 
 In this category we must include, 
 for example, hypochondria, a dis- 
 turbance shown by undue anxiety 
 concerning one's own physical and 
 mental condition. This disorder, 
 with the allied fears resulting from 
 the urgent desire to be always abso- 
 lutely safe, absolutely well, and 
 absolutely comfortable, is capable, in 
 extreme cases, of so narrowing the 
 circle of pleasure and of usefulness 
 that the sufferer might almost as well 
 have organic disease. 
 
 14 
 
INTRODUCTORY 
 
 Neurasthenia (nervous prostra- 
 tion) has for its immediate exciting 
 cause some overwork or stress of cir- 
 cumstance, but the sufferer not in- 
 frequently was already so far handi- 
 capped by regrets for the past, doubts 
 for the present, and anxieties for the 
 future, by attention to minute details 
 and by unwillingness to delegate re- 
 sponsibilities to others, that he was 
 exhausted by his own mental travail 
 before commencing upon the over- 
 work which precipitated his break- 
 down. In such cases the occasion of 
 the collapse may have been his work, 
 but the underlying cause was deeper. 
 Many neurasthenics who think they 
 are ^^all run down" are really ^^all 
 wound up." They carry their stress 
 with them. 
 
 Among the serious results of faulty 
 mental habit must be included also 
 
 15 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 the doubting folly {folie du doute). 
 The victim of this disorder is so 
 querulously anxious to make no mis- 
 take that he is forever returning to 
 see if he has turned out the gas, 
 locked the door, and the like; in ex- 
 treme cases he finally doubts the actu- 
 ality of his own sensations, and so far 
 succumbs to chronic indecision as 
 seriously to handicap his efforts. This 
 condition has been aptly termed a 
 ^^ spasm of the attention." 
 
 The apprehensive and fretful may 
 show, in varying degree, signs of 
 either or all these conditions, accord- 
 ing as circumstances may direct their 
 attention. 
 
 Passing from serious disorders to 
 minor sources of daily discomfort, 
 there are few individuals so mentally 
 gifted that they are impervious to the 
 distress occasioned by variations of 
 
 16 
 
INTRODUCTORY 
 
 temperature and of weather; to the 
 annoyance caused by criticism, neg- 
 lect, and lack of appreciation on the 
 part of their associates ; to active re- 
 sentment, even anger, upon moderate 
 provocation; to loss of temper when 
 exhausted; to embarrassment in un- 
 usual situations; to chronic inde- 
 cision; to the sleeplessness resulting 
 from mental preoccupation; and 
 above all, to the futile regrets, the 
 querulous doubts, and the undue 
 anxiety included under the term 
 worry, designated by a recent author 
 ^Hhe disease of the age." 
 
 Something may be accomplished in 
 the way of lessening all these ills by 
 continuous, properly directed effort 
 on the part of the individual. 
 Every inroad upon one faulty habit 
 strengthens the attack upon all, and 
 each gain means a step toward the 
 
 2 17 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 acquisition of a mental poise that 
 shall give its possessor comparative 
 immunity from the petty annoyances 
 of daily life. 
 
 In modern psycho-therapy the sug- 
 gestion^ whether on the part of the 
 physician or of the patient, plays a 
 prominent part, and it is in this di- 
 rection, aside from the advice regard- 
 ing occupation and relaxation, that 
 my propositions will trend. I shall 
 not include, however, suggestions de- 
 pending for their ef&cacy upon self- 
 deceit, such as might spring, for 
 example, from the proposition that 
 if we think there is a fire in the stove 
 it warms us, or that if we break a 
 pane in the bookcase thinking it a 
 window, we inhale with pleasure the 
 resulting change of air. The sug- 
 gestions are intended to appeal to 
 the reason, rather than to the 
 imagination. 
 
 18 
 
INTRODUCTORY 
 
 The special aim will be to pay at- 
 tention to the different varieties of 
 worry, and to offer easily understood 
 and commonplace suggestions which 
 any one may practice daily and con- 
 tiimously, at last automatically, with- 
 out interfering with his routine work 
 or recreation. Indeed the tranquil 
 mind aids, rather than hinders, effi- 
 cient work, by enabling its possessor 
 to pass from duty to duty without the 
 hindrance of undue solicitude. 
 
 In advising the constitutional wor- 
 rier the chief trouble the physician 
 finds is an active opposition on the 
 part of the patient. Instead of ac- 
 cepting another's estimate of his con- 
 dition, and another's suggestions for 
 its relief, he comes with a precon- 
 ceived notion of his own difiiculties, 
 and with an insistent demand for 
 their instant relief by drug or other- 
 
 19 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 wise. He uses up his mental energy, 
 and loses his temper, in the effort to 
 convince his physician that he is not 
 argumentative. In a less unreason- 
 able, but equally difficult class, come 
 those who recognize the likeness in 
 the portrait painted by the con- 
 sultant, but who say they have tried 
 everything he suggests, but simply 
 ^^can't.'' 
 
 It is my hope that some of the 
 argumentative class may recognize, 
 in my description, their own case in- 
 stead of their neighbor's, and may of 
 their own initiative adopt some of the 
 suggestions; moreover, that some of 
 the acquiescent, but despairing class 
 will renew their efforts in a different 
 spirit. The aim is, not to accomplish 
 a complete and sudden cure, but to 
 gain something every day, or if losing 
 a little to-day, to gain a little to-mor- 
 
 20 
 
INTRODUCTORY 
 
 row, and ultimately to find one's self 
 on a somewhat higher plane, with- 
 out discouragement though not com- 
 pletely freed from the trammels 
 entailed by faulty mental habit. 
 
 21 
 
11. 
 
 EPICURUS AS A MENTAL HEALER 
 
 'Tis to believe what men inspired of old, 
 Faithful, and faithfully informed, unfold. 
 
 Cowper. 
 
 The suggestions offered in the 
 following pages are not new. Many 
 of them were voiced by Epicurus 
 three hundred years before Christ, 
 and even then were ancient history. 
 Unfortunately Epicurus had his de- 
 tractors. One, Timocrates, in par- 
 ticular, a renegade from his school, 
 spread malicious and unfounded re- 
 ports of his doings and sayings, 
 reports too easily credited then, and 
 starting, perhaps, the misconception 
 which to-day prevails regarding the 
 aims of this philosopher. 
 
 But when Marcus Aurelius, nearly 
 
 22 
 
EPICURUS AS A MENTAJL HEALER 
 
 five centuries later, decided to endow 
 a philosophical professoriate he es- 
 tablished the Epicurean as one of the 
 four standard schools. The endorse- 
 ment of such a one should surely pre- 
 dispose us to believe the authentic 
 commentators of Epicurus, and to 
 discredit the popular notion which 
 makes his cult synonymous with the 
 gratification of the appetites, instead 
 of with the mental tranquility to 
 which he regarded sensual pleasures 
 so detrimental that he practically 
 limited his diet, and that of his dis- 
 ciples, to bread and water. 
 
 It is of special encouragement to 
 such of us as painfully realize our 
 meagre equipment for reaching a 
 high plane of self-control, to learn 
 that Epicurus was by nature delicate 
 and sensitive. At seven years of age, 
 we are told, he could not support him- 
 
 23 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 self on tiptoe, and called himself the 
 feeblest of boys. It is said that in 
 his boyhood he had to be lifted from 
 his chair, that he could not look on 
 the sun or a fire, and that his skin was 
 so tender as to prevent his wearing 
 any dress beyond a simple tunic. 
 These physical characteristics sug- 
 gest the makings of a first class 
 '^fuss" and inveterate worrier. In 
 this event his emancipation from 
 such tendencies must have been due 
 to the practice of his own philosophy. 
 
 As an antidote for the fear of death 
 and the miraculous in the heavens 
 Epicurus urges the study of Nature, 
 showing his appreciation of the fact 
 that one thought can only be driven 
 out by another, as well as of the im- 
 portance of the open air treatment 
 of depressing fears. 
 
 That he recognized the doubting 
 
 24 
 
EPICURUS AS A MENTAL HEALER 
 
 folly and its evils is shown by the fol- 
 lowing Maxim for the Wise man : 
 
 ^^He shall be steady in his opinion 
 and not wavering and doubtful in 
 everything." 
 
 To the hypochondriac he said: 
 
 ^^ Health in the opinion of some is 
 a precious thing; others rank it 
 among the indifferent." Again: 
 
 ^^If the body be attacked by a 
 violent pain the evil soon has an 
 end; if, on the contrary, the pain be 
 languishing and of long duration it is 
 sensible beyond all doubt of some 
 pleasure therefrom. Thus, most 
 chronical distempers have intervals 
 that afford us more satisfaction and 
 ease than the distempers we labor un- 
 der cause pain." And further: 
 
 ^*The Wise man takes care to pre- 
 serve the unequivocable blessing of 
 an undisturbed and quiet mind even 
 
 25 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 amidst the groans and complaints 
 which excess of pain extorts from 
 him." He states, again, that one can 
 be happy though blind. 
 
 Regarding insomnia, he recognized 
 the futility of expecting restful sleep 
 to follow a day of fret and worry. He 
 says: 
 
 ^^He shall enjoy the same tranquil- 
 ity in his sleep as when awake.'' 
 
 Epicurus realized that the appar- 
 ent inability of the old to acquire new 
 habits is due rather to lack of atten- 
 tion, and to indifference or preoccu- 
 pation, than to lack of aptitude. He 
 placed, in fact, no limit to the age 
 for learning new methods, stating in 
 his letter to Meneceus, — 
 
 ^* Youth is no obstacle to the study 
 of philosophy — neither ought we to 
 be ashamed to concentrate our later 
 years to the labor of speculation. 
 
 26 
 
EPICURUS AS A MENTAL HEALER 
 
 Man has no time limit for learning, 
 and ought never to want strength to 
 cure his mind of all the evils that 
 afflict it." 
 
 Epicurus does not counsel seclusion 
 for the cultivation of tranquility, but 
 holds that mental equipoise ^^may be 
 maintained though one mingles with 
 the world, provided he keeps with- 
 in the bounds of temperance, and 
 limits his desires to what is easily 
 obtained." 
 
 Curiously enough, in view of the 
 idea of epicureanism which has be- 
 come proverbial, Epicurus regards 
 the avoidance of excess a logical and 
 necessary step toward the tranquil 
 life, and among other admonitions is 
 found the following Maxim : 
 
 *^The Wise man ought never to 
 drink to excess, neither must he spend 
 the nights revelling and feasting." 
 
 27 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 We may conclude our selection 
 from tlie Maxims of Epicurus by one 
 which strikes a body-blow at worry 
 and the allied faulty mental habits : 
 
 ^^That being who is happy and im- 
 mortal is in no way solicitous or 
 uneasy on any account, neither does 
 he torment or tease others; anger is 
 unworthy of his greatness . . . for 
 all these things are the property of 
 weakness." 
 
 Such then, was the real Epicurus, 
 not a seeker after effeminate luxury, 
 but a chaste and frugal philosopher, 
 serene of mien, and of gentle dis- 
 position, firm in his friendships, 
 but sacrificing to them none of the 
 high ideals which characterized his 
 thought. He erred, doubtless, in the 
 avoidance of responsibilities and in 
 narrowing his efforts to promoting 
 the happiness of his own immediate 
 
 28 
 
EPICURUS AS A MENTAL HEALER 
 
 circle, but he was fearless in the de- 
 fence of his principles and steadfast 
 in the pursuit of the tranquility 
 which for him included truth. 
 
III. 
 
 MARCUS AURELIUS 
 
 Such a body of teachers distinguished by their 
 
 acquirements and character will hardly be collected 
 
 again ; and as to the pupil, we have not had another 
 
 like him since. 
 
 Long. 
 
 Marcus Aurelius Antoninus^ the 
 philosopher - Emperor, showed by 
 practice as well as by precept that the 
 tranquil mind is not incompatible 
 with a life of action. Destined from 
 birth to stand at the head of a great 
 empire engaged in distant wars, 
 threatened by barbaric invasion, and 
 not without internal dissention, he 
 was prepared not only to command 
 armies but to govern himself. For- 
 tunately we are not without a clue to 
 his methods — ^he not only had the best 
 
 of teachers, but continued his train- 
 so 
 
MARCUS AURELIUS 
 
 ing all through his life. When we 
 consider his labors, the claim of the 
 busy man of to-day that he has ^^no 
 time" seems almost frivolous. 
 
 The thoughts of Marcus Aurelius 
 (of which the following citations are 
 from Long's translation) were writ- 
 ten, not for self exploitation, or from 
 delight in rounded periods, but for 
 his own guidance. That he was in 
 fact guided by his principles no bet- 
 ter illustration offers than his mag- 
 nanimity toward the adherents of one 
 who would have usurped the throne 
 of the Caesars. The observation of 
 Long that fine thoughts and moral 
 dissertations from men who have not 
 worked and suffered may be read, but 
 will be forgotten, seems to have been 
 exemplified in the comparative ob- 
 livion into which the philosophy of 
 Epicurus has fallen. 
 
 31 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 It is with the ethical side of the 
 philosophy of Marcus Aurelius that 
 we are concerned, and with that por- 
 tion only which bears on the question 
 of mental equipoise. 
 
 ^' Begin the morning," he says, ^^by 
 saying to thyself, I shall meet with 
 the busybody, the ungrateful, arro- 
 gant, deceitful, envious, unsocial. All 
 these things happen to them by rea- 
 son of their ignorance of what is good 
 and evil." 
 
 With regard to the habit of seclu- 
 sion common among the self-con- 
 scious, he says: 
 
 *^If thou didst ever see a hand cut 
 off, or a foot, or a head, lying any- 
 where apart from the rest of the 
 body, such does a man make himself, 
 as far as he can, who is not content 
 with what happens, and separates 
 himself from others, or does anv 
 
 32 
 
MARCUS AURELIUS 
 
 thing unsocial. Suppose that thou 
 hast detached thyself from the 
 natural unity — for thou wast made 
 by nature a part, but now thou hast 
 cut thyself off — yet here there is this 
 beautiful provision, that it is in thy 
 power again to unite thyself. God 
 has allowed this to no other part, 
 after it has been separated and cut 
 asunder, to come together again. But 
 consider the kindness by which he has 
 distinguished man, for he has put it 
 in his power not to be separated at all 
 from the universal ; and when he has 
 been separated, he has allowed him 
 to return and to resume his place as a 
 part." 
 
 On the futile foreboding which 
 plays so large a part in the tribulation 
 of the worrier, he says : 
 
 ^^Do not disturb thyself by think- 
 ing of the whole of thy life. Let not 
 
 3 33 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 thy thoughts at once embrace all the 
 various troubles which thou mayest 
 expect to befall thee; but on every 
 occasion ask thyself, What is there 
 in this which is intolerable and past 
 bearing? for thou wilt be ashamed to 
 confess. In the next place remember 
 that neither the future nor the past 
 pains thee, but only the present. But 
 this is reduced to a very little, if thou 
 only circumscribest it, and chidest 
 thy mind, if it is unable to hold out 
 against even this." Again: **Let 
 not future things disturb thee, for 
 thou wilt come to them, if it shall be 
 necessary, having with thee the same 
 reason which now thou usest for 
 present things." 
 
 On the dismissal of useless fret, 
 and concentration upon the work in 
 hand, he says : 
 
 ^^ Labor not as one who is wretched, 
 
 34 
 
MARCUS AURELIUS 
 
 nor yet as one who would be pitied or 
 admired; but direct thy will to one 
 thing only, to put thyself in motion 
 and to check thyself, as the social rea- 
 son requires." 
 
 Regarding senseless fears he coun- 
 sels: 
 
 ^^What need is there of suspicious 
 fear, since it is in thy power to in- 
 quire what ought to be done? And 
 if thou seest clear, go by this way con- 
 tent, without turning back: but if 
 thou dost not see clear, stop and take 
 the best advisers. But if any other 
 things oppose thee, go on according 
 to thy powers with due consideration, 
 keeping to that which appears to be 
 just. For it is best to reach this ob- 
 ject, and if thou dost fail, let thy 
 failure be in attempting this. He 
 who follows reason in all things is 
 both tranquil and active at the same 
 
 35 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 time, and also cheerful and collected." 
 
 On irritation at tlie conduct of 
 others : 
 
 ^^When thou art offended with any 
 man's shameless conduct, immedi- 
 ately ask thyself. Is it possible, then, 
 that shameless men should not be in 
 the world? It is not possible. Do 
 not, then, require what is impossible. 
 For this man also is one of those 
 shameless men who must of necessity 
 be in the world. Let the same con- 
 siderations be present in thy mind 
 in the case of the knave and the faith- 
 less man, and of every man who does 
 wrong in any way." 
 
 Regarding the hypochondriacal ten- 
 dency he reverts to Epicurus, thus: 
 
 *^ Epicurus says. In my sickness 
 my conversation was not about my 
 bodily sufferings, nor did I talk on 
 such subjects to those who visited me ; 
 
 36 
 
MARCUS AURELIUS 
 
 but I continued to discourse on the 
 nature of things as before, keeping to 
 this main point, how the mind, while 
 participating in such movements as 
 go on in the poor flesh, shall be free 
 from perturbations and maintain its 
 proper good. . . . Do, then, the same 
 that he did both in sickness, if thou 
 art sick, and in any other circum- 
 stances ; . . . but to be intent only on 
 that which thou art now doing and 
 on the instrument by which thou 
 doest it." 
 
 These quotations will serve to show 
 the trend of the reflections of this re- 
 markable man. After reviewing this 
 epitome of ethical philosophy I might 
 stop and counsel the worrier to study 
 the thoughts of Marcus Aurelius and 
 other philosophers, whose practical 
 suggestions are similar, notwith- 
 standing their diversity of views re- 
 
 37 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 garding the ultimate object of the 
 training. I shall venture, however, to 
 elaborate the subject from the pres- 
 ent view-point, even though the prin- 
 ciples of Marcus Aurelius are as 
 applicable now as they were in the 
 days of the Roman Empire. 
 
 No reminder is needed of the 
 wealth and efficacy of suggestion in 
 the Book which contains the state- 
 ment that ^Hhe Kingdom of God is 
 within you,'' and that ^^A merry 
 heart doeth good like a medicine ; but 
 a broken spirit drieth the bones." 
 One of its suggestions was paralleled 
 by the philosopher-poet when he 
 wrote : 
 
 " Latius regnes avidum domando 
 Spiritiim, quam si Libyam remotis 
 Gadibus iungas et uterque Poenus 
 Serviat uni." 
 
 38 
 
IV. 
 
 ANALYSIS OF WORRY 
 
 Of these points the principal and most urgent is 
 that which reaches the passions; for passion is pro- 
 duced no otherwise than by a disappointment of 
 one's desires and an incurring of one's aversions. 
 It is this which introduces perturbations, tumults, 
 misfortunes, and calamities; this is the spring of 
 sorrow, lamentation and envy; this renders us en- 
 vious and emulous, and incapable of hearing reason. 
 
 Epictetus. 
 
 Under this rather pretentious title 
 an attempt is made to indicate certain 
 elements of worry. No claim is made 
 that the treatment of the subject is 
 exhaustive. 
 
 The motto '^ Don't "Worry" has in- 
 spired many homilies. But the mere 
 resolve to follow this guide to hap- 
 piness will no more instantaneously 
 free one from the meshes of worry 
 than the resolve to perform a difficult 
 
 39 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 gymnastic feat will insure its imme- 
 diate accomplisliment. 
 
 The evils of worry as well as of its 
 frequent associate, anger, have been 
 dwelt upon by writers philosophical, 
 religious, and medical. ^^ Worry,'' 
 says one author, ^^is the root of all 
 cowardly passions, — jealousy, fear, 
 the belittling of self, and all the intro- 
 spective forms of depression are the 
 children of worry." The symptoms 
 and the evil results seem to receive 
 more elaborate and detailed attention 
 than the treatment. ^^ Eliminate it," 
 counsels this writer; '^ Don't worry," 
 advises another. ^^Such advice is 
 superficial," says their critic, *4t can 
 only be subdued by our ascending 
 into a higher atmosphere, where we 
 are able to look do^vn and compre- 
 hend the just proportions of life." 
 ''Cultivate a quiet and peaceful 
 
 40 
 
ANALYSIS OF WORRY 
 
 frame of mind," urges another; and 
 still another advises us to *^ occupy 
 the mind with better things, and the 
 best — is a habit of confidence and 
 repose." 
 
 From such counsel the average in- 
 dividual succeeds in extracting noth- 
 ing tangible. The last writer of those 
 I have quoted comes perhaps the 
 nearest to something definite in di- 
 recting us to occupy the mind with 
 better things; in the suggestions I 
 have to offer the important feature 
 is the effort to replace one thought by 
 another, though not necessarily by a 
 better one. If we succeed in doing 
 this, we are making a step toward 
 acquiring the habit of confidence and 
 repose. 
 
 The simple admonition not to 
 worry is like advising one not to walk 
 awkwardly who has never learned 
 
 41 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 to walk otherwise. If we can find 
 some of the simpler elements out of 
 which worry is constructed, and can 
 learn to direct our attack against 
 these, the proposition ^^ Don't worry" 
 will begin to assiune a tangible form. 
 
 We can at least go back one step, 
 and realize that it is by way of the 
 unduly insistent thought that most of 
 these faulty mental habits become es- 
 tablished. It might be claimed that 
 fear deserves first mention, but the 
 insistent thought in a way includes 
 fear, and in many cases is indepen- 
 dent of it. 
 
 The insistent thought magnifies by 
 concentration of attention, and by 
 repetition, the origin of the worry. If 
 my thoughts dwell on my desire for 
 an automobile this subject finally ex- 
 cludes all others, and the automobile 
 becomes, for the time being, the most 
 
 42 
 
ANALYSIS OF WORRY 
 
 important thing in the world, hence 
 I worry. Into this worry conies no 
 suggestion of fear — this emotion 
 would be more appropriate, perhaps, 
 if I acquired the automobile and 
 attempted to run it. If, now, I 
 have trained myself to concentrate 
 my attention elsewhere before such 
 thoughts become coercive, the auto- 
 mobile quickly assumes its proper 
 relation to other things, and there is 
 no occasion for worry. This habit of 
 mind once acquired regarding the un- 
 essentials of life, it is remarkable how 
 quickly it adapts itself to really im- 
 portant matters. 
 
 Take a somewhat more serious 
 question. I fear I may make a 
 blunder. If I harbor the thought, my 
 mind is so filled with the disastrous 
 consequences of the possible blunder 
 that I finally either abandon the un- 
 
 43 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 dertaking or approach it with a trepi- 
 dation that invites failure. If, on the 
 other hand, I have learned to say that 
 even if I make a blunder it will only 
 add to my experience, then apply my- 
 self whole-minded to the task, I have 
 made a direct attack on worry. 
 
 The qualification unduly is not to 
 be forgotten ; a certain discrimination 
 must be exercised before entirely con- 
 demning the insistent thought. The 
 insistent thought that one's family 
 must be fed is not a morbid sign. In 
 fact, he also errs who can eliminate 
 this thought and enjoy the ball game. 
 It is not for the deviate of this type 
 that I am writing. Nevertheless, the 
 over-solicitous victim of the '^New 
 England Conscience" can almost af- 
 ford to take a few lessons from the 
 ne'er-do-weel. 
 
 The practical bearing of this at- 
 
 44 
 
ANALYSIS OF WORRY 
 
 tempt to analyze worry is obvious. If 
 it is through the insistent desire for 
 an automobile that I worry, I must 
 bring my training to bear, not on the 
 worry, which is elusive, but on the 
 desire, which is definite. I must 
 fortify myself with what philosophy 
 I can acquire, and must console my- 
 self with such compensations as my 
 situation may offer; and above all, I 
 must get hiisy, and occupy hands and 
 brain with something else. If, on my 
 travels, I worry over the sluggish 
 movement of the train, it is because 
 of the insistent thought that I must 
 arrive on time. In this event I 
 should practice subduing the insistent 
 thought, rather than vaguely direct 
 my efforts against the worry. In the 
 majority of cases I can bring myself 
 to realize that the question of my 
 arrival is not vital. Even in case I 
 
 45 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 am missing an important engagement 
 I may modify the dominance of the 
 thought by reflecting that I cannot 
 expect to be wholly immune from the 
 misfortunes of mankind ; it is due me, 
 at least once in a lifetime, to miss an 
 important engagement, — why fret 
 because this happens to be the ap- 
 pointed time? Why not occupy my 
 thoughts more profitably than in re- 
 hearsing the varied features of this 
 unavoidable annoyance? 
 
 If we fret about the weather it is 
 because of an insistent desire that the 
 weather shall conform to our idea of 
 its seasonableness. If we complain of 
 the chill of May it is not because the 
 cold is really unbearable, but because 
 we wonder if spring will ever come. 
 If we fume on a hot day in July it is 
 because the weather is altogether too 
 seasonable to suit us. 
 
 46 
 
ANALYSIS OF WORRY 
 
 We spend far too mucli thought on 
 the weather, a subject that really de- 
 serves little attention except by those 
 whose livelihood and safety depend 
 upon it. Suppose a runaway passes 
 the window at which we are sitting, 
 with collar off, handkerchief to our 
 heated brow, squirming to escape our 
 moist and clinging garments, and be- 
 ing generally miserable. We rush out 
 of doors to watch his course, and for 
 the next few minutes we do not know 
 whether it is hot or cold, perspiring 
 less during our exertions, I strongly 
 suspect, than we did while sitting in 
 the chair. At all events, it is obvious 
 that our thoughts played quite as 
 great a part in our discomfort as did 
 the heat of the day. 
 
