There are certain periodical publications which as a rule are neither examined nor discussed. Yet their existence dates back for many years, and in this age of filing and docketing they must by now provide a regular gold-mine for the study of human psychology. What increases their value is that they avoid all attempt at "literary effect." No picked phrases, no situations invented or dramatised to suit the taste of the author; nothing but facts taken from real life and recorded by the functionaries of His Majesty the Emperor of India. We are referring to those very interestingReports of the Indian Governmentto which we owe practically all our knowledge of fakirism and its miracles, of the artificial conservation of human life in the tomb, and of the strangulation rites of the Thugs. They are indeed a valuable contribution to the study of the perversions of religious faith—that most alluring and yet least explored section of psychology.
A librarian at the British Museum showed me some years ago one of the most suggestive documents that the art of cartography has ever produced. It was the famous map prepared by Captain Paton, about 1890, for the British Government, showing the various neighbourhoods in which the Thugs had strangled and buried their victims. Drawn up according to precise information furnished by several leaders of the sect, it indicated every tomb in the province of Oudh, where the majority of the worshippers of the goddess Kali were to be found. The written descriptions that accompanied the map were particularly interesting, for—like Swift, when he enumerated the benefits that would accrue to the starving Irish people if they killed their children like sheep and ate them instead of mutton—Captain Paton felt himself compelled to record the glorious deeds of some of the most valiant of the Thugs. He gave details which would have rejoiced the imagination of a de Quincey or an Edgar Allan Poe. About 5200 murders had been committed by a company of forty people, all highly thought of and commanding general respect. At their head was the venerable Buhram, who laid claim to 931 assassinations during his forty years of religious activity in the province of Oudh. The second in merit, one Ramson, had strangled 608 people. The third, it is true, could only claim about 500, but he had reached this figure in thirty years, and had made a record of 25 murders in one year. Others had to their credit 377, 340 and 264 assassinations respectively, after which one dropped from these heights to figures of twenty, ten or even only five annual murders in honour of Kali. This record undoubtedly represented the supreme flower of the religion of this goddess, who not only taught her followers the art of strangulation, but also succeeded in hiding their deeds from the suspicious eyes of unbelievers.
Murders followed thick and fast, one upon another, but though thousands of Hindus, rich and poor, young and old, were known to disappear, their terrified families scarcely dared to complain. English statisticians go so far as to say that from thirty to fifty thousand human lives were sacrificed every year on the altar of this fatal goddess, who, desiring to thwart the growth of the too prolific life-principle in the universe, incited her worshippers to the suppression and destruction of human beings. But while using her power to shelter her followers from suspicion and discovery, Kali expected them, for their part, to take care that none witnessed the performance of her duties. One day misfortune fell upon them. A novice of the cult had the daring to spy upon the goddess while she was occupied in destroying the traces of her rite, and Kali's divine modesty being wounded, she declared that in future she would no longer watch over the earthly safety of her followers, but that they themselves must be responsible for concealing their deeds from the eyes of men. Thus, after having worshipped her with impunity for centuries, the Thugs all at once found themselves exposed to the suspicions of their fellow-countrymen, and above all, of the British Government. Captain Sleeman played the part of their evil genius, for in his anger at their abominable deeds he decided, in spite of the resistance offered by the heads of the East India Company, to wage war to the knife against the religion of Kali. Such alarming reports were received in England that at last the home authorities were aroused, and in 1830 a special official was appointed to direct operations (the General Superintendent of Operations against Thuggee). Captain Sleeman was chosen to fill the appointment, and he dedicated to it all his courage and practically his whole life. The tale of the twenty years' struggle that followed would put the most thrilling dramas of fiction in the shade.
In the works founded on Captain Sleeman's reports, and above all in his own official documents, are found remarkable accounts of the ways in which the Thugs lured their victims to their doom.
