A. J. Cronin, from Adventures in Two Worlds (1952), Chapter 28:
"Of all the patients who passed through my consulting-room–a
long procession–none were more lamentable than those brought there by their own
excesses. As I sat at my desk, my eyes shaded by my hand, listening in silence,
like an abbé in his confessional, to some disastrous history of
self-indulgence, I could not but reflect on the sweet virtue of moderation. And
often, wryly, I called to memory the prophetic words of my puritanical old
grandmother whose ancestor had died for the Covenant at Bothwell Bridge and
who, when I was a child and detected in some misdemeanour, would call me to her
knee and, having first placed her steel-rimmed spectacles in her Bible to mark
the place, inform me that I should not receive from her my usual Saturday
‘fairing’, then solemnly adjure me: ‘ You see now … it pays to be good.’
But, in this last court of appeal, when the patient was
stripped for examination on my couch, it was seldom a smiling matter. There
were the gluttons, the voracious eaters who, unable to resist the lure of rich
meats and succulent sauces, of pâté and pastries and truffles, had already dug
their own graves with their teeth. The old lechers, with soggy prostates,
weakened sphincters, and all the load of misery which the goddess Venus
joyously bestows upon her acolytes in reward for a lifetime’s service. Then the
drug addicts, of every shape and variety–from the pitiful old scrubwoman who
used to beg tremblingly for a bottle of laudanum ‘to ease her colic’–and who
usually got it, poor creature–to the smart society girl, glibly sure of herself
but with twitching nerves, flashing a false heroin prescription and vainly
asking me to oblige her by filling it, ‘as the chemist’s was closed.’ Finally,
there were the dipsomaniacs…"
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