 Suppose now, instead of devoting 
 all our attention to the weather we 
 should reason somewhat as follows: 
 
 47 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 As long as I live on this particular 
 planet, I shall be subject perhaps 
 three days out of four, to atmospheric 
 conditions which do not suit me. Is 
 it worth my while to fret during those 
 three days and to make it up by being 
 elated on the fourth? Why not oc- 
 cupy myself with something else and 
 leave the weather for those who have 
 no other resource? Or, as someone 
 has said, why not ^^make friends with 
 the weather?" If one will cultivate 
 this frame of mind he will be sur- 
 prised to find that a certain physical 
 relief will follow. In the first place, 
 he will lessen the excessive perspira- 
 tion which is the invariable accom- 
 paniment of fret, and which in its 
 turn produces more discomfort than 
 the heat itself. 
 
 We have selected, so far, the com- 
 paratively unimportant sources of 
 
 48 
 
ANALYSIS OF WORRY 
 
 mental discomfort, fret, and worry. 
 The reader who can truthfully say 
 that such annoyances play no part in 
 his mental tribulations may pass 
 them and accept congratulations. The 
 reader who cannot be thus con- 
 gratulated, but who is impatient to 
 attack the major sources of worry, 
 must be reminded at this point that he 
 must practice on the little worries 
 before he can accomplish anything 
 with the great. The method is the 
 same. The philosophy that will make 
 us content with the weather will do 
 something toward establishing the 
 mental poise which shall enable us to 
 withstand with comparative equa- 
 nimity the most tragic of misfortunes 
 that may fall to our lot. 
 
 To draw an example from the more 
 serious disorders, let us consider the 
 hypochondriac, who harbors the in- 
 
 4 49 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 sistent thought that he must be al- 
 ways perfectly well, that each of his 
 sensations must conform to his ideal, 
 and that each function must follow 
 regulations imposed by himself. If 
 he can learn to ignore this thought by 
 realizing that an acute illness is 
 preferable to life-long mental cap- 
 tivity; if he can learn to do what 
 others do, and to concentrate his 
 energies on outside affairs which shall 
 displace the question of health ; if he 
 can learn to say ^^What I am doing 
 is more important than how I am 
 feeling;^' he will have cured his 
 hypochondria. 
 
 In the foundation of the structure 
 we are studying is found exaggerated 
 self -consciousness. Whatever is said, 
 done, or left undone, by others is 
 analyzed by the worrier with refer- 
 ence to its bearing on himself. If 
 
 50 
 
ANALYSIS OF WORRY 
 
 others are indifferent it depresses 
 liim, if they appear interested they 
 have an ulterior motive, if they look 
 serious he must have displeased them, 
 if they smile it is because he is ridicu- 
 lous. That they are thinking of their 
 own affairs is the last thought to enter 
 his mind. 
 
 I suppose it would be an affectation 
 for any of us to deny that, as far as 
 we are concerned, we are the centre 
 of the universe. This conceit does us 
 no harm so long as we remember that 
 there are as many centres of the uni- 
 verse as there are people, cats, mice 
 and other thinking animals. When we 
 forget this our troubles begin. If I 
 enter a strange shop and find they 
 desire security, need I take this as a 
 reflection on my credit? Need I ex- 
 pect to be invited to every entertain- 
 ment I should like to attend, and to be 
 
 51 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 excused from those that bore me, and 
 shall I make no allowance for the atti- 
 tude of my host? Is it not rather 
 egotistic for me to suppose that 
 others are vitally interested in the 
 fact that I blush, tremble, or am awk- 
 ward ? Why then should I allow my 
 conduct to be influenced by such 
 trivial matters 'F 
 
 The order of training is, then, gen- 
 erally, to modify our self -conscious- 
 ness by externalizing our thoughts 
 and broadening our interests; speci- 
 fically, to eliminate the unduly in- 
 sistent habit of thought. 
 
 This analysis of worry and allied 
 mental states may facilitate such 
 training, but the practical value of 
 the suggestions does not depend upon 
 the acceptance of these theoretical 
 considerations. 
 
 52 
 
V. 
 
 WORRY AND OBSESSION 
 
 So much are men enured in their miserable estate, 
 that no condition is so poore, but they will accept; 
 so they may continue in the same. 
 
 Florio's Montaigne. 
 
 ^^You may as well be eaten by the 
 fishes as by the worms," said the 
 daughter of a naval commander to me 
 one day, when discussing the perils 
 of the sea. Such philosophy, applied 
 to each of the vexatious and danger- 
 ous situations of daily life, would go 
 far toward casting out worry. 
 
 We have already referred to two 
 important elements at the foimda- 
 tion, and in the framework, of the 
 elaborate superstructures we rear 
 with such material as worry, doubts, 
 fears and scruples. The first is exag- 
 
 53 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 gerated self -consciousness, the second 
 the tendency to succumb to the com- 
 pelling thought or impluse, tech- 
 nically termed oisession. 
 
 With regard to self -consciousness, 
 the worrier wdll generally realize that 
 even as a child he was exceptionally 
 sensitive to criticism, censure, ridi- 
 cule and neglect. He was prone to 
 brood over his wrongs, to play the 
 martyr, and to suffer wdth peculiar 
 keenness the ^' slings and arrows of 
 outrageous fortime.'' I remember 
 once leaving the table on account of 
 some censure or careless remark. I 
 fancied I had thrown the whole 
 family into a panic of contrition. On 
 the first opportunity, I asked what 
 they had said about it, and was told 
 that they had apparently not noticed 
 my departure. This salutary lesson 
 prevented repetition of the act. 
 
 54 
 
WORRY AND OBSESSION 
 
 To the self-conscious person the 
 mere entrance into a public vehicle 
 may prove an ordeal. It is hard for 
 him to realize that the general gaze 
 has no peculiar relation to himself, 
 and that if the gaze is prolonged this 
 is due to no peculiarity of his beyond 
 the blush or the trepidation that be- 
 trays his feeling. If he can acquire 
 indifference to this feature of his case, 
 through the reflection that to others 
 it is only a passing incident, the blush 
 and the trepidation will promptly 
 disappear, and a step will have been 
 taken towards gaining the self-con- 
 trol for which he aims. 
 
 The usual cause of stage-fright is 
 exaggerated self -consciousness. The 
 sufferer from stage-fright can hardly 
 fail to be a worrier. A certain shy- 
 ness, it would seem, may also result 
 from too acute a consciousness of 
 
 55 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 one's audience, as in the case of 
 Tennyson, whom Benson quotes thus : 
 
 ^' I am never the least shy before 
 great men. Each of them has a per- 
 sonality for which he or she is re- 
 sponsible; but before a crowd which 
 consists of many personalities, of 
 which I know nothing, I am infi- 
 nitely shy. The great orator cares 
 nothing about all this. I think of the 
 good man, and the bad man, and the 
 mad man, that may be among them, 
 and can say nothing. He takes them 
 all as one man. He sways them as 
 one man." 
 
 This, I take it, hardly spelled stage- 
 fright. At the same time, it is im- 
 probable that one so sensitive to 
 criticism meant to convey the impres- 
 sion that it was of his audience alone 
 he thought in shrinking from the 
 effort. 
 
 56 
 
WORRY AND OBSESSION 
 
 It appears that Washington Irving 
 suffered from actual stage-fright. 
 
 In the Library edition of Irving 's 
 works appears the following anecdote 
 from the reminiscences of Mrs. Julia 
 Ward Howe, then a young woman of 
 twenty-three : 
 
 ''I was present, with other ladies, 
 at a public dinner given in honor of 
 Charles Dickens by prominent citi- 
 zens of New York. The ladies were 
 not bidden to the feast, but were al- 
 lowed to occupy a small ante-room 
 which, through an open door, com- 
 manded a view of the tables. When 
 the speaking was about to begin, a 
 message came suggesting that we take 
 possession of some vacant seats at the 
 great table. This we were glad to do. 
 Washington Irving was president of 
 the evening, and upon him devolved 
 the duty of inaugurating the proceed- 
 
 57 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 ings by an address of welcome to the 
 distinguished guest. People who sat 
 near me whispered, ^He'U break 
 down, — ^he always does.' Mr. Irving 
 rose and uttered a sentence or two. 
 His friends interrupted him by ap- 
 plause, which was intended to encour- 
 age him, but which entirely overthrew 
 his self-possession. He hesitated, 
 stammered, and sat down, saying, *I 
 cannot go on.' " 
 
 Cavendish, the chemist, suffered 
 from a constitutional shyness attrib- 
 utable only to self-consciousness. He 
 is said to have carried so far his aver- 
 sion to contact with others, outside of 
 his colleagues, that his dinner was 
 always ordered by means of a note, 
 and instant dismissal awaited the 
 female domestic who should venture 
 within his range of vision. 
 
 Lombroso cites, among his ^'Men 
 
 58 
 
WORRY AND OBSESSION 
 
 of Genius," quite a list — Corneille, 
 Descartes, Virgil, Addison, La Fon- 
 taine, Dryden, Manzoni, and Newton 
 — of those who could not express 
 themselves in public. Whatever part 
 self -consciousness played in the indi- 
 vidual case, we must class the pecu- 
 liarity among the defects, not signs, 
 of genius. ''A tender heel makes no 
 man an Achilles." 
 
 To the second faulty habit, obses- 
 sion, I wish to devote special atten- 
 tion. This word we have already 
 defined as an unduly insistent and 
 compulsive thought, habit of mind, or 
 tendency to action. The person so 
 burdened is said to be obsessed. 
 
 Few children are quite free from 
 obsession. Some must step on stones ; 
 others must walk on, or avoid, cracks ; 
 some must ascend the stairs with the 
 
 59 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 right foot first ; many must kick posts 
 or touch objects a certain number of 
 times. Some must count the windows, 
 pictures, and figures on the wall- 
 paper; some must bite the nails or 
 pull the eye-winkers. Consider the 
 nail-biter. It cannot be said that he 
 toils not, but to what end? Merely 
 to gratify an obsession. He nibbles a 
 little here and a little there, he 
 frowns, elevates his elbow, and inverts 
 his finger to reach an otherwise inac- 
 cessible corner. Does he enjoy it? 
 No, not exactly; but he would be 
 miserable if he discontinued. 
 
 An unusual, but characteristic ob- 
 session is told by a lady in describing 
 her own childhood. She thought that 
 on retiring she must touch nothing 
 with her hands, after she had washed 
 them, until she touched the inside of 
 the sheets. In case she failed she 
 
 60 
 
WORRY AND OBSESSION 
 
 must return and wash the hands 
 again. The resulting manoeuvres are 
 still fresh in her mind, particularly 
 when her sister had preceded her to 
 bed and she had to climb the foot- 
 board. 
 
 It is during childhood that we form 
 most of the automatic habits which 
 are to save time and thought in later 
 life, and it is not surprising that some 
 foolish habits creep in. As a rule, 
 children drop these tendencies at 
 need, just as they drop the roles 
 assumed in play, though they are 
 sometimes so absorbing as to cause 
 inconvenience. An interesting in- 
 stance was that of the boy who had to 
 touch every one wearing anything 
 red. On one occasion his whole family 
 lost their train because of the preva- 
 lence of this color among those wait- 
 ing in the station. 
 
 61 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 The longer these tendencies are re- 
 tained in adult life, the greater the 
 danger of their becoming coercive; 
 and so far as the well-established case 
 is concerned the obsessive act must be 
 performed, though the business, so- 
 cial, and political world should come 
 to a stand-still. Among the stories 
 told in illustration of compulsive ten- 
 dency in the great, may be instanced 
 the touching of posts, and the placing 
 of a certain foot first, in the case of 
 Dr. Johnson, who, it appears, would 
 actually retrace his steps and repeat 
 the act which failed to satisfy his re- 
 quirements, with the air of one with 
 something off his mind. 
 
 A child who must kick posts is 
 father to the man who cannot eat an 
 egg which has been boiled either more 
 or less than four minutes ; who cannot 
 work without absolute silence; who 
 
 62 
 
WORRY AND OBSESSION 
 
 cannot sleep if steam-pipes crackle; 
 and who must straighten out all the 
 tangles of his life, past, present, and 
 future, before he can close his eyes in 
 slumber or take a vacation. The boy 
 Carlyle, proud, shy, sensitive, and 
 pugnacious, was father to the man 
 who made war upon the neighbor's 
 poultry, and had a room, proof 
 against sound, specially constructed 
 for his literary labors. 
 
 The passive obsessions are pecu- 
 liarly provocative of worry. Such 
 are extreme aversions to certain 
 animals, foods, smells, sounds, and 
 sights, or insistent discomfort if af- 
 fairs are not ordered to our liking. 
 !A gentleman once told me that at 
 the concert he did not mind if his 
 neighbor followed the score, but when 
 he consulted his programme during 
 
 63 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 the performance it distressed Mm 
 greatly. 
 
 Such instances illustrate the fact 
 that when our obsessions rule us it is 
 not the noise or the sight, but our idea 
 of the fitness of things, that deter- 
 mines the degree of our annoyance. 
 A person w^ho cannot endure the 
 crackling of the steam-pipe can listen 
 with pleasure to the crackling of an 
 open fire or the noise of a running 
 brook. 
 
 It is said that the sensitive and 
 emotional Erasmus had so delicate a 
 digestion that he could neither eat 
 fish nor endure the smell of it ; but we 
 are led to suspect that obsession 
 played a part in his troubles when we 
 further learn that he could not bear 
 an iron stove in the room in which he 
 worked, but had to have either a 
 porcelain stove or an open fire. 
 
 64 
 
WORRY AND OBSESSION 
 
 If we can trust the sources from 
 which Charles Eeade drew his deduc- 
 tions regarding the character of the 
 parental stock, Erasmus came fairly 
 by his sensitive disposition. In ' ' The 
 Cloister and the Hearth" we find the 
 father of Erasmus, fleeing from his 
 native land, in fear of his life on ac- 
 count of a crime he thought he had 
 committed, frozen, famished and ex- 
 hausted, unable to enter the door of a 
 friendly inn on account of his aver- 
 sion to the issuing odors. Forced by 
 his sufferings at last to enter the inn, 
 he visits each corner in turn, analyz- 
 ing its peculiar smell and choosing 
 finally the one which seems to him the 
 least obnoxious. 
 
 I have heard somewhere, but can- 
 not place, the story of a prominent 
 writer who was so disturbed by the 
 mechanical lawn-mower of his neigh- 
 
 5 65 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 bor tliat he insisted upon the privilege 
 of defraying the expense of its re- 
 placement by the sc}i]he. 
 
 Peculiar sensitiveness to sights, 
 sounds and smells seems to be a com- 
 mon attribute of genius. This sort of 
 sensitiveness has even been credited 
 with being the main-spring of genius, 
 but it is improbable that the curbing 
 of such aversions would in any way 
 endanger it. However this may be, 
 such supersensitiveness ill becomes 
 the rest of us, and these extreme aver- 
 sions surely clog, rather than acceler- 
 ate, our efforts. 
 
 The natural tendency of the healthy 
 mind is to accustom itself to new 
 sensations, as the ring on the finger, 
 or the spectacles on the nose. The 
 obsessive individual resists this ten- 
 dency; he starts with the fixed idea 
 
 66 
 
WORRY AND OBSESSION 
 
 that he cannot stand the annoyance, 
 his resentment increases, and his 
 sensations become more, instead of 
 less, acute. His reaction to criticism, 
 slight, and ridicule is similar; he is 
 prepared to start, blush, and show 
 anger on moderate provocation, and 
 can often reproduce both the sen- 
 sation and its accompanying phy- 
 sical signs by merely recalling the 
 circumstance. 
 
 The passive as well as the active 
 obsessions can be overcome by culti- 
 vating the commonplace, or average 
 normal, attitude, and resolving grad- 
 ually to accustom one's self to the 
 disagreeable. This change of atti- 
 tude can be made in adult life as well 
 as in youth. *^You cannot teach an 
 old dog new tricks," we are told. 
 The reason is not that the old dog 
 cannot learn them, but that he does 
 
 67 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 not want to. I met in Germany a 
 British matron who w^as obsessed 
 with the belief that she could not 
 learn the language. At the end of 
 four years' sojourn she entered a 
 store and asked the price of an article. 
 
 ^'Four marks," was the answer. 
 
 '^How much in English money?" 
 she inquired. 
 
 ''Why, madam, a mark is the same 
 as a shilling." 
 
 ''I don't know anything about that ; 
 how much is it in English?" 
 
 ''Four shillings." 
 
 "Ah, quite so ; you might have told 
 me at once." 
 
 Experience has shown that no time 
 in life precludes the acquirement of 
 new knowledge and new habits by one 
 who thinks it worth while to make the 
 attempt. The elderly person will be 
 surprised at his progress if he will 
 
 68 
 
WORRY AND OBSESSION 
 
 bring to bear upon a new subject a 
 mind free from doubts of its useful- 
 ness, doubts of his own ability, worry 
 lest he is wasting valuable time, 
 regrets for the past and plans for the 
 future. 
 
 It is not always possible to say just 
 where useful habit merges into obses- 
 sion. A certain individual, we will 
 say, invariably puts on the left shoe 
 before the right. This is a useful 
 habit, fixed by constant repetition, 
 useful because it relieves the brain of 
 conscious effort. But suppose he de- 
 cides some morning to put on the 
 right shoe before the left; this new 
 order so offends his sense of the fit- 
 ness of things that he finds it hard to 
 proceed ; if he perseveres, his feet feel 
 wrong to him; the discomfort grows 
 until finally he is impelled to remove 
 the shoes and replace them in the 
 
 69 
 
. WHY WORRY? 
 
 usual order. In this case an act which 
 started as a useful habit has been re- 
 placed by an obsession. 
 
 Suppose, again, a person obsessed 
 by the fear of poison is prevented 
 from washing his hands before eat- 
 ing. He sits down, perhaps, fully 
 intending to proceed as if nothing had 
 happened, but the thought occurs to 
 him that he mav have touched some- 
 thing poisonous, though his reason 
 tells him this is most improbable. He 
 reviews the events of the day and can 
 find no suggestion of poison ; still the 
 thought of poison obtrudes itself, and 
 he finds it impossible to put anything 
 which he touches into his mouth. He 
 next wonders if he has not already 
 put something into his mouth. This 
 thought produces a mental panic, the 
 blood moimts to his head, he becomes 
 incapable of coherent thought or 
 
 70 
 
WORRY AND OBSESSION 
 
 speech, and the task of finishing his 
 dinner would now be beyond his 
 power even if he had not lost all taste 
 for it. 
 
 Such illustrations of obsession in 
 daily life, by no means rare, could be 
 multiplied indefinitely, and may be 
 perhaps better appreciated than the 
 text-book illustration of the man who 
 neglected to flick off with his whip a 
 certain stone from the top of a wall, 
 and who could not sleep until he had 
 returned to the spot and performed 
 the act. 
 
 Suppose a man has always worn 
 high boots and is accustomed to a feel- 
 ing of warmth about the ankles. The 
 desire for w^arm ankles may finally 
 so dominate him that he not only can- 
 not wear low shoes in mid-summer, 
 but he cannot wear slippers, even in 
 a warm room; and finally, perhaps, 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 finds that he must wear woollen socks 
 to bed. By this time the desire for a 
 certain sensation is in a fair way to 
 become an obsession. When you as- 
 sure him that many wear low shoes 
 throughout the winter, he asks if 
 their ankles really feel warm. That is 
 not the question. The question is, can 
 one accustom himself to the ankles 
 feeling cool, just as he accustoms him- 
 self to his face feeling cool. If he 
 can, he has conquered a sensory obses- 
 sion, and has made a step toward fit- 
 ting himself to meet more serious 
 vicissitudes with equanimity. 
 
 Similar instances can be adduced 
 in all realms of sensation, both gen- 
 eral and special. One person cannot 
 bear the light, and wears blue glasses ; 
 another cannot breathe out-door air, 
 and wears a respirator ; another can- 
 
 72 
 
WORRY AND OBSESSION 
 
 not bear to see a person rock or to 
 hear a person drum. 
 
 If a family or circle of friends is so 
 constituted that some are obsessed to 
 do certain things and others are ob- 
 sessed not to stand them the founda- 
 tion is laid for a degree of irritability 
 inconsistent with mental health. Mrs. 
 X. simply cannot stand hearing 
 Mr. X. tap the floor, and if he con- 
 tinues, her discomfort becomes acute ; 
 the sound so dominates her that she 
 can think of nothing else and can ac- 
 complish nothing until the sound is 
 stopped. She can stand anything but 
 that. The daughter. Miss X., hardly 
 hears the tapping, and is irritated and 
 impatient to the last degree on ac- 
 count of her mother's ^* silly'' notion. 
 What Miss X. simply cannot bear is 
 hearing her brother continually clear 
 his throat, and if he does not stop she 
 
 73 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 must leave the room or ''go wild.'' 
 Unfortunately, meantime, Mr. X. is 
 so obsessed to tap the floor that he 
 cannot follow his task without it, and 
 Master X. must clear his throat every 
 few moments with a peculiar note be- 
 cause he ^*has catarrh." 
 
 Here we have a common starting- 
 point for family discomfort, and here 
 we have a clue to the advice of the 
 physician who advises isolation as a 
 step toward the cure of the member 
 of the family who first breaks down, 
 not simply mider the stress of occupa- 
 tion, but of occupation plus the wear 
 and tear of minor but constant 
 sources of irritation. 
 
 It is said that the victim of jiu 
 jitsu, by breaking one hold, places 
 himself in the greater danger from 
 the next. Similarly, after having 
 
 74 
 
WORRY AND OBSESSION 
 
 conquered a few obsessions, one is 
 overwhelmed with the obsession to set 
 every one straight. Soukanhoff was 
 right in warning the obsessive to be- 
 ware of pedantry. 
 
 The question here presents itself 
 whether this line of thought does not 
 foster, rather than lessen, the pedan- 
 try and the self -study which it is 
 intended to combat. Why not simply 
 drop the worry and the doubt without 
 further argument? The difficulty is 
 that the mental processes of the over- 
 scrupulous person are such that he 
 cannot summarily drop a habit of 
 thought. He must reason himself out 
 of it. There is no limit to his ability 
 if properly directed ; he can gradually 
 modify all his faulty tendencies, and 
 may even finally acquire the habit of 
 automatically dismissing worry, but 
 it would be too much to expect that he 
 
 75 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 suddenly change his very nature at 
 command. 
 
 Soukanhoff's description of obses- 
 sives is peculiarly apt: ^^over-scrupu- 
 lous, disquieted over trifles, indecisive 
 in action, and anxious about their 
 affairs. They are given early to mor- 
 bid introspection, and are easily wor- 
 ried about their own indispositions 
 or the illnesses of their friends. They 
 are often timorous and apprehensive, 
 and prone to pedantism. The moral 
 sentiments are pronounced in most 
 cases, and if they are, as a rule, some- 
 what exigent and egotistic, they have 
 a lively sense of their own defects.'' 
 
 A common obsession is the compul- 
 sion to dwell upon the past, to repro- 
 duce the circumstances, and painfully 
 to retrace the steps which we took in 
 coming to an erroneous decision 
 which led to a foolish, unnecessary, or 
 
 76 
 
WORRY AND OBSESSION 
 
 perhaps even a wrong decision. One 
 of my earliest impressions in golf was 
 the remark of a veteran who was good 
 enough to make a round with me. ^ ^ If 
 I had only approached better, I 
 should have made that hole in five/' 
 I remarked, after taking seven 
 strokes for a hole. 
 
 ^^ Perhaps not," he replied; * 'if you 
 had approached better^ perhaps you 
 would have putted worse and taken 
 eight strokes for the hole. At all 
 events, that hole is ancient history 
 now, and you will play this one better 
 if you leave that one alone." 
 
 He little realized how many times 
 his advice would recur to me else- 
 where than on the links. Eetrospec- 
 tive worry can be absolutely elimin- 
 ated from the most obsessive mind 
 by the practice of the veteran's 
 philosophy. 
 
 77, 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 Mercier says the greatest intel- 
 lectual gift is the ability to forget. 
 
 The conscientious self - analyst 
 spends too much time in weighing his 
 ability or inability to perform some 
 task. Between his fear, his worry 
 over the past, and his indecision 
 whether the task should be attempted, 
 he starts with an overwhelming 
 handicap. If he learns to say, ' ^ Other 
 people fail ; it will not matter if I do 
 this time," he will find the task al- 
 ready half accomplished. 
 
 The Eev. Francis Tiffany has ob-' 
 served that if a ship could think, and 
 should imagine itself submerged by 
 all the waves between here and 
 Europe, it would dread to cut its 
 moorings ; but in reality it has to meet 
 but one wave at a time. 
 
 The tendency of the average Amer- 
 ican in this bustling age, whether he 
 
 78 
 
WORRY AND OBSESSION 
 
 is obsessive or not, is to live at least 
 several hours in advance. On the 
 train he takes no comfort and makes 
 no observations, for his mind is upon 
 his destination rather than on his 
 journey. 
 
 Though the immediate object of 
 these chapters is the promotion of the 
 mental, and indirectly the physical, 
 health of the individual, I cannot for- 
 bear referring to the effect of this 
 training on the position of the indi- 
 vidual in society and his relation 
 toward his surroundings. 
 