A Mongol officer of noble bearing was travelling to the province of Oudh accompanied by two faithful servants. He halted on his way near the Ganges, and was there accosted by a group of men, polite in speech and respectable in appearance, who asked permission to finish their journey under his protection. The officer refused angrily and begged them to let him go on his way alone. The strangers tried to persuade him that his suspicions were unjust, but, seeing his nostrils inflate and his eyes gleam with rage, they finally desisted. The next day he met another group of travellers, dressed in Moslem fashion, who spoke to him of the danger of travelling alone and begged him to accept their escort. Once more the officer's eyes flashed with rage; he threatened them with his sword, and was left to proceed in peace. Many times again the brave Mongol, always on his guard, succeeded in thwarting the designs of his mysterious fellow-travellers, but on the fourth day he reached a barren plain where, a few steps from the track, six Moslems were weeping over the body of one who had succumbed to the hardships of the journey. They had already dug a hole in the earth to inter the corpse, when it was discovered that not one of them could read the Koran. On their knees they implored the Mongol officer to render this service to the dead. He dismounted from his horse, unable to resist their pleadings, and feeling bound by his religion to accede to their request.
Having discarded his sword and pistols, he performed the necessary ablutions, and then approached the grave to recite the prayers for the dead. Suddenly cloths were thrown over his own and his servants' heads, and after a few moments all three were precipitated into the yawning hole.
It may be asked why so much cunning was needed in order to add a few more members to the kingdom of the dead. The reason is that the Thugs were forbidden to shed human blood. The sacrifice could only be accomplished through death by strangling. It might often be easy enough to fall upon solitary travellers, but woe to the Thug who in any way brought about the shedding of blood! Consequently they had to have recourse to all sorts of ingenious methods for allaying suspicion, so that their victims might be hastened into the next world according to the rites approved by their implacable goddess. They believed in division of labour, and always acted collectively, employing some to entice the victim into the trap, and others to perform the act of strangulation, while in the third category were those who first dug the graves and afterwards rendered them invisible.
The murders were always accomplished with a kind of cold-blooded fanaticism, admitting neither mercy nor pity, for the Thug, convinced that his action would count as a special virtue for himself in the next life, also believed that his victim would benefit from it.
Feringhi, one of the most famous of Indian stranglers, who also held a responsible official position, was once asked if he was not ashamed to kill his neighbour.
"No," he replied, "because one cannot be ashamed to fulfil the divine will. In doing so one finds happiness. No man who has once understood and practised the religion of Thuggee will ever cease to conform to it to the end of his days. I was initiated into it by my father when I was very young, and if I were to live for a thousand years I should still continue to follow in his footsteps."
The Thugs of each district were led by one whom they called theirjemadar, to whom they gave implicit obedience. The utmost discretion reigned among them, and they never questioned the plans of their superiors. We can imagine how difficult it was to combat a fanaticism which feared nothing, not even death; for when death overtook them, as it sometimes did, in the performance of their rites, they merely looked upon it as a means of drawing nearer to their goddess.
The origin of this extraordinary religion seems to be hidden in the mists of the past, though European travellers claim to have met with it in India in the seventeenth century. We may note that during the Mahometan invasion all sorts of crimes were committed in the name of religion, and possibly the murders in honour of Kali were a survival from this time. As years went by the sect increased rapidly, and many of the most peaceable Hindus were attracted by it, and joined it in the capacity of grave-concealers, spies, or merely as passive adherents who contributed large sums of money. In Sleeman's time about two thousand Thugs were arrested and put to death every year, but nevertheless their numbers, towards the end of the nineteenth century, were steadily increasing. (Of recent years, however, a considerable diminution has been shown.) In 1895 only three are recorded to have been condemned to death for murder; in 1896, ten; and in 1897, twenty-five; while travellers in Rajputana and the Hyderabad district speak of much higher figures. The Thugs always bear in mind the maxim that "dead men tell no tales," and their practice of killing all the companions of the chosen victim, as well as himself, renders the detection of their crimes extremely difficult; while their mastery of the art of getting rid of corpses frequently baffles the authorities. Further, the terrified families of the victims, dreading reprisals, often fail to report the deaths, so that the sect has thus been enabled to continue its murderous rites in spite of all measures taken to stamp it out.
