"TAUHID-I-ILAHI." [97]
As usual, when evening closed in, a gaily coloured crowd thronged round
the shops and houses of one of the smaller bazars of Agra, situated
on the river. Here and there dice-players sat in open verandahs round
their boards; and there passed drunken [98] soldiers armed with various
weapons; a little retired from the crowd reposed solitary opium-eaters,
lost in blissful dreams; and there also were grave Muhammadans deep
in earnest conversation, and deigning for once to take a turn amongst
the despised Hindus engaged in their social pleasures.
"Yes, Ali," said one of these to his companion, "with Akbar and
his court things go from bad to worse. Evening after evening I
know that these blasphemous meetings take place. Yesterday, about
midnight, I passed by the palace, and what do you think I saw? All
the Emperor's windows were brilliantly lit, sparkling with many
lamps and wax tapers. But for what? For no feast such as a prince
might celebrate. No; all was still as death, excepting a solemn song,
or rather hymn. Akbar himself has, I have heard, composed several of
them; and however well they sound, they have nothing to do with our
religious service to the praise of the Great Prophet."
"And what does this betoken?" said Ali.
"What it really signified," was the answer, "I cannot exactly say; but
there is no doubt but that the light and singing were in connection
with the new teaching that Akbar is trying to introduce in the place
of that of Islam, and into which he initiates his confidants--a kind
of fire and sun worship, which in an evil hour he has taken from the
ancient Parsees, and also from the unbelievers here. May Allah have
mercy on them!"
"What kind of religion is it?" asked Ali. "Though I have heard of it
more than once, yet I do not exactly know what it is."
"Nor do I very exactly," replied Yusuf; "but that it is very bad
is proved by the opposition it meets with from all the faithful,
especially from a man like Abdul Kadir, who is very learned and much
esteemed by Akbar himself. From personal experience I have lately
become acquainted with things still more disquieting than those of
which I have already told you. Not long since I saw a man steal from
the palace secretly, and as if afraid lest anyone should see him;
a man whom you must know, but whom you cannot meet without a cold
shudder of horror--Gorakh, the so-called Yogi. Now," continued he,
sinking the whisper in which he spoke to a still lower tone, "do you
know for what I hold that man? If not Shaitan himself, he is certainly
his assistant; and with him Akbar has made a compact."
Yusuf was silent, regarding his comrade with horror. "Protect us,
Allah!" he suddenly cried, pointing to a figure approaching by the
river-side; "there he is in person! May the waters of the Jamuna
swallow him up!"
And, in truth, there was the Durga priest, approaching a group of
Hindus and Persians engaged in lively conversation.
"What I say," said one of these last, "is that we ought not, and
we cannot, bear longer the scorn and ridicule which is openly and
continually shown to our holy religion by Faizi and Abú-l Fazl,
not to mention a still higher name; and I cannot understand how you
people--although yours may be a different religion--how you can calmly
look on at the destruction and overthrow of what you, as well as we,
must hold sacred."
"But to that we have not yet come," said the Hindu. "It is well known
that the Emperor and his followers do not think much of your Koran,
and perhaps as much might be said of your religion. But so far I
have heard nothing of destruction and overthrow; our temples are
untouched, and no one interferes with our religious practices; while
you Muhammadans in old days did nothing but torment and persecute us.
"As you well deserved, you sons of----"
"Come, men, no disputes," said a Persian soldier, interrupting them;
"quarrels will not aid us." And he gave a sign to the angry Muhammadan.
"Let it be so," he answered, turning his back on the Hindu, and,
accompanied by two friends, passed on his way.
Now Gorakh joined in the conversation: "It was well that you were
present, Mubarak," said he; "open disputes may be dangerous. Most
Hindus hold to the side of the Emperor; but if for the moment they
are not to be won, when fortune changes they will come over to us. In
the meantime what progress have you made?"
"The greater part of our mansabdars are already won," answered
Mubarak; "and they will openly declare on our side directly the
signal is given. Those that go with the army will turn round at the
right moment, and those that remain here at Agra will do the same,
and they can depend on their troopers."
