CONVERSION

From what has been already said, it should be clear that a complete

understanding of religious phenomena--whether legitimately or wrongly so

called--involves acquaintance with a number of factors that are not

usually called religious. Man's religious beliefs are usually a very

composite product; they are built up from a number of states of feeling

and mental convictions, some of which have only an accidental connection

with the religious idea itself. Unfortunately, the training given to

professional religious teachers rarely equips them for dealing with

religion from the scientific point of view. Their training gives them a

knowledge of several ancient languages, makes them acquainted with the

rise and fall of certain doctrines, the nature of Church ritual and the

like, all of which, while interesting enough in themselves, give little

more genuine enlightenment than a knowledge of the dates of English

monarchs provides of the character of genuine historic processes. One

writer pertinently asks:--

"What does the ordinary seminary graduate know of the histology,

anatomy, and physiology of the soul? Absolutely nothing. He must stumble

along through years of trying experience and look back over countless

mistakes before he understands these things even in a general way. What

does the ordinary graduate understand about doubt? It is all classed

together, whether in adolescents or in hardened sinners, and one dose is

applied. What does the graduate know about sexuality, so closely allied

with certain forms of religious manifestations? What about ecstasy, in

its various forms, the numerous methods of faith cure thrust upon an

illiterate but credulous people, or the significance or insignificance

of visions and dreams?"[142]

It is, indeed, not too much to say that a theological training tends to

prevent a rational comprehension of religion in both its normal and

abnormal manifestations. Religious phenomena are not affiliated to

phenomena as a whole; they are treated as quite distinct from the rest

of life, possessing both an independent origin and justification. The

consequence is that what are usually called studies of religion move

round and round the same circle of ideas, and a revolution is mistaken

for progress. Genuine enlightenment has come to us from men who have

attacked the subject from a quite different point of view. They

recognised that whether the religious idea was accepted as true or

rejected as false, it could not be separated from that host of ideas and

beliefs which make up the psychological side of the social structure. It

was to be studied as a piece of natural history first of all. Whether it

involved more than this they left to be settled later. It cannot be said

that they belittled the _power_ of religion; on the contrary, the

investigations showed it to be one of the most potent of the forces that

shape social institutions. But they demonstrated the absurdity of

placing religion in a category of its own. As an objective fact, they

showed that religion was subject to the same forces that determine the

form of other objective facts. As a culture fact, they traced its

connection with corresponding phases of social development; and as a

psychological fact, they demonstrated its workings to be in harmony with

workings of normal psychological laws. Five thousand years of

theological study had left the world as ignorant of the nature of

religious phenomena as it was in the days of ancient Chaldea. Fifty

years of scientific study has served to make at least a broad path

through what was hitherto an impenetrable jungle.

What has been said holds with peculiar force of the subject of

conversion. This is not a phenomenon peculiar to Christianity, for

initiation and conversion accompanies religion in all its phases. I do

not think that it is peculiar to religion even as a whole. A sudden

discharge of feeling in a special direction leading to a changed

attitude, more or less permanent towards life, may be seen in connection

with the non-religious life, although it fails to receive the attention

bestowed on changes that are connected with religion. But if conversion

is not a peculiarly Christian phenomenon, one school of theologians, at

least, has raised it to a position of peculiar eminence in connection

with Christianity. They have taken it to be the mark of a person who has

attained spiritual manhood, and have laid down elaborate rules for its

achievement. Many theologians will agree that this has been almost

wholly disastrous. On the one side, conversion has been dwelt upon as a

cataclysmal epoch in a person's life, produced, negatively, by an act of

self-surrender, and, positively, by a supernatural act of grace. This

has had the effect of blinding people to the real nature of the process,

and has led to certain evil consequences that must always accompany

attempts at wholesale conversion. On the other hand, it has given rise

to a class of professional evangelists who count their trophies in

'souls' as a Red Indian might count scalps, and who are ignorant of

nearly everything except the art of working upon the emotions of a crowd

of more or less uncultured people. Here, for instance, is an account of

an American evangelist and ex-prize fighter, and evidently a great

favourite with certain sections of the religious public in America. The

account is cited by Dr. Cutten from a local paper, Illinois:--

"5843 converts, 683 in a day. Total gift to Mr. Sunday, $10,431.