They avoid killing women, except in the case of women accompanying a man who has been doomed to death, when they must be sacrificed in order to prevent their reporting the crime. Stranger still, they admit that murder is not always a virtuous action, but that there are criminal murders which deserve punishment.
"When a Thug is killed," said one of them to the celebrated Sleeman, "or when one does not belong to the sect, and kills without conforming to the rites, it is a crime, and should be punished."
They seem to experience a strange and voluptuous pleasure when performing their rites of strangulation—a pleasure increased, no doubt, by the knowledge that their goddess looks on with approval. Yet even the most hardened among them is capable of the greatest chivalry when women are concerned, and a rigorous inquiry into the details of thousands of their crimes has failed to reveal any single attempt at violation. A Thug returning from one of his ritualistic expeditions may show himself to be a good and affectionate husband and father, and a charitable neighbour. Apart from numerous acts of assassination, on which he prides himself, his conduct is usually irreproachable. No wonder that he fills the English magistrates with stupefaction, and that justice does not always dare to strike when it can act more effectively by persuasion or seclusion.
All things evolve with the passage of time, and in the twentieth century even the rite of strangulation has undergone changes. From the main sect of Thuggee, other branches of a new and unlooked-for type have sprung. These, instead of strangling their neighbours, prefer to poison them, the virtue being the same and the method easier and more expeditious. Their proceedings, though more difficult to control, are quite as lucrative for Kali, the devourer of human life, and if they have made their goddess less notorious than did the Thugs, they certainly worship her with equal ardour.
Amid luxuriant vegetation, in an enchanting position overlooking the Pacific Ocean, flourishes the religion of reincarnation "without beginning and without end." Its followers, gathered there from all parts of the world, steep themselves in the atmosphere of fraternal love and general benevolence which is exhaled by this doctrine of the evolution of souls, leading to ultimate perfection.
The scenes which greet the dazzled eyes of the visitor are of such extreme beauty that he might well believe himself to have been miraculously transported to ancient Hellas. Greek theatres and temples gleam whitely in the shade of majestic palm-trees, and groups of young people dressed like the youths and maidens of ancient Athens may be seen taking part in rhythmic dances and elaborate processions.
Amid the dirt and chaos of our modern world this Grecian city seems to have sprung up as by a miracle, fully reconstituted not only in its outer appearance but also in its inner life of harmony and peace. Theosophists of every degree, who in other lands seem so often to lose themselves in a mist of vague dreams and metaphysical speculations, have here succeeded in expressing their ideals in concrete form.
Why postpone the paradise promised by Karma, the fundamental law of life? Why not seek to enjoy it now, without delay? So a number of the scattered disciples of Madame Blavatsky, following their new guide, Catherine Tingley, set to work to construct their holy city in California, on the shores of the Pacific, like the Jews who followed Moses to the Promised Land.
These teachings, handed down through untold ages, rejoice to-day in a setting that would surely have astonished their Hindu or Egyptian progenitors; and the revelations which came to Madame Blavatsky after her discovery of the forgotten truths of a dim and distant past bid fair to revivify our time-worn planet. Since the war there has been a tremendous revival of theosophical propaganda in allied and neutral countries, in the Old World and in the New, and without doubt Theosophy, together with Christian Science—to which it is in many ways opposed—is destined to undergo striking developments.
The new theory of metempsychosis saw the light about fifty years ago. It was brought to the United States by Helena Petrovna Blavatsky, a Russian lady of noble birth and high educational attainments, whose thought had been influenced partly by the esoteric wisdom of the past and partly by the religious unrest of her native land.
The doctrine of reincarnation has been accepted in India and Egypt for at least three thousand years. It was taught secretly in the Eleusinian mysteries. The philosophy of Pythagoras and of Plato is deeply impregnated with it. The Early Christian Church, as well as the Gnostics, admitted it tacitly, but in the fourth century it was condemned by the Fathers of the Church and banished from orthodox Christianity. Nevertheless it has always had an irresistible attraction for thoughtful minds, and many of the greatest thinkers, artists and poets of all ages have been firmly convinced of its truth.