This conversation had been listened to with eager interest by two men
who had joined the group of speakers, and to whom, by the greeting
they exchanged, they appeared to belong; but with still deeper interest
they listened when Gorakh, in a low voice, replied:
"These last days have brought some changes in our plans; we must not
wait to strike the blow until Akbar has reached the north, for it is
always possible that in spite of the desertion of part of his troops
he may gain a victory. Such reports from Kashmir would spread a panic,
and we should find that there was little or nothing we could do here;
so we must somewhat hasten matters, and put our plans into execution
when Akbar is on the road, but too far off to return to Agra in a
few days' marches on hearing that Salim is declared Emperor and has
strengthened himself in the fortress; then there is no doubt that
the malcontents in the army will turn against Akbar. Take care,
then, Mubarak, and you others, that our people are warned in time,
and hold themselves in readiness to carry out our plans, although
the time is advanced."
After talking a little longer the conspirators separated, each going
his own way, and leaving the last comers together.
"This is weighty news," said one.
"It is indeed," replied the other; "and if I am not mistaken it will
make things easier for Akbar. How unfortunate that we cannot at once
make our report to Abú-l Fazl; but we must wait till night, it may
be dangerous to go to his palace before then; and also, I believe he
is now with the Emperor, and we should not find him."
"I think," said the first, "that it will be wiser for us now to
separate; we shall meet at midnight at the house of the Wazir." And
greeting his companion, he turned up a side street, while the other
continued along the river-side.
However fearful and profane the rites may have been that were supposed
to have taken place in the private apartment of the Emperor--leading
the pious Yusuf and his followers to believe that Akbar had concluded
a compact with Shaitan--on that evening, at any rate, a right-thinking
Mussulman would have seen nothing remarkable, though he might have
taken fresh offence at the conversation if he had been able fully to
understand and follow it.
Faizi, Abú-l Fazl, and the Brahman Kulluka, who had but lately returned
from the north, were with the Emperor.
"No further report from your spies?" he asked his ministers.
"Not since yesterday," answered Abú-l Fazl; "but I expect them at
midnight, and understand that they have news for me."
"Is it not sad," said Akbar, "that one must make use of such
people? Oh! why are men thus forcing us to have recourse to such
means?"
"It is," replied the Minister, "a necessary consequence of our present
form of government, which cannot be altered. Malcontents, whether
they are so with justice or not, have no means of redressing their
wrongs when all the power is vested in one, and that one pronounces
their complaints to be groundless. The ambitious and fortune-seekers
make use of them as tools to attain their own ends, and they easily
allow themselves to be so employed."
"But I never refuse to listen to the complaints of my subjects,"
said Akbar; "and if they are just, I redress them as far as lies in
my power."
"If they are just!" repeated Abú-l Fazl. "Yes; but who decides
that? The Emperor and his councillors?"
"But what would you have, then? We have heard of states and people
in other parts of the world, where things are managed differently;
but then, the condition of those people is very different from that
of ours. How would it be possible among the many kingdoms and races
subject to our rule to give any real share in the government to the
people themselves, even if their character, their manners and customs,
made it possible?"
"That is quite true," said Abú-l Fazl; "and I have already said that
I regard further changes as neither desirable nor possible. When
I alluded to the present state of affairs, it was only to show how
unavoidable is the use of means that we are forced to adopt in order
to avoid what is still worse. So far as these men are concerned whom
we contemptuously call spies, they are less to be despised than one
supposes; at least, the two I have now in my mind are honourable men,
respected by others, and devoted to us heart and soul. It is true
that they are well paid, still that is not necessary, they would be
faithful to us without that; and they have indeed rendered us good
service. They discovered Salhana's plot, and, what is not of less
importance, the secret intrigues of Gorakh the Yogi."
"Yes," remarked Faizi, mischievously, "of that philosopher who for
some time gloried in the favour of His Majesty, while he unfolded
the mysteries of the Yogi teaching; but not much came of it, so far
as I know."
