From the softness
of a wet sponge to the hardness of pumice-stone there are infinite
fine degrees of difference. Man is just like that. Between the
sponge-like organizations of the lymphatic and the vigorous iron muscles
of such men as are destined for a long life, what a margin for errors for
the single inflexible system of a lowering treatment to commit; a
system that reduces the capacities of the human frame, which you
always conclude have been over-excited. Let us look for the origin of
the disease in the mental and not in the physical viscera. A doctor is
an inspired being, endowed by God with a special gift--the power to
read the secrets of vitality; just as the prophet has received the
eyes that foresee the future, the poet his faculty of evoking nature,
and the musician the power of arranging sounds in an harmonious order
that is possibly a copy of an ideal harmony on high."
"There is his everlasting system of medicine, arbitrary, monarchical,
and pious," muttered Brisset.
"Gentlemen," Maugredie broke in hastily, to distract attention from
Brisset's comment, "don't let us lose sight of the patient."
"What is the good of science?" Raphael moaned. "Here is my recovery
halting between a string of beads and a rosary of leeches, between
Dupuytren's bistoury and Prince Hohenlohe's prayer.
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