Once installed in New York the Russian prophetess sowed far and wide the seeds of her new faith, whose consolatory doctrine attracted many who were saddened by the phenomenon of death, while at the same time it brought her many enemies.
After a time she departed for India, where her teachings became considerably enriched and widened by local and historical influences. She died in London in 1891.
We will pass in silence over the calumnious and dishonourable accusations which poisoned her years of triumph, and with which it has been sought to tarnish her memory. In these days we slander our prophets instead of killing them—a procedure which may cause them greater suffering, but has no effect upon the spread of their doctrines.
Madame Blavatsky's philosophy is set forth in a series of elaborate works of which the chief areThe Secret Doctrine, theKey to Theosophy, andIsis Unveiled, constituting, according to the author, a key to the mysteries of ancient and modern science and theology. To this medley of thoughts and facts drawn from the mystical wisdom of all countries and all ages, the magic of the writer's style gives a peculiar force and flavour, and though she may not always convince, she certainly offers food for thought and speculation—which is, perhaps, even more essential.
Her frequent lack of precision and clearness seems only to enhance the effect of her affirmations and revelations. A prophet who could easily be understood by intelligences of all grades would soon come to grief, for religious teachers, like philosophers and metaphysicians, seem to be esteemed and admired largely in proportion to the vagueness of their doctrines. The works of Madame Blavatsky are worthy of being classed among the most obscure, and for that very reason have every chance of endurance.
In spite of the differences that arose among the principal Theosophists (who included Colonel Olcott, William Q. Judge, and Annie Besant) after their leader's death, Catherine Tingley succeeded in rallying large numbers of the American believers to her banner, and founded a colony at Point Loma, California, under the name of "the universal and theosophical brotherhood," which was approved by the Theosophical conferences held in New York and Chicago in 1898.
Theosophy is in fact a philosophy of altruism, whose main tenets are brotherly love and justice. By following truth the soul becomes purified, and after a life consecrated to others and guided by the laws of justice, the individual may hope to reincarnate in some higher form. As the poet of Sakuntala has said—"In other existences we all have loved and wept"—but the divine Kalidasa teaches that past lives should not be spoken of, "for the mystery of rebirth is sacred."
The duality of our being is shown, on the one hand, in our earthly sins and failures, and on the other in the spiritual aspirations which ever urge us on to greater heights. The law of Karma affirms the relationship between cause and effect, and teaches that "as a man sows, so shall he also reap"—and consequently, the better our thoughts and actions now, the greater our advancement in the next life.
It is in the teachings of the divine Krishna that we find the original source of the greater part of modern Theosophy. His precepts are full of consolation for restless minds, and have the power to reconcile us not only to death, but to life.
In the vast store-house of the world's legends there is none more beautiful than that of the immaculate maiden Devaki, who in a divine ecstasy, amid strains of celestial music, brought forth the child of Mahadeva, Sun of Suns, in perfect serenity and bliss; while the story of Krishna's life, his dangers and temptations, his virtues and his beauty, his wisdom and his final supreme initiation, has provided the Hindu world with conceptions of a grandeur, originality and depth rarely met with elsewhere. To this well of wisdom came Plato and Pythagoras, and drew from it the chief ingredients of their philosophies; and here, too, we receive from the lips of Krishna, thirty centuries before the birth of Christ, the first faint intimations of the immortality of the soul.
He taught his disciples that man, living upon earth, is triple in essence, possessing spirit, mind and body. When he succeeds in harmonising the two first, he attains the state ofSattva, and rejoices in wisdom and peace. When he succeeds in harmonising mind and body only, he is in the state ofRaja, which is unstable and dangerous. When the body preponderates, he is in the state ofTamas, "that bindeth by heedlessness, indolence and sloth." Man's lot depends therefore on the correlation of these three states. When he dies in the state ofSattva, his soul rises to regions of the utmost purity and bliss, and comprehends all mysteries, in close communion with the Most High. This is true immortality. But those who have not escaped fromRajaandTamasmust return to earth and reincarnate in mortal bodies.