Greatest revival in history. Will attract the attention of the religious

world. Sermon on 'Booze,' the great effort of the revival! These are all

headlines to the report of the meeting, which covers six

columns--evidently a response to the interest shown in 'Billy' Sunday's

meetings. The sermon on 'Booze' is given in full, and the physical

exertions of the preacher described in detail. He began with his coat,

vest, tie, and collar off. In a few moments his shirt and undershirt

were gaping open to the waist, and the muscles of his neck and chest

were seen working like those in the arm of a blacksmith, while

perspiration poured from every pore. His clothing was soaked, as if a

hose had been turned on him. He strained, and twisted, and reached up

and down. Once he was on the floor for just a second, in the attitude of

crawling, to show that all crime crawled out of the saloon; then he was

on his feet as quickly as a cat could jump. At the end of forty-five

minutes he mounted a chair, reached high, as he shouted, then again was

on the floor, and dropped prostrate to illustrate a story of a drunken

man, bounded to his feet again as if steel springs filled that lithe,

slender, lightning-like body. He generally breaks a common kitchen chair

in this sermon, and this came after a terrible effort, with eyes

flashing, face scowling, the picture of hate. He whirled the chair over

his head, smashed the chair to the platform floor, whirled the shattered

wreck in the air again, and threw it to the ground in front of the

pulpit. In two minutes men from the front row were tearing the wreck to

pieces and dividing it up--a round here, a leg there, a piece of the

back to another, and so on. Later, men carried away in cheering could be

seen in the audience waving those chair fragments in the air."

This is, of course, an extreme case, although it is but an exaggeration

of methods in common use among these professional revivalists. The whole

aim and purpose of these men is to arouse in the audience a high

emotional tension, and any means is acceptable that succeeds in doing

this. On the part of the congregation a large portion go for the express

purpose of indulging in an emotional debauch. Many attend revival after

revival, living over again the debauch of the last, and treasuring

lively expectations of the next. Between these and the victim of alcohol

tasting again his last 'burst,' and seeking opportunities for another,

there is really little moral or psychological distinction. The social

consequences of these engineered revivals have never been fully worked

out, but when it is done by some competent person, the conclusions will

be a revelation to many. One thing is certain: to expect really useful

social results from such methods is verily to look to gather grapes from

thistles.

During recent years the phenomena of religious conversion have been

studied in a more scientific spirit.[143] Statistics have been compiled

and analysed, the frames of mind attendant on conversion arranged and

studied, with the result that the salient features are to be discerned

by all who approach the study of the subject with a little detachment of

mind. One outstanding feature of this more scientific enquiry into the

nature of conversion has been to demonstrate that it is almost

exclusively a phenomenon of puberty and adolescence. Mr. Hall has

compiled a lengthy list of the ages at which noted religious characters

experienced what is known as conversion.[144] From this I take the

following examples. Religious conviction came to St. Thekla at the age

of 18, to St. Agnes at 13, St. Antony at 18, Martin of Tours at 18,

Euphrasia at 12, Benedict at 14, Cuthbert at 15, St. Bernard at 12, St.

Dominic at 15, St. Collette at 20, St. Catherine at 7, St. Teresa at 12,

St. Francis of Sales at 11. In his _Life of Jesus_, Keim also remarks

that although some of the disciples may have been married, most of them

were probably about twenty years of age.[145]

Professor Starbuck, placing on one side both historical and

anthropological aspects, set himself the task of examining cases of the

present day. A paper was sent out asking various questions as to age,

state of health, frame of mind, before, during, and following

conversion. The questions were sent to male and female members of

different religious denominations. In reply, 1265 papers were filled up

and returned. One result of a scrutiny of these returns was to show that

the age at which religious conversion was experienced began as early as

7 or 8 years, it increased gradually till 10 or 11, then a more rapid

increase till 18 or 20, a decline increasing in rapidity to the age of

25, and its practical disappearance beyond the age of 30. In girls, the

period of conversion antedates that of boys by about two years.[146]

Starbuck's conclusion is the perfectly valid one that conversion

"belongs almost exclusively to the years between 10 and 25," and is

distinctly a phenomenon of adolescence.