 The endeavor to overcome obses- 
 sions is likely to be ignored by two 
 classes: the self -centered individuals 
 who see no reason for learning what 
 they do not want to learn, and the 
 individuals who have no time for, or 
 interest in, self -training because of 
 
 79 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 absorption in subjects of wider rela- 
 tion, as art, or science, or reform. The 
 pMlosopby of Haeckel applies to 
 both : 
 
 ^^Man belongs to the social verte- 
 brates, and has, therefore, like all 
 social animals, two sets of duties — 
 first to himself, and secondly to the 
 society to which he belongs. The 
 former are the behests of self-love, or 
 egoism, the latter love for one's fel- 
 lows, or altruism. The two sets of 
 precepts are equally just, equally 
 natural, and equally indispensable. 
 If a man desires to have the advan- 
 tage of living in an organized com- 
 munity, he has to consult not only his 
 own fortune, but also that of the so- 
 ciety, and of the ^neighbors' who form 
 the society. He must realize that its 
 prosperity is his own prosperity, and 
 
 80 
 
WORRY AND OBSESSION 
 
 that it cannot suffer without his own 
 injury." 
 
 The individual who is ruled by his 
 obsessions not only paves the way for 
 needless and ultimate breakdown, but 
 is in danger of gradually narrowing 
 his field of usefulness and pleasure 
 until he is in little better case than 
 Simeon Stylites, who spent nearly 
 half a century on the top of a monu- 
 ment. Nor has he even Simeon's con- 
 solation that he could come down if he 
 chose; for it seems that the authori- 
 ties sent messengers demanding his 
 return, with orders to let him stay if 
 he showed willingness to come down 
 — and he stayed. 
 
 81 
 
VI. 
 
 THE DOUBTING FOLLY 
 
 Jatgeir. I needed sorrow; others there may be 
 who need faith, or joy — or doubt 
 
 King Skule. Doubt as well? 
 
 Jatgeir. Ay; but then must the doubter be strong 
 and sound. 
 
 King Skule. And whom call you the unsound 
 doubter ? 
 
 Jatgeir. He who doubts of his own doubt. 
 
 King Skule (slowly). That methinks were death. 
 
 Jatgeir. 'T is worse; 't is neither day nor night. 
 
 King Skule (quickly, as if shaking off his 
 thoughts). Where are my weapons? I will fight 
 and act, not think. 
 
 Ibsen: The Pretenders, Act iv. 
 
 A GENTLEMAN oiicG told me that lie 
 rarely passed another in the street 
 without wondering if he had not ac- 
 costed him in an improper manner. 
 He knew very well that he had not, 
 but the more he dw^elt upon the possi- 
 bility, the more doubtful he became, 
 until the impulse to settle the question 
 
 82 
 
THE DOUBTING FOLLY 
 
 became so strong that he would re- 
 trace his steps and inquire. He asked 
 if nux vomica would help this 
 trouble ! I told him he needed mental 
 training. 
 
 *^I have tried that," he answered. 
 *'I keep saying to myself, ^I will not 
 think of it,' but it is no use ; my head 
 becomes hot, my sight blurred, my 
 thoughts confused, and the only relief 
 I find is to settle the question." 
 
 I tried to point out the direction in 
 which he was tending, and told him 
 he must remind himself that even if 
 he had accosted another improperly, 
 it was a trifling matter compared to 
 the injury to himself of giving way 
 to this compulsion ; moreover, the im- 
 pression he would make upon the 
 other by going back would be even 
 worse than that of having so accosted 
 him ; and, finally, he must dwell upon 
 
 83 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 the prohability that he had not of- 
 fended the man, instead of the possi- 
 hility that he had. Having pursued 
 this line of thought, he must force 
 himself to think of something else un- 
 til the besetting impulse was obliter- 
 ated. I suggested that if a baseball 
 player should become incapacitated 
 for the game, he would not lessen his 
 disappointment by reiterating, ^^I 
 will not think of baseball," but if he 
 persistently turned his thoughts and 
 his practice to billiards he might in 
 time forget baseball. 
 
 '^I never played baseball," he re- 
 plied, *^and don't even know the 
 rules." 
 
 This represents an extreme case of 
 ** doubting folly" a case in which the 
 victim could no longer concentrate his 
 thoughts on the simplest proposition 
 
 84 
 
THE DOUBTING FOLLY 
 
 outside the narrow circle to which his 
 doubts had restricted him. 
 
 If we once allow ourselves to won- 
 der whether we have turned off the 
 water, enclosed the check, or mailed 
 the letter, it is but a step to an un- 
 comfortable frame of mind which can 
 be relieved only by investigating the 
 matter. This compulsion once ac- 
 ceded to, it becomes more and more 
 easy to succumb. The next step is to 
 blur, by constant repetition, the men- 
 tal image of the act. In extreme 
 cases the doubter, after turning the 
 gas on and off a dozen times, is finally 
 in doubt whether he can trust his own 
 senses. A certain officer in a bank 
 never succeeded in reaching home 
 after closing hours without returning 
 to try the door of the bank. Upon 
 finding it locked, he would unlock it 
 and disappear within, to open the 
 
 85 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 vault, inspect the securities, and lock 
 them up again. I once saw a victim 
 of this form of doubt spend at least 
 ten minutes in writing a check, and 
 ten minutes more inspecting it, and, 
 after all, he had spelled his own name 
 wrong ! 
 
 Constant supervision only impairs 
 acts which should have become auto- 
 matic. We have all heard of the 
 centipede who could no longer pro- 
 ceed upon his journey when it oc- 
 curred to him to question which foot 
 he should next advance. 
 
 To other doubts are often added the 
 doubt of one's own mental balance; 
 but it is a long step from these faulty 
 habits of mind to real mental un- 
 balance, which involves an inability 
 to plan and carry out a line of con- 
 duct consistent with one's station. 
 
 It took a young man at least fifteen 
 
 86 
 
THE DOUBTING FOLLY 
 
 minutes, in my presence, to button his 
 waistcoat. He felt the lower button 
 to reassure himself, then proceeded to 
 the next. He then returned to the 
 lower one, either distrusting his 
 previous observation, or fearing it 
 had become unbuttoned. He then 
 held the lower two with one hand 
 while he buttoned the third with the 
 other. When this point was reached 
 he called his sight to the aid of his 
 feeling, and glued his eyes to the 
 lower while he buttoned the upper, 
 unbuttoning many meantime, to as- 
 sure himself that he had buttoned 
 them. This young man said he would 
 sometimes stop on his way to the store 
 in doubt whether he was on the right 
 street, a doubt not quieted either by 
 reading the sign or by asking a 
 stranger, because the doubt would ob- 
 trude itself whether he could trust his 
 
 87 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 sight and his hearing, indeed, whether 
 he was really there or dreaming. 
 Even this victim of extreme doubting 
 folly conducted his business success- 
 fully so long as I knew him, and so 
 comported himself in general as to 
 attract no further comment than that 
 he was *^fussy." 
 
 These doubts lead to chronic inde- 
 cision. How often, in deciding which 
 of two tasks to take up, we waste the 
 time which would have sufficed for 
 the accomplishment of one, if not 
 both. 
 
 The doubt and the indecision result 
 directly from over-conscientiousness. 
 It is because of an undue anxiety to 
 do the right thing, even in trivial 
 matters, that the doubter ponders in- 
 definitely over the proper sequence of 
 two equally important (or unimpor- 
 tant) tasks. In the majority of in- 
 
 88 
 
THE DOUBTING FOLLY 
 
 stances it is the right thing for him 
 to pounce upon either. If he pounces 
 upon the wrong one, and completes it 
 without misgiving, he has at least 
 accomplished something in the way of 
 mental training. The chances are, 
 moreover, that the harm done by do- 
 ing the wrong thing first was not to 
 be compared to the harm of giving 
 way to his doubt, and either drifting 
 into a state of ineffective revery or 
 fretting himself into a frenzy of 
 anxious uncertainty. 
 
 A gentleman once told me that after 
 mailing a letter he would often linger 
 about the box until the postman ar- 
 rived, and ask permission to inspect 
 his letter, ostensibly to see if he had 
 put on the stamp, but in fact to reas- 
 sure himself that he had really mailed 
 the missive, although he knew per- 
 fectly well that he had done so. The 
 
 89 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 life of the chronic doubter is full of 
 these small deceits, though in most 
 matters such persons are exception- 
 ally conscientious. 
 
 This form of over-solicitude is 
 peculiarly liable to attack those in 
 whose hands are important affairs af- 
 fecting the finances, the lives, or the 
 health of others. I have known more 
 than one case of the abandonment of 
 a chosen occupation on account of the 
 constant anxiety entailed by doubts 
 of this nature. Nor are these doubts 
 limited to the question whether one 
 has done or left undone some par- 
 ticular act. An equally insistent 
 doubt is that regarding one's general 
 fitness for the undertaking. The 
 doubter may spend upon this ques- 
 tion more time than it would take 
 to acquire the needed facility and 
 experience. 
 
 00 
 
THE DOUBTING FOLLY 
 
 Some one has said there are two 
 things that no one should worry 
 about: first, the thing that can't be 
 helped; second, the thing that can. 
 This is peculiarly true of the former. 
 
 Reflection upon the past is wise; 
 solicitude concerning it is an anach- 
 ronism. Suppose one has accepted 
 a certain position and finds himself 
 in doubt of his fitness for that posi- 
 tion. Nothing can be more important 
 than for him to decide upon his next 
 line of conduct. Shall he resign or 
 continue ? Is he fit for the position, 
 or, if not, can he acquire the fitness 
 without detriment to the ofiice*? 
 These are legitimate doubts. But the 
 doubter who finds himself in this pre- 
 dicament adds to these legitimate 
 doubts the question, ^^ Ought I to have 
 accepted the office?" This is the 
 doubt he must learn to eliminate. He 
 
 91 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 must remind himself that he has ac- 
 cepted the position, whether rightly 
 or wrongly, and that the acceptance 
 is ancient history. The question what 
 shall he do next is sufficiently weighty 
 to occupy all his attention without 
 loading his mind with anxious doubts 
 regarding the irrevocable past. 
 
 Suppose, in fact, the doubter has 
 made a mistake ; how shall he banish 
 the worry? By reminding himself 
 that others have made mistakes, why 
 should not he, and that it is somewhat 
 egotistic on his part to insist that, 
 whatever others may do, he must do 
 everything right. If this line of 
 reasoning fails to console him, let him 
 think of the greater mistakes he 
 might have made. A financial mag- 
 nate was once asked how he succeeded 
 in keeping his mind free from worry. 
 He replied, by contemplating the two 
 
 92 
 
THE DOUBTING FOLLY 
 
 worst things that could happen to 
 him : losing all his property and going 
 to jail. He had learned the lesson 
 that one thought can he driven out 
 only hy another. 
 
 With regard to immediate doubts. 
 If the over-scrupulous business or 
 professional man, worn out after an 
 exacting day's work, will stop and 
 reflect, he will realize that much of his 
 exhaustion is due to his having filled 
 the day with such doubts as whether 
 he is doing the wrong thing, or the 
 right thing at the wrrong time, 
 whether he or someone else will miss 
 an appointment or fail to meet obli- 
 gations, and whether he or his assist- 
 ants may make blunders. 
 
 Let him resolve some morning that 
 he will proceed that day from task to 
 task without allowing such thoughts 
 to intrude. If he does so he will find 
 
 93 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 that lie has succeeded in his work at 
 least as well as usual, and that he is 
 comparatively fresh in the evening. 
 Why not try this every day? 
 
 So far we have only considered the 
 most obvious and simple among the 
 evidences of doubting folly. A still 
 more obstinate tendency of the 
 doubter is the insistent habit inter- 
 minably to argue over the simplest 
 proposition, particularly regarding 
 matters pertaining to the health, com- 
 fort, and life of the individual him- 
 self. A certain patient, of this type, 
 attempts to describe to his physician 
 a peculiar, hitherto undescribed, and 
 even now indescribable sensation 
 ^ through his right lung." He traces 
 this sensation to what he believes to 
 have been the absorption of a poison 
 some years ago. His line of reason- 
 
 94 
 
THE DOUBTING FOLLY 
 
 ing is somewhat as follows: 1. The 
 drug was a poison. 2. If he absorbed 
 it he must have been poisoned. 3. If 
 he was poisoned then, he is poisoned 
 now. 4. There is no proof that such 
 a poison cannot produce such a sensa- 
 tion. 5. He has the sensation. Con- 
 clusion : He is suffering from poison. 
 In support of this proposition he will 
 spend hours with anyone who will 
 listen. The physician who allows 
 himself to be drawn into the contro- 
 versy speedily finds himself, instead 
 of giving advice to listening ears, in- 
 volved in a battle of wits in which he 
 is quite likely to come off second best. 
 He assures the patient, for example, 
 that, as far as scientific methods can 
 establish the fact, the lung is sound. 
 ^^But has science established every- 
 thing? And if it had, is such nega- 
 tive evidence to be weighed against 
 
 95 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 the positive evidence of the sensation 
 in my lung? " 
 
 ^'But the sensation may not be in 
 your lung." 
 
 '^Can you prove that it is not in my 
 lung ? ' ' Folly scores ! 
 
 On being urged to direct his atten- 
 tion to some other part of his body, 
 he promptly inquires, 
 
 **How can I direct my thoughts 
 elsewhere, when the sensation is there 
 to occupy my attention ?'' Obviously 
 he can not without changing his men- 
 tal attitude, so folly scores again. 
 
 He is assured that if the poison had 
 been absorbed the effects would have 
 passed away long before this time. 
 
 ^^But do the effects of poison 
 always pass away? And can you 
 prove that they have passed away in 
 my case? Is not the sensation posi- 
 tive evidence, since you have allowed 
 
 96 
 
THE DOUBTING FOLLY 
 
 that you cannot prove that the sensa- 
 tion does not come from the poison T* 
 
 Folly scores again, but the victory 
 is an empty one. The vicious circle 
 continues: Attention magnifies sen- 
 sation — sensation produces fear — 
 fear increases attention ; and through- 
 out runs the insistent thought that 
 his sensations shall conform to his 
 ideal. 
 
 If the discussion of such compara- 
 tively tangible matters can occupy a 
 large part of one's attention, imagine 
 the result of the insistent desire, on 
 the part of the doubter, to solve such 
 problems as *^What is thought?" 
 ^'What is existence?" 
 
 If the windings of this intellectual 
 labyrinth have not too far involved 
 us, we have only to recognize the 
 futility of such arguments, and exer- 
 cise our will-power in the right direc- 
 
 7 97 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 tion. If we can bring ourselves to 
 take the initiative, it is as easy to step 
 out of the vicious circle, as for the 
 squirrel to leave his wheel. But un- 
 less we grasp the logic of the situa- 
 tion, and take this initiative, no 
 amount of abuse, persuasion, or ridi- 
 cule will effect our freedom. 
 
 A word may be in place regard- 
 ing the anthropological status of 
 the doubting folly and allied mental 
 states. Men of genius have suffered 
 from them all. A long list may 
 be found in Lombroso's ^^Man of 
 Genius." Under folie du doute we 
 find, for example, Tolstoi, Manzoni, 
 Flaubert and Amiel. 
 
 Lombroso regards genius as degen- 
 erative, and places among the signs of 
 degeneration, deviations from the 
 average normal, whether physical or 
 
 98 
 
THE DOUBTING FOLLY 
 
 mental. This plan has been quite 
 generally followed. The nomencla- 
 ture seems to me unfortunate and 
 hardly justified by the facts. I can 
 think of no more potent objection to 
 such inclusive use of the term degen- 
 erate, than the fact that Lombroso 
 includes, under the signs of degenera- 
 tion, the enormous development of 
 the cerebral speech-area in the case of 
 an accomplished orator. If such evo- 
 lutional spurts are to be deemed de- 
 generative, the fate of the four-leaved 
 clover is sealed. 
 
 The application of the term degen- 
 eration may be, and should be, it 
 seems to me, limited to the signs, 
 whether physical or mental, which in- 
 dicate an obviously downward ten- 
 dency. I have elsewhere suggested, 
 and the suggestion has already found 
 some acceptance, that when the varia- 
 
 99 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 tion is not definitely downward, devi- 
 ation and deviate be substituted for 
 the unnecessarily opprobrious and 
 often inappropriate terms, degener- 
 ation and degenerate. 
 
 100 
 
VII. 
 
 HYPOCHONDRIA 
 
 II marche, dort, mange et boit comme toua les 
 
 autres; mais cela n'empeche pas qu'il soit fort 
 
 malade. __ r ^r 7 ^ • • • 
 
 MoLiERE: Le Malade imagxnaire. 
 
 The victim of hypochondria may 
 present the picture of health, or may 
 have some real ill regarding which 
 he is unduly anxious. His consulta- 
 tion with a physician is likely to be 
 preceded by letters explaining his 
 exact condition, naming his various 
 consultants and describing the vari- 
 ous remedies he has taken. At the 
 time of his visit notes are consulted, 
 lest some detail be omitted. In his 
 description anatomical terms abound ; 
 thus, he has pain in his lungs, heart, 
 
 or kidney, not in his chest or back. 
 101 
 
WHY WORRY? , 
 
 Demonstration by the physician of 
 the soundness of these organs is met 
 by argument, at which the hypochon- 
 driac is generally adept. 
 
 The suggestion that the hypochon- 
 driac devotes undue attention to his 
 own condition is met by him with 
 indignant denial. Proposals that he 
 should exercise, travel, engage in 
 games, or otherwise occupy himself, 
 fall on deaf ears, but he is always 
 ready to try a new drug. If a medi- 
 cine is found with whose ingredients 
 the patient is not already familiar, its 
 use is likely to produce a beneficial 
 effect for a few days, after which the 
 old complaint returns. 
 
 The case has come to my attention 
 of a young man who, for fear of tak- 
 ing cold, remains in bed, with the 
 windows of the room tightly closed 
 and a fire constantly burning. He 
 
 102 
 
HYPOCHONDRIA 
 
 has allowed his hair to grow until it 
 reaches his waist, he is covered with 
 several blankets, wears Tindercloth- 
 ing under his nightshirt, and refuses 
 to extend his wrist from under the 
 bed-clothes to have his pulse taken. 
 
 Such faulty mental habits in minor 
 degree are common. There are those 
 who will not drink from a bottle with- 
 out first inspecting its mouth for 
 flakes of glass ; some will not smoke a 
 cigar which has been touched hj an- 
 other since leaving the factory ; some 
 will not shake hands if it can possibly 
 be avoided ; another pads his clothing 
 lest he injure himself in falling. 
 Many decline to share the occupations 
 and pleasures of others through fear 
 of possible wet feet, drafts of air, ex- 
 haustion, or other calamity. Such 
 tendencies, though falling short of 
 hypochondria, pave the way for it, 
 
 103 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 and, in any event, gradually narrow 
 the sphere of usefulness and pleasure. 
 
 No part of the body is exempt from 
 the fears of the hypochondriac, but he 
 is prone to centre his attention upon 
 the obscure and inaccessible organs. 
 The anecdote is told of a physician 
 who had a patient of this type — a 
 robust woman who was never without 
 a long list of ailments. The last time 
 she sent for the doctor, he lost pa- 
 tience with her. As she was telling 
 him how she was suffering from 
 rheumatism, sore throat, nervous in- 
 digestion, heart-burn, pains in the 
 back of the head, and what not, he in- 
 terrupted her : 
 
 '^Ah," he said in an admiring tone, 
 ''what splendid health you must have 
 in order to be able to stand all these 
 complaints!" 
 
 104 
 
HYPOCHONDRIA 
 
 THe phobias are so closely allied to 
 hypochondria that it will not be out 
 of place to discuss them here. A 
 phobia is an insistent and engrossing 
 fear, without adequate cause as 
 judged by ordinary standards. Fa- 
 miliar instances are fear of open 
 places (agoraphobia), fear of closed 
 places (claustrophobia), and fear of 
 contamination (mysophobia). 
 
 The sufferer from agoraphobia 
 cannot bring himself to cross alone an 
 open field or square. The sufferer 
 from claustrophobia will invent any 
 excuse to avoid an elevator or the 
 theatre. When a certain lady was 
 asked if she disliked to go to the 
 theatre or church, she answered, ^'Not 
 at all, but of course I like to have one 
 foot in the aisle ; I suppose everyone 
 does that." 
 
 The victim of mysophobia will wash 
 
 105 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 llie Hands after touching any object, 
 and will, so far as possible, avoid 
 touching objects which he thinks may 
 possibly convey infection. Some use 
 tissue paper to turn the door-knob, 
 some extract coins from the pocket- 
 book with pincers. I have seen a lady 
 in a public conveyance carefully open 
 a piece of paper containing her fare, 
 pour the money into the conductor's 
 hand, carefully fold up the paper so 
 that she should not touch the inside, 
 and afterwards drop it from the tips 
 of her fingers into a rubbish barrel. 
 The case of a nurse who was dom- 
 inated by fear of infection has come 
 to my attention. If her handkerchief 
 touched the table it was discarded. 
 She became very adept at moving ob- 
 jects about with her elbows, was 
 finally reduced to helplessness and 
 had to be cared for by others. 
 
 106 
 
HYPOCHONDRIA 
 
 Unreasoning fear of one or an- 
 other mode of conveyance is not rare. 
 It is said that Rossini found it im- 
 possible to travel by rail, and that the 
 attempt of a friend to accustom him 
 to it resulted in an attack of f aintness 
 (Lombroso). 
 
 The sufferer himself realizes, in 
 such cases, that there is no reason in 
 his fear — he knows he can undergo 
 greater dangers with equanimity. 
 Even doubting folly finds no answer 
 to the question why should this dan- 
 ger be shunned and that accepted. 
 The nearest approach to an answer 
 is '*I can't," which really means '^I 
 haven't." 
 
 The origin of the phobia is not 
 always clear, but given the necessary 
 susceptibility, circumstances doubt- 
 less dictate the direction the phobia 
 shall take. A startling personal ex- 
 
 107 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 perience, or even reading or hearing 
 of sucli an experience may start the 
 fear which the insistent thought 
 finally moulds into a fixed habit. 
 
 To the hypochondriac who concen- 
 trates his attention upon the digestive 
 tract, this part of his body occupies 
 the foreground of all his thoughts. 
 He exaggerates its delicacy of struct- 
 ure and the serious consequences of 
 disturbing it even by an attack of 
 indigestion. A patient to whom a 
 certain fruit was suggested said he 
 could not eat it. Asked what the ef- 
 fect would be, he answered that he 
 did not know, he had not eaten any 
 for twenty years and dared not risk 
 the experiment. 
 
 Extreme antipathies to various 
 foods are fostered among this class. 
 A lady told me that she perfectly 
 abominated cereals, that she could not 
 
 108 
 
HYPOCHONDRIA 
 
 stand vegetables, that she could not 
 bear anything in the shape of an 
 apple, that she could not abide 
 spinach, and that baked beans made 
 her sick at the stomach. 
 
 The heart is perhaps the organ 
 most often the object of solicitude on 
 the part of the hypochondriac. When 
 we realize that the pulse may vary in 
 the healthy individual from 60 to over 
 100, according to circmnstances, and 
 that mere excitement may send it to 
 the latter figure, we may appreciate 
 the feelings of one who counts his 
 pulse at frequent intervals and is 
 alarmed if it varies from a given 
 figure. 
 
 Inspection of the tongue is a com- 
 mon occupation of the hypochondriac, 
 who is generally more familiar than 
 his medical attendant with the anat- 
 omy of this organ. 
 
 109 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 Insistent desire regarding the tem- 
 perature is common not only among 
 hypochondriacs, but among others. I 
 do not allude to the internal tempera- 
 ture (though I have been surprised to 
 learn how many people carry a clini- 
 cal thermometer and use it on them- 
 selves from time to time) ; I refer to 
 the temperature of the room or of the 
 outside air. The wish to feel a certain 
 degree of warmth is so overpowering 
 in some cases that neither work nor 
 play can be carried on unless the ther- 
 mometer registers the desired figure. 
 A person with this tendency does not 
 venture to mail a letter without don- 
 ning hat and overcoat; the mere 
 thought of a cold bath causes him to 
 shudder. 
 
 Golf has cured many a victim of 
 this obsession. It takes only a few 
 games to teach the most delicately 
 
 110 
 
HYPOCHONDRIA 
 
 constructed that he can remain for 
 hours in his shirt-sleeves on quite a 
 cold day, and that the cold shower 
 (preferably preceded by a warm 
 one) invigorates instead of depresses 
 him. Further experiment will con- 
 vince him that he can wear thin 
 underwear and low shoes all winter. 
 Such experiences may encourage him 
 to risk a cold plunge in the morning, 
 followed by a brisk rub and a few 
 simple exercises before dressing. 
 
 Morbid fears in themselves produce 
 physical manifestations which add to 
 the discomfort and alarm of the hypo- 
 chondriac. I allude to the rush of 
 blood to the head, the chill, the mental 
 confusion, and the palpitation. These 
 symptoms are perfectly harmless, 
 and denote only normal circulatory 
 changes. It is true that one cannot at 
 
 will materially alter his circulation, 
 111 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 but He can do so gradually by habit 
 of thought. To convince ourselves of 
 this fact, we need only remember to 
 what a degree blushing becomes modi- 
 fied by change of mental attitude. 
 Similarly, the person who has prac- 
 ticed mental and physical relaxation 
 will find that the blood no longer 
 rushes to his head upon hearing a 
 criticism or remembering a possible 
 source of worry. 
 
 The automatic processes of the 
 body are in general performed best 
 when the attention is directed else- 
 where. After ordinary care is taken, 
 too minute attention to the digestive 
 apparatus, for example, may retard 
 rather than aid it. Watching the di- 
 gestion too closely is like pulling up 
 seeds to see if they are growing. 
 