In later years Hermes Trismegistus, the Thrice-Greatest One, further developed these principles, adding to them the mystical treasures of Egyptian wisdom. It has been said by Lactance that "Hermes, one knows not how, succeeded in discovering nearly all the truth." During the first few centuries of the Christian era his works enjoyed a considerable vogue, and he also had a very great influence on the Renaissance period. The Hermetic books, with all their mysteries, have become part of the theosophical gospel, as well as the doctrines of Plato and of the Neo-Platonists, Plutarch's treatises on Isis and Osiris, the philosophies of Plotinus and Iamblichus, the teachings of Philo and of the Gnostics, and the works of innumerable others, who in seeking to throw light on the super-physical realms seem often only to have succeeded in plunging them into greater darkness. Augmented by all these obscure products of philosophy and metaphysics, the new Theosophy gives the impression of a gigantic and impenetrable maze, but it must be admitted that its followers have drawn from it maxims whose justice and high morality are beyond question.
The general trend of its teachings is indicated by the following sublime passages from the Bhagavad Gita, or Lord's Song:—
"He attaineth Peace, into whom all desires flow as rivers flow into the ocean, which is filled with water, but remaineth unmoved—not he who desireth desires. Whoso forsaketh all desires and goeth onwards free from yearnings, selfless and without egoism—he goeth to Peace. . . . Freed from passion, fear and anger, filled with Me, taking refuge in Me, purified in the fire of wisdom, many have entered into My Being. However men approach Me, even so do I welcome them, for the path men take from every side is Mine, O Pârtha."
But the many imitations and variations of this wonderful Song have despoiled it of some of its freshness and beauty, so that in these days it is rather like the airs played on barrel-organs whose original tunefulness is forgotten through wearisome repetition.
Theosophists are also concerned, with studying the sevenfold nature of man and of the universe, with the existence of invisible worlds, the graduated stages of death and rebirth, and the attainment of divine wisdom through perfect purity of life and thought. They are opposed to racial prejudices, social classifications, and all distinctions that separate and divide mankind, and they inculcate the greatest possible respect for, the widest possible tolerance between, the world's different religions. Like Christian Scientists they do not believe in the practice of hypnotic suggestion, but they disagree with the materialism of the Scientists, holding that, in the search for truth, purity of life is the one essential, and worldly prosperity of small importance.
In 1912 and 1913 Mrs. Tingley visited Europe and made numerous converts in England, Italy, France, Germany and the Scandinavian countries, while the Theosophical Conference held at Point Loma in 1915, in the interests of peace and universal brotherhood, was an immense success. The Theosophists have always been ardent workers in the cause of international peace, and while awaiting the dawn of a New Age when war shall be unknown, they strive to forestall its advent in their Californian paradise.
Dramatic and musical performances are given in theatres built in the Greek style; there is a college of Raja-Yoga, where thousands of pupils of all races are initiated into the mysteries of Karma and Reincarnation; a School of Antiquity, "temple of the living light," where the secret of living in harmony with nature is taught; frequent lectures, conferences, sports and games; while animated conversations concerning memories of past lives have an undying fascination for the adherents of this doctrine which sends so many missionaries out into the world every year.
Unlike other sects, the Theosophists do not seem anxious to publish their numbers abroad—whether because they make too many converts, or too few, it is impossible to say!—but there must certainly be hundreds of thousands scattered throughout the United States, India, and the Anglo-Saxon countries.
