‘Where in the world is that?’
‘It is the largest of the monasteries of Mount Athos, in the Levant. The richest, too, they say—built by the Emperor Constantine the Great. That worthy monarch, like Naaman the Syrian, was afflicted with leprosy. He thereupon ordered a number of children to be killed, a bath of innocent blood being the favourite remedy of the day! While they were selecting them, it was revealed to him in a vision that if he became a baptized Christian the leprosy would depart from him. He did so; he was immediately restored to health, and the children were set free. The legend is [179] ]related by Moses Chorensis, whose veracity is undoubted. One miraculous cure having occurred in their monastery, the good monks were not minded to let the fame thereof die out.’
‘What did they do to that end?’
‘It must be remembered that all monasteries of importance numbered among the brethren some who specially devoted themselves to the study and practice of medicine. To heal the sick was a part, an important part of the charity to which all members of monastic orders were vowed. As in the case of the nuns of certain convents, these institutions held specifics warranted to alleviate the more virulent diseases. Pilgrims from all parts of the civilised world resorted to the more famous monasteries. Many reached their homes professing to be cured. If not wholly restored to health, the undoubting religious faith of the mediæval period completed the process. Even in this age of analysis and positivism, do not the professors of the Christian Science cult work nearly on similar lines? And what quasi-miracles do they not allege? It must be remembered also that the monastic student, undisturbed by the distractions of a later age, safe within the massive convent walls, had enviable opportunities for perfecting his empirical remedies. Small wonder, then, that in course of time the priceless potion distilled from herbs grown only in the garden of Vatopede, mysteriously connected with the cure of Constantine the Great, came to be accepted as the sovereign remedy for the disease, alike terrible and insidious, which, since the dawn of history, had smitten with fatal power the [180] ]peasant in his cabin, the noble in his castle, the king upon his throne.’
‘All this is very instructive, of course,’ said Bournefield, ‘but I can’t say I’ve taken much interest in the medical aspect of this curse of mankind; without meaning to be frivolous, I always thought it principally concerned the people of old Biblical times, and that it was practically unknown in these modern days.’
‘But you’ve heard of the Little Bay Leper Hospital in Sydney?’
‘I’ve seen reference from time to time in the papers. Half-a-dozen Chinamen there, are there not?’
‘Double the number, at least. But would you be surprised to hear that within the last few years two European ladies—rich, cultured, travelled, possessed of everything necessary for comfort and happiness—had been confined there?’
‘Surely not! Impossible! Is your information trustworthy?’
‘I was told of it by a Government official—an old family friend, a man of the highest reputation for truth and probity, with access to all such institutions by right of position.’