 The more attention is paid to the 
 sensations, the more they demand. 
 
 112 
 
HYPOCHONDRIA 
 
 Nor can the degree of attention they 
 deserve be measured by their own in- 
 sistence. If one tries the experiment 
 of thinking intently of the end of his 
 thumb, and imagines it is going to 
 sleep, the chances are ten to one that 
 in five minutes it will have all the sen- 
 sations of going to sleep. If this is 
 true of the healthy-minded individ- 
 ual, how much more must it be so in 
 the person who allows his thoughts to 
 dwell with anxious attention on such 
 parts of his body as may be the imme- 
 diate seat of his fears. The next step 
 is for various sensations (boring, 
 burning, prickling, stabbing, and the 
 like) to appear spontaneously, and, if 
 attention is paid to them, rapidly to 
 increase in intensity. 
 
 It is probable that the mere pres- 
 sure of part upon part in the body, 
 even the ordinary activity of its or- 
 
 8 113 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 gans, would give rise to sensations if 
 we encouraged tliem. Given an 
 anomalous sensation, or even a pain, 
 for which the physician finds no 
 physical basis, and which, after a 
 term of years, has produced no 
 further appreciable effect than to 
 make one nervous, it is always in 
 place to ask one's self whether the 
 sensation or the pain may not be of 
 this nature. 
 
 Medical instructors are continually 
 consulted by students who fear that 
 they have the diseases they are study- 
 ing. The knowledge that pneumonia 
 produces pain in a certain spot leads 
 to a concentration of attention upon 
 that region which causes any sensa- 
 tion there to give alarm. The mere 
 knowledge of the location of the ap- 
 pendix transforms the most harmless 
 sensations in that region into symp- 
 
 114 
 
HYPOCHONDRIA 
 
 toms of serious menace. THe sensible 
 student learns to quiet these fears, 
 but the victim of ^^ hypos" returns 
 again and again for examination, and 
 perhaps finally reaches the point of 
 imparting, instead of obtaining, 
 information, like the patient in a 
 recent anecdote from the Youth's 
 Companion: 
 
 It seems that a man who was con- 
 stantly changing physicians at last 
 called in a young doctor who was just 
 beginning his practice. 
 
 ^*I lose my breath when I climb a 
 hill or a steep flight of stairs," said 
 the patient. ^^If I hurry, I often get 
 a sharp pain in my side. Those are 
 the symptoms of a serious heart 
 trouble." 
 
 **Not necessarily, sir," began the 
 
 physician, but he was interrupted. 
 
 "I beg your pardon!" said the pa- 
 ns 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 tient irritably. **It isn't for a young 
 physician like you to disagree with an 
 old and experienced invalid like me, 
 sirl" 
 
 There is no absolute standard for 
 the proper degree of solicitude re- 
 garding one's health, but if the hab- 
 itual invalid possess a physique which 
 would not preclude the average nor- 
 mal individual from being out and 
 about, even at the expense of a pain, a 
 stomach ache, or a cold, there is prob- 
 ably a hypochondriacal element in the 
 case. It is a question of adjustment 
 of effect to cause. 
 
 The term ^^ imaginary" is too 
 loosely applied to the sensations of 
 the hypochondriac. This designation 
 is unjustified, and only irritates the 
 sufferer, rouses his antagonism, and 
 undermines his confidence in the 
 
 116 
 
HYPOCHONDRIA 
 
 judgment of his adviser. He knows 
 that the sensations are there. To call 
 them imaginary is like telling one 
 who inspects an insect through a 
 microscope that the claws do not look 
 enormous; they do look enormous — 
 through the microscope — but this 
 does not make them so. The wor- 
 rier must learn to realize that he 
 is looking at his sensations, as he 
 does everything else, through a 
 microscope. 
 
 If a person living near a waterfall 
 ignores the sound, he soon ceases to 
 notice it, but if he listens for it, it in- 
 creases, and becomes finally unbear- 
 able. Common sense teaches him to 
 concentrate his attention elsewhere; 
 similarly, it demands that the victim 
 of *^ hypos'' disregard his various sen- 
 sations and devote his attention to 
 outside affairs, unless the sensations 
 
 117 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 are accompanied by obvious physical 
 signs. Instead of running to the 
 doctor, let him do something — ride 
 horseback, play golf, anything requir- 
 ing exercise out of doors. Let him 
 devote his entire energy to the exer- 
 cise, and thus substitute the healthy 
 sensations of fatigue and hunger for 
 the exaggerated pains and the anoma- 
 lous sensations which are fostered 
 by self -study. Let him remember, 
 moreover, that nature will stand an 
 enormous amount of outside abuse, 
 but resents being kept under close 
 surveillance. 
 
 In practicing the neglect of the sen- 
 sations, one should not allow his mind 
 to dwell on the possibility that he is 
 overlooking something serious, but 
 rather on the danger of his becoming 
 *' hipped," a prey to his own doubts 
 and fears, and unable to accomplish 
 
 118 
 
HYPOCHONDRIA 
 
 anything in life beyond catering to 
 his own morbid fancies. 
 
 Turning now to the bibliographic 
 study of hypochondria, an interesting 
 and characteristic contrast is offered 
 between Pluxley, who called himself 
 a hypochondriac, but apparently was 
 not, and Carlyle, who resented the 
 imputation, though it apparently had 
 some justification in fact. 
 
 With regard to Huxley, — the only 
 basis for the diagnosis hypochondria 
 in a given case, is undoubted evidence, 
 by letter or conversation, that the 
 question of health is given undue 
 prominence. I have looked carefully 
 through the volume of Huxley's let- 
 ters (published by his son), without 
 definitely establishing this diagnosis. 
 The state of his health and the ques- 
 tion of his personal comfort received 
 
 119 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 comparatively little attention. What- 
 ever suffering Huxley endured lie 
 seems to have accepted in a philosoph- 
 ical and happy spirit, thus : 
 
 ^^ It is a bore to be converted into a 
 troublesome invalid even for a few 
 weeks, but I comfort myself with my 
 usual reflection on the chances of life, 
 * Lucky it is no worse.' Any impa- 
 tience would have been checked by 
 what I heard about . . . this morn- 
 ing . . . that he has sunk into hope- 
 less idiocy. A man in the prime of 
 life!'' 
 
 With regard to Carlyle, — it is true, 
 as claimed by Gould {Biographic 
 Clinics y 1903) that he showed every 
 evidence of eyestrain with result- 
 ing symptoms, particularly headache. 
 This does not, however, preclude his 
 having had hypochondria also, and in 
 view of the violent and reiterated 
 
 120 
 
HYPOCHONDRIA 
 
 complaints running through his let- 
 ters it seems quite credible that 
 Froude's estimate of his condition 
 was not far wrong. Surely, unless 
 Carlyle was merely trying his pen 
 without intending to be taken seri- 
 ously, he devoted to the question of 
 health a degree of attention which 
 may be fairly adjudged undue. 
 
 The first letter I quote (from 
 those cited by Gould in fortifying his 
 position) is of special interest as 
 presenting in rather lurid terms 
 Carlyle 's ideal of health. After read- 
 ing this letter one cannot help 
 suspecting that the discomforts so 
 vividly described in his other letters 
 were compared by him with this ideal 
 rather than with those of the average 
 individual. 
 
 ^*In the midst of your zeal and 
 ardor, . . . remember the care of 
 
 121 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 health. ... It would have been a 
 very great thing for me if I had been 
 able to consider that health is a thing 
 to be attended to continually, that 
 you are to regard that as the very 
 highest of all temporal things for you. 
 There is no kind of achievement you 
 could make in the world that is equal 
 to perfect health. What to it are 
 nuggets and millions? The French 
 financier said 'Why is there no sleep 
 to be sold ! ' Sleep was not in the mar- 
 ket at any quotation. ... I find 
 that you could not get any better 
 definition of what 'holy' really is than 
 'healthy.' Completely healthy; mens 
 Sana in corpore sano, A man all lucid, 
 and in equilibrium. His intellect a 
 clear mirror geometrically plane, 
 brilliantly sensitive to all objects and 
 impressions made on it and imaging 
 all things in their correct propor- 
 
 122 
 
HYPOCHONDRIA 
 
 tions; not twisted up into convex or 
 concave, and distorting everything so 
 that he cannot see the truth of the 
 matter, without endless groping and 
 manipulation: healthy, clear, and 
 free and discerning truly all around 
 him." 
 
 The following extracts illustrate his 
 attitude toward his physical short- 
 comings, whatever they may have 
 been. 
 
 . . . ^*A prey to nameless struggles 
 and miseries, which have yet a kind 
 of horror in them to my thoughts, 
 three weeks without any kind of sleep, 
 from impossibility to be free from 
 noise." 
 
 ^^I sleep irregularly here, and feel 
 a little, very little, more than my usual 
 share of torture every day. What the 
 cause is would puzzle me to explain. 
 I take exercise sufficient daily; I at- 
 
 123 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 tend witli rigorous minuteness to the 
 quality of my food; I take all the 
 precautions that I can, yet still the 
 disease abates not." 
 
 ^'Ill-health, the most terrific of all 
 miseries." 
 
 *' Grown sicker and sicker. ... I 
 want health, health, health ! On this 
 subject I am becoming quite furious. 
 ... If I do not soon recover, I am 
 miserable forever and ever. They 
 talk of the benefit of health from a 
 moral point of view. I declare sol- 
 emnly, without exaggeration, that I 
 impute nine-tenths of my present 
 wretchedness, and rather more than 
 nine-tenths of all my faults, to this 
 infernal disorder in the stomach." 
 
 '^ Bilious, too, in these smothering 
 windless days." 
 
 ^* Broke down in the park; Uonnte 
 
 124 
 
HYPOCHONDRIA 
 
 nichts mehr, being sick and weak 
 beyond measure." 
 
 ^'Many days of suffering, of dark- 
 ness, of despondency. . . . lU-healtK 
 has much to do with it." 
 
 '^ Occasionally sharp pain (some- 
 thing cutting hard, grasping me 
 around the heart). . . . Something 
 from time to time tying me tight as it 
 were, all around the region of the 
 heart, and strange dreams haunting 
 me." 
 
 ^^ There is a shivering precipitancy 
 in me, which makes emotion of any 
 kind a thing to be shunned. It is 
 my nerves, my nerves. . . . Such a 
 nervous system as I have. . . . 
 Thomas feeling in his breast for com- 
 fort and finding bilious fever. . . . 
 All palpitating, fluttered with sleep- 
 lessness and drug-taking, etc. . . , 
 Weary and worn with dull blockhead- 
 
 125 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 ism, chagrin (next to no sleep tlie 
 night before)." 
 
 ^^A head full of air; you know that 
 wretched physical feeling ; I had been 
 concerned with drugs, had awak- 
 ened at five, etc. It is absolute 
 martyrdom. '^ 
 
 *'A huge nightmare of indigestion, 
 insomnia, and fits of black impatience 
 with myself and others,— self chiefly. 
 ... I am heartily sick of my dyspep- 
 tic bewilderment and imprisonment." 
 
 ''Alas ! Alas ! I ought to be wrap- 
 ped in cotton wool, and laid in a 
 locked drawer at present. I can 
 stand nothing. I am really ashamed 
 of the figure I cut." 
 
 Froude's statements regarding 
 Carlyle's condition are as follows: 
 
 *'. . . The simple natural life, the 
 wholesome air, the daily rides or 
 drives, the poor food, . . . had re- 
 
 126 
 
HYPOCHONDRIA 
 
 stored completely the functions of a 
 stomach never so far wrong as he had 
 imagined. . . . Afterwards he was 
 always impatient, moody, irritable, 
 violent. These humours were in his 
 nature, and he could no more be 
 separated from them than his body 
 could leap off its shadow. . . . He 
 looked back to it as the happiest and 
 wholesomest home that he had ever 
 known. He could do fully twice as 
 much work there, he said, as he could 
 ever do afterwards in London." 
 
 ^^ . . If his liver occasionally 
 troubled him, livers trouble most of 
 us as we advance in life, and his 
 actual constitution was a great deal 
 stronger than that of ordinary men. 
 . . . Why could not Carlyle, with 
 fame and honor and troops of friends, 
 and the gates of a great career flung 
 open before him, and a great intellect 
 
 127 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 and a conscience untroubled by a 
 single act which he need regret, bear 
 and forget too? Whj indeed! The 
 only answer is that Carlyle was 
 Carlyle." 
 
 These observations carry weight as 
 representing the impartial and ju- 
 dicial estimate of a careful observer 
 desiring only accurately to picture 
 Carlyle as he was. The only logical 
 conclusion, it seems to me, was that 
 Carlvle, in addition to ocular defect 
 with its legitimate consequences, was 
 weighed down by worry over the fail- 
 ure to realize his own exaggerated 
 ideal of health, that he devoted an 
 undue degree of attention to this sub- 
 ject and was unduly anxious about it 
 — in other words, that he had decided 
 hypochondriacal tendencies. 
 
 128 
 
VIII. 
 
 NEURASTHENIA 
 
 It was a common saying of Myaon that men ought 
 not to investigate things from words, but words 
 from things; for that things are not made for the 
 sake of words, but words for things. 
 
 Diogenes Laertius, 
 
 This term (properly, thougH not 
 commonly, accented upon tlie penult) , 
 was introduced by Beard to designate 
 the large class of over-worked and 
 worried who crowded his consulting 
 room. The word is derived from the 
 Greek neuron nerve, and astheneia 
 weakness. 
 
 Among the symptoms of this dis- 
 order have been included disorders of 
 digestion and circulation, muscular 
 weakness, pains, flushes and chills, 
 and anomalous sensations of every 
 variety. It has been especially ap- 
 
 9 129 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 plied to cases showing sucli mental 
 peculiarities as morbid self-study, 
 fear of insanity and the various other 
 phobias, scruples, and doubts with 
 which we have become familiar. 
 
 The ^^ American Disease" has been 
 adopted abroad, and volumes have 
 been devoted to it. Neurasthenia has 
 been divided into cerebral, spinal, and 
 otherwise, according as the fears and 
 sensations of the patient are referred 
 to one or another part of his body. 
 "While the term neurasthenia is be- 
 coming daily more familiar to the 
 general public, it is being, on the 
 w^hole, used, except as a convenient 
 handle, rather less among neurolo- 
 gists.* The question has arisen 
 whether the symptoms of neuras- 
 
 * In substantiation of this statement I need only 
 cite the recent contribution of my friend, Dr. Dana, 
 on the " Partial Passing of Neurasthenia." 
 
 130 
 
NEURASTHENIA 
 
 thenia are always due to simple ex- 
 haustion. Advice regarding method, 
 as well as amount, of work, is coming 
 into vogue. Peterson, in a letter pub- 
 lished in Collier's Weekly (Novem- 
 ber 9, 1907) thus arraigns a patient 
 who has told him he is a practical 
 business man, and that his mind has 
 been so occupied with serious matters 
 that he has been unable to attend to 
 his health. 
 
 ^'You, practical! you, a business 
 man ! Why, you never had a serious 
 thought in your life until now — at 
 least not since you were a lad in the 
 country. . . . Since boyhood you have 
 never given a serious thought to 
 health, home, wife, children, educa- 
 tion, art, science, racial progress, or 
 to the high destiny of man. You are 
 simply a collector of money for its 
 own sake, with no appreciation of 
 
 131 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 what it might represent if you were 
 really serious and really a business 
 man or man of affairs. There are 
 many like you in our asylum wards, 
 w^here they are known as chronic 
 maniacs. Here is one who collects 
 bits of glass, old corks, and pieces of 
 string. There sits another with a lap 
 full of pebbles, twigs and straws." 
 
 Courtney (in Pyle's ^^ Personal 
 Hygiene") says, ^^The brain is an 
 organ which, under proper training, 
 is capable of performing an immense 
 amount of work, provided only that 
 the work is of a varied character and 
 does not produce a corresponding 
 amount of mental disquietude. The 
 importance of the emotions, especi- 
 ally the depressing emotions such as 
 grief, anxiety, and worry, as factors 
 in the brain exhaustion, cannot easily 
 be overestimated." 
 
 132 
 
NEURASTHENIA 
 
 The obvious corollary to this prop- 
 osition is that the constitutional 
 worrier is likely to break down under 
 an amount of work which produces no 
 such effect upon the average normal 
 individual. 
 
 The only quarrel I have with the 
 name neurasthenia is that it diverts 
 attention from the real condition 
 oftenest to be treated, namely, the 
 faulty mental tendency, and directs 
 attention to an assumed debility 
 which may or may not exist. Misdi- 
 rected energy, rather than weakness, 
 is the difficulty with one who is ready 
 and anxious to walk miles to satisfy a 
 doubt, or to avoid crossing an open 
 square, and who will climb a dozen 
 flights of stairs rather than be shut up 
 in an elevator. Even the exhaustion 
 that follows long attention to business 
 is quite as often due to worry and 
 
 133 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 allied faulty mental habits as to the 
 work itself. In most cases the 
 phobias, the doubts, and the scruples, 
 instead of being the result of break- 
 down, must be counted among its 
 principal causes. 
 
 This is why simple rest and ab- 
 stinence from work so often fail to 
 accomplish the cure that should fol- 
 low if the exhaustion were due simply 
 to overwork. In the ^^neurasthenic'' 
 rest from work only redoubles the 
 worries, the doubts and the scruples, 
 and the obsession to improve his time 
 only adds to his nervous exhaustion. 
 If a European trip is undertaken, the 
 temperament responsible for the 
 original breakdown causes him to 
 rush from gallery to gallery, from 
 cathedral to cathedral, so that no mo- 
 ment may be lost. Not infrequently 
 
 134 
 
NEURASTHENIA 
 
 it so happens that the patient returns 
 more jaded than ever. 
 
 The neurasthenic is not infre- 
 quently a confirmed obsessive, with 
 all the faulty mental habits of this 
 temperament. If he cannot make up 
 his mind it is not because he is tired, 
 but because this is his natural mental 
 trend. If he drums, twitches, and 
 walks the floor, these movements are 
 not always due to exhaustion, but are 
 habits peculiar to the temperament, 
 habits well worth an effort to elimin- 
 ate while in health, since they doubt- 
 less, through precluding bodily re- 
 pose, contribute their mite toward the 
 very exhaustion of which they are 
 supposed to be the result. If he can- 
 not sleep it is not simply because he 
 is tired, but because he is so consti- 
 tuted that he cannot bring himself to 
 let go his hold on consciousness until 
 
 135 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 he has straightened out his tangles. 
 If, in addition, one has the hypochon- 
 driacal tendency, he may worry him- 
 self into complete wakefulness by the 
 thought that he has already irrepara- 
 bly injured himself by missing some- 
 thing of the mystic number, eight or 
 nine, or whatever he may deem the 
 number of hours' sleep essential to 
 health. 
 
 It is important that the over- 
 wrought business or professional man 
 realize the importance of undertak- 
 ing no more than he can accomplish 
 without fret and worry; the impor- 
 tance of taking proper vacations 
 before he is tired out ; the importance 
 of learning to divert his mind, while 
 he can still do so, into channels other 
 than those connected with his busi- 
 ness; above all, the importance of 
 cultivating the faculty of relaxing, 
 
 136 
 
NEURASTHENIA 
 
 and of dismissing doubts, indecisions 
 and fears. He must cultivate what 
 my colleague Dr. Paul succinctly 
 terms ^'the art of living with yourself 
 as you are.'' If he would ^^last out" 
 he must learn to proceed with single 
 mind upon whatever work he under- 
 takes, and with equal singleness of 
 mind apply himself, out of hours, to 
 other occupation or diversion, pre- 
 ferably in the open air. For the most 
 effective work, as well as for peace of 
 mind, it is essential that every 
 thought of one's office be shut out by 
 other interests when there is no actual 
 business requiring attention. Mental 
 relaxation is materially hampered by 
 such persistent thoughts of one's 
 place of business as those cited by 
 Dr. Knapp : 
 
 ^^ A striking instance of the sort was 
 related to me by a friend remarkably 
 
 137 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 free from any psychopathic taint. It 
 often happens that he does scientific 
 work in the evening at the Agassiz 
 Museum. When he leaves for the 
 night he puts out the gas and then 
 stands and counts slowly up to a given 
 number mitil his eyes are used to the 
 darkness, in order that he may detect 
 any spark of fire that may have 
 started while he was at work. This 
 is his invariable custom, but it some- 
 times happens that when he goes back 
 home so strong a feeling of doubt 
 comes over him lest he may that once 
 have omitted to do this, that he is un- 
 comfortable until he returns to the 
 museum to make sure." 
 
 Among the predisposing causes for 
 nervous breakdoA^m none is more 
 potent than the inability of the obses- 
 sive to adapt himself to change of 
 plan, and to reconcile himself to 
 
 138 
 
NEURASTHENIA 
 
 criticism, opposition, and the vari- 
 ous annoyances incident to his 
 occupation. 
 
 In dealing with others the follow- 
 ing suggestion of Marcus Aurelius 
 may come in play : 
 
 ^'When a man has done thee any 
 wrong, immediately consider with 
 what opinion about good or evil he 
 has done wrong. For when thou hast 
 seen this, thou wilt pity him, and 
 neither wonder nor be angry." Again, 
 in this connection the lines of Cowper 
 are pertinent : 
 
 ( 
 
 The modest, sensible and well-bred man 
 Will not affront me, and no other can." 
 
 Pope, also, who is said not always 
 to have followed his own good coim- 
 sel, contributes a verse which may 
 serve a turn : 
 
 " At ev'ry trifle scorn to take offense, 
 That always shows great pride, or little sense." 
 
 139 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 The practice of such commonplace 
 philosophy (which, to be effective, 
 should be ready for immediate use, 
 not stored away for later reflection), 
 together with training against faulty 
 mental states studied in these pages, 
 will go far toward relieving the 
 mental perturbation that vmfits for 
 effective work, and contributes to 
 *^ neurasthenia." 
 
 During an hour's delay, caused by 
 the failure of another to keep an 
 appointment, I formulated the fol- 
 lowing maxim : 
 
 '^^ These are the annoyances inci- 
 dent to my business; to fret when 
 they occur means that I cannot man- 
 age my business without friction." 
 
 This may not appeal to the reader, 
 but for me it has proved as good an 
 hour's work as I ever did. Since that 
 time, on the occurrence of similar 
 
 140 
 
NEURASTHENIA 
 
 sources of provocation, I have found! 
 it necessary to go no farther than 
 ** These are the annoyances," to re- 
 store the needful balance. When we 
 allow our gorge to rise at ordinary 
 sources of discomfort, it implies that 
 we are prepared only for our affairs 
 to run with perfect smoothness. This 
 represents the insistent idea carried 
 to an absurdity. 
 
 At the risk of losing caste with the 
 critical I cannot forbear sharing 
 with the reader an inelegant maxim 
 which has more than once prevented 
 an access of rage upon the blunder of 
 a subordinate : ^ ^ If he had our brains 
 he'd have our job." 
 
 Spinoza says: ^^The powerlessness 
 of man to govern and restrain his 
 emotions I call servitude. For a man 
 who is controlled by his emotions is 
 not his own master but is mastered 
 
 141 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 by fortune, under whose power he is 
 often compelled, though he sees the 
 better, to follow the worse." The 
 same philosopher in counselling self- 
 restraint adds : 
 
 ^^The mind's power over the emo- 
 tions consists, first, in the actual 
 laiowdedge of the emotions." Again: 
 ^^An emotion which is a passion 
 ceases to be a passion as soon as we 
 form a clear and distinct idea of it." 
 The meaning of this dictum I first 
 realized on experiencing the magical 
 effect of the line of thought suggested 
 by the delayed appointment. 
 
 Communion with Nature has a pe- 
 culiarly soothing effect on tired and 
 jangled nerves. My friend. Dr. 
 Harold Williams, tells me that among 
 his main reliances for tired and over- 
 wrought women are the reading of 
 
 142 
 
NEURASTHENIA 
 
 children's hoohs, and worldng in the 
 garden, Peterson thus advises Ms 
 busy patient : 
 
 ''^A small farm in a simple com- 
 munity would be for you an asset of 
 immeasurable value from the stand- 
 point of health and spiritual rejuven- 
 ation. But true simplicity should be 
 the rigorous order of that country 
 life. A chateau by the sea, with a 
 corps of gardeners, a retinue of 
 servants, and yachts and auto- 
 mobiles, would prove a disastrous 
 expedient. 
 
 ^^In that quiet retreat you should 
 personally and tenderly learn to 
 know each rosebud, shrub, vine, 
 creeper, tree, rock, glade, dell, of your 
 own estate. You should yourself de- 
 sign the planting, paths, roads, the 
 flower-garden, the water-garden, the 
 wood-garden, the fernery, the lily- 
 
 143 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 pond, the wild - garden, and the 
 kitchen garden." 
 
 Not everyone is so happily situ- 
 ated as to be able to follow this ad- 
 vice in its entirety, but many can 
 make a modest effort in this direc- 
 tion : the kitchen-garden may appeal 
 to some who have no appreciation for 
 the wild flowers, and who scorn to 
 cultivate such tastes. 
 
 One warning is, however, here in 
 order : The cultivation of the garden 
 or the field for utilitarian purposes is 
 inevitably associated with the maxim, 
 '^Hoe out your row" — an excellent 
 maxim for the idle and disorderly, 
 but not to be taken too literally by 
 the over-exacting and methodical 
 business man who is trying to make 
 the radical change in his view of life 
 necessary to free his mind from the 
 incubus of worry. Nor must the 
 
 144 
 
NEURASTHENIA 
 
 amateur husbandman scan with too 
 anxious eye the weather map and the 
 clouds. If he mind these warnings 
 he may learn to say, — 
 
 '* For me kind Nature wakes her genial pow'r. 
 Suckles each herb, and spreads out ev'ry flower, 
 Annual for me, the grape, the rose renew, 
 The juice nectareous, and the balmy dew." 
 