This conclusion would be borne out by a study of almost any revival

crusade. Thus a few years ago--1904--England received a visit from the

American evangelist, Dr. Torrey. At the conclusion of his visit, Sir

Robertson Nicol invited opinions from ministers in the towns visited by

Torrey, and published the replies in his paper, _The British Weekly_, on

October 27. There was no attempt whatever to elicit the ages of the

reported converts; the enquiry was directed to the point of ascertaining

whether these engineered missions had a beneficial effect on church

life, or the reverse. But incidentally the ages of the converts were

given in some cases, and one may safely assume that in the reports where

no age was mentioned the facts, if disclosed, would not run counter to

the generalisation above given. The Rev. T. Towers, Birmingham, noted

that 16 out of 25 reported converts were children. Rev. A. Le Gros,

Rugby, reported: "A number of our youngest members, especially amongst

the young girls, were amongst those who professed conversion." Rev. H.

Singleton, Smethwick, says: "The bulk of the names sent to me were those

of children under thirteen years of age." Rev. W. G. Percival, Lozells

Congregational Church, says of the 'inquiry' meeting held after the

preaching: "The dear little things followed one another for inquiry

until the place was a scene of utter confusion." Reports of a similar

nature came from other places. The ages were pointed out quite

incidentally; conversions of youths of 17 or 18 would not excite comment

with these. Were the ages of all given, we should, without doubt, find

them fall into line with Starbuck's and Hall's figures.

Professor James quite accepts this view of conversion. The conclusion,

he says, "would seem to be the only sound one: conversion is in its

essence a normal adolescent phenomenon, incidental to the passage from

the child's small universe to the wider intellectual and spiritual life

of maturity."[147] Conversion, in the sense of a change from "the

child's small universe" to the large world of human society, may be a

normal fact in life, but the really essential fact in the enquiry is not

the fact of growth, but growth in a specific direction. Why should this

normal change from childhood to maturity be the period during which

_religious_ conversion is experienced? This question is not only ignored

by Professor James, it is made more confused by his method of stating

it. Of course, if all people experienced this religious conviction, as

all people undergo other changes at adolescence, the question would be

simplified. But this is obviously not the case. A large number of people

never experience it so long as they are only brought into contact with

ordinary social forces. Special circumstances seem usually to be

required to rouse this sense of religious conviction. Nearly every story

of conversion turns upon something unusual, unexpected, or dramatic

occurring as the exciting cause. The question is, therefore, why should

the line of growth, general with all at adolescence, be, in the case of

some, diverted into religious channels? A study of the subject from this

point of view will, I think, show that conversion is only normal in the

sense that in an environment where religious influences are powerful

each person is normally exposed to it. Those on whom the religious

influence fails to operate experience the change from childhood to

adolescence, on to complete maturity, without their nature evincing any

lack of completeness. This is the vital truth of which Professor James

loses sight, and it is ignored by the vast majority of writers who treat

of the subject.

Leaving, for a while, the statistical view of conversion, we may turn to

its other aspects. By the more advanced of religious teachers to-day the

developments attendant on adolescence are taken as supplying no more

than a favourable occasion for directing mind and emotion to definite

religious conviction. Here the connection is admittedly more or less

accidental. But by the great majority of theologians there is assumed a

direct supernatural influence in the states of mind developed during

adolescence. In more primitive times the connection is of a yet closer

character. Puberty does not at this stage represent what a modern would

call an awakening of the religious consciousness, but a direct

impingement of supernatural influence. From one point of view this

conception still remains part of all religious systems, however overlaid

it may be with modern ideas concerning sexual maturity. And we have, as

a mere matter of historic fact, a whole series of customs commencing

with the initiatory customs of savages and running right on to the

modern practice of confirmation.

In a previous chapter it was pointed out what is the savage state of

mind in relation to the beginnings of sex life as it is manifested in

both boys and girls. Adolescence does not, to the primitive mind, serve

as an occasion for the creation of an interest in the religious life, it

is the sign of direct supernatural influence. One consequence of this is

the rise of more or less elaborate ceremonials marking the initiation of

youth into direct communion with the spiritual forces that govern tribal

life.[148] Among the Polynesians tattooing forms part of the religious

ceremony, and during the time the marks are healing the boy is taboo to

the rest of the tribe, owing to his having been touched by the gods.

With the North American Indians the following ceremony seems

characteristic:--

"When a boy has attained the age of fourteen or fifteen years he absents

himself from his father's lodge, lying on the ground in some remote or

secluded spot, crying to the Great Spirit, and fasting the whole time.