The foregoing chapter scarcely seems complete without some reference to the other two centres where an attempt has been made to express the ideals of Theosophy in concrete form—one in the East, at Adyar, Madras, the other in the West, at Krotona, near Los Angeles, California. The former came into being in 1882 under Madame Blavatsky's own leadership, and has grown from a small property of only 27 acres to one of 263 acres. With its many fine buildings it has a river-frontage (on the Adyar river) of one mile, and a sea-frontage of two-fifths of a mile. Here Mrs. Besant—World-President of the Theosophical Society, apart from Mrs. Tingley's followers—makes her home, leaving it only for periodical lecturing tours throughout India, or for visits to London and other European centres. Her lectures at Queen's Hall, London, in the years immediately preceding the war, and again in 1919, were remarkable for the crowds who flocked to listen to one who, whether her views find agreement or not, is universally admitted to be in the front rank of living orators. Adyar possesses an excellent library, with many valuable books and manuscripts relating to the ancient religions of India; a publishing house, the Vasanta Press, whence are issued yearly numerous theosophical books, pamphlets and magazines, for purposes of study and propaganda; a lecture hall which seats 1500 people, but into which as many as 2300 have found admittance on special occasions; a Masonic temple; an extensive building for the housing of resident students; and very beautiful grounds with a palm-grove and an ancient banyan tree, in whose shade many of the most important theosophical lectures and conferences are held, and around which more than 3000 people of all nationalities have often been gathered to hear the discourses of the President and her colleagues. A striking feature of the grounds is the massive sculptured trilithons, about 2000 years old, brought from a ruined temple in southern India, and erected here in picturesque surroundings.
The colony at Krotona is of more recent origin, and its environment is similar in some respects to that of Point Loma. Founded in 1912 by A. P. Warrington, the head of the American section of the Theosophical Society under Mrs. Besant's leadership, it stands on high ground on the outskirts of Hollywood, a suburb of Los Angeles, with magnificent views of the Santa Monica Mountains and of the valley leading to the sea twelve miles away. This "Institute of Theosophy" takes its name from the School of Science, Art and Philosophy founded by the great Pythagoras, and aspires to be to-day what his Krotona was in the past—a centre of spiritual enlightenment. It is run on co-operative lines, and on a non-profit basis. There are no "servants" in the community, and the means of support is from a ground-rent or tax charged to each house-builder, from the renting of rooms, and from voluntary donations. The buildings are in picturesque Moorish or Spanish style, their white walls gleaming amid the brilliant flowers and luxuriant greenery of this favoured climate. They include a fine Lending Library and Reference Room, a scientific research laboratory, a publishing house, an administration building, and many pretty villas and cottages. There is also a temple, in whose auditorium religious ceremonies, meetings, lectures and concerts take place, and an open-air stadium where each year a miracle play is to be produced, the one first chosen being a dramatisation of Sir Edwin Arnold's "Light of Asia," which ran for three weeks in the summer of 1918.
The English Headquarters of the Society are now at 23 Bedford Square,London.
"Tell us then, Mary, what hast thou seen upon thy way?"
"I have seen the shroud and the vestments and the angelic witnesses, and I have seen the glory of the Resurrected."
Saints and prophets of all lands and all ages bear an unconscious resemblance one to another. The craving for truth, the unquenchable desire to escape from reality, leads them into realms of mystery and dream, where simple peasants and labourers, religious men and agnostics, philosophers and mystics, all meet together. Their unsuspicious minds are easily dazzled by the least ray of light, and deceived by the most unlikely promises, and it is not surprising that they are often imposed upon and led to accept false ways of salvation.
Many of the mystics show a desire to revert to the Esoteric Christianity dear to Saint John, the disciple whom Jesus loved; or to that of Mani, whose doctrine—unjustly distorted by his detractors—was concerned with direct initiation and final mergence in the Divinity. But it is not easy to progress against the stream of the centuries, and with the Catharists of Hungary, the Albigenses of Provence, and the Templars massacred in the name of St. Augustine—that ancient Manichean who became the worst enemy of his fellow-believers—Esoteric Christianity seemed to have died out. Nevertheless the desire for it has never been destroyed, and continues to inspire the teachings of all those who revolt against dogmas that tend to restrict the soul's activities instead of widening them.