 The over-conscientious individual 
 may object that it is selfish to con- 
 sider his own comfort when he has 
 work to do for others. But expend- 
 ing too freely of our nervous energies, 
 even in a good cause, is like giving to 
 charity so much of our substance that 
 we in turn are obliged to lean on 
 others for support. 
 
 In properly conserving our own 
 energy we may be lightening the ulti- 
 mate burden of others. There is no 
 place for selfislmess in HaeckePs 
 philosophy regarding the proper bal- 
 
 10 145 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 ance between duty to one's self and 
 duty to others. Nor w^as selfishness 
 a failing of the Quaker poet who 
 idealized 
 
 " The flawless symmetry of man. 
 The poise of heart and mind." 
 
 146 
 
IX. 
 
 SLEEPLESSNESS 
 
 He shall enjoy the same tranquility in his sleep 
 as when awake. 
 
 Dighy's Epicurus, Maxim xl. 
 
 Sleeplessness is due, in the ma- 
 jority of cases, to a faulty habit of 
 mind. The preparation for a sleep- 
 less night begins with the waking 
 hours, is continued through the day, 
 and reaches its maximum when we 
 cease from the occupations which 
 have in some degree diverted our at- 
 tention from harassing thoughts, and 
 retire, to struggle, in darkness and 
 solitude, with the worries, doubts, re- 
 grets, and forebodings, which now 
 assume gigantic and fantastic shapes. 
 
 He who would sleep at night must 
 regulate his day, first, by not under- 
 
 147 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 taking more than he can accomplish 
 without undue stress, and, second, by 
 carrying through what he does under- 
 take, as far as he may, without the 
 running accompaniment of undue 
 solicitude, anxious doubts, and mor- 
 bid fears discussed in the preceding 
 sections. It is futile to expect that a 
 fretful, impatient, and over-anxious 
 frame of mind, continuing through 
 the day and every day, will be sud- 
 denly replaced at night by the placid 
 and comfortable mental state which 
 shall insure a restful sleep. 
 
 Before proceeding, then, to the im- 
 mediate measures for inducing sleep, 
 let us consider the suitable prepara- 
 tory measures. 
 
 The nervous breakdown which pre- 
 cludes sleep is oftener due to worry 
 than to work. Nor should the suf- 
 ferer jump too quickly to the conclu- 
 
 148 
 
SLEEPLESSNESS 
 
 sion that it is the loss of sleep rather 
 than the worry that makes him 
 wretched. It is astonishing how much 
 sleep can be lost without harm, pro- 
 vided its loss is forgotten, and how 
 much work can be carried on without 
 extreme fatigue, provided it be un- 
 dertaken with confidence and pursued 
 without impatience. It is, however, 
 essential that the work be varied and, 
 at due intervals, broken. Trainers 
 for athletic contests know that in- 
 creasing practice without diversion 
 defeats its end, and particularly in- 
 sist upon cessation of violent effort 
 directly before the final test. "Why 
 should we not treat our minds as weU 
 as our bodies? 
 
 The active and over-scrupulous 
 business or professional man who al- 
 lows no time for rest or recreation, 
 who can confer no responsibility upon 
 
 149 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 his subordinates, who cultivates no 
 fad, and is impatient of every mo- 
 ment spent away from his occupation, 
 is in danger of eventually ^^ going 
 stale," and having to spend a longer 
 and less profitable vacation in a 
 sanitarium than would have sufficed 
 to avert the disaster. Nor will he find 
 it easy to change his sleep-habit with 
 the change of residence. It behooves 
 him to change that habit while still 
 at work, as a step toward averting 
 breakdown. 
 
 It will harm few of us to take a 
 bird's eye view of our affairs at stated 
 intervals, and ask ourselves if the 
 time has not arrived when it will be 
 a saving of time and money as well as 
 worry for us to delegate more of the 
 details, and more even of the re- 
 sponsibilities, to others, concentrating 
 our own energies upon such tasks as 
 
 150 
 
SLEEPLESSNESS 
 
 we are now peculiarly qualified to 
 undertake. To the man determined 
 to accomplish a lifetime of work 
 before he rests, there is food for 
 thought in the following anecdote : 
 
 When Pyrrhus was about to sail 
 for Italy, Cineas, a wise and good 
 man, asked him what were his inten- 
 tions and expectations. 
 
 ^^To conquer Rome," said Pyrrhus. 
 
 ^'And what will you do next, my 
 
 '^Next I will conquer Italy." 
 
 ^^And after that r' 
 
 *^We will subdue Carthage, Mace- 
 donia, all Africa, and all Greece." 
 
 ^'And when we have conquered all 
 we can, what shall we do^" 
 
 ^ ^ Do ^ Why, then we will sit down 
 and spend our time in peace and 
 comfort." 
 
 *'Ah, my lord," said the wise 
 
 151 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 Cineas, *^what prevents our being in 
 peace and comfort now?'' 
 
 The time to take a vacation is be- 
 fore one is exhausted. If one is 
 discontented during his vacation, he 
 should take it, none the less, as a mat- 
 ter of duty, not expecting to enjoy 
 every moment of it, but contenting 
 himself with the anticipation of 
 greater pleasure in the resumption of 
 his duties. He should cultivate an 
 interest in out-door occupation or 
 some study that carries him into the 
 fields or woods. Aside from the time 
 on shipboard, the worst possible vaca- 
 tion for the overworked business or 
 professional man is the trip to 
 Europe, if spent in crowding into the 
 shortest possible time the greatest 
 possible amount of information on 
 matters artistic, architectural, and 
 historic. 
 
 152 
 
SLEEPLESSNESS 
 
 No one can acquire the habit of 
 sleep who has not learned the habit 
 of concentration, of devoting himself 
 single-minded to the matter in hand. 
 If we practice devoting our minds, 
 as we do our bodies, to one object at 
 a time, we shall not only accomplish 
 more, but with less exhaustion. 
 Training in this direction will help 
 us, on retiring, to view sleep as our 
 present duty, and a sufficient duty, 
 without taking the opportunity at 
 that time to adjust (or to try to 
 adjust) all our tangles, to review our 
 past sources of discomfort, and to 
 speculate upon the ills of the future. 
 
 A walk, a bath, a few gymnastic 
 exercises, will often serve a useful 
 purpose before retiring, but if they 
 are undertaken in a fretful and im- 
 patient spirit, and are accompanied 
 by doubts of their effectiveness, and 
 
 153 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 the insistent thought that sleep will 
 not follow these or any other proced- 
 ure, they are likely to accomplish 
 little. 
 
 The best immediate preparation 
 for sleep is the confidence that one 
 will sleep, and indifference if one 
 does not. It is an aid in the adoption 
 of this frame of mind to learn that 
 many have for years slept only a few 
 hours per night, without noticeable 
 impairment of their health or com- 
 fort. Neither unbroken nor long- 
 continued sleep, however desirable, is 
 essential to longevity or efficiency. 
 This is illustrated by the following 
 examples : 
 
 Joseph A. Willard, for nearly half 
 a century Clerk of the Court in Suf- 
 folk County, and a well-known figure 
 on the streets of Boston, died in his 
 
 154 
 
SLEEPLESSNESS 
 
 eighty-eighth year. He was active 
 and alert in the performance of his 
 daily duties up to their discontinu- 
 ance shortly before his death. He 
 kept, meantime, records of the tem- 
 perature, weather, and condition of 
 the streets, at all hours of the night, 
 and every night, for many years be- 
 fore the establishment of the weather 
 bureau. So reliable were these rec- 
 ords regarded by the courts that they 
 were often appealed to in the trial of 
 cases, and their accuracy never ques- 
 tioned by either party in the suit. I 
 publish these facts by the permission 
 of his son. 
 
 George T. Angell, the well-known 
 humanitarian, than whom few, if any, 
 have led a more busy life, when in his 
 sixty-ninth year wrote as follows : 
 
 *'For the benefit of those who do 
 not [take narcotics, opiates, anaes- 
 
 155 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 thetics] I will say that I suppose 
 there are very few in this country 
 who have slept less than I have ; but I 
 have never taken anything to stupefy, 
 while thousands of good sleepers I 
 have IvQown have long since gone to 
 the last sleep that knows no waking 
 here. It 'was undoubtedly wise to 
 change my professional life from 
 court to office practice: but in other 
 matters I was compelled to choose 
 between living the life of a vegetable, 
 or losing sleep; and I chose the 
 latter." 
 
 Mr. Angell is now eighty-four, still 
 actively engaged in affairs, and al- 
 lows me to add that during the past 
 six years he has gone for a week at a 
 time with no sleep ; for three months 
 at a time he has not averaged more 
 than two hours in twenty-four; he 
 does not remember having ever had 
 
 156 
 
SLEEPLESSNESS 
 
 a good night's sleep. Mrs. Angell 
 states that, with one exception, she 
 has never known him to sleep through 
 the night. 
 
 It is worth while to remember these 
 experiences before resorting to drugs 
 for sleeplessness. 
 
 I have somewhere seen it stated 
 that a prominent divine attributed his 
 happy and green old age to the fact 
 that he slept a certain number of 
 hours every night. Against this state- 
 ment must be set the reflection that 
 many another old gentleman can 
 fairly attribute his comfort, in part 
 at least, to an attitude of indifference 
 toward the unessentials, among which 
 I suspect must be included the ques- 
 tion whether we average eight hours 
 of sleep or materially less. 
 
 Let us now consider some of the 
 faulty mental habits directly affect- 
 
 157 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 ing sleep itself. First comes tlie com- 
 pulsive thought that one must sleep 
 now, and the impatient count of the 
 wakeful hours supposed to be ir- 
 recoverably lost from the coveted 
 number. This insistence in itself 
 precludes sleep. The thought, '^ISTo 
 matter if I don't sleep to-night ; I will 
 some other night," will work wonders 
 in the direction of producing sleep 
 to-night. 
 
 The continuance of any given posi- 
 tion, completely relaxed, in bed, even 
 without unconsciousness, is more rest- 
 ful than tossing about. The mere 
 experiment of remaining immobile in 
 a certain position as long as possible, 
 and concentrating the mind on the 
 thought, ^'I am getting sleepy, I am 
 going to sleep," will oftener produce 
 the desired result than watching the 
 proverbial sheep follow one another 
 
 158 
 
SLEEPLESSNESS 
 
 over the wall. Training during tlie 
 day in restraining nervous move- 
 ments is an aid in acquiring the 
 ability to do this. 
 
 This is a field in which self-sugges- 
 tion is of definite value. Everyone 
 appreciates the effect on sleep of the 
 ** state of mind" when he has passed 
 a succession of sleepless hours fol- 
 lowed by a sudden tendency to som- 
 nolence at the time for rising. The 
 problem is to acquire the frame of 
 mind without waiting for circum- 
 stances. To demonstrate the effect of 
 faulty suggestion combined with rest- 
 lessness on awaking in the night, try 
 the following: 
 
 Experiment I. — ^Place yourself on 
 the face and from this point turn 
 rapidly in a complete circle back- 
 wards from right to left until you are 
 again on the face. Pause several 
 
 159 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 times and say to yourself rapidly **I 
 cannot sleep in this position." The 
 result of the experiment is practically 
 uniform. The rapid movement and 
 the suggestion prevent sleep. 
 
 To demonstrate the effect of bodily 
 relaxation combined with correct sug- 
 gestion, in promoting sleep try — 
 
 Experiment II. — Start in the same 
 position as Experiment I. Traverse 
 the same circle, prolonging each pause 
 with body relaxed, and substituting 
 at each pause the suggestion, ^^I can 
 sleep in any position," repeated a 
 number of times deliberately and as if 
 you meant it. The restful pose and 
 the suggestion generally induce sleep 
 long before the circle is completed. 
 
 Next comes the compulsive thought 
 that we cannot sleep until everything 
 is ** squared up" and all mental pic- 
 tures completed. The story is told 
 
 160 
 
SLEEPLESSNESS 
 
 that a gentleman took a room in the 
 hotel next another who was notori- 
 ously fussy. He remembered this 
 fact after dropping one boot care- 
 lessly to the floor, and laid the other 
 gently down. After a pause he heard 
 a rap on the door and a querulous, 
 *^For heaven's sake, drop the other 
 boot, or I can't get to sleep." 
 
 Many find themselves unable to 
 sleep until the whole household is ac- 
 counted for and the house locked up 
 for the night, until certain news is 
 received, and the like. The same ten- 
 dency postpones sleep until all affairs 
 are straightened out in the mind, as 
 well as in reality. A little reflection 
 shows how indefinite must be the 
 postponement of sleep under such 
 conditions. 
 
 No training is more important for 
 the victim of compulsive tendencies 
 
 11 161 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 than the practice of trusting some- 
 thing to chance and the morrow, and 
 reconciling himself to the fact that at 
 no time, in this world, will all things 
 be finally adjusted to his satisfaction. 
 
 The habit of dismissing, at will, dis- 
 agreeable thoughts is a difficult but 
 not impossible acquisition. Arthur 
 Benson in ''The Thread of Gold" 
 relates the following anecdotes : 
 
 ''When Gladstone was asked, 'But 
 don't you find you lie awake at night, 
 thinking how you ought to act, and 
 how you ought to have acted?' he an- 
 swered, 'No, I don't; where would 
 be the use of that?'" 
 
 "Canon Beadon [who lived to be 
 over one hundred] said to a friend 
 that the secret of long life in his own 
 case was that he had never thought 
 of anything unpleasant after ten 
 o'clock at night." 
 
 162 
 
SLEEPLESSNESS 
 
 The insistent desire to sleep in a 
 certain bed, with a certain degree of 
 light or darkness, heat or cold, air or 
 absence of air, is detrimental. This 
 is in line with the desire to eat certain 
 foods only, at a certain table, and at a 
 certain time. The man who loses his 
 appetite if dinner is half an hour late 
 is unable again to sleep if once waked 
 up. This individual must say to him- 
 self, ^^ Anyone can stand what he 
 likes ; it takes a philosopher to stand 
 what he does not like," and try at 
 being a philosopher instead of a 
 sensitive plant. 
 
 Inability to sleep while certain 
 noises are continued must be simi- 
 larly combated. If one goes from 
 place to place in search of the quiet 
 spot for sleep, he may finally find 
 quiet itself oppressive, or worse yet, 
 may be kept awake by hearing his 
 
 163 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 own circulation, from which escape is 
 out of the question. He who finds 
 himself persistently out of joint with 
 his surroundings will do w^ell to pon- 
 der the language of the Chinese 
 philosopher : 
 
 ^^The legs of the stork are long, the 
 legs of the duck are short: you can- 
 not make the legs of the stork short, 
 neither can you make the legs of the 
 duck long. "Why worry ? ' ' 
 
 With regard to the character of 
 sleep itself, the attitude of our mind 
 in sleep is dominated, to a degree, at 
 least, by its attitude in the waking 
 hours. It is probable that during 
 profound sleep the mind is inactive, 
 and that dreams occur only during 
 the transition-state from profound 
 sleep to wakefulness. It is conceiv- 
 able that in the ideal sleep there is 
 only one such period, but ordinarily 
 
 164 
 
SLEEPLESSNESS 
 
 there occur many such periods during 
 the night ; for the uneasy sleeper the 
 night may furnish a succession of 
 such periods, with comparatively lit- 
 tle undisturbed rest, hence his dreams 
 seem to him continuous. The char- 
 acter of the pictures and suggestions 
 of dreams, though in new combina- 
 tions, are largely dependent on our 
 daily experiences. Is it not, then, 
 worth while to encourage, during our 
 waking hours, as far as is consistent 
 with our duties, such thoughts as 
 are restful and useful, rather than 
 those which serve no purpose but 
 annoyance. 
 
 If we will, we can select our 
 thoughts as we do our companions. 
 
 165 
 
X. 
 
 OCCUPATION NEUROSIS 
 
 Be not ashamed to be helped; for it is thy busi- 
 ness to do thy duty like a soldier in the assault on 
 a town. How, then, if being lame thou canst not 
 mount up on the battlement alone, but with the 
 help of another it is possible? 
 
 Marcus Aurelius. 
 
 The insistent and over-consci- 
 entious habit of mind plays so large 
 a part in the so-called occupation 
 neuroses that a brief discussion of 
 their nature may here be in place. 
 
 "The best-known form of this dis- 
 tressing malady is ^'writer's cramp." 
 Upon this subject the proverbially 
 dangerous little knowledge has been 
 already acquired ; a fuller knowledge 
 may give comfort rather than alarm, 
 and may even lead to the avoidance 
 of this and allied nervous disorders. 
 
 166 
 
OCCUPATION NEUROSIS 
 
 The term *^ writer's cramp" has un- 
 duly emphasized a feature, namely, 
 the cramp, which is neither the most 
 common nor the most troublesome 
 among the symptoms resulting from 
 over-use of a part. In occupation 
 neuroses, other than those produced 
 by the use of the pen, pain, weakness, 
 and numbness are at least equally 
 prominent, and even in writer's 
 cramp the ^^ neuralgic" form is 
 common. 
 
 The fact is generally realized that 
 this type of disorder is particularly 
 frequent among persons of nervous 
 temperament. The reason is two- 
 fold, first, the resistance of such indi- 
 viduals is less than the average, sec- 
 ond, the insistent habit of mind leads 
 them to overdo. It is against the lat- 
 ter factor that our efforts may to 
 advantage be directed. 
 
 167 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 I have in mind the ease of a lady 
 who complained of severe pain in the 
 right arm with no apparent physical 
 cause. The pain, at first appearing 
 only when the arm was placed in a 
 certain position, finally became almost 
 constant. She denied excessive nse 
 of the arm, but her husband stated 
 that she plied the needle to such an 
 extent that it caused the family dis- 
 tress. This she indignantly denied, 
 and fortified her position by the state- 
 ment that she only took short stitches ! 
 Further inquiry elicited the acknowl- 
 edgment that she did so because she 
 could no longer take long ones. This 
 is a fair example of an occupation 
 neurosis. 
 
 Some time ago, after long con- 
 tinued and over-conscientious effort 
 to satisfy the requirements of an 
 athletic instructor, I acquired what is 
 
 168 
 
OCCUPATION NEUROSIS 
 
 known as a ^^golf arm." Efforts at 
 its relief were unavailing. A vigor- 
 ous course of massage only increased 
 the pain. I finally asked a friend 
 what they did in England when a golf 
 player suffered this annoyance. He 
 replied that no golf player ever did 
 so ; when it occurred among others the 
 arm was placed in wool for three 
 months, at the end of which time a 
 single movement of swinging the club 
 was made; if this movement caused 
 pain the treatment was renewed for 
 another three months. I did not sup- 
 pose he intended the advice to be 
 taken literally, but followed it, except 
 as regarded the wool, and I verily 
 believe that I should otherwise have 
 been experimenting with the treat- 
 ment of golf arm to-day. 
 
 My friend's advice indicates the 
 general experience with occupation 
 
 169 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 neuroses including writer's cramp, 
 for whicli every imaginable measure 
 has been tried, only to be replaced by 
 protracted abstinence from the use of 
 the pen. The attempt to use the left 
 hand proves, as a rule, only tempor- 
 arily efficacious. The speedy appear- 
 ance of symptoms in the left hand 
 emphasizes the fact that it is tired 
 brain, as well as the tired muscle, that 
 rebels. 
 
 The ranks of every profession, and 
 of every trade, are daily depleted of 
 the most promising among their mem- 
 bers, whose zeal has outrun their dis- 
 cretion ; their overworked brains and 
 hands have succumbed under the in- 
 cessant strain of tasks, often self- 
 imposed. 
 
 It is hard, but essential, for the 
 sufferer from an occupation neurosis 
 to abandon frantic efforts at combin- 
 
 170 
 
OCCUPATION NEUROSIS 
 
 ing treatment with continuance of 
 labor. He must bring all his philoso- 
 phy to bear on the temporary, but 
 complete, abandonment of his chosen 
 occupation, at whatever loss to him- 
 self or others. 
 
 To avoid this contingency the over- 
 conscientious worker will do well to 
 modify his ambition, and lower his 
 pride if needful, consoling himself 
 with the reflection that an occasional 
 interruption of his labor, even at ma- 
 terial loss, may be replaced by years 
 of future usefulness. Cowper says: 
 
 " 'Tis thus the understanding takes repose 
 In indolent vacuity of thought. 
 And rests, and is refreshed." 
 
 171 
 
ii 
 
 XL 
 
 THE WORRIER AT HOME 
 
 Small habits, well pursued betimes, 
 May reach the dignity of crimes. 
 
 Hannah More. 
 
 More than one *^ sunbeam" and 
 life of the party" in society is the 
 cross patch" and **fuss budget" of 
 the home. His gracious smiles and 
 quips abroad are matched at home by 
 darkened brows and moody silence, 
 only broken by conversation of the 
 italicized variety: ^^Will it ever stop 
 raining?" '^ Can't you see that I am 
 busy?" ^^What are you doing?" and 
 the \\kQ. Whatever banner is ex- 
 hibited to the outside world, the motto 
 at home seems to be ^^ Whatever is, is 
 wrong." Defects in the menage, care- 
 fully overlooked when dining out, are 
 
 172 
 
THE WORRIER AT HOME 
 
 called with peculiar unction to tlie 
 attention of the housekeeper of the 
 home, whose worry to please is only 
 matched by the *^ sunbeam's" fear 
 that she shall think him satisfied 
 with what is placed before him. 
 
 " There's something kind of pitiful about a man that 
 growls 
 Because the sun beats down too hot, because the 
 wild wind howls, 
 Who never eats a meal but that the cream ain't 
 thick enough, 
 The coffee ain't been settled right, or else the 
 meat's too tough — 
 
 Poor chap! He's just the victim of Fate's oldest, 
 meanest trick, 
 You'll see by watching mules and men, they 
 don't need brains to kick." 
 
 Chicago Interocean. 
 
 Add to the *' kicking habit" the 
 insistence that each member of the 
 family must be reminded at frequent 
 intervals of his peculiar weaknesses, 
 and that the discussion of uncom- 
 fortable topics, long since worn 
 
 173 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 threadbare, must be reopened at every 
 available opportunity, and the adage 
 is justified, ^^be it ever so humble, 
 there's no place like home." 
 
 Try the following suggestion on 
 approaching the house after a hard 
 day's work. Say to yourself, **Why 
 tired and cross ? Why not tired and 
 good-natured"?" The result may 
 startle the family and cause inquiries 
 for your health, but ^^ Don't Worry," 
 if it does; console yourself with the 
 thought they will like you none the 
 less for giving them a glimpse of that 
 sunny nature of which they have 
 often heard. 
 
 As a further preparation for the 
 evening meal, and the evening, by 
 way of alleviating the mental and 
 physical discomfort following a try- 
 ing day, one is surprised by the ef- 
 fectiveness of taking a bath and 
 
 174 
 
THE WORRIER AT HOME 
 
 changing all the clothing. This treat- 
 ment, in fact, almost offers a sure 
 cure, but the person who would be 
 most benefited thereby, is the person 
 so obsessed to pursue the miserable 
 tenor of his way that he scouts the 
 suggestion that he thus bestir himself, 
 instead of sinking into the easy chair. 
 He may, however, accept the sugges- 
 tion that simply changing the shoes 
 and stockings is extremely restful, 
 when reminded that if he had worn 
 kid gloves all day he would be relieved 
 to free his hands from the incubus, 
 and, if gloves must still be worn, to 
 put on a cool pair. 
 
 It is a further aid to physical, and 
 indirectly to mental, comfort, if one 
 can learn to wear low shoes and the 
 thinnest of underwear the year 
 round; the former offer a panacea 
 for fidgets; the latter lessens the 
 
 175 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 perspiration, wMch increases the sus- 
 ceptibility to drafts, and to even 
 moderate lowering of temperature. 
 The prevailing belief that this pro- 
 cedure is dangerous is disproved by 
 the experience of the many who have 
 given it a thorough trial. The insis- 
 tent belief of the neurotic that he 
 cannot acquire this habit is touched 
 upon in the chapter on Worry and 
 Obsession. If he thinks he is ^ ^ taking 
 cold," let him throw back his shoul- 
 ders and take a few deep breaths, or 
 if convenient, a few exercises, instead 
 of doubling the weight of his under- 
 wear, and in the long run he will find 
 that he has not only increased his 
 comfort, but has lessened, rather than 
 increased, the number of his colds. 
 
 Much of the worry of the home is 
 retrospective. *^If I had only made 
 Mary wear her rubbers," — ^*If we 
 
 176 
 
THE WORRIER AT HOME 
 
 had only invested in Calumet & Hecla 
 at 25," — '*If we had only sent John 
 to college," represent a fruitful 
 source of family discomfort. The 
 morbid rhyme is familiar to all : 
 
 " Of all sad words of tongue or pen, 
 The saddest these, * It might have been.' " 
 
 I should be glad to learn of any 
 advantage accruing from the indul- 
 gence of this attitude toward the 
 bygone. A happier and more sensible 
 habit of mind may be attained by 
 equal familiarity with the following : 
 
 "Add this suggestion to the verse, 
 * It might have been a great deal worse/ " 
 
 A fruitful source of discomfort for 
 the worrier at home is the absence of 
 occupation. He looks forward to 
 mental rest after using his brain all 
 day, but there is no rest for him 
 unless in sleep. The most valuable 
 
 12 177 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 rest he could give his mind would be 
 to occupy it with something worth 
 while, yet not so strenuous as to cause 
 solicitude. As Saleeby points out, the 
 mock worry of a game is a good anti- 
 dote for the real worry of life, and a 
 game is far better than nothing, 
 unless the player make, in turn, a 
 work of his play, in which case worry 
 continues. 
 
