death. He differs from the man of ordinary business, in fact, in his insusceptibility to the necessities of his own physical existence. His life is surrounded with a kind of vulgar romance, and his own over-weening self-confidence, his consciousness that he either can or ought to devise schemes and calculations, which must or should carry the day, bear with them an enthusiasm which might well be devoted to a better But by-and-by, in spite of himself, and in spite of the absorption, he begins to fail, and then the usual course is to resort to stimulants, by way of support. At last he suddenly breaks down; but buoyed up by constant hope of better days, he believes to the end that he shall recover, and retains his propensities with unflinching determination. cause. The ailments of the speculator are usually compound in character; for he is, in most cases, a man of active life, and the whole of his organism, muscular and nervous, is equally taxed. If he be a betting man, the race-course or some other out-door pursuit calls him into the open air. If he be a gambler, he is subjected to considerable muscular fatigue. Hence it follows that he is exposed to a variety of exhausting influences. His first symptoms usually commence with irregular action of the heart, and this is followed by results pertaining to a failure of that organ. In the majority of cases he succumbs, after exposure, to some sub-acute inflammatory disorder. He takes cold, suffers from congestion of the lungs or kidneys, and, unable to bear the shock, sinks rapidly under it, his mind becoming intensely irritable, or even losing its balance. Often he does some foolish thing, trips in his calculation, and is pronounced "insane." The professional class of men stand amongst those who suffer most severely and decisively from what may be called simple exhaustion of the nervous system, resulting from active over-work. These differ from the other classes in most points. They differ from the original thinker in that they are neither closeted in the study nor intense in working out original designs. Learned in certain matters of fact and principles which the world at large does not comprehend, they are constantly putting their knowledge into practice on behalf of others, and seeing the faults, failings, and miseries of humanity, they become in time inured and ready for every surprise. They differ from the speculator in that they have, after a time, but little enthusiasm. They learn of the Preacher that "all things are alike to all;" they incline further with the same authority, that all things come alike to all; that "as it happeneth to the wise, even so to them; and they praise the dead which are already dead more than the living which are yet alive." Notwithstanding this, their philosophy fails them as their physical life advances. They suffer greatly from little annoyances connected with other men's concerns, and in the very fulness of their self-sacrifice -for of all men they least consider their own private concerns they become morbidly sensitive to slights of every kind and more dissatisfied. Success, which in early time was the object of their life, brings with it terrible cares that are not unfrequently harder to bear than the worst failures. When they have made a position, they must maintain it at all risks; and having attained their rank, must sustain it despite time and labour. Add to these things this responsibility, that the labour done is for others and is open to the criticism of circles of people who knowing nothing of the difficulties, are consistent in the belief, that if they had had the management they could have done so much better,-and the picture is complete. In the members of the professional class the brain is constantly being exercised without enthusiasm, and the body is daily being exercised without any sufficient rest. The result is that the excitement of brain which leads to insanity is exceedingly rare, and that those physical ailments which follow as secondary to the overworked brain become developed. The professional class suffer largely, therefore, perhaps mainly, from physical affections. Diabetes, a physical nervous malady, is so common amongst them that I once had six gentlemen, following learned professions, under my care for this disease, at the same time; and for many years I have never been without one or more of such cases. Paralysis of the limbs, with little interference of the mental faculties, is another common type of disease. Affection of the kidneys, degeneration of the structure of those organs, is a third condition; and disorganisation of the structure of the heart is a last, and by no means rare, occur rence. Men whose lives are devoted to the arts are infinitely less subjected to the graver physical evils than are either the professional men or the speculators. Their ailments, however, differ materially, according to the line of art which is pursued. Those who follow painting as an art, though they are sometimes for long hours shut up in the studio, and are working almost like men of letters, are nevertheless allowed recreations and pleasures which greatly relieve the monotony of their lives, and which add, in no small degree, to their health. They make their journeys to Rome, Venice, and various parts of England, and, indeed, lead an existence which is most invigorating and delightful. Exceptions must of course be made for those who suffer from pecuniary difficulties, who labour for the mere means of existence, and are obliged, in the studio, to conjure up subjects for the pencil from the worn out recollections of the past. But compared with the mass of mental workers these are very few, too few for any inference to be drawn or fact displayed as to their special diseases. Painters, as a whole, may indeed be considered as largely exempt from mental strain, but they have trials which tell upon the heart, in respect to the position which shall be gained by the work which they have done. I believe this is really the greatest mischief to which the painter is liable. His work is so light, so chaste, so fruitful of enjoyment, and so confined to those hours of the day when the sun shines, that he cannot seriously suffer from real over exertion. But for these very reasons, being retired from the world and understanding little of it, he chafes sorely under unjust criticism, and often frets himself into a nervous hesitating condition, which renders life a burden, prolonged, and hardly to be borne. Concerning those who follow poetry as an art, we have heard much said—a vast deal more, I take it, than ever was trueas to their sufferings. In truth, the world has not produced a sufficient number of poets for us to calculate whether poetic art is at all destructive of mind or of body. The instances of destruction are too few and too questionable to be relied upon, and the romance which is made to surround destroyed poets is too extreme to be believed in by the physician. The dramatic artist differs from the classes previously mentioned, both in his labours and in his troubles. To men of strong build and firm will, to men who possess by nature the very faculties which they represent, dramatic art may offer few anxieties or perils, and we know from experience that some of our greatest actors have passed through their active careers, extending over a long life, without suffering beyond other men; but if my experience serves me rightly, the majority of players are very differently placed. A man in the studio can labour at works of art calmly and quietly, thinking deliberately as he touches the inanimate canvas, of what can be said of the result. But this is very different from the art in which the man transforms his own body into art, and appears suddenly before a crowd, exhibiting himself in attitude and character personifying what he has never seen. To get up to this ordeal, the intensest labour and presence of mind are required, the strongest volition, the most refined ideal. have an illustration of this intensity in those cases com We on, The professional class suffer largely, therefore, perhaps mainly, from physical affections. Diabetes, a physical nervous malady, is so common amongst them that I once had six gentlemen, following learned professions, under my care for this disease, at the same time; and for many years I have never been without one or more of such cases. Paralysis of the limbs, with little interference of the mental faculties, is another common type of disease. Affection of the kidneys, degeneration of the structure of those organs, is a third condition; and disorganisation of the structure of the heart is a last, and by no means rare, occur rence. Men whose lives are devoted to the arts are infinitely less subjected to the graver physical evils than are either the professional men or the speculators. Their ailments, however, differ materially, according to the line of art which is pursued. Those who follow painting as an art, though they are sometimes for long hours shut up in the studio, and are working almost like men of letters, are nevertheless allowed recreations and pleasures which greatly relieve the monotony of their lives, and which add, in no small degree, to their health. They make their journeys to Rome, Venice, and various parts of England, and, indeed, lead an existence which is most invigorating and delightful. Exceptions must of course be made for those who suffer from pecuniary difficulties, who labour for the mere means of existence, and are obliged, in the studio, to conjure up subjects for the pencil from the worn out recollections of the past. But compared with the mass of mental workers these are very few, too few for any inference to be drawn or fact displayed as to their special diseases. Painters, as a whole, may indeed be considered as largely exempt from mental strain, but they have trials which tell upon the heart, in respect to the position which shall be gained by the work which they have done. I believe this is really the greatest mischief to which the painter is liable. His work is so light, so chaste, so fruitful of enjoyment, and so confined |