friend of mine who suffered from such things
told me that it was extraordinary to him to perceive the incredible
ingenuity with which his brain under such circumstances used to find
confirmation for his fears from all sorts of trivial incidents which at
other times passed quite unnoticed. It is generally quite useless to
think of removing the fear by combating the particular fancy; the
affected centre, whatever it is, only turns feverishly to some other
similar anxiety. Occupation of a quiet kind, exercise, rest, are the
best medicine.

Sometimes these anxieties take a different form, and betray themselves
by suspicion of other people's conduct and motives. That is of course
allied to insanity. In sane and sound health we realise that we are
not, as a rule, the objects of the malignity and spitefulness of
others. We are perhaps obstacles to the carrying out of other people's
plans; but men and women as a rule mind their own business, and are not
much concerned to intervene in the designs and activities of others.
Yet a man whose mental equilibrium is unstable is apt to think that if
he is disappointed or thwarted it is the result of a deliberate
conspiracy on the part of other people. If he is a writer, he thinks
that other writers are aware of his merits, but are determined to
prevent them being recognised out of sheer ill-will. A man in robust
health realises that he gets quite as much credit or even more credit
than he deserves, and that his claims to attention are generously
recognised; one has exactly as much influence and weight as one can
get, and other people as a rule are much too much occupied in their own
concerns to have either the time or the inclination to interfere. But
as a man grows older, as his work stiffens and weakens, he falls out of
the race, and he must be content to do so; and he is well advised if he
puts his failure down to his own deficiencies, and not to the malice of
others. The world is really very much on the look out for anything
which amuses, delights, impresses, moves, or helps it; it is quick and
generous in recognition of originality and force; and if a writer, as
he gets older, finds his books neglected and his opinions disdained, he
may be fairly sure that he has said his say, and that men are
preoccupied with new ideas and new personalities. Of course this is a
melancholy and disconcerting business, especially if one has been more
concerned with personal prominence than with the w