 The hardest task for the worrier at 
 home is to get away from home. With 
 advancing years the temptation grows 
 upon us to spend our evenings by the 
 fireside, to make no new friends and 
 seek no new enjoyments. But this 
 unbroken habit is neither the best 
 preparation for a happy old age, nor 
 the best method of counteracting 
 present worry. Nor should one stop 
 to decide whether the special enter- 
 tainment in question will be worth 
 
 178 
 
THE WORRIER AT HOME 
 
 while — he must depend rather on the 
 realization that if he accepts most 
 opportunities he will be, on the whole, 
 the gainer. 
 
 The man whose occupation keeps 
 him in-doors all day should make 
 special effort to pass some time in 
 the open air, if possible walking or 
 driving to and from his place of busi- 
 ness, and taking at least a stroll in 
 the evening. 
 
 As more than one writer has sug- 
 gested, the best resource is the fad. 
 The fad will prove an inestimable 
 boon after withdrawing from active 
 work, but it should be commenced 
 long before one discontinues business, 
 else the chances are that he will never 
 take it up, but will fret away his time 
 like the average man who retires from 
 an occupation which has engrossed 
 his attention. 
 
 179 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 The fad should not be pursued too 
 strenuously, or its charm is lost. A 
 lady once told me that she had given 
 up studying flowers because she 
 found she could not master botany in 
 the time at her disposal. Another sees 
 no use in taking up history unless he 
 can become an authority on some 
 epoch. Another declines to study 
 because he can never overtake the 
 college graduate. But one of the best 
 informed men of my acquaintance 
 had no college education. One of his 
 fads was history, with which he was 
 far more familiar than any but the 
 exceptional college man, outside the 
 teachers of that branch of learning. 
 
 The usefulness of the fad does not 
 depend upon the perfection attained 
 in its pursuit, but upon the pleasure 
 in its pursuit, and upon the diversion 
 of the mind from its accustomed 
 
 180 
 
THE WORRIER AT HOME 
 
 channels. The more completely one 
 learns to concentrate his thoughts on 
 an avocation, the more enthusiasm 
 and effectiveness he can bring to bear 
 on his vocation in its turn. A fad 
 that occupies the hands, such as car- 
 pentering, turning, or photography, 
 is peculiarly useful if one's taste runs 
 in that direction. 
 
 One handicap in cultivating the fad 
 is the lack of interest on the part of 
 our associates, but if we become genu- 
 inely interested in any fad that is at 
 all worth while, we shall inevitably 
 add new acquaintances likely to prove 
 at least as interesting as those of our 
 present friends, who have no thoughts 
 outside their daily round of toil. The 
 more fads one cultivates, so long as he 
 avoids the obsession to obtrude them 
 at all times and places, the more in- 
 
 181 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 teresting he will, in his turn, become 
 to others. 
 
 The over-solicitude that defeats its 
 own end, in the case of a parent, has 
 been admirably portrayed by Arthur 
 Benson in ^'Beside Still Waters," — 
 ^Hhere was nothing in the world 
 that he more desired than the com- 
 pany and the sympathy of his chil- 
 dren; but he had, beside this, an 
 intense and tremulous sense of his 
 responsibility toward them. He at- 
 tached an undue importance to small 
 indications of character, and thus the 
 children were seldom at ease with 
 their father, because he rebuked them 
 constantly, and found frequent fault, 
 doing almost violence to his tender- 
 ness, not from any pleasure in 
 censoriousness, but from a terror, 
 that was almost morbid, of the conse- 
 
 182 
 
THE WORRIER AT HOME 
 
 quences of the unchecked develop- 
 ment of minute tendencies." 
 
 Something must be left to natural 
 growth, and to fortune, even in such 
 important matters as the rearing of 
 children. 
 
 183 
 
 11 
 
XII. 
 
 THE WORRIER ON HIS TRAVELS 
 
 After all, is it not a part of the fine art of living 
 to take the enjoyment of the moment as it come3 
 without lamenting that it is not something else? 
 Lilian Whiting: Land of Enchantment. 
 
 In no phase of life is the worrying 
 and the ^^fussy" habit more notice- 
 able than in travel. This is, perhaps, 
 partly because the lack of self-confi- 
 dence, which so often unsettles the 
 worrier, is peculiarly effective when 
 he has relinquished the security of his 
 accustomed anchorage. This applies 
 surely to the over-solicitous attention 
 paid by the traveler to the possible 
 dangers of rail and sea. Here is a 
 verse from Wallace Irwin : 
 
 " ' Suppose that this here vessel/ says the skipper 
 with a groan, 
 * Should lose 'er bearin's, run away and bump upon 
 a stone; 
 
 184 
 
THE WORRIER ON HIS TRAVELS 
 
 Suppose she'd shiver and go down when save our- 
 selves wo could'nt.' 
 
 The mate replies, 
 ' Oh, blow me eyes ! 
 Suppose agin she shouldn't ? ' " 
 
 A common direction taken by the 
 worrying habit, in the traveler, is 
 that of taking in advance each step of 
 the journey, preparing for every 
 contingency, and suffering before- 
 hand every imaginable hardship and 
 inconvenience. I do not vouch for 
 the story (though I can match it with- 
 out going far afield) of the gentleman 
 who abandoned his trip from Paris 
 to Budapesth because he found he 
 would be delayed in Vienna six hours, 
 ^^too long time to wait in the station, 
 and not long enough to go to the 
 hotel." It is the imperative duty of 
 every traveler to discover interests 
 w^hich shall tide him over a few hours' 
 delay wherever it may occur. 
 
 It is by no means a waste of time 
 
 185 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 to familiarize ourselves with the 
 geography at least of our own coun- 
 try; to know the situation and ap- 
 pearance of every city of importance, 
 and to know something about the dif- 
 ferent railroads besides their initials, 
 and their rating in the stock market. 
 Again, if we take up the study of the 
 trees, flow^ers and birds, with the aid 
 of the admirable popular works now 
 available, we shall not only view the 
 scenery with new eyes, but shall wel- 
 come, rather than be driven to de- 
 spair, by a breakdown in the woods. 
 It is a mistake to shun our fellow- 
 travelers, from whom we should 
 rather try to learn something. This 
 is a solace in traveling alone, for the 
 boon companion may handicap us in 
 cultivating new acquaintances and 
 gaining new impressions. Though 
 the main object of recreation is diver- 
 
 186 
 
THE WORRIER ON HIS TRAVELS 
 
 sion from the daily round of thought, 
 the fact need not be lost sight of that 
 the busy man will find his practical 
 interests furthered, rather than hin- 
 dered, by a little widening of the 
 horizon. Nor should he forget, mean- 
 time, the admonition of Seneca that 
 if he would wish his travels delightful 
 he must first make himself delightful. 
 It is inevitable that uncomfortable, 
 as well as agreeable, experiences oc- 
 cur in travel. But the man who 
 spends his time and thought in avoid- 
 ing the one and seeking the other is 
 steadily forging chains whose gall 
 shall one day surpass the discomforts 
 of a journey around the world. 
 Arthur Benson in ^^ Beside Still 
 "Waters" says that Hugh learned 
 one thing at school, namely, that the 
 disagreeable was not necessarily the 
 intolerable. Some of us would do 
 
 187 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 well to go back to school and learn 
 this over again. I know of only two 
 ways by which the discomforts of 
 travel can be avoided. One is to 
 ignore them, the other to stay at home. 
 
 A fellow traveler told me that on 
 one occasion, in the presence of a 
 beautiful bit of mountain scenery, he 
 overheard two ladies in anxious 
 consultation comparing, article by 
 article, the corresponding menus of 
 two rival hotels. The fact that three 
 varieties of fish were offered at one, 
 while only two were offered at the 
 other, opened so animated a discus- 
 sion of quantity as opposed to prob- 
 able quality that the listener dis- 
 cretely withdrew. 
 
 A lady on the Florida express, after 
 reading a novel all day with an occa- 
 sional interim, during which she 
 gazed through her lorgnette with 
 
 188 
 
THE WORRIER ON HIS TRAVELS 
 
 bored and anxious air, finally said to 
 her companion, ^^I have not seen a 
 single estate which compares to those 
 in Brookline." 
 
 Among the varieties of needless 
 worry imposed upon the traveler by 
 the insistent habit, none is more com- 
 mon, or more easily overcome, than 
 the refusal to sleep unless noise and 
 light are quite shut out. If the suf- 
 ferer make of his insistent habit a 
 servant, rather than a master, and 
 instead of reiterating ^^I must have 
 quiet and darkness," will confidently 
 assert, ^^I must get over this non- 
 sense," he will speedily learn that 
 freedom from resentment, and a good 
 circulation of air, are more conducive 
 to sleep than either darkness or 
 silence. 
 
 The best drug for the sleepless 
 traveler is the cequo animo of Cicero. 
 
 189 
 
XIII. 
 
 THE WORRIER AT THE TABLE 
 
 These little things are great to little man. 
 
 Goldsmith: The Traveller. 
 
 The insistent habit of mind is 
 nowhere more noticeable than in con- 
 nection with the food. I have seen a 
 hotel habitue, apparently sane, who 
 invariably cut, or broke, his bread 
 into minute particles, and minutely 
 inspected each before placing it in his 
 mouth. If this were a book of con- 
 fessions, I should have myself to 
 plead guilty, among worse things, to 
 having avoided mince pie for weeks 
 after encountering among other in- 
 gredients of this delicacy, a piece of 
 broken glass. 
 
 Not infrequently the obsessive 
 diner so long hesitates before giving 
 
 190 
 
THE WORRIER AT THE TABLE 
 
 his final order that the waiter brings 
 the wrong dish. The insistent thought 
 now replaces the doubting folly, and 
 the diner would as soon think of eat- 
 ing grass as the article offered. I 
 have known him impatiently to leave 
 the table under these circumstances, 
 and to play the ostentatious martyr, 
 rather than partake of the food he 
 had at the outset given weighty con- 
 sideration. I have seen another omit 
 his lunch because water had been 
 spilled upon the cloth, and still 
 another leave the dining-car, with the 
 announcement that he would forego 
 his meal because informed by the con- 
 ductor that men's shirt waists with- 
 out coats were taboo. 
 
 The obsessive of this type may by 
 training even reach the point of 
 seeing the amusing instead of the 
 pathetic side of the picture when, in 
 
 191 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 the course of Ms travels, his request 
 for '^a nice bit of chicken, cut thin," 
 is transmitted to the kitchen as — 
 ^^One chick.'' 
 
 One day, with pride, I called the 
 attention of my easy-going friend to 
 the fact that I was eating a dish I 
 had not ordered. He quietly re- 
 marked that the next step was to eat 
 it and say nothing! Another friend 
 has this motto in his dining-room: 
 ^^Bat what is set before you and be 
 thankful." His children will open 
 their eyes when they find others, less 
 reasonably reared, demanding that 
 the potatoes be changed because they 
 are sprinkled with parsley, that a 
 plate be replaced because it has had a 
 piece of cheese upon it, or that the 
 salad of lettuce and tomato be re- 
 moved in favor of one with tomato 
 alone. 
 
 192 
 
THE WORRIER AT THE TABLE 
 
 A lady recently told me of break- 
 fasting with a foreign sojourner in 
 America, who upon being offered the 
 contents of an egg broken into a glass, 
 was not satisfied with declining it, but 
 felt impelled also to express his 
 extreme disgust at this method of 
 serving it, fortunately to the amuse- 
 ment, rather than to the annoyance of 
 his hostess. 
 
 ^^ After this, know likewise,'' says 
 Epictetus, ^Hhat you are a brother 
 too; and that to this character it 
 belongs to make concessions, to be 
 easily persuaded, to use gentle lan- 
 guage, never to claim for yourself any 
 non-essential thing, but cheerfully to 
 give up these to be repaid by a larger 
 share of things essential. For con- 
 sider what it is, instead of a lettuce, 
 for instance, or a chair, to procure for 
 yourself a good temper. How great 
 an advantage gained!" 
 
 13 193 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 The insistent desire to have a cer- 
 tain degree and character of appetite 
 not infrequently leads to consulting 
 the physician. Still more common is 
 the obsession that the appetite must 
 be gratified, the supposition being 
 that the desire for food is, in the 
 growing child or in the adult, an in- 
 fallible guide to the amount needed, 
 though it is a matter of common 
 knowledge that this is not true of 
 infants or of domestic animals. If 
 one leaves the table himgry he soon 
 forgets it unless inordinately self- 
 centered, and he has no more desire to 
 return than to go back to bed and 
 finish the nap so reluctantly discon- 
 tinued in the morning. 
 
 I have heard the theory advanced 
 by an anxious forecaster of future 
 ills, that all unnecessary food, if 
 packed away as adipoise tissue, serves 
 
 194 
 
THE WORRIER AT THE TABLE 
 
 to nourish the body in periods of 
 starvation. Assuming that the aver- 
 age individual need consider this 
 stress of circumstance, I am strongly 
 of the impression that the best prepa- 
 ration for enforced abstinence will 
 prove, not a layer of fat, but the habit 
 of abstinence. The nursery poet 
 says: 
 
 "The worry cow would have lived till now 
 If she'd only saved her breath. 
 She feared the hay wouldn't last all day 
 So choked herself to death." 
 
 The quantity of food proved by 
 experiment to suffice for the best 
 work, physical or mental, is surpris- 
 ingly small. A feeling of emptiness, 
 even, is better preparation for active 
 exercise than one of satiety. 
 
 It is a national obsession with us 
 that no meal is complete without 
 meat. Order fruit, a cereal, rolls and 
 coffee, at the hotel some morning, and 
 
 195 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 tHe chances are ten to one that the 
 waiter will ask what you are going to 
 have for hredkfast, though you have 
 already ordered more than is abso- 
 lutely necessary for that meal, as 
 demonstrated by the custom upon the 
 Continent, where the sense of fitness 
 is as much violated by the consump- 
 tion of an enormous breakfast as it is 
 with us by the omission of a single 
 detail. 
 
 It may be asked if it is not sub- 
 versive of discipline for the hotel 
 habitue to become too easy-going. 
 There is doubtless a limit to the virtue 
 of allowing ourselves to be imposed 
 upon, but there is little fear that the 
 individual who opens the question 
 will err in this direction. It behooves 
 him rather to consider the danger of 
 his occupying the unenviable position 
 of the "fuss-budget." 
 
 196 
 
XIV. 
 
 THE FEAR OF BECOMING INSANE 
 
 We must be steadfast, Julian! JSatan. is very 
 busy in all of us. 
 
 Ibsen : Emperor and Oalilean. 
 
 FeW;, perhaps, among the high- 
 strung and delicately organized can 
 truly say that this fear has never 
 occurred to them. It affects even 
 children, at an age when their minds 
 are supposed to be taken up with the 
 pleasures and pursuits appropriate to 
 their years. This fear is generally 
 dispelled by the serious occupations 
 of life, but in certain cases it per- 
 sists as an insistent and compelling 
 thought. 
 
 It may afford consolation to know 
 that insanity results, in the majority 
 of cases, from physical disease of 
 
 197 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 the brain, and that it is ordinarily 
 unanticipated, unsuspected and un- 
 credited by the patient. There is no 
 more danger of insanity attacking the 
 worrier and the delicate than the 
 robust and the indifferent. In fact, 
 the temperament which produces the 
 faulty habits we are considering 
 rarely culminates in insanity. It 
 seems worth while, however, to re- 
 place the vague fear of insanity by 
 a knowledge of the variety of mental 
 unbalance remotely threatening the 
 person who lacks the desire or the 
 will, to place a check upon these 
 faulty habits of mind. We may thus, 
 in the worrier whose fears have taken 
 this direction, substitute effort for 
 foreboding. 
 
 It is our conduct rather than our 
 thoughts that determines the question 
 of insanity. The most practical defini- 
 
 198 
 
THE FEAR OF BECOMING INSANE 
 
 tion of insanity I know is that of 
 Spitzka, the gist of which is that a 
 person is insane who can no longer 
 correctly register impressions from 
 the outside world, or can no longer 
 act upon those impressions so as to 
 formulate and carry out a line of 
 conduct consistent with his age, edu- 
 cation and station. 
 
 The banker may repeat the process 
 of locking and unlocking, even to the 
 point of doubting his own sensations, 
 but he may still be able to formulate, 
 and carry out, a line of conduct 
 consistent with his position, though 
 at the expense of intense mental 
 suffering. 
 
 In the reahn of morbid fears, the 
 person obsessed by fear of contamina- 
 tion shows no sign of insanity in 
 using tissue paper to turn the door- 
 knob, or in avoiding objects that have 
 
 199 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 been touched by others. Up to this 
 point his phobia has led merely to 
 eccentricity, but suppose his fear so 
 far dominates him that he can no 
 longer pursue his occupation for fear 
 of handling tools or pen, and that he 
 persistently refuses to eat through 
 fear of poison, he has then reached 
 the point where he can no longer 
 formulate lines of conduct, and he is 
 insane. 
 
 It is, then, important to foresee the 
 tendency of phobias, and to accustom 
 one's self to the point of view that the 
 worst possible harm, for example 
 from contamination by ordinary ob- 
 jects, is no worse than mental unbal- 
 ance, and that the probable conse- 
 quences thereof (nil) are infinitely 
 preferable. 
 
 Even with regard to more tangible 
 fears, as of elevators, fires, tunnels, 
 
 200 
 
THE FEAR OF BECOMING INSANE 
 
 thunder-storms, and the like, a cer- 
 tain tranquility may be gradually 
 attained by a similar philosophy. 
 Suppose instead of dwelling on the 
 possibility of frightful disaster the 
 sufferer practices saying: '^The 
 worst that can happen to me is no 
 worse than for me to let these fears 
 gradually lessen my sphere of opera- 
 tions till I finally shut myself up in 
 my chamber and become a confirmed 
 hypochondriac." One should also 
 remember that many another shares 
 his fears, but shows no sign because 
 he keeps a '^ stiff upper lip," an ex- 
 ample he will do well to follow, not 
 only for his own eventual comfort, 
 but for the sake of his influence on 
 others, particularly on those younger 
 than himself. The pursuance of this 
 line of thought may result in the 
 former coward seeking instead of 
 
 201 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 avoiding, opportunities to ride in 
 elevators and tunnels, and even to 
 occupy an inside seat at the theatre, 
 just to try his new-found power, and 
 to rejoice in doing as others do 
 instead of being set apart as a hope- 
 less crank. 
 
 These fears bear directly on the 
 question of hypochondria. We have 
 already seen how the sphere of the 
 hypochondriac is narrowed. His 
 work and his play are alike impeded 
 by his fear of drafts, of wet feet, of 
 loud noises, of palpitation, of exhaus- 
 tion, of pain, and eventually of 
 serious disease. Is he insane? Kot 
 so long as he can carry out a line of 
 conduct consistent with his station 
 and surroundings. 
 
 It is remarkable how many obses- 
 sions we may harbor without causing 
 us to swerve from our accustomed 
 
 202 
 
THE FEAR OF BECOMING INSANE 
 
 line of conduct. Whatever our 
 thoughts, our conduct may be such 
 that we attract little attention beyond 
 the passing observation that we are a 
 little odd. We may break down, it is 
 true, under the double load we carry, 
 but we are in little danger of insanity. 
 Those established in the conviction 
 that they cannot stand noises or other 
 sources of discomfort, rarely reach 
 the point of a certain poor old lady 
 who used to wander from clinic to 
 clinic, able to think of nothing else, 
 and to talk of nothing else, than the 
 ringing in her ears, and to attend to 
 no other business than efforts for its 
 relief. She was counselled again and 
 again that since nothing was to be 
 found in the ears she should endeavor 
 to reconcile herself to the inevitable, 
 and turn her thoughts in other direc- 
 tions. Unfortunately, she had become 
 
 203 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 peculiarly adept in the detection of 
 disagreeable sights, sounds, and other 
 sources of irritation, and had for a 
 long term of years practiced quite 
 the opposite of control. She had 
 hitherto either insisted on discontinu- 
 ance of all sources of irritation, fled 
 their neighborhood, or put on blue 
 glasses and stopped her ears with 
 cotton. When, finally, her sharpened 
 sense caught the sound of her own 
 circulation, she could think of noth- 
 ing but this unavoidable source of 
 discomfort, which was prepared to 
 follow her to the uttermost parts of 
 the earth. 
 
 A w^ell-known author has said that 
 the difference between sanity and 
 insanity depends only on the power to 
 conceal the emotions. While this 
 definition will hardly pass in law or 
 medicine, it surely offers food for 
 
 204 
 
THE FEAR OF BECX)MING INSANE 
 
 thought. Suppose for a moment that 
 we were dominated by the impulse to 
 externalize all our thoughts and all 
 our emotions, there would be some 
 basis for the common, but inaccurate, 
 saying that everyone is insane. 
 
 This brings us to a form of insanity 
 which the obsessive may well bear in 
 mind, namely, that known as manic- 
 depressive. This disorder, in its 
 typical form, is shown by recurring 
 outbursts of uncontrollable mental 
 and physical activity (mania), alter- 
 nating with attacks of profound de- 
 pression (melancholia). This form 
 of insanity represents the inability to 
 control an extreme degree of the 
 varied moods to which we all are 
 subject. Long before the modern 
 classification of mental disorders, 
 Burton, in his introduction to the 
 ^^ Anatomy of Melancholy," expressed 
 this alternation of moods thus : 
 
 205 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 " When I go musing all alone, 
 Thinking of divers things foreknown. 
 When I build castles in the ayr, 
 Void of sorrow and void of feare. 
 Pleasing myself with phantasms sweet. 
 Me thinks the time runs very fleet. 
 All my joyes to this are folly. 
 Naught so sweet as melancholy. 
 
 " When I lie waking all alone. 
 Recounting what I have ill done. 
 My thoughts on me they tyrannize, 
 Feare and sorrow me surprise, 
 Whether I tarry still or go. 
 Me thinks the time moves very slow. 
 All my griefs to this are jolly, 
 Naught so sad as melancholy." 
 ***** 
 
 " I '11 not change my life with any King, 
 I ravisht am: can the world bring 
 More joy, than still to laugh and smile, 
 In pleasant toyes time to beguile? 
 Do not, do not trouble me. 
 So sweet content I feel and see. 
 All my joyes to this are folly, 
 None so divine as melancholy. 
 
 " I'll change my state with any wretch 
 Thou canst from goale or dunghill fetch: 
 My pain's past cure, another hell, 
 I may not in this torment dwell. 
 Now desperate I hate my life, 
 Lend me a halter or a knife; 
 All my griefs to this are jolly. 
 None so damn'd as melancholy." 
 
 206 
 
THE FEAR OF BECOMING INSANE 
 
 The depressed stage of this dis- 
 order is commonly shown by retarda- 
 tion of thought and motion, the 
 excited stage by pressure of activity 
 and acceleration of thought. In the 
 so-called ^^ flight of ideas" words suc- 
 ceed each other with incredible 
 rapidity, without goal idea, but each 
 word suggesting the next by sound or 
 other association, thus : 
 
 '^Are you blue'?" 
 
 ^^Blue, true blue, red white and 
 blue, one flag and one nation, one 
 kingdom, one king, no not one king, 
 one president, we are going to have a 
 president first, cursed, the worst." 
 
 Who does not recognize the modest 
 prototype of this elaborate rigmarole 
 chasing itself through his mind as he 
 walks the street in jaunty mood, and 
 who of us would not surprise and 
 alarm his friends if he should sud- 
 
 207 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 denly let go his habitual control, 
 express his every thought and ma- 
 terialize his every passing impulse to 
 action? Who can doubt that the per- 
 son who has trained himself for years 
 to repress his obsessions is less likely 
 to give way to this form of insanity 
 than one who has never practiced 
 such training ? Let us then endeavor 
 to pursue '^the even tenor of our 
 way" without giving way to the obses- 
 sion that we must inflict our feelings 
 upon our associates. We may in this 
 way maintain a mental balance that 
 shall stand us in good stead in time of 
 stress. 
 
 The autumnal tendency to melan- 
 choly is recognized by Thoreau. The 
 characteristic suggestion of this nat- 
 ure-lover is that the melancholic go 
 to the woods and study the symplo- 
 carpus foe^tidus (skunk cabbage), 
 
 208 
 
THE FEAR OF BECOMING INSANE 
 
 whose English name savors of con- 
 tempt, but whose courage is such that 
 it is already in the autumn jauntily 
 thrusting forth its buds for the com- 
 ing year. 
 
 An admirable reflection for the vic- 
 tim of moods, as for many another, is 
 the old saying in which Abraham 
 Lincoln is said to have taken peculiar 
 comfort, namely, ^^This also will 
 pass.'' 
 
 14 209 
 
XV. 
 
 RECAPITULATORY 
 
 And found no end in wandering mazes lost. 
 
 Paradise Lost. 
 
 We have reviewed the various 
 phases of worry and the elements out 
 of which worry is assembled. It has 
 been seen that exaggerated self -con- 
 sciousness blocks effort through fear 
 of criticism, ridicule or comment. 
 The insistent habit of mind in the 
 worrier has been found to permeate 
 the content of thought, and unfavor- 
 ably to influence action. The fact has 
 been pointed out that the obsession to 
 do the right thing may be carried so 
 far as to produce querulous doubt and 
 chronic indecision — hence worry. 
 