Logically, all viable religious evolution is a departure from the Christianity which has moulded our present-day thought and morality and is the centre of all our hopes. But every new revival has to reckon with it. Madame Blavatsky, for instance, made Gautama Buddha—the king's son who became a beggar by reason of his immense compassion for mankind—the central pivot of her esotericism, which was Buddhist rather than Christian in essence; but Annie Besant, the spiritual leader of modern Theosophy, has returned to Christianity and acknowledges the divinity of the Son of Man. This symbolic example should reassure Christian believers, showing how even those who depart from Christianity contribute, in spite of themselves, to its continuous growth.
Crowds of new phenomena are now demanding entry into the divine city of religion. There is, first of all, science, undertaking to present us with a morality conforming to the Gospel teachings, which it claims have become a dead letter. But if twenty centuries of Christianity have not transformed human nature, neither has science. Materialism and commercialism have failed just as the Church, with her spirit of exclusion and domination, has failed. The fact that all these have worked separately and in hostility to one another is perhaps the reason, for mutual understanding and respect, once established between them, might well result in a new revelation worthy of the new humanity which shall emerge from this tragic age. A superior idealism, at once religious, social and scientific, must sooner or later bring new light and warmth to the world, for a world-crisis which has shaken the very foundations of our existence cannot leave intact its logical corollary, faith, in whose vicinity threatening clouds have long been visible. As at the dawn of Christianity, the whole world has seemed to be rent by torturing doubts and by the menace of an approaching end. After having been preserved from destruction by Christ for two thousand years, it suddenly found itself in the throes of the most appalling upheaval yet experienced, with the majority of its inhabitants engaged in a murderous war. The dream of human brotherhood, glimpsed throughout the centuries, seemed to be irretrievably threatened, and once more arose the age-old question as to how the Reign of Love was to be introduced upon earth.
The present era shows other striking analogies to the early days of Christianity, as, for instance, in the democratic movement tending to establish the sovereignity of the people. But it is no longer exceptional men, like prophets, who proclaim the dawn of the age of equality, but the masses themselves, under the guidance of their chosen leaders. In the book of Enoch the Son of Man tears kings from their thrones and casts them into Hell; but this was only an isolated seer daring to predict misfortune for those who built their palaces "with the sweat of others." The old-time prophets desired to reduce the rich to the level of the poor, and a man denuded of all worldly goods was held up as an ideal to be followed. This naturally necessitated mendicity, and it was not till some centuries had passed that the Church herself became reconciled to the possession of riches. Our own age, however, desires to uplift the poor to the level of the rich, and a more generous spirit is manifested, in accordance with the progress made by the science of social reform. Still it is, at bottom, the same spirit of brotherhood, enlarged and deepened, which now seeks to level from below upwards instead of from above downwards. Distrust and suspicion are directed chiefly towards the "New Rich," products of the war, who have built up their fortunes on the ruin and misery of others, and to these might be addressed the words of Jesus to the wealthy of His time—"Be ye faithful stewards"—that is to say, "Make good investments for the Kingdom of God in the interests of your fellow-men."
We are witnessing a revival of the "good tidings for the poor," in whom may be included the whole human community. For the revolution of to-day differs from that of the simple Galileans, and is of grave and universal portent, proceeding, as it does, from men who have thought and suffered, and profited by the disorder and misery of thousands of years.
The Gospel is in process of being renovated. All these new churches and beliefs can only serve to strengthen the great work in which the "Word" is incarnated. Whether produced by deliberate thought or by unconscious cerebration, whether professed by "saints" or practised by "initiates," they hold up a mirror to the soul of contemporary humanity with all its miseries and doubts; and for this reason, whatever their nature or origin, they are deserving of sympathetic study.