During this period of peril and abstinence, when he falls asleep, the

first animal, bird, or reptile, of which he dreams, he considers the

Great Spirit has designated for his mysterious protector through

life."[149] Similar ceremonies are described by Livingstone as existing

among the South African tribes. These customs are too widespread, and

bear too great a similarity to be described with reference to many

races. The variations are unimportant, and such as they are they may be

studied in the pages of Hall, Frazer, and numerous other writers. With

girls the measures adopted are of a more elaborate character than is the

case with boys, because, for reasons already stated, the occurrence of

puberty in girls gives the supernatural act a more startling and

significant character. Hence the strict seclusion of girls almost

universally practised among uncivilised peoples. The precautions taken

indicate, as Hartland points out, that they are at this period not

merely charged with a malign influence, but are peculiarly susceptible

to the onset of powers other than human. And with a modification of

language the same idea has persisted down to our time, even amongst

those who would reject with indignation the statement that savage ideas

concerning the nature of puberty form the real basis of their own mental

attitude.

This truth cannot be too strongly emphasised. To ignore it is to miss

the whole significance of continuity in human institutions and ideas.

The ceremonies described do, of course, gather round the fact of sexual

development, but they are not concerned with the sexual life, as such.

It is sex as a supernatural manifestation that is the vital feature of

the situation. The governing idea is that puberty marks the direct

association of the individual with a spiritual world to the influence of

which the functional changes are due. As more accurate conceptions are

formed, the older and inaccurate one is not altogether discarded. It has

become incarnate in ceremonies, it is part of the traditional psychic

life of the people, and the change is one of transformation rather than

of eradication. In later cultural stages the physiological nature of the

changes are seen, but they are expressed in terms of religion. Such

expressions as "the soul's awareness of God," "the dawning consciousness

of religion," etc., take the place of the earlier and more direct

animistic interpretation. But the essential misinterpretation is

retained, disguised from careless or uninformed people by the use of a

modified terminology. But in substance the use made of puberty by

organised religious forces remains the same throughout. We have the same

absence of a rational explanation in both instances. In the one because

the state of knowledge makes any other impossible; in the other because

tradition, self-interest, and prejudice prevent its use. It is not only

in his physical structure that man carries reminiscences of a lower form

of life; such reminders are quite as plentiful in his mental life, and

in social institutions.

Even with many who perceive the mechanism of conversion its real

significance is often missed. For the important thing is, not that some

people express the changes incident to adolescence in terms of religion,

but that many do not, and also that these find complete satisfaction

along lines of æsthetic, intellectual, or social interest. Yet one often

finds it assumed that the difference between the two classes is

explained by assuming a certain lack of 'spiritual' development in the

non-religious class. As stated, this is often perilously near to

impertinence, and in any case is little better than the language of a

charlatan. In the same way, the use of amatory phraseology is often

treated as the intrusion of the sex element in a sphere in which it has

no proper place. Enough has already been said to furnish good grounds

for believing that there is much more than this in the phenomenon, and

that one is justified in treating it as symptomatic of the operation of

forces of the nature of which the subject is quite unaware. The only

explanation of the facts already cited is that a misinterpretation of

sexual states lies at the heart of the question. No other hypothesis

covers the facts; no other hypothesis will explain why the larger number

of people should find complete development in activities that lie

outside the field of religion.

How easy it is to see the truth and distort it in the stating may be

seen in the following passage:--

"Passing over the fact that the period of adolescence is noticeably a

period of 'susceptibility,' we may take as an example of the intrusion

or the persistence of the sexual elements in conditions of a non-sexual

kind the frequent association of sexual with religious excitement. The

appeal made during a religious revival to an unconverted person has

psychologically some resemblance to the attempt of the male to overcome

the hesitancy of the female. In each case the will has to be set aside,

and strong suggestive means are used; and in both cases the appeal is

not of the conflict type, but of an intimate, sympathetic, and pleading

kind. In the effort to make a moral adjustment, it consequently turns

out that a technique is used which was derived originally from sexual

life, and the use, so to speak, of the sexual machinery for a moral

adjustment involves, in some cases, the carrying over into the general

process of some sexual manifestations."[150]

The important questions, why religion should so powerfully appeal to

people at adolescence, why its strength should reside so largely in the

appeal to feelings associated with sexual development, and why

conversion should be so rarely experienced when the period of sexual

crisis is past, are quite ignored by Mr. Thomas. Yet it is precisely

these questions that call most loudly for answers, and which, I believe,

contain the key of the situation.

