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A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z


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A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z


Dawn of All

Benson, Robert Hugh, 1871-1914

English



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Below is a summary of Dawn of All












Made and Printed in Great Britain at _The Mayflower Press,
Plymouth_. William Brendan & Son, Ltd.




PREFACE

IN a former book, called _Lord of the World_, I attempted to
sketch the kind of developments a hundred years hence which, I
thought, might reasonably be expected if the present lines of
what is called "modern thought" were only prolonged far enough;
and I was informed repeatedly that the effect of the book was
exceedingly depressing and discouraging to optimistic Christians.
In the present book I am attempting--also in parable form--not in
the least to withdraw anything that I said in the former, but to
follow up the other lines instead, and to sketch--again in
parable--the kind of developments, about sixty years hence which,
I think, may reasonably be expected should the opposite process
begin, and ancient thought (which has stood the test of
centuries, and is, in a very remarkable manner, being
"rediscovered" by persons even more modern than modernists) be
prolonged instead. We are told occasionally by moralists that we
live in very critical times, by which they mean that they are not
sure whether their own side will win or not. In that sense no
times can ever be critical to Catholics, since Catholics are
never in any kind of doubt as to whether or no their side will
win. But from another point of view every period is a critical
period, since every period has within itself the conflict of two
irreconcilable forces. It has been for the sake of tracing out
the kind of effects that, it seemed to me, each side would
experience in turn, should the other, at any rate for a while,
become dominant, that I have written these two books.

Finally if I may be allowed, I should wish to draw attention to
my endeavours to treat of the subject of "religious persecution,"
since I strongly believe that in some such theory is to be found
the explanation of such phenomena as those of Mary Tudor's reign
in England, and of the Spanish Inquisition. In practically every
such case, I think, it was the State and not the Church which was
responsible for so unhappy a policy; and that the policy was
directed not against unorthodoxy, as such, but against an
unorthodoxy which, under the circumstances of those days, was
thought to threaten the civil stability of society in general,
and which was punished as amounting to treasonable, rather than
to heretical, opinions.

ROBERT HUGH BENSON.

ROME Lent 1911




THE DAWN OF ALL



PROLOGUE

Gradually memory and consciousness once more reasserted
themselves, and he became aware that he was lying in bed. But
this was a slow process of intense mental effort, and was as
laboriously and logically built up of premises and deductions as
were his theological theses learned twenty years before in his
seminary. There was the sheet below his chin; there was a red
coverlet (seen at first as a blood-coloured landscape of hills
and valleys); there was a ceiling, overhead, at first as remote
as the vault of heaven. Then, little by little, the confused
roaring in his ears sank to a murmur. It had been just now as the
sound of brazen hammers clanging in reverberating caves, the
rolling of wheels, the tramp of countless myriads of men. But it
had become now a soothing murmur, not unlike the coming in of a
tide at the foot of high cliffs--just one gentle continuous note,
overlaid with light, shrill sounds. This too required long
argument and reasoning before any conclusion could be reached;
but it was attained at last, and he became certain that he lay
somewhere within sound of busy streets. Then rashly he leapt to
the belief that he must be in his own lodgings in Bloomsbury; but
another long slow stare upwards showed him that the white ceiling
was too far away.

The effort of thought seemed too much for him; it gave him a
sense of inexplicable discomfort. He determined to think no more,
for fear that the noises should revert again to the crash of
hammers in his hollow head. . . .

He was next conscious of a pressure on his lip, and a kind of
shadow of a taste of something. But it was no more than a shadow:

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