 It has been pointed out that over- 
 anxiety on the score of health (hypo- 
 
 210 
 
RECAPITULATORY 
 
 cHondria) aggravates existing symp- 
 toms, and itself develops symptoms; 
 that these symptoms in turn increase 
 the solicitude which gave them birth. 
 Attention has been called to the influ- 
 ence of over-anxious and fretful days 
 in precluding the restful state of 
 mind that favors sleep, and to the 
 influence of the loss of sleep upon the 
 anxieties of the following day; in 
 other words, worry prevents sleep, 
 and inability to sleep adds to worry. 
 
 We have seen that doubts of fitness 
 lead to unfitness, and that the worry 
 of such doubts, combined with futile 
 regrets for the past and forebodings 
 for the future, hamper the mind 
 which should be cleared for present 
 action. 
 
 The injurious effect upon the nerv- 
 ous system of these faulty mental 
 states has been emphasized, together 
 
 211 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 with their influence as potent under- 
 lying causes of so-called nervous pros- 
 tration, preparing the worrier for 
 breakdown from an amount of work 
 which, if undertaken with tranquil 
 mind, could have been accomplished 
 with comparative ease. 
 
 The question is, will the possessor 
 of these faulty mental tendencies 
 grasp the importance of giving 
 thought to the training that shall free 
 him from the incubus ? He certainly 
 has the intelligence, for it is among 
 the intelligent that these states are 
 mostly found; he certainly has the 
 will-power, for lack of will-power is 
 not a failing of the obsessed. The 
 question is, can he bring himself to 
 make, at the suggestion of another, a 
 fundamental change of attitude, and 
 will he take these suggestions on 
 faith, though many seem trivial, 
 
 212 
 
RECAPITULATORY 
 
 others, perhaps, unreasonable, and 
 will he at least give them a trial ? I 
 hope so. 
 
 In the next sections will be summed 
 up such commonplace and simple 
 suggestions as may aid emergence 
 from the maze of worry. Many of 
 the suggestions have been scattered 
 through preceding sections. The 
 worrier and folly-doubter is more 
 likely to be benefited by trying them 
 than by arguing about them, and it is 
 within the realms of possibility that 
 some may come to realize the truth of 
 the paradox that he who loses himself 
 shall find himself. 
 
 213 
 
XVI. 
 
 MAXIMS MISAPPLIED 
 
 " Beware ! yet once again beware ! 
 
 Ere round tliy inexperienced mind, 
 With voice and semblance falsely fair, 
 
 A chain Thessalian magic bind, " 
 
 Thomas Love Peacock. 
 
 A FKIEND of mine has a high- 
 bred Boston terrier named ^^ Betty.'' 
 Betty is a bundle of nerves, has a 
 well-developed ^^New-England Con- 
 science/' and among other deviative 
 (not degenerative) signs is possessed 
 of an insatiate desire to climb trees. 
 More than once I have watched her 
 frantic efforts to achieve this end, and 
 she really almost succeeds — at least 
 she can reach a higher point on the 
 trunk of a tree than any other dog of 
 her size I know — say six feet ; if the 
 bark is rough, perhaps seven feet 
 
 214 
 
MAXIMS MISAPPLIED 
 
 would not be an overestimate. Her 
 attempts are unremitting — once the 
 frenzy is on it is with the greatest 
 difficulty that she can be separated, 
 panting and exliausted, from her task. 
 Betty's case furnishes an illustra- 
 tion of an inborn tendency, fostered 
 neither by precept nor example, per- 
 sistently to attempt the impossible, 
 and to fret and fume when forced to 
 discontinue. Some children are by 
 inheritance similarly endowed. Im- 
 agine Betty a child. It is safe to 
 assume that the mental trait which 
 prompts this expenditure of tireless 
 and misdirected energy has sifted 
 down through her ancestry; the 
 chances are, of course, against its hav- 
 ing skipped the generation inmiedi- 
 ately preceding; in other words, one 
 or both her parents are probably 
 obsessive. It follows almost as a 
 
 215 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 matter of course that the ^^indomit- 
 able wiir' of the child is viewed with 
 pride by the parent. Instead of being 
 kept within reasonable bounds, and 
 directed into proper channels, it is 
 encouraged in every direction, and 
 fostered by every available means. 
 Prominent among the incentives to 
 renewed activity furnished by the 
 solicitous parent, possibly by the un- 
 discriminating teacher, will be found 
 such precepts as: ^^In the bright 
 lexicon of youth there's no such word 
 as fail," ^^ Never give up the ship," 
 ^^ Never say die," ^^ There's always 
 room at the top." 
 
 Excellent maxims these, for the 
 average child, particularly for the 
 child w^ho is under average as regards 
 ambition to excel. But what of their 
 effect upon the already over-con- 
 scientious and self -exacting child? 
 
 216 
 
MAXIMS MISAPPLIED 
 
 Simply to tighten fetters whicli 
 should rather be relaxed. 
 
 Life becomes a serious problem to 
 a child of this kind at a much earlier 
 age than is generally realized. I have 
 been surprised to learn at what tender 
 years such children have been borne 
 down by a weight of self-imposed 
 responsibility quite as heavy as can 
 burden an adult, without the power of 
 the adult to carry it. SucH, for ex- 
 ample, are anxieties regarding the 
 health or the financial status of the 
 parents, matters freely discussed 
 without a thought that the child will 
 make these cares his own. 
 
 I realize that this line of thought 
 mil seem to some revolutionary. A! 
 friend to whom I submitted the 
 proposition that it did harm rather 
 than good to encourage a child of this 
 kind to attempt the impossible an- 
 
 217 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 swered, '^Nothing is impossible," and 
 lie said it as if he more than half 
 believed it. Here we have the am- 
 bitions maxim challenging trnth it- 
 self. It is certainly not impossible 
 that Mozart wrote a difficult concerto 
 at the age of five ; nor is it impossible 
 that, in precocious children of a dif- 
 ferent type, worry from failure to 
 accomplish the desired may cause 
 profound despair productive of dis- 
 astrous results. 
 
 ISTor are such children either 
 geniuses or freaks — they are merely 
 inheritors of the ^^New England 
 Conscience,'' so named, I suppose, 
 because the trait has multiplied in 
 this section more rapidly even than 
 the furniture and fittings of the May- 
 flower. Without underrating the 
 sterling qualities of the devoted band 
 who founded this community it may 
 
 218 
 
MAXIMS MISAPPLIED 
 
 safely be suggested that neither the 
 effectiveness nor the staying qualities 
 of their descendants will be lessened 
 by a certain modification of the quer- 
 ulous insistence which dominates the 
 overtrained adult in the rearing of 
 the nervously precocious child. 
 
 The maxim ^^What is worth doing 
 at all is worth doing well/' if carried 
 to its ultimate conclusion by the over- 
 careful, would justify the expendi- 
 ture of a quarter of an hour in sharp- 
 ening a lead-pencil. This maxim, 
 while losing in sententiousness would 
 gain in reason if it ran thus : ^^ What 
 is worth doing at all is worth doing 
 as well as the situation demands." 
 ^* Never put off till to-morrow what 
 you can do to-day," an excellent 
 maxim for the shiftless, must not be 
 taken too literally by the individual 
 already obsessed to do to-day twice 
 
 219 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 what lie can and quadruple what he 
 ought. 
 
 Neither the chronic doubter nor the 
 prematurely thoughtful need be ad- 
 monished, *^Look before you leap," 
 or **Be sure you're right, then go 
 ahead." Such guides to conduct, 
 however effective in the case of three 
 individuals, in the fourth hinder ac- 
 complishment by encouraging quer- 
 ulous doubt; — it is for the benefit 
 of the fourth that these pages are 
 written. A revolutionary effort must 
 be made before the worrier and 
 the folly-doubter can throw off his 
 shackles. 
 
 It may be questioned whether this 
 sort of philosophy does not savor of 
 laissez-faire, and tend to produce in- 
 difference; but the worry against 
 which these efforts are directed is a 
 state of undue solicitude, — due solici- 
 
 220 
 
MAXIMS MISAPPLIED 
 
 tude is not discouraged. Fortunately, 
 as partial offset to the many maxims 
 stirring to increased activity, there 
 exist certain maxims of less stren- 
 uous, but not unreasonable, trend, 
 thus : — ^^ What can't be cured must be 
 endured," '* Patient waiters are no 
 losers." Such maxims are quite as 
 worthy of consideration by the obses- 
 sive as any of those previously cited. 
 While they modify overzeal, they de- 
 tract in no way from effective, even 
 strenuous, endeavor. 
 
 221 
 
XVIL 
 
 THE FAD 
 
 " Fads may be said to constitute a perfect mental 
 antitoxin for the poison generated by cerebral 
 
 ^c^ivi^y" Courtney. 
 
 Theee is nothing occult in the sug- 
 gestion that the worrier cultivate a 
 fad. Its object is to interest him 
 in something outside of himself and 
 of the monotony of his accustomed 
 round. If it seems to him too much 
 trouble to enter upon the details of 
 the fad there is all the more reason 
 for freeing himself from such mental 
 inertia. 
 
 How shall we set to work to acquire 
 a fad, without special opportunity or 
 education, and with but little time at 
 our disposal? Suppose we take the 
 study of botany as an illustration, not 
 
 222 
 
THE FAD 
 
 necessitating class instruction. This 
 useful study may be made also a 
 charming fad, and one not beneath 
 the notice of so learned and busy a 
 man as Sir Francis Bacon, who found 
 time and inclination to write an essay 
 ^'Of Gardens," in which he mentions 
 by name and shows intimate acquaint- 
 ance with, over one hundred distinct 
 varieties of plant life. 
 
 Sir John Lubbock (the Right Hon- 
 ourable Lord Avebury) in **The 
 Pleasures of Life," says: 
 
 *^The botanist, on the contrary — 
 nay, I will not say the botanist, but 
 one with even a slight knowledge of 
 that delightful science — when he goes 
 out into the woods, or out into one of 
 those fairy forests which we call 
 fields, finds himself welcomed by a 
 glad company of friends, every one 
 with something interesting to tell." 
 
 223 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 There are two ways of cultivating 
 botanical as well as other knowledge ; 
 namely, the passive and the active. 
 The passive method is to let someone 
 inform us; the active is to find out 
 something for ourselves. The latter 
 is the only effective method. Suppose 
 we start with the wild flowers : 
 
 The first step is to purchase a 
 popular illustrated book on this sub- 
 ject, preferably one in which the 
 flowers are arranged according to 
 color. iWe first learn, in the intro- 
 duction, the principal parts of the 
 flower, as the calyx, the corolla, the 
 stamen and the pistil. We find that 
 the arrangements of leaves and 
 flowers are quite constant, that the 
 leaves of some plants are opposite, 
 of others alternate; of still others 
 from the root only, that flowers are 
 
 224 
 
THE FAD 
 
 solitary, in raceme, head, spike or 
 otherwise clustered. 
 
 It now behooves us to take a walk 
 upon a country road with our eyes 
 open and our book under our arm. 
 Along the roadsides passing vehicles 
 have scattered the seeds of many 
 flowering plants. We decide to pick 
 and learn the first white blossom we 
 see. This blossom appears, we will 
 say, upon a plant about a foot high. 
 We notice that its leaves are opposite, 
 that its corolla has five petals and 
 that its calyx is infiated. We now 
 look through the section on white 
 flowers. The first plant described has 
 leaves from the root only ; the second 
 is a tall shrub, these we pass, there- 
 fore, and continue until we find one 
 answering the description, leaves op- 
 posite, calyx inflated, corolla of five 
 petals. When we reach it we have 
 
 15 225 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 identified the plant; we now feel a 
 sense of ownership in the Bladder 
 Campion, and are quite shocked when 
 onr friend calls it only ^^a weed." 
 Meantime we have noted many fa- 
 miliar names and some familiar illus- 
 trations which we must identify on 
 our next ramble. 
 
 On consulting our timepiece we 
 find that we have absolutely spent a 
 couple of hours in complete forget- 
 fuhiess of the daily grind, to say 
 nothing of having filled our lungs 
 with comparatively fresh air, and 
 having taken a little exercise. Best 
 of all, w^e have started a new set of 
 associations ; we have paved the way 
 for new acquaintances, Linnaeus, 
 Gray, Dioscorides and Theophrastus, 
 to say nothing of our friend so-and-so 
 whom we always thought rather tire- 
 some but with whom we now have 
 
 226 
 
THE FAD 
 
 something in common. We shall take 
 up our daily grind to-morrow with 
 a new zest for having forgotten it for 
 a few hours, and find it less of a grind 
 than usual; moreover, we now have 
 an object to encourage another stroll 
 in the country. 
 
 If we continue as we have begun 
 we shall soon find ourselves prying 
 into the more scientific works on 
 botany, and perhaps eventually ex- 
 tending our interest to the birds, the 
 beasts and the boulders. One of these 
 days we may become quite proficient 
 amateur naturalists, but this is only 
 by the way; the real advantage to 
 us has been the externalizing of our 
 interests. 
 
 This is the most desultory way pos- 
 sible of cultivating the fad. One may 
 go a step further and transplant the 
 wild flowers and the weeds. A busy 
 
 227 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 and successful professional friend of 
 mine, besides having a cabinet shop 
 in his stable, finds (or makes) time 
 to go to the woods with his trowel. 
 He has quite a wild-flower bank in 
 Ms garden. I cannot give definite 
 directions as to their setting out — 
 I think he just throws them down 
 anywhere — a fair percentage seem to 
 thrive, — I can remember the larger 
 bur-marigold, the red and white bane- 
 berry, rattlesnake-weed, rattlesnake- 
 plantain, blood root, live-for-ever, 
 wood betony, pale corydalis, and 
 fern-leaved foxglove, and there are 
 many more. 
 
 Mushrooms and ferns offer fertile 
 fields for special study. If the wor- 
 rier has an altruistic turn he will find 
 satisfaction in bestowing duplicates 
 upon his friends, thus still further 
 externalizing his interests. He will 
 
 228 
 
THE FAD 
 
 be surprised to find how many things 
 there are in the world that he never 
 noticed. 
 
 Whether our tastes lead us in the 
 direction of photography, pottery, 
 mechanics, collecting china, books and 
 old furniture, of philosophy or a 
 foreign language, we need not aim to 
 pursue these avocations too pro- 
 foundly. We must not compare our 
 acquisitions with those of the savant 
 or the skilled laborer, but must con- 
 sole ourselves with the reflection that 
 we at least know more, or can do 
 more, than yesterday. If our fads, 
 now and then, make us do something 
 that gives us a little trouble, so much 
 the better, if it is only to go to the 
 library for a book, — the worrier 
 whose idea of rest and recuperation is 
 to remain forever glued to an easy- 
 chair is indeed to be pitied. 
 
 229 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 Collecting old prints, stamps, and 
 coins, is by no means a waste of time. 
 Fads of this nature offer the addi- 
 tional inducement of an asset which 
 may serve, in a material way, to 
 banish worry in time of stress. To 
 reap the full advantage of the collec- 
 tion fads one should take pains to 
 acquire a knowledge of the geography 
 and history with which they are asso- 
 ciated. Few are so unfortunately 
 placed that they have no access to 
 information on these subjects. The 
 encyclopaedia, at least, is within 
 general reach, though rarely con- 
 sulted by those who most need its aid. 
 
 Suppose one takes up history for 
 an indoor fad. How shall he start 
 in? Since he pursues this study only 
 as a fad, he can commence almost 
 anywhere. Let him decide to become 
 familiar with the fifteenth century. 
 
 230 
 
THE FAD 
 
 The first step is to familiarize himself 
 with the principal rulers and the 
 principal battles of that time. Sup- 
 pose he spends half an hour every 
 evening upon the life of one or 
 another ruler, as given in the en- 
 cyclopaedia or elsewhere. If he is 
 sufficiently inventive to construct a 
 pictorial or other plan in which to 
 give each his place, so much the 
 better. Having thus constructed a 
 frame-work he can begin to fill in the 
 details, and now the study begins to 
 interest him. At any public library 
 he can find a catalogue of historical 
 fiction arranged according to cen- 
 turies. Under the fifteenth century 
 he will find Quentin Durward, The 
 Broad Arrow, Anne of Geierstein, 
 The Cloister and the Hearth, Every 
 Inch a King, Marietta, The Dove in 
 the Eagle's Nest, and other standard 
 
 231 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 works, all of which he may have read 
 before, but every page of which will 
 have for him a new interest since he 
 can now place the characters, appreci- 
 ate the customs, and form a consis- 
 tent picture of what was doing in 
 different coimtries at this time. 
 
 The next step is to acquire, in the 
 same way, equal familiarity with the 
 preceding and succeeding centuries, 
 particularly with the inter-relations 
 of the different countries, old and 
 new. 
 
 The reader who has followed to 
 this point will need no further hint. 
 If he continues as he has begun, he 
 will be surprised to find how soon he 
 will be able to instruct, on one subject 
 at least, the college graduate, unless 
 that graduate has happily continued 
 as a fad what he once perfunctorily 
 acquired. 
 
 232 
 
THE FAD 
 
 Another way of commencing this 
 study, and the one, I confess, which 
 appeals more to me, is first to estab- 
 lish a framework which shall cover 
 a long period of time, then study spe- 
 cial epochs. An interesting way to 
 start this method is to purchase 
 Creasy 's '* Decisive Battles of the 
 World," and familiarize one's self 
 with its contents. This will furnish 
 pegs on which to hang further items 
 of information, and will impart a 
 running familiarity with different 
 nations involved in war from the time 
 of the supremacy of Greece, down to 
 the battle of Manila, in the recent 
 edition, — in earlier editions to the 
 time of Napoleon. 
 
 The only absolutely essential refer- 
 ence book for this study is Ploetz's 
 *' Epitome of Universal History." 
 
 To make this fad interesting, the 
 
 233 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 mere commitment to memory of facts 
 and dates will not suffice. Items of 
 history tlius acquired will inevitably 
 fade. The conscientious but ill- 
 advised student who attempts to com- 
 mit the ^^ Epitome" to memory will 
 fall by the way-side. Time is not 
 wasted in dwelling sufficiently long 
 on one subject to feel a sense of 
 ownership in it, and there is oppor- 
 tunity for the exercise of individual 
 ingenuity in devising means to ac- 
 complish this end. If one has the 
 knack, for example, of writing non- 
 sense verse (and this is a talent all too 
 easy of cultivation) it will aid him in 
 fixing by rhyme names and dates 
 otherwise difficult to master, thus : 
 
 *'Ten sixty-six is a date you must 
 fix ; " or ^ ^ Drake was not late in fifteen 
 eighty-eight." 
 
 The study of music, history, trees, 
 
 234 
 
THE FAD 
 
 flowers, or birds doubtless seems of 
 trivial interest to one who occupies 
 his leisure hours with such weighty 
 problems as figuring out how rich he 
 would have been to-day if he had 
 bought Bell Telephone at 15, but such 
 study is far more restful, and in the 
 long run quite as useful for the over- 
 busy man. 
 
 It is not necessary to devote an 
 enormous amount of time to such 
 pursuits. One has only to purchase 
 Miss Huntington's ^^ Studies of Trees 
 in Winter" and learn the trees in his 
 own doorway, or upon his street, to 
 awaken an interest that will serve 
 him in good stead upon a railroad 
 journey, or during an otherwise 
 monotonous sojourn in the country. 
 A walk around the block before 
 dinner with such an object in view is 
 more restful than pondering in one's 
 
 235 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 easy-chair over the fluctuations of the 
 stock market, and the man who is 
 ^'too busy" for such mental relaxa- 
 tion is paving the way for ultimate, 
 perhaps early, breakdown. 
 
 Once started on the trees, the man 
 who did not even know that their 
 buds were visible in the winter, after 
 absorbing the contents of the popular 
 tree-books may find himself looking 
 for something more elaborate. He 
 may even look forward to his next 
 western trip with pleasure instead of 
 disgust, now that he anticipates see- 
 ing at close hand the eucalyptus, the 
 Monterey cypress, and the pinus 
 ponderosa, 
 
 Courtney says ^Ho all this will 
 undoubtedly be objected the plea of 
 lack of time. The answer to argu- 
 ments formed on such flimsy basis is 
 that all the time which is spent in 
 
 236 
 
THE FAD 
 
 preparing one's self as a candidate 
 for a sanitarium is like the proverbial 
 edged tool in the hands of children 
 and fools." 
 
 A little time spent in such simple 
 pursuits as I have indicated, and a 
 few weeks' vacation before exhaus- 
 tion appears^ may prevent a year's 
 enforced abstinence from work on 
 account of nervous invalidism. I am 
 tempted here to say '^ A stitch in time 
 saves nine," but adages are some- 
 times dangerous. Thus the adage, 
 ^^If you want a thing well done you 
 must do it yourself," has caused 
 many a business and professional 
 man to burden himself with details 
 which in the long run he might better 
 have intrusted to subordinates, even 
 at the risk of an occasional blunder. 
 
 It is not wise to specialize too much 
 in the pursuit of the fad. Suppose 
 
 237 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 the busy man, having conceded the 
 value of some out-of-door study, de- 
 cides that he will learn the lumber 
 industry, but take no interest in the 
 shade trees. He will not materially 
 broaden his interests in this way. He 
 will rather add to his burdens another 
 business. If he applies to this new 
 business the same conscientious meth- 
 ods which are wearing him out in 
 his present one, the value of the fad 
 is gone, the new study has done him 
 more harm than good, and when on 
 his vacation, unless there is a sawmill 
 in the neighborhood, he finds himself 
 stranded with only worry for com- 
 pany. Similarly, if the study of his- 
 tory is taken up in the way a fad 
 should be taken up, anything in the 
 way of a book will now interest the 
 worrier, for hardly a book worth 
 reading fails to contain either a bit 
 
 238 
 
THE FAD 
 
 of travel, geography, biography, 
 law, or something on manners and 
 customs. 
 
 Permanent freedom from worry 
 involves a change in one's whole view 
 of life and method of thought. But 
 the means by which introspection 
 may be temporarily alleviated are 
 by no means to be despised. Among 
 these comes the pursuit of the golf- 
 ball. Many a business and profes- 
 sional man who thinks he has no time 
 for golf can easily escape for an 
 hour's play at the end of the day, 
 twice a week, and in the long run it 
 will prove to be time well expended. 
 In point of fact, most are hindered 
 rather by the notion that it is not 
 worth while to visit the links unless 
 one can play eighteen holes, or that 
 it is not worth while to take up the 
 
 239 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 game at all unless one can excel. 
 But the exercise is the same, and 
 the air equally bracing whether we 
 win or lose; the shower-bath will 
 refresh us just the same whether we 
 have played nine holes or twenty- 
 seven. 
 
 The automobile ride, the drive, and, 
 best of all, the ride on horseback, will 
 often serve to banish the vapors. 
 Many neglect these methods, not from 
 lack of time or money, but from in- 
 disposition. 
 
 A busy professional man recently 
 assured me that he had renewed his 
 youth by going three times a week to 
 the gymnasium and joining the ^^old 
 man 's class. ' ' Here is an opportunity 
 open to practically everyone; it is a 
 desirable practice if continued. The 
 drawback is the lack of incentive 
 when the novelty has passed. Such 
 
 240 
 
THE FAD 
 
 incentive is furnished by the fad, in 
 the satisfaction of gaining new 
 knowledge and broadening the 
 thought-associations. 
 
 16 241 
 
XVIII. 
 
 HOME TREATMENT 
 
 Submit to what is unavoidable, banish the im- 
 possible from the mind, and look around for some 
 
 new object of interest in life. 
 
 Goethe. 
 
 In tlie treatment of faulty mental 
 habits the chief reliance is the train- 
 ing of the mind; physical measures 
 are merely supplementary. This fact 
 has always been recognized in a gen- 
 eral way. The need of such training 
 was emphasized by Epictetus thus : 
 
 ^^Not to be disappointed of our 
 desire, nor incur our aversion. To 
 this ought our training be directed. 
 For without vigorous and steady 
 training, it is not possible to preserve 
 our desire undisappointed and our 
 aversion unincurred." 
 
 But there has always been an un- 
 
 242 
 
HOME TREATMENT 
 
 dercurrent of dissatisfaction with 
 purely mental treatment, and a desire 
 for the drug, which has more than 
 once, doubtless, been prescribed for 
 the purpose of ^^ suggestion" only. 
 
 The movement for psychic treat- 
 ment on scientific principles, of 
 faulty mental disorders, not of or- 
 ganic nature, is well imder way. 
 That the American profession takes 
 an active interest in this movement 
 is shown by the exhaustive paper on 
 psycho-therapy by Dr. E. W. Taylor, 
 recently read at a combined meeting 
 held in Boston and discussed by such 
 representative neurologists as Drs. 
 Mills, Dercum, J. K. Mitchell, and 
 Sinkler, of Philadelphia ; Drs. Dana, 
 Sachs, Collins, Hunt, Meacham, and 
 Jelliffe, of New York; Dr. White of 
 Washington, and Drs. Putnam and 
 Prince, of Boston. 
 