From many points of view adolescence is perhaps the most important epoch

in the life of every individual. It is a time of great and significant

organic growth, with the development of new organs and functions, and a

corresponding transformation of both the emotional and intellectual

output. So far as the brain, the most important organ of all, is

concerned, one may safely say that before puberty its main function has

been acquisition. After puberty vast tracts of brain tissue become

active, and an era of rapid development sets in. There is a rapid growth

of new nerve connections which occasions both physiological and

psychological unrest.[151] An important point to bear in mind, also, is

that all periods of rapid development involve conditions of relative

instability--one is, in fact, only the obverse side of the other. Dr.

Mercier says that with girls "more or less decided manifestations of

hysteria are the rule," and with both sexes this instability involves a

peculiar susceptibility to suggestions and impressions. Accompanying the

purely physical changes the mental and emotional nature undergoes what

is little less than a transformation. There is less direct concern with

self, and a more conscious concern with others. There is a craving for

sympathy, for fellowship, a tendency to look at oneself from the

outside, so to speak, a susceptibility to sights and sounds and

impressions that formerly had little influence. Each one is conscious of

new desires, new attractions, expressed often only in a vague feeling of

unrest, with a desire, half shy because half conscious, for the company

of the opposite sex. The childish desire for protection weakens; the

more mature desire to protect others begins to express itself.

Now, the whole significance of these changes, physical and mental, is

fundamentally sexual and social. Human life, it may be said, has a

twofold aspect. As a mere animal organism, there is the perpetuation of

the species, which nature secures by the mere force of the sex impulse.

As a human being, he is part of a social structure, cell in the social

tissue, to use Leslie Stephen's expressive phrase. And in this direction

nature secures what is necessary by the presence of impulses and

cravings as imperious as, and even more permanent than, those of mere

sex. Of course, in practice these two things operate together. By a

process of selection, the anti-social character is weeded out, and the

two sets of feelings work together in harmony for the furtherance and

the development of the life of the species. The species is perpetuated

in the interests of society; society is perpetuated in the interests of

the species. Further, it is part of the natural 'plan' that there shall

be developed impulses and capacities suitable to each phase of life as

it emerges. Thus it has been shown that the lengthening of infancy--that

is, the prolongation of the time during which the young human being is

dependent upon its parents for support and protection--is nature's

method of developing to a greater degree the capacity of the human

animal for more complex adjustment. Instead of being launched on the

world with a number of instincts practically fully developed, and so

capable of attending to its own needs almost as soon as born, man is

born with few instincts, and a great capacity for education enabling him

to adjust his conduct to the demands of an environment constantly

increasing in complexity. In the same way it has been shown that the

instinct for play, practically universal throughout the whole of the

animal world, is nature's method of preparing the young for the more

serious business of nature.[152] It is, therefore, only in line with

what is found to be true elsewhere that the changes incident to puberty

should receive their rational interpretation in the necessities of

social life. That these necessities should be met largely by the play of

unreasoning impulse is, again, quite in line with what occurs in other

directions. The insistent pressure of social life for thousands of

generations secures the emergence of needs of the true nature of which

the individual may be ignorant. In no other way, in fact, could the

persistence of the species and of human society be secured.

The whole significance, then, of puberty and adolescence is the entry of

the individual into the larger life of the race. It is, too, a statement

beyond reasonable dispute that if we eliminate religion altogether from

the environment there is not a single feeling experienced at

adolescence, not a single intellectual craving, that would not undergo

full development and receive complete satisfaction. The proof of the

truth of this is that it occurs in a large number of cases. Sacrifice,

the craving for the ideal, with every other feeling associated by many

with religion, exist in connection with non-religious phases of life. It

is idle to argue that some people have a craving for religion, and

nothing but religion will satisfy them. Where an individual is in

complete ignorance of the nature and significance of his own

development, and those around him no better informed; where, moreover,

there are others in a position of authority ready with a special

interpretation, it is not surprising if the religious explanation is

accepted as the genuine and only one. But in reality a sound judgment is

formed, not on the basis of what some declare they cannot do without,

but on the basis of what others actually do without, and suffer no

observable loss in consequence. We do not estimate the value of alcohol

on the basis of those who declare they cannot do without it. The true

test is found in those who abstain from its use. So, also, in the case

of religion. That some, even the majority, declare that religious belief

is essential to their welfare, proves little or nothing. Human nature

being what it is, and the history of society being what it is, it would

be surprising were it otherwise. There is much greater significance in

so large a number of people finding complete satisfaction in purely

secular activities.

