Melancholy is rightly taken to be a central topic of concern in early modern culture, and it continues to generate scholarly interest among historians of medicine, literature, psychiatry and religion. This book considerably furthers our understanding of the issue by examining the extensive discussions of melancholy in seventeenth- and eighteenth- century religious and moral philosophical publications, many of which have received only scant attention from modern scholars. Arguing that melancholy was considered by many to be as much a 'disease of the soul' as a condition originating in bodily disorder, Dr. Schmidt reveals how insights and techniques developed in the context of ancient philosophical and early Christian discussions of the good of the soul were applied by a variety of early modern authorities to the treatment of melancholy. The book also explores ways in which various diagnostic and therapeutic languages shaped the experience and expression of melancholy and situates the melancholic experience in a series of broader discourses, including the language of religious despair dominating English Calvinism, the late Renaissance concern with the government of the passions, and eighteenth-century debates surrounding politeness and material consumption. In addition, it explores how the shifting languages of early modern melancholy altered and enabled certain perceptions of gender. As a study in intellectual history, Melancholy and the Care of the Soul offers new insights into a wide variety of early modern texts, including literary representations and medical works, and critically engages with a broad range of current scholarship in addressing some of the central interpretive issues in the history of early modern medicine, psychiatry, religion and culture.

Melancholy is rightly taken to be a central topic of concern in early modern culture, and it continues to generate scholarly interest among historians of medicine, literature, psychiatry and religion. This book considerably furthers our understanding of the issue by examining the extensive discussions of melancholy in seventeenth- and eighteenth- century religious and moral philosophical publications, many of which have received only scant attention from modern scholars. Arguing that melancholy was considered by many to be as much a 'disease of the soul' as a condition originating in bodily disorder, Dr. Schmidt reveals how insights and techniques developed in the context of ancient philosophical and early Christian discussions of the good of the soul were applied by a variety of early modern authorities to the treatment of melancholy. The book also explores ways in which various diagnostic and therapeutic languages shaped the experience and expression of melancholy and situates the melancholic experience in a series of broader discourses, including the language of religious despair dominating English Calvinism, the late Renaissance concern with the government of the passions, and eighteenth-century debates surrounding politeness and material consumption. In addition, it explores how the shifting languages of early modern melancholy altered and enabled certain perceptions of gender. As a study in intellectual history, Melancholy and the Care of the Soul offers new insights into a wide variety of early modern texts, including literary representations and medical works, and critically engages with a broad range of current scholarship in addressing some of the central interpretive issues in the history of early modern medicine, psychiatry, religion and culture.

How can it be that wildlife is not safe on a wildlife refuge? By statute and long-standing principle, all human activities on national wildlife refuges must take second place to the animals that live there. The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, which manages the system, proudly declares it thus: "Wildlife comes first." Which only seems right, in places called refuges. Bird watchers, as much as they love seeing the plovers and curlews and cranes, are not allowed to disturb waterfowl on their nests. Vehicles are kept off the beach in North Carolina to avoid crushing the eggs of shore birds. In Oregon, volunteers help take down barbed wire fences to make life easier for fast-running pronghorn antelope. On refuges, you can help with bird banding, guard a sea-turtle nest, fight invasive plants, and in general do all sorts of things to learn about, appreciate, and help protect wild animals. And, you can kill them. You can shoot them. You can catch them in leg traps. You can pierce them with arrows. You can take their dead carcasses home and hang their heads on your wall. "Sanctuary Lost" tells the story of how wildlife refuges, once inviolate safe zones for animals, became the nation's prime hunting grounds; and corrects the inaccurate claims of hunters that they were the first conservationists and are still the major supporters of wildlife in America. Do hunters deserve more than other citizens? Why are hunters permitted to permanently remove animals from a national wildlife refuge when non-hunters are forbidden to pick wildflowers? Is it right that hunters should have access in the fall-a splendid time to see wildlife-while others must search outside refuge boundaries for a glimpse of animals in their seasonal prime? Is it right that hunters are allowed to put wildlife to flight, scatter herds and flocks, disturb the natural soundscape, and generally alter the experience for everyone else? Should hunting on refuges be expanded while hunting becomes less popular and non-lethal users greatly outnumber hunters? Hunters say: "We built the refuge system." They didn't. "We pay for them." They don't. "We're the best conservationists." They aren't.