Akbar coloured as the remembrance was brought back to him how with
all his wisdom he had almost, though but for a moment, been entirely
taken in by the cunning deceiver. But at the right moment Kulluka
interposed, and continued the conversation by saying: "It is indeed to
be regretted, but it is wiser to have little to do with this Gorakh. My
former pupil, Siddha, has communicated to me things about him which
show that caution is necessary. And yet he knows more, perhaps by
tradition, of the ancient and now almost forgotten teaching than we
shall ever discover."
"There you see," said Akbar, triumphantly, to Faizi, "that our
friend Kulluka, who is so well acquainted with all the learning
of the Brahmans, does not look upon the Yogi system as so utterly
unimportant."
"I will willingly allow that it contains much that is valuable," said
Faizi, "if our wise friend says so, from whom we have learnt so much
that is worth knowing. But excuse me, Kulluka, if I ask what it is
you expect from this system of days gone by? So far as I know, it is
nothing but a foolish mysticism, promising an impossible absorption of
the individual in the supreme, brought about by charms and enchantment,
or, to speak more plainly, by clever feats of jugglery."
"I do not think so unfavourably of the system of Patanjali," [99]
answered Kulluka; "although I do not for a moment believe it can boast
the possession of absolute truth. The union with, and resolution of
the mortal into the immortal, of human existence into the spiritual,
according to the Yogi view, is in itself not so great a folly. But no
doubt this teaching is erroneous when it seeks, through absorption
or union, to solve the mystery of the existence of the mind of
man, by which in a kind of ecstasy the mortal is absorbed into the
immortal. If this absorption were possible, it would in truth be
self-annihilation. I do not think that the fundamental idea is to be
so entirely rejected, or at least a part of it, of which all this is
the result. Is it not a truth that, just because men find themselves
so weighed down and bound within narrow limits, their spirits know
no higher exaltation than that to which they rise in those rare
moments when they lose the sense of their personality in nobler
or higher and more comprehensive ideas? Provided the ideas remain
no empty abstraction, but take their being from strong human life,
from knowledge, art, and the contemplation of the social existence
of men, what, I ask, can you place higher than so to lose the finite
and self-seeking I in the universal good? From the place whence the
individual drew the true spirit of life, to that place it should
return if it in truth accomplished its destiny."
"These are words after my heart," said Akbar. "This same thought,
that of self-denial, animates our own philosophical systems as well
as the new doctrines that these missionaries from the West have come
here to preach. But is there not another subject to which the thoughts
of men should be directed, especially those of philosophers? However
true and exalted this doctrine of self-abnegation is, what does it tell
us of the eternal union of spirit and matter which pervades existence?"
"Indeed," answered the Brahman; "he would be unworthy the name of
philosopher who did not take as a chief subject of philosophical
thought the contemplation of life and morals proceeding from it. But
who will ever solve for us the enigma of life?"
"No one, certainly," answered Faizi; "at least not at present. What
future knowledge, in distant centuries may contribute to its solution
we cannot even guess. But for the present should we not content
ourselves with the conviction, shared by all wise men, both past and
present, and expressed by many of them more or less clearly, that there
is in the universe an eternal life without end and without beginning;
a life and being through which everything is bound together or brought
into union, of which the highest law is development--the development
of the lower steps or forms of existence into those still higher. And
what are we ourselves--we men? Always the same as that which surrounds
us--a revelation of the universal being, each destined, in his own
circle and according to his powers, to take his part in the general
development. In proportion as we can clearly keep before our eyes the
higher and more universal aims, so will narrow feelings of self-love
retire to the background, making room for unselfish devotion to the
good of our fellow-men, of society, and of the state."
"Very well put, my worthy Faizi," said Akbar; "but true as all that
may be, does it content you? Do you not long for something else,
something more?"
"Assuredly," was the answer. "That one idea, in its abstruse
generalization, does not satisfy. We would understand it more clearly,
and learn to apply it; we would strive after the knowledge of immortal
life and of the original compact by observing their manifestations
here; and to attain this knowledge all those strive who devote
themselves to philosophy."
