The Dawn of All Read online

  (I)

  "What I can't yet quite understand," said Monsignor, "is thatpoint I mentioned the other day about Faith and Science. I don'tsee where one ends and the other begins. It seems to me that thecontroversy must be unending. The materialist says that sinceNature does all things, even the most amazing things must be doneby her--that we shall be able to explain them all some day, whenScience has got a little farther. And the theologian says thatsome things are so evidently out of the reach of Nature that theymust be done by a supernatural power. Well, where's the point ofreconciliation?"

  Father Jervis was silent for a while.

  * * * * *

  The two were sitting on the upper deck of an air-ship towardsevening, travelling straight towards the setting sun.

  He had grown almost accustomed to such views by now; and yet thesight that had been unrolling itself gradually during the lasthalf-hour had held him fascinated for minute after minute. Theyhad taken ship in Rome after a day or two more of sight-seeing,and had moved up the peninsula by stages, changing boats soonafter crossing the frontier, for one of the high-flying, moreleisurely and more luxurious vessels on which the more wealthyclasses travelled. They were due in Lourdes that evening; and,ever since the higher peaks of the Pyrenees had come into sight,had moved over a vision of bewildering beauty. To their left rosethe mountains, forming, it seemed to them at the height at whichthey travelled, an enormous jagged and gigantic pile, hard-linedas steel, yet irradiated with long rays, patches, and pools ofgolden sunset-light alternated by amazing depths of the shadowwhose tones ran from peacock to indigo. Then from the feet of thetumbled pile there ran out what appeared a loosely flung carpetvivid and yet a soft green, patched here and there with whitetowns, embroideries of woodland, lines of silver water. Yet thistoo was changing as they watched the shadows grow longer withalmost visible movement. New and strange colours, varying about afixed note of blue according to the nature of that with which theearth was covered, slowly came into being. Here, in front, nowand again a patch of water glowed suddenly, three thousand feetbeneath, as it met the shifting angle between the eye and thesun; and beyond, far out across the darkening plain, shone theremote line of the sea, itself ablaze with gold, and above andabout in every quarter burned the enormous luminous dome of sky.

  * * * * *

  "I can't put it all accurately," said Father Jervis at last. "Imean I can't tell you off-hand all the tests that are exactlyapplied to every case. But it's something like this. . . ."

  He paused.

  "Yes, tell me," said the other, still staring out at the softlyrolling landscape.

  "Well, first," began the old priest slowly, "in the last fiftyyears we've classified almost exhaustively everything that naturecan do. We know, for instance, for certain, that in certain kindsof temperaments body and mind are in far greater sympathy than inothers; and that if, in such a temperament as this, the mind canbe fully persuaded that such and such a thing is going tohappen--a thing within the range of natural possibility, ofcourse--it will happen, merely through the action of the mindupon the body."

  "Give me an instance."

  "Well" (he hesitated again) . . . "well, I'm not a physician, andcannot define accurately; but there are certain nervousdiseases--hysterical simulation, nervous affections such as St.Vitus' dance--as well, of course, as purely mental diseases, suchas certain kinds of insanity---"

  "Oh, those," said the other contemptuously.

  "Wait a minute. These, I say, given the right temperament andreceptiveness to suggestion, can be cured _instantaneously_."

  "Instantaneously?"

  "Certainly--given those conditions. Then there are certain otherdiseases, very closely related to the nervous system, in whichthere have been changes of tissue, not only in the brain, but inthe organs or the limbs. And these, too, can be cured by merenatural suggestion; but--and this is the point--notinstantaneously. In cases of this kind, cured in this way, thereis always needed a period, I won't say as long as, butproportionate to, the period during which the disease had beendeveloping and advancing. I forget the exact proportions now, butI think, so far as I remember, that at least two-thirds of thetime is required for recovery by suggestion as was occupied bythe growth of the disease. Take _lupus_. That certainly belongs tothe class I'm speaking of. Well, lupus has been cured in mentallaboratories, but never instantaneously or anything likeinstantaneously."

  "Go on, father."

  "Finally, there are those physical states that have practicallynothing to do directly with the nervous system at all. Take abroken leg. Of course the cure of a broken leg is affected bythe state of the nervous system, since it depends upon theamount of vital energy, the state of the blood, and so on. Butthere are distinct processes of change of tissue that are boundto take a certain fixed period. You may--as has been proved overand over again in the mental laboratories--hasten and direct theaction of the nervous energy, so that a man under hypnoticsuggestion will improve more rapidly than a man who is not. Butno amount of suggestion can possibly effect a cureinstantaneously. Tuberculosis is another such thing; certaindiseases of the heart---"

  "I see. Go on."

  "Well, then, science has fixed certain periods in all thesevarious matters which simply cannot be lessened beyond a certainpoint. And miracle does not begin--authorized miracle, Imean--unless these periods are markedly shortened. Mere mentalcures, therefore, do not come under the range of authorizedmiracle at all--though, of course, in many cases where there hasbeen little or no suggestion, or where the temperament is notreceptive, practically speaking, the miraculous element is mostprobably present. In the second class--organic nervousdiseases--no miracle is proclaimed unless the cure isinstantaneous, or very nearly so. In the third class, again, nomiracle is proclaimed unless the cure is either instantaneous, orthe period of it very considerably shortened beyond all knownexamples of natural cure by suggestion."

  "And you mean to say that such cures are frequent?"

  The old priest smiled.

  "Why, of course. There is an accumulation of evidence from thepast hundred years which----"

  "Broken limbs?"

  "Oh yes; there's the case of Pierre de Rudder, at Oostacker, inthe nineteenth century. That's the first of the series--thefirst, I mean, that has been scientifically examined. It's in allthe old books."

  "What was the matter with him?"

  "Leg broken below the knee for eight years."

  "And how long did the cure take?"

  "Instantaneous."

  There was silence again.

  Monsignor was staring out and downwards at the flittingmeadow-land far below. A flock of white birds moved across thedarkening grey, like flying specks seen in the eye, yet it seemedwith extraordinary slowness and deliberation, so great was thedistance at which they flew. He sighed.

  "You can examine the records," said the priest presently; "and,better than that, you can examine some of the cases for yourself,and the certificates. They follow still the old system which Dr.Boissarie began nearly a century ago."

  "What about Zola?" demanded Monsignor abruptly.

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "Zola, the great French writer. I thought he had . . . hadadvanced some very sharp criticisms of Lourdes."

  "Er--when did he live?"

  "Why, not long ago; nineteenth century, at the end."

  Father Jervis shook his head, smiling.

  "I've never heard of him," he said, "and I thought I knew Lourdesliterature pretty well. I'll enquire."

  "Look," said the prelate suddenly; "what's that placewe're coming to?"

  He nodded forward with his head to where vast white lines andpatches began to be visible on the lower slopes and at the foot oflong spurs that had suddenly come into sight against the sunset.

  "Why, that's Lourdes."