After what has been said of the misinterpretation of mental and

emotional states in terms of religious belief, it is not surprising to

find a writer, a clergyman, and one with experience of growing boys,

express himself as follows:--

"My experience confirms the opinion of the psychologists that most boys

of the public school age have a strongly mystical tendency. This is to

be expected, on account of the great emotional development of that

period of life. But it is obscured by the fact that the boy is both

unwilling and unable to give any verbal expression to this tendency. He

is unwilling because it is something very new and curious in his

experience; he is often a little frightened of it, and he is exceedingly

frightened of other people's contempt for it. And he is unable, because

the words he is accustomed to use are valueless in this connection, and

he feels priggish if he tries to use others.... But, though unexplained,

the mystical tendency is there, and should be appealed to and

developed."[153]

Now, clearly, all that can be reasonably meant by saying that a boy of,

apparently, from 12 to 16 has a mystical tendency, is that the

physiological changes incident to puberty are accompanied by a mass of

feeling of a vague and formless character. Naturally, his boyish

experience is unable to furnish him with the means of giving adequate

expression to his feelings. That can only come with the experience of

maturity. And with equal inevitability he is at the mercy of the

explanation furnished him by those whom he regards as his teachers and

guides. When he is told that this element of 'mysticism' is the

awakening of religion in his soul, he accepts the explanation precisely

as he accepts explanations of other things. That this 'mystical

tendency' should be appealed to and developed is a statement open to

very great doubt. It should rather be explained, not perhaps in a

brutally frank manner, but in a way that would lead the boy to see

himself as an organic part of society, with definite duties and

obligations. If this were done, adolescence might provide us with the

raw material for a much greater number of useful and intelligent

citizens than it does at present. The true nature of the process, so

elaborately misunderstood by Dr. Temple, is clearly outlined by Dr.

Mercier:--

"In connection with normal development, a large body of vague and

formless feeling arises, and, until experience gives it shape, the

possessor remains ignorant of the source and nature of the feeling. If

the circumstances are appropriate for the natural outlet and expression

of the activities, they are expressed in affection, and are a source of

health and strength to the possessor. But if no such outlet exists, the

vague, voluminous, formless feelings are referred to an occasion that is

vague, voluminous, and wanting in definite form, they are ascribed to

the direct influence of the Deity, and assume a place in religious

emotion."[154]

Leaving this aspect of the subject for a time, let us look more closely

at the process of conversion. It has already been pointed out that one

great feature of adolescence is susceptibility to impressions and

suggestions. One is not surprised to find, therefore, that in

Starbuck's collection of cases 34 per cent. of the females and 29 per

cent. of the males described their conversion as being directly due to

imitation, social pressure, and example. If we were to add to these the

cases where unconscious imitation and suggestion is at work, the

proportion would be much greater. Religion, like dress, has its modes,

and imitation will occur in the one direction as readily as in the

other. Nothing is more striking in the records of conversion than the

monotony of the language used to describe the feelings experienced. It

is exactly as though the converts had been learning a regular catechism,

as in a way they have been. Young boys and girls will confess their

sinful state in language identical with that used by one who has

actually lived a career of vice and crime. Others of an aggressively

commonplace character will use the language of exalted mysticism

suitable to an Augustine or a Jacob Boehme. In these cases we have not

identity of feeling finding expression in identity of language; it is

pure imitation and suggestion without the least regard to the fitness of

the language employed.