"You do not quite understand me," said the Emperor; "but I will allow
all that you have said. What I meant was: has the universal being,
of which you speak, its origin in itself, or in another still higher
intelligence?"
"Intelligence and thought," was the answer, "are necessary attributes
of this being, as well as that which we are accustomed to call matter
or extension. [100] Both declare themselves in infinite manifestations;
and how is it possible that that which is an attribute of a thing
can at the same time be its cause?"
For some moments a deep silence reigned. The Emperor sought for an
answer, but shook his head and said nothing.
"My brother," at last said Abú-l Fazl to Faizi, "your reasoning
is perfectly logical, yet it contents me as little as it does our
venerated Emperor. What have you, and what have we, to do with this
conception of soul and matter? What can it give us?"
"Well," answered Faizi, smiling, "it need give you nothing if it is
true; and if it is true, you should own it, though it may neither
content nor please you. I mean to show that my idea gives or possesses
a value in life only in so far as it awakens in us devotion to all that
we regard as good and true; and what can you ask for more than this?"
"You are right," answered Abú-l Fazl; "but I spoke not so much for
myself and for us, as for those of less cultivation and enlightenment,
who cannot comprehend all this, and yet seek for something more and
higher than daily experience brings them. Would it not be possible
so to dress up these abstract ideas as to make them more acceptable
to the multitude?"
"Our friend Faizi," said Akbar, "now says what I myself have often
thought. If it is not possible to discover new images or emblems
for these conceptions or notions proclaimed by Faizi, can we not
receive those of ancient days which were not peculiar to solitary and
independent religious systems, but which sprang from the religious
and poetical spirit of the people themselves?"
"I understand your meaning," replied Faizi, as Akbar was silent;
"you allude, if I am not mistaken, to the new doctrine or teaching
which the Emperor wishes to introduce, and with which some of his
trusted friends are already acquainted. Is it not so?"
"In truth," answered Akbar, "you are not mistaken. But allow me to
make use of this opportunity to say something further about it. To
you Faizi, and you Kulluka, I am indebted for much elucidation,
and the turn that our conversation has taken, which gives me the
chance of expressing my meaning, is indeed welcome to me. Listen,
then. For a long time I have sought for some form in which a rational
religion might be expressed, and which would at the same time
content philosophical thinkers and those of less enlightenment. At
last in some measure I found what I sought in making acquaintance
with the images of the ancient Persians, but above all, Kulluka,
of those of your philosophical poets of old days. I mean those
so well known to you--Sun and Fire. The contemplation of the most
striking manifestations of light and warmth may at first appear empty
and worthless; but more carefully regarded, they contain an exalted
truth, which perchance the knowledge of coming centuries may, through
its results, exalt to the highest place. See," continued Akbar, as
he turned to the open gallery of the apartment, and pointed to the
slowly-sinking sun, "there the glorious representation of all light
and life in this world leaves us, to return to-morrow in sparkling
glory. Earlier races regarded him as a god, and addressed prayers and
adoration to him; while to the wise of old he was the exalted image
of the principles of life, and the all-pervading force that is shown
in endless manifestations. For are not light and warmth the givers
of life, without which nothing could exist? In the light of the sun,
moon, and stars, the flash of lightning, and the fire that we ourselves
kindle on the hearth, we see the most common manifestations of this
force--now beneficent, and now fearful and destructive. Everywhere
is this force present--in the earth and planets, in man and animals,
in light and water--though we may not always remark it. And if it is
really thus, would it be considered as a mere poetical fancy if we
chose this force as the emblem of the unity and the life of which,
Faizi, you have just spoken? Our friend Abú-l Fazl is not only one
with me in this, but is anxious that I should try my new teaching,
or, if you will, the teaching I have borrowed from those of old days,
among the people, and see if they would not accept it instead of
the many superstitions that are now so general. A name was necessary
to distinguish this teaching from others; and though a name cannot
express the full meaning, that of Tauhid-i-Ilahi, 'the unity of the
Deity,' did not appear inappropriate. Ceremonies and public services
are entirely excluded, unless you can call public service a simple
symbolical adoration of the sun during the day and in the morning,
and of light during the night, by means of appropriate hymns. Touching
this," concluded the Emperor, "I have already imparted to you somewhat,
but I have never before fully declared it to you. The time has now
arrived: tell me frankly, what is your opinion?"
