And now ensued a very singular state of affairs. By command of the court, all invalids disabled by no visible and well-known disorder, were forced to rise from their couches, to drag themselves about in the blazing sunlight, and even to resume their former occupations. Some of them, however, succeeded in simulating well-known disorders of the limbs so cleverly, that they were considered, even by skilled investigators, to be victims of chronic disease, and were mercifully left alone. Others had already been partially cured by the complete rest from their labours they had long enjoyed, and though the rough treatment they received, and the trying effects of sudden exposure to light, caused them great discomfort, they now learnt for the first time that they had recovered the use of their eyes—long incarceration in dark rooms having prevented their discovering the fact sooner. This result, however satisfactory to themselves, was a source of infinite misery to their companions in affliction, for it was hastily assumed that a mode of procedure which had proved in the main efficacious with a few, must prove equally efficacious with all.
True, some of the patients went altogether blind the moment they were interfered with, and had to be conveyed to the blind asylum—in accordance with the custom of the country—to be kept there for the rest of their lives at the public expense. Some even developed real diseases of the limbs, in consequence of their unaccustomed efforts to take violent exercise. But these occasional failures by no means daunted the resolution of philanthropic legislators. How could there be such a thing as disease of the eyes while their own eyes were strong? With blindness they were unhappily too well acquainted, even though they had never been blind themselves; for when a man could not see at all, the fact could readily be ascertained. But it was evident that so long as a man could see, he was not blind, and therefore to treat him for loss of sight would be absurd.
The larger number of those for whom work and sunlight were prescribed neither lost their sight completely nor recovered it sufficiently to perform their allotted tasks in even the most perfunctory manner. The existence led by these unhappy people was miserable in the extreme. Every effort to use the eyes was painful. The glare of the sunlight was a torture baffling description. And their sufferings were not physical only. Their fellow-men, including their nearest and dearest friends, did their utmost to convince them of the illusory nature of their disease, and continually implored them to exert their wills to overcome temptations to imposture. By the more unfeeling, sneers and reproaches were not spared. In sheer despair the less courageous of these unfortunates died by their own hand.
Oddly enough, those who were the most uncompromising in their discouragement of supposed impostors had themselves recently become painfully conscious of impairment of vision. Fear of discovery made them loud in denouncing others; ignorance of the nature of the malady gave them hope that work and sunlight might conduce to their own cure. In time, there were in that eccentric community an abundance of deceivers of two different orders: the first pretending an illness other than that which afflicted them; the second pretending to be well when they were ill. It is said that the second class was larger than the first, and that recruits were continually swelling its ranks.
Altogether, in spite of the well-intentioned efforts of the investigators, the state of that tribe with regard to eye-disease was very much worse than it had been while the regulations of the second meeting were in force.
But, as the night is darkest immediately before the dawn, so, just as things looked blackest, there came a change for the better. It chanced that certain patients suffering from injuries to the limbs found their eyesight much affected by the illness, and were rashly credited with imposture. The injuries were declared to be wholly imaginary, and the usual moral discipline was resorted to in order to cure the patients of their delusion. Consequently, some of them were hopelessly crippled, while others, who ultimately recovered the use of their limbs, were blind for the rest of their days.
And now there was a panic in that hitherto contented community. Fears were entertained that real disease (eye-weakness was not yet regarded as actual illness) should frequently be overlooked in the midst of the general craze for extirpating imposture. The continued increase in the number of mysterious invalids occasioned anxious questioning on all sides. The crippled patients seized the opportunity to complain loudly of the usage they had received. Notwithstanding the remonstrances of the more fortunate, they insisted on repeating, to all who would hear them, the whole category of their woes. They never tired of declaring that they had been cruelly and unjustly crippled, and that the eye-weakness with which they had been temporarily afflicted was a terrible and unmistakable malady, more painful even than injuries to the limbs, and more urgently needing rational treatment.
So overwhelming was this evidence, so vehement were the witnesses, that public attention was perforce called to their grievances. Further investigations were made; further inquiries were diligently prosecuted; and a fourth meeting was convened.
That meeting is still going on. Day after day the discussions are resumed; day after day final judgment is deferred. The causes, nature, and cure of the alarmingly prevalent eye-disease are all earnestly debated. The ultimate decision of the court cannot be doubted. Sooner or later it will be recognised that the great epidemic is a disease like any other, to be treated with kindly consideration—to be cured, to be prevented. Learned investigators, while admitting that their examinations can discover no trace of disease in the eyes of the sufferers, admit likewise that their failure is no argument whatever against its existence. Pending the final judgment of the court, all former cruel enactments have been repealed, and over the door of the council-chamber have been inscribed these words, “Ignorance is the curse of God. Knowledge is the wing on which we fly to heaven.”