In the cerebral form, business, reading, study "go into one ear and out the other." The patient's memory fails him temporarily just when he may need it most, say, in a speech or sermon; a fly buzzing on a pane is a calamity and a source of profanity; a flat note in the choir-singing is ample reason for doubting the divine origin of the church, and every petty trouble that whisks its harmless tail across his floor makes him seek the table-top. I have known a whole convent of nuns, who were closely shut in, with bad ventilation and a worse cook, until all were more or less neurasthenic, almost { 231} disintegrated by the presence of a lamb sent in as a pet; not because of the bleating or any ordinary reason, but solely because of the hideous incongruity and indecency in the fact that the lamb was a male.
The cerebral neurasthenic makes rash, impetuous changes in his mode of life. He leaves a religious order because the coffee is weak, he resigns an important post in a bank because the president uses snuff, he abandons medicine for trade because the curate meddled in the treatment of two of his patients. He takes on anxiety, locks up the house six times over the same night; meals are eaten in awed silence by his trembling children; altogether he is an unmitigated nuisance.
He may get religious scruples. If he is a priest he takes an hour to an hour and a half to say a low mass, and most of that time is spent in searching the corporal for imaginary particles or in drying the dry chalice. He rereads his breviary until he is exhausted. Because moral theologians say that certain scruples are from the devil, he is convinced that the devil takes a particular interest in his case. The devil did probably take a special interest in his father's or grandfather's lack of scrupulosity, for his condition is commonly a result of alcoholism in an ancestor.
There are three chief types of neurasthenics: in one class is the person that appears robust, and is really so except in his nervous system, which lacks a governor. Such patients have little more than a troubled appearance to draw the attention of a chance observer to their condition.
A second class is made up of eloquent narrators of their troubles. They try all the physicians in turn, then the homoeopaths and osteopaths and similar quacks, and they add patent medicines prescribed by themselves. They are petulant, capricious, and despite their apparent energy they accomplish nothing.