Neither of the friends appeared willing to comply with this request
at once. At last Kulluka broke the silence.
"Wise Prince, pardon us if we are not at once ready with our answer;
your important communication requires a moment's thought. In the plan
declared by you there is much that is tempting, and also, according
to my humble opinion, much that is serious. The justness and grandeur
of your images, borrowed for the greater part from our old poets
and philosophers, I shall be the first to admit; but, may I ask,
is there not great danger? These symbols once introduced amongst the
people and accepted by them, would soon lose their original meaning,
and in the end would sink to nothing but an outward and mechanical
religious service. We must well consider that this same teaching, which
you wish to proclaim, once actually belonged in truth to the faith of
more than one people; and what did it become? Not only in these later
days, but in ancient times, to which you refer, doubt arose respecting
the object of worship, and then, as now, many a pious mind asked: 'He
who gives life, He who gives strength; Whose command all the bright
gods revere; Whose shadow is immortality, Whose shadow is death; who
is the God to whom we shall offer our sacrifice?' [101] Even then,
Surya, the sun, and Agni, the fire, did not satisfy men as emblems of
the representation of life and force; and shall a happier future await
the Tauhid-i-Ilahi than that of the sun and fire worship of old days?"
Akbar gave no reply. "And you, Faizi," he asked, "what is your
opinion?"
"I have little or nothing," he answered, "to add to what my worthy
friend has already said. The doubt to which he alluded, as prevailing
in the days of old, has been still more clearly expressed than in
the passage quoted by him from the Vedas. Another poet puts it still
more forcibly:
'Who knows,' he says, 'who knows the secret, who proclaimed it here?
Whence, whence this manifold creation sprang;
The gods themselves came later into being;
Who knows from whence this great creation sprang?
He from whom all this great creation came,
Whether His will created it or was mute?
The most High Seer that is in highest heaven,
He knows it, or perchance even He knows it not.' [102]
So it seems that doubt is as ancient as religion itself. But let
us leave that on one side, and also the hate and opposition that a
reformer must always expect from his contemporaries, the appearance
of which we may already remark here and there where the new teaching
has already been made known to the people. This an Akbar will not
fear. But there is another danger that Kulluka referred to, which
cannot be put so lightly on one side: the danger that a name once
given, whether it be Allah or another, may become a personality
to the uncultured, and be regarded as a personal representation,
distinct from the Immortal Being; and then, naturally, all is at an
end with your object--the unity of the Deity. And what will you have
introduced, and what perhaps will you have made?"
"But, Faizi," asked Abú-l Fazl, "what would you do to make the people
wiser and more reasonable? How would you bring about this reformation
of ideas that the Emperor desires?"
"The great philosophers," was Faizi's answer, "of China, and all great
civilisers have long ceased to profess any religion; but they have made
a real beginning as regards the cultivation and the enlightenment of
the people, and one which we have too much lost sight of. This is,
above all things, the education of the people. There is the only,
but perfectly certain means. It is true that the results do not soon
appear; but those who put their hands to a great work seldom see the
end, which surely comes at last; while each announcement of a new
teaching, whether supported by the authority of revelation or not,
though for a time it may flourish, in the end is sure to degenerate."
"There seems to be much truth in what you have said," was Akbar's
answer; "and I will take it all into my most serious consideration. It
may perhaps be best to restrict the new teaching to the circle of
our own friends, in case we find its introduction among the people
to be opposed by insurmountable difficulties. Still you will not
expect that I should at once give up my favourite project. We will
talk it over again. But enough for to-day; state affairs now call
for our attention. I thank you, my friends, for all you have said:
you, Abú-l Fazl, for the support you have lent me; and you, too,
for your frank and well-meant opposition."
After having taken leave of the Emperor, Abú-l Fazl returned to his
palace, accompanied by his friends, to receive in their presence the
report of the two spies.