 243 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 Such faulty mental Habits as worry 
 and obsession, doubting folly, and 
 Iiypoeliondria, are no more amenable 
 to physical treatment than the habit 
 of swearing, or of over-indulgence in 
 food and drink. Even the psychic 
 treatment, by another, of such dis- 
 orders, as of such habits, labors under 
 the disadvantage that all attempts to 
 influence another by exhortation, 
 ridicule, or reproach are met by 
 active or passive resistance on the 
 part of the individual toward whom 
 these efforts are directed. A con- 
 scientious resolve on the part of the 
 individual himself, whether started 
 by a casual hint or by a new line of 
 thought, is often more effective than 
 any amount of outside pressure, how- 
 ever well directed. 
 
 It is my hope and belief that the 
 over-solicitous individual will be in- 
 
 244 
 
HOME TREATMENT 
 
 fluencecl by reading these descrip- 
 tions to adopt, of Ms own initiative, 
 some of these suggestions. His most 
 striking peculiarity is his conviction 
 that he cannot take the chances others 
 do, that the criticisms he receives are 
 peculiarly annoying, and that his 
 sources of worry are something set 
 apart from the experience of or- 
 dinary mortals. This conviction leads 
 him to meet argument by argument, 
 reproach and ridicule by indignant 
 protest or brooding silence. The 
 perusal of these sections may lead 
 him to alter his ideals. Suggestions 
 for home treatment have been scat- 
 tered through the various pages; it 
 only remains to sum them up. 
 
 ,We have traced worry back to 
 exaggerated self-consciousness and 
 obsession; it is against these two 
 
 245 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 faulty tendencies that training may 
 be directed. 
 
 The first step is the initiation of a 
 new attitude, namely, the common- 
 place. The establishment of this 
 attitude involves the sacrifice of self- 
 love, and of the melancholy pleasure 
 of playing the martyr. The over- 
 sensitive individual must recognize 
 the fact that if people do not want 
 him round it may be because he 
 inflicts his ego too obtrusively upon 
 his associates. He must realize that 
 others are more interested in their 
 own affairs than in his, and that how- 
 ever cutting their comments and 
 unjust their criticisms, and however 
 deeply these may sink into his soul, 
 they are only passing incidents with 
 them. 
 
 He must realize that if two people 
 whisper they are not necessarily 
 
 246 
 
HOME TREATMENT 
 
 whispering about him, and if they are 
 it is of no consequence, and merely 
 shows their lack of breeding. On 
 public occasions he must remember 
 that others are thinking of them- 
 selves, or of the subject in hand, quite 
 as much as they are of him and how 
 he behaves. He must realize that 
 even if he does something foolish it 
 will only make a passing impression 
 on others, and that they will like him 
 none the less for it. 
 
 He must practice externalizing his 
 thoughts. If criticised, he must ask 
 himself whether the criticism is just 
 or mijust. If just, he must learn to 
 accept and act upon it ; if imjust, he 
 must learn to classify the critic, as 
 unreasonable, thoughtless, or ill-na- 
 tured, place him in the appropriate 
 mental compartment, throw the criti- 
 cism into the intellectual waste-bas- 
 
 247 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 ket, and proceed upon Ms way. This 
 practice, difficult at first, will, if 
 assiduously cultivated, become more 
 and more automatic, and will ma- 
 terially modify a fruitful source of 
 worry. 
 
 The next step is to practice the 
 control of the dominating impulses 
 (obsessions). If one finds himself 
 impelled continually to drum, or walk 
 the floor, he will find the habit cannot 
 be dropped at once, but if he can 
 refrain from it for a few moments 
 once or twice in the day, no matter 
 how lost he feels without it, and sit 
 for a few minutes relaxed and 
 motionless, the intervals can be grad- 
 ually increased. Even the chronic 
 doubter may appreciate the fact that 
 this practice aids in preparing on-e 
 for taking and keeping, at night, the 
 quiet and immobile position which 
 
 248 
 
HOME TREATMENT 
 
 favors sleep. The bearing of this 
 training upon worry may not be 
 immediately obvious, but if one can- 
 not overcome these simple physical 
 compulsions he will find it still harder 
 to overcome the doubts, the fears, and 
 the scruples which underlie his 
 worry. 
 
 It is hard to give up the idea that 
 we are so peculiarly constituted that 
 it produces a special disgust in our 
 case if another constantly clears his 
 throat, and a peculiar annoyance if 
 he rocks. It is difficult to relinquish 
 the belief that, however callous others 
 may be, our nervous system is so 
 delicately adjusted that we cannot 
 work when others make unnecessary 
 noise, and we cannot sleep if a clock 
 ticks in our hearing. But if one per- 
 sistently cultivates the commonplace, 
 
 249 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 he will at last find himself seeking 
 instead of avoiding the objects of his 
 former torture, merely to exercise his 
 new-found mastery of himself, and to 
 realize that *'He that ruleth his spirit 
 is better than he that taketh a city.'^ 
 
 It is the imperative duty of every 
 sufferer from doubting folly to say 
 to himself, ^^I will perform this act 
 once with my whole attention, then 
 leave it and turn my mind in other 
 channels before I have dulled my per- 
 ception by repetition." 
 
 If one is prone to chronic indeci- 
 sion, he must remind himself that it 
 is better to do the wrong thing with 
 single mind, than to work himself 
 into a frenzy of anxious doubt. In 
 case the choice is not an important 
 one, he must learn to pounce upon 
 either task, and waste no further 
 time. If the doubt concerns an im- 
 
 250 
 
HOME TREATMENT 
 
 portant matter, he must learn to 
 devote only that attention to the mat- 
 ter which is commensurate with its 
 importance, then decide it one way or 
 the other, realizing that it is better to 
 make a mistake, even in an important 
 matter than to worry one's self 
 into utter helplessness by conflicting 
 emotions. 
 
 If insistent fear attacks one, he 
 must remind himself that the worst 
 that can happen to him is not so bad 
 as the state of the chronic coward and 
 the hypochondriac. He must practice 
 taking the chances that others do, 
 and must learn to go through the 
 dreaded experiences, not with his 
 nervous system stimulated into undue 
 tension, but with body and mind 
 relaxed by such considerations as I 
 have indicated. 
 
 The maxim is a useful aid in sug- 
 
 251 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 gestion, but it should be carefully 
 selected. Most children seem to be 
 brought up on maxims which pre- 
 suppose mental deficiency and con- 
 stitutional carelessness. But the 
 naturally over-thoughtful and too- 
 conscientious child, the child to whom 
 applies Sir John Lubbock's observa- 
 tion that the term ^^ happy childhood" 
 is sometimes a misnomer, needs no 
 admonition to *^Try, try again," and 
 to ^' Never weary of well doing." 
 
 Among other sayings, whether of 
 home manufacture or acquired, I 
 have often found comfort in a sug- 
 gestion first called to my attention by 
 my friend. Dr. Maurice Richardson, 
 who carries, I believe, Epictetus in 
 his bag, but who does not despise the 
 lesser prophets. One day when I was 
 borrowing trouble about some pro- 
 spective calamity, he said he always 
 
 252 
 
HOME TREATMENT 
 
 drew consolation from the old far- 
 mer's observation: 
 
 ''Mebbe 'taint so!" 
 
 Much unintentional self-suggestion 
 is conveyed in one's habitual method 
 of expressing his attitude toward 
 annoyances, thus: ^^That simply 
 drives me wild." Suppose, now, one 
 should try a little substitution; for 
 example : 
 
 X driv 
 
 N th' cr ( ^^1"^'^^ ^6 wild. 
 
 (but that). 
 I can stand anything . . ,,> 
 
 (not) . (this) 
 
 I can , X sleep in , v position. 
 
 The quieting effect is immediately 
 perceptible. 
 
 Nor is the injurious effect of the 
 explosive habit of speech limited to 
 the person who indulges it. The other 
 day a lady, apparently in no haste, 
 sauntered into a station of the ^^Ele- 
 
 253 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 vated" ahead of me, holding by the 
 hand a small boy. The boy was 
 enjoying himself immensely, gazing 
 about him with the wide-awake, but 
 calmly contemplative air peculiar to 
 childhood. Suddenly the lady saw 
 that a train was about to leave the 
 station, and was seized by the not 
 uncommon compulsion to take the 
 last train instead of the next one. 
 She hurried the boy across the plat- 
 form only to meet the closed door of 
 the departing train. 
 
 ^'Isn't that provohing!'' she ex- 
 claimed. And the boy began to 
 whimper. 
 
 Although the main object of this 
 book is to call attention to the mental 
 rather than the physical treatment 
 of these states, I cannot forbear re- 
 minding the reader of certain routine 
 
 254 
 
HOiME TREATMENT 
 
 measures which facilitate the desired 
 improvement in mental attitude. 
 
 It is well to start the day with a 
 quick plunge in cold water, that is, in 
 water of the natural temperature 
 excepting in the cold season, when 
 the extreme chill may be taken off to 
 advantage. A brisk rub with rough 
 towels should follow. One should 
 proceed immediately from the warm 
 bed to the bath, and should not first 
 ^^cool off." A few setting-up exer- 
 cises (bending the trunk forward and 
 back, sidewise, and with a twist) may 
 precede the bath, and a few simple 
 arm exercises follow it. A few deep 
 breaths will inevitably accompany 
 these procedures. When one returns 
 to his room he no longer notices the 
 chill in the air, and he has made a 
 start toward accustoming himself to, 
 and really enjoying, lower tempera- 
 
 255 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 tures than he fancied he could stand 
 at all. 
 
 Every healthy adult should walk 
 at least two miles daily in the open. 
 We have been forced to readjust our 
 ideas as to the distance even an 
 elderly person can walk without harm 
 since a pedestrian of sixty-nine has, 
 without apparent injiuy, covered 
 over one thousand miles, over or- 
 dinary roads, at an average of fifty 
 miles a day. 
 
 The day's work should be started 
 with the resolution that every task 
 shall be taken up in its turn, without 
 doubts and without forebodings, that 
 bridges shall not be crossed until they 
 are reached, that the vagaries of 
 others shall amuse and interest, not 
 distress us, and that we will live in 
 the present, not in the past or the 
 future. We must avoid undertaking 
 
 256 
 
HOME TREATMENT 
 
 too much, and whatever we do under- 
 take we must try not to worry as to 
 whether we shall succeed. This only 
 prevents our succeeding. We should 
 devote all our efforts to the task itself, 
 and remember that even failure 
 under these circimistances may be 
 better than success at the expense of 
 prolonged nervous agitation. 
 
 ^^Rest must be complete when 
 taken and must balance the effort in 
 work — rest meaning often some form 
 of recreation as w^ell as the passive 
 rest of sleep. Economy of effort 
 should be gained through normal con- 
 centration — tha+ is, the power of 
 erasing all previous impressions 
 and allowing a subject to hold 
 and carry us, by dropping every 
 thought or effort that interferes 
 with it, in muscle, nerve, and mind." 
 (Annie Payson Call, ' ' Power Through 
 Repose.") 
 
 17 257 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 The over-scrupulous and method- 
 ical individual who can neither r Teep 
 nor take a vacation until all the 
 affairs of his life are arranged must 
 remind himself that this happy con- 
 summation will not be attained in his 
 lifetime. It behooves him, therefore, 
 if he is ever to sleep, or if he is ever 
 to take a vacation, to do it now, nor 
 need he postpone indefinitely 
 
 " That blessed mood 
 In which the burden of the mystery, 
 In which the hea^'7 and the weary weight 
 Of all this unintelligible world 
 Is lightened." 
 
 258 
 
XIX. 
 
 HOME TREATMENT (CONTINUED) 
 
 Happiness and success in life do not depend on 
 circumstances, but on ourselves. 
 
 Sir John Luhbock. 
 
 The obsession to ^^ arrive" is a 
 fertile source of fret and worry. This 
 habit of mind leads to frantic and 
 impatient labor and blocks our pleas- 
 ure at every point. The person who 
 plays a game only to see who wins 
 loses half the benefit of the recrea- 
 tion. Here are two ways of walking 
 the half-mile to and from my office : 
 
 Suppose I start out with my mind 
 on my destination, thinking only of 
 what I shall do when I get there, and 
 how I shall do it. This thought in- 
 fluences my whole body. I am all 
 *' keyed up," my muscles are tense, 
 
 259 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 my breathing, even, is constricted and 
 tHe walk does me comparatively little 
 good. 
 
 Suppose, now, I decide I am mak- 
 ing a mistake, and determine to live 
 in the present. General relaxation 
 follows, I take a deep breath, and 
 begin to notice my surroundings. I 
 may even observe the sky-line of the 
 buildings I have passed daily for 
 years without knowing they had a 
 sky-line; my gait becomes free and 
 life takes on a different aspect. I 
 have taken a long step toward mental 
 tranquility as well as gaining ^^ power 
 through repose." 
 
 One of the hardest obsessions to 
 overcome is the unduly insistent habit 
 of mind regarding orderliness and 
 cleanliness. It is not undue to desire 
 and practice a reasonable degree of 
 these virtues, but when it gives one a 
 
 260 
 
HOME TREATMENT (CONTINUED) 
 
 *^ fit" to see a picture slightly off tlie 
 level, and drives one ^^wild" to see a 
 speck of dust, it is time to modify the 
 ideal. This is the frame of mind 
 which encourages worry over trifles. 
 If one really wishes to lessen worry 
 he must cultivate a certain degree of 
 tolerance for what does not square 
 with his ideas, even if it does violence 
 to a pet virtue. 
 
 The careful housekeeper may ob- 
 ject that so long as she can regulate 
 her household to her liking, the habit 
 of orderliness, even though extreme, 
 causes her no worry. But it is only 
 the hermit housekeeper who can en- 
 tirely control her household. And 
 further, the possessor of the over- 
 orderly temperament, whether ap- 
 plied to housekeeping, business, or 
 play (if he ever plays), is bound 
 sooner or later to impinge his ideas 
 
 261 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 of orderliness upon the domain of 
 other peoples' affairs, in which his 
 wishes cannot be paramount. In this 
 event, at least, he will experience a 
 worry only to be allayed by learning 
 to stand something he does not like. 
 
 Worry about the mental condition 
 is disastrous. The habit should be 
 cultivated of taking the mind for 
 what it is, and using it, wasting no 
 time in vain regrets that it is not 
 nimbler or more profound. Just as 
 the digestion is impeded by solicitude, 
 so the working of the brain is ham- 
 pered by using the energy in worry 
 which should be devoted directly to 
 the task in hand. Children fre- 
 quently worry because their memory 
 is poor. It should be explained to 
 them that in ninety-nine cases out of 
 a hundred apparent lack of memory 
 
 262 
 
HOME TREATMENT (CONTINUED) 
 
 is only lack of attention, and they 
 should be urged to cease distracting 
 the attention by wandering in the 
 fields of idle speculation or in making 
 frantic leaps to surmount imagin- 
 ary obstacles. 
 
 It is important for parents of 
 morbidly sensitive and over-scrupu- 
 lous children, with acute likes and 
 dislikes, to discourage the tendency 
 of the child to become more and more 
 peculiar. Sensitive children are in- 
 clined to worry because they think 
 others do not care for them or want 
 them round. If such children can be 
 led to take a bird's-eye view of them- 
 selves, they may be made to realize 
 that others crave their society accord- 
 ing as they are helpful, entertaining, 
 sympathetic, or tactful, because they 
 instil courage and give comfort. 
 They should be urged, therefore, to 
 
 263 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 cultivate these qualities instead of 
 wasting their energy in tears and 
 recriminations; and they should be 
 encouraged to practice such of these 
 traits as they can master instead of 
 becoming moody in society, or with- 
 drawing to brood in solitude, either 
 of which errors may result in pro- 
 ducing on the part of others a genuine 
 dislike. In other words, teach them 
 to avoid enforcing too far their ego 
 on themselves or their environment. 
 Parents must also remember that 
 over-solicitous attention on their part 
 is bound to react to the disadvantage 
 of the child. The story is told of 
 Phillips Brooks that, when a child, he 
 put a newly sharpened pencil into his 
 mouth further and further until it 
 slipped down his throat. He asked 
 his mother what would happen if 
 anyone should swallow a pencil. She 
 
 - 264 
 
HOME TREATMENT (CONTINUED) 
 
 answered that she supposed it would 
 kill him. Phillips kept silence, and 
 his mother made no further inquiry. 
 This incident would indicate that 
 Phillips Brooks had already, as a 
 child, attained a mental equipoise 
 which the average individual hardly 
 achieves in a lifetime. The story 
 appeals to me no less as evidence of 
 self-control on the part of the 
 mother ; and I like to imagine that she 
 suppressed the question a startled 
 parent naturally would ask, realizing 
 that no amount of worry would recall 
 the pencil if he had swallowed it, and 
 that nothing was to be gained by over- 
 turning the household, or by giving 
 the boy an example of agitation sure 
 to react to the detriment of the mind 
 unfolding under her supervision. 
 Unless, therefore, the facts of this 
 story have become distorted by im- 
 
 265 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 agery, it shows exceptional heredity 
 and unusual training. 
 
 Not every one can claim such 
 heredity, and not every one can look 
 back on such training; but it is not 
 too much to say that every one can 
 so direct his thoughts and so order 
 his actions as gradually to attain a 
 somewhat higher level of self-control 
 than either his mental endowment or 
 his early training would have prom- 
 ised. For mental training is no more 
 limited to feats of memory, and to 
 practice in the solution of difficult 
 problems, than is physical training 
 comprised in the lifting of heavy 
 weights in harness. In fact, such 
 exercises are always in danger of 
 leaving the mental athlete intellect- 
 ually muscle-bound, if I may use such 
 an expression; whereas the kind of 
 training I have in mind tends to 
 
 2G6 
 
HOME TREATMENT (CONTINUED) 
 
 establish mental poise, to improve the 
 disposition, to fit the mind (and in- 
 directly the body) better to meet the 
 varied exigencies of daily life, and 
 to help the individual to react in 
 every way more comfortably to his 
 surroundings. 
 
 I have only hinted at the detailed 
 suggestions by which the worry habit 
 and allied faulty mental tendencies 
 may be combated. The obsessive 
 who is able to alter his ideals and 
 systematically pursue the line of 
 thought here sketched will himself 
 find other directions in which control 
 can be exercised. It is true that no 
 one is likely to reach any of the 
 extreme degrees of incapacity we 
 have considered unless he is naturally 
 endowed with a mind predestined to 
 unbalance. At the same time any of 
 us who have a nervous temperament 
 
 267. 
 
WHY WORRY? 
 
 ever so slightly above the average of 
 intensity will do well to check these 
 tendencies as far as possible in their 
 incipiency, realizing that no physical 
 evil we may dread can be worse than 
 the lot of the confirmed hypochon- 
 driac or the compulsively insane. 
 
 Perhaps I have dwelt too much 
 upon the extreme results of morbid 
 mental tendencies, and too little upon 
 the ideal for which we should strive. 
 This ideal I shall not attempt to 
 portray, but leave it rather to the im- 
 agination. Suffice it to say that the 
 ladder by which self-control is at- 
 tained is so long that there is ample 
 room to ascend and descend without 
 reaching either end. Some of us are 
 started high on the ladder, some low ; 
 but it is certainly within the power 
 of each to alter somewhat his level. 
 We can slide down, but must climb 
 
 268 
 
HOME TREATMENT (CONTINUED) 
 
 up; and that such commonplaces as 
 are here presented may help some of 
 my fellow worriers to gain a rung or 
 two is my earnest wish. Even when 
 we slip back we can appreciate the 
 sentiment of Ironsides: 
 
 " Night after night the cards were fairly shuflfled 
 And fairly dealt, but still I got no hand. 
 The morning came, but I with mind unruffled 
 Did simply say, *I do not understand.' 
 
 " Life is a game of whist ; from unseen sources 
 
 The cards are shuffled and the hands are dealt. 
 Vain are our efforts to control the forces. 
 Which, though imseen, are no less strongly felt. 
 
 ** I do not like the way the cards are shuffled. 
 But still I like the game and want to play. 
 And through the long, long night with mind un- 
 ruffled, 
 Play what I get until the dawn of day." 
 
 269 
 
INDEX 
 
 Addison, as a public speaker 57 
 
 Amiel, a doubter 98 
 
 Angell, George T., on sleep 155 
 
 Anger, Epicurus on 28 
 
 Annoyances, maxim for 140, 163 
 
 Argumentative tendency in doubting folly . 94 et seq. 
 
 Appetite, Epicurus on gratification of 27 
 
 obsession regarding 194 
 
 Attention, the important factor in memory 263 
 
 Avebury, Lord, see Lubbock, Sir John 
 
 B 
 
 Bacon, Sir Francis, as a botanist 223 
 
 Bathing Ill, 174, 255 
 
 Beadon, on dismissing unpleasant thoughts 162 
 
 Benson, Arthur, on over-solicitude of parents. . . 182 
 
 on the disagreeable 187 
 
 Borrowing trouble, maxim for 253 
 
 Burton, on moods 205 
 
 C 
 
 Call, Annie Payson, on rest 257 
 
 Carlyle, obsessions of 63 
 
 hypochondria of 120 
 
 Cavendish, shyness of 58 
 
 aothing Ill, 175 
 
 Concentration 153 
 
 Corneille, inability to express self in public. ... 59 
 271 
 
INDEX 
 
 ^ PAGE 
 
 Courtney, on fads 222-236 
 
 work and worry 132 
 
 Cowper, on affronts 139 
 
 Criticism, attitude toward 247 
 
 D 
 
 Dana, " Partial Passing of Neurasthenia," 130 
 
 Descartes, unable to express self in public 59 
 
 Deviation vs. Degeneration 100 
 
 Digestion, maxim for undue solicitude regarding. 112 
 
 Doubting folly 16, 82 ef seq. 
 
 maxim for 250 
 
 Dryden, unable to express self in public 59 
 
 E 
 
 Epictetus 39, 193, 242 
 
 Epicurus 22 ei seq., 36 
 
 Erasmus, obsessions of 64 
 
 Exercise 110, 239, 255, 256, 259 
 
 F 
 
 Fads 179, 222 et seq. 
 
 Flaubert, victim of doubting folly 98 
 
 Folie du doute, see doubting folly. 
 
 Froude, on Carlyle's hypochondria 126 
 
 G 
 
 Genius, and obsession 66 
 
 doubting folly in 98 
 
 Gladstone, on dismissing unpleasant thoughts. . 162 
 
 Goethe, suggestion for mental training 242 
 
 Goldsmith, on trifles 190 
 
 272 
 
INDEX 
 
 ^ PAGE 
 
 Golf 110, 239 
 
 "Golf Arm," 169 
 
 Gould, eyestrain of Carlyle 120 
 
 H 
 
 Habit, and obsession 69 
 
 Haeckel, on egotism and altruism 80 
 
 Horace 38 
 
 Huxley 119 
 
 Hypochondria 14, 49, 101 et seq., 201 
 
 maxim for 50 
 
 I 
 
 Ibsen, on doubt 82 
 
 Impatience with subordinates, maxim for 141 
 
 Insistent thought ^2 et seq. 
 
 Insomnia, see sleeplessness. 
 
 Irving, Washington, as a public speaker 57 
 
 J 
 
 Johnson, obsessions of 62 
 
 K 
 
 Knapp, doubting habit 137 
 
 L 
 
 La Fontaine, unable to express self in public. . . 59 
 
 Lombroso 58, 98 
 
 Lubbock, Sir John 223, 252, 259 
 
 M 
 
 Manzoni 59, 98 
 
 Marcus Aurehus 13, 22, 30 et seq., 139, 166 
 
 18 273 
 
INDEX 
 
 M PAGE 
 
 Maxims, suggestive 50, 112, 140, 141, 158 
 
 163, 201, 209, 250, 253 
 
 Melancholy, Thoreau on 208 
 
 Burton on 205 
 
 Mercier, on ability to forget 78 
 
 Moliere, on hypochondria 101 
 
 Montaigne 53 
 
 Moods 205 
 
 maxim for 209 
 
 • N 
 
 Neurasthenia 15, 129 et seq. 
 
 Newton, unable to express self in public 59 
 
 O 
 
 Obsession 54, 59 et seq. 
 
 Occupation neurosis 166 et seq. 
 
 Old age no bar to changing habit 67 
 
 P 
 
 Parental solicitude 182, 264 
 
 Paul 137 
 
 Pedantry, in the obsessive 75 
 
 Peterson 131, 143 
 
 Phobia 105 ei seq., 199 
 
 maxim for 201 
 
 Poison, excessive fear of 70 
 
 Pope, on taking offense 139 
 
 R 
 
 Reade, Charles, on parent of Erasmus 65 
 
 Responsibilities, delegating 150 
 
 Rossini, phobia of 107 
 
 274 
 
INDEX 
 
 ^ PAGE 
 
 Saleeby 178 
 
 Seclusion, Epicurus on 27 
 
 Marcus Aurelius on 32 
 
 Self-consciousness 50, 53 et seq. 
 
 Sensations, undue attention paid to 112 
 
 Sleeplessness 26, 135, 147 et seq. 
 
 maxim for 158 
 
 Soukanhoff, on the obsessive, 76 
 
 Spinoza, on control of the emotions 141 
 
 Spitzka, definition of insanity 199 
 
 T 
 
 Taylor, on psycho-therapy 243 
 
 Tennyson, as public speaker 56 
 
 Thoreau, on melancholy 208 
 
 Tiffany, Francis, on fear of future 78 
 
 Tolstoi 98 
 
 V 
 
 Vacation 152, 237 
 
 Virgil 59 
 
 W 
 
 Walking 179, 256, 259 
 
 Weather-worry 46 et seq., 110 
 
 Whiting, Lilian, on enjoyment of the moment. . 184 
 
 Whittier 146 
 
 Williams, Harold, treatment 142 
 
 Writer's cramp 166, 167 
 
 275 
 
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