There are great religions and small ones, and as with works of art, we are apt to find in each, more or less, what we ourselves bring to it. Jeremiah, when travelling through Ancient Egypt, felt indignation at the sight of gods with hawks' or jackals' heads; while the touching confessions of the dead, consigned to papyrus—"I have not killed! I have not been idle! I have not caused others to weep!"—only drew from him exclamations of anger and contempt. Herodotus, a century later, also understood nothing of this world of mysterious tombs, with its moral teachings thousands of years old, or of the great spiritual revelation with which the land of the Pharaohs is impregnated. Both alike—Jeremiah, unmoved by the cruelty and hardness of Jehovah, Herodotus, oblivious to the sensuality and immorality of his own gods, who, according to Xenophon, were adepts at thieving and lying—shook their heads in dismay before the Egyptian symbols. But Plato, on the contrary, was able to appreciate the harmonious beauty of a divine Trinity, sublime incarnation of that which is "eternal, unproduced, indestructible . . . eternally uniform and consistent, and monoeidic with itself."
There are, no doubt, many Jeremiahs to-day, but there are also understanding souls capable of taking an interest in even the most bizarre manifestations of religious faith. These throw a revelatory light upon some of the most painful problems of our time, as well as upon the secret places of the human soul where lurks an ever eager hope, often frustrated, and alas, often deceived.
All religious sects and reformers since the time of Christ have only succeeded in modifying, renovating, uplifting or debasing the eternal principles already enunciated by the Son of Man. He it was who founded the integral religion for all time, but as it permits of the most varied interpretations, innumerable and widely divergent sects have been able to graft themselves upon its eternal trunk. After Him, said Renan—who has been wrongly considered an opponent of Christ—there is nothing to be done save to develop and to fertilize, for His perfect idealism is the golden rule for a detached and virtuous life. He was the first to proclaim the kingdom of the spirit, and has established for ever the ideal of pure religion; and as His religion is a religion offeeling, all movements which seek to bring about the kingdom of heaven upon earth can attach themselves to His principles and to His way of salvation.
Further, any religious movement which appeals to our higher instincts must eventually contribute to the triumph of human brotherhood and to the beautifying of human life—which increases the interest of studying all attempts at revival and reform. Such a study will prevent us from being overwhelmed by the uglinesses of life, or from becoming sunk in a morass of material pleasures, and will open up ways of escape into the heavenly realms.
The true teaching of Jesus has, as a matter of fact, never yet been realised in practice. It holds up an ideal almost unattainable for mortals, like the light of a fixed star which attracts us in spite of its unthinkable distance. But we may, perhaps, by roundabout ways, ultimately succeed in giving a definite form to the Platonic dreams which ever hover around the shores of our consciousness. Among the "saints" and "initiates" who work outside the borders of accepted dogma, there are often to be found some whose originality and real spiritual worth is not generally recognised, and instead of turning away from their "visions" and "revelations," we should rather examine them with close attention. Even if our faith gains nothing, we shall be sure to pick up psychological treasures which could be turned to the profit of science.
We have been re-living, in these recent years, the "desolation" of the prophets, only that the suffering of the few in former times became with us the suffering of all. There is the same difference between the troubles of ancient Judea and those of the modern world, as there is between her miniature wars and the colossal conflict whose aftermath is with us still.
Yet now, as in the time of Isaiah, the nations long for eternal peace, and the desire for a world more in harmony with man's deepest thoughts and wishes is one of the dominant causes of religious schism and revolt.
Let us hope that the world-wide catastrophe that we have witnessed may yet lead to the realisation of the ideal expressed by Jesus, and by the ancient prophet before Him:—
"And he shall judge among the nations, and shall rebuke many people: and they shall beat their swords into ploughshares, and their spears into pruning hooks: nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more." And again—"The work of righteousness shall be peace; and the effect of righteousness quietness and assurance for ever. And my people shall dwell in a peaceable habitation, and in sure dwellings, and in quiet resting places."
Many are being stirred to new life and action by dreams which hold, in almost every case, some fragment of the longed-for truth, however foolish or illogical in expression; and we should in consequence approach the dreamers with all the sympathy of which we are capable. Often their countenances are made beautiful by love, and they will, at the least, provide us with a golden key to the fascinating mysteries of man's subconscious mind. What though their doctrines vanish from sight under the scalpel of analysis? It is no small pleasure to contemplate, and even to examine closely, such delightful phantoms.