The full power of suggestion would be more fitly considered in

connection with waves of religious feeling that have assumed an epidemic

form; but it will not be out of place here to call attention to this

factor in such a recent case as the outbreaks in Wales under the

leadership of persons such as Evan Roberts. Quite apart from the

suggestion and imitation operating in the gatherings themselves, it is

plain that many went to the meetings quite prepared to act in accordance

with what had gone before. Newspapers had published elaborate reports

of the 'scenes,' certain manifestations were recognised as signs of the

"workings of the Spirit," with the result that all these operated as

powerful suggestions, particularly with those of a hysterical

disposition. And behind this particular revival there were the

traditions of other revivals, all of which had created a heritage as

coercive as any purely social tradition. A crowd of people in a state of

eager expectancy, exposed to the assaults of a preacher skilled in

rousing their emotion to fever pitch, is naturally ready to see and hear

things that none would see and hear in their normal moments. No better

field for the study of crowd psychology, particularly at the point at

which it merges into the abnormal, could be imagined than the ordinary

revival.

In America these revival out breaks seem to assume a much more

extravagant form than with us. Mr. Stanley Hall, for example, thus

describes a Kentucky camp meeting in which the prevailing term of

spiritual manifestation was that of 'jerking.' Quoting from an

eye-witness, he says:--

"The crowd swarmed all night round the preacher, singing, shouting,

laughing, some plunging wildly over stumps and benches into the forest,

shouting 'Lost, lost!' others leaping and bounding about like live fish

out of water; others rolling over and over on the ground for hours;

others lying on the ground and talking when they could not move; and yet

others beating the ground with their heels. As the excitement increased,

it grew more morbid and took the form of 'jerkings,' or in others the

holy laugh. The jerks began with the head, which was thrown violently

from side to side so rapidly that the features were blurred and the

hair almost seemed to snap, and when the sufferer struck an obstacle and

fell he would bounce about like a ball. Saplings were sometimes cut

breast high for the people to jerk by. In one place the earth about the

roots of one of them was kicked about as though by the feet of a horse

stamping flies. One sufferer mounted his horse to ride away when the

jerks threw him to the earth, whence he rose a Christian. A lad, who

feigned illness to stay away, was dragged there by the spirit and his

head dashed against the wall till he had to pray. A sceptic who cursed

and swore was crushed by a falling tree. Men fancied themselves dogs,

and gathered round a tree barking and 'treeing the devil.' They saw

visions and dreamed dreams, and as the revival waned, it left a crop of

nervous and hysterical disorders in its wake."[155]

We have nothing quite so extreme as this in British revivals, but the

home phenomena are not substantially different in nature. A medical

observer of some of the earliest Methodist revivals thus describes the

symptoms of those who were subject to 'divine' seizures under the

influence of Wesley and his immediate followers:--

"There came on first a feeling of faintness, with rigor and a sense of

weight at the pit of the stomach; soon after which the patient cried out

as though in the agonies of labour. The convulsions then began, first

showing themselves in the muscles of the eyelids, though the eyes

themselves were fixed and staring. The most frightful contortions of the

countenance followed, and the convulsions now took their course

downwards, so that the muscles of the trunk and neck were affected,

causing a sobbing respiration, which was performed with great effort.

Tremors and agitations ensued, and the patients screamed out violently,

and tossed their heads from side to side. As the complaint increased, it

seized the arms, and its victims beat their breasts, clasped their

hands, and made all sorts of strange noises."

To the non-medical religious observer the scenes produced a different

impression, thus:--

"When the power of religion began to be spoken of, the presence of God

really filled the place.... The greatest number of them who cried or

fell were men; but some women and several children felt the power of the

same Almighty Spirit, and seemed just sinking into hell. This occasioned

a mixture of sounds, some shrieking, some roaring aloud. The most

general was a loud breathing, like that of people half strangled and

gasping for life; and, indeed, almost all the cries were like those of

human creatures dying in bitter anguish.... I stood on a pew seat, as

did a young man in the opposite pew, an able-bodied, fresh, healthy

countryman; but in a moment, while he seemed to think of nothing less,

down he dropt with a violence inconceivable. The adjoining pews seemed

shook with his fall. I heard afterwards the stamping of his feet ready

to break the boards as he lay in strong convulsions at the bottom of the

pew.... Among the children who felt the arrows of the Almighty, I saw a

sturdy boy, about eight years old, who roared above his fellows, and

seemed, in his agony, to struggle with the strength of a grown man. His

face was red as scarlet; and almost all on whom God laid His hand turned

either very red or almost black."[156]

In other instances connected with the same movement, a girl is described

as "lying on the floor as one dead." One woman "tore up the ground with

her hands, filling them with dust and with the hard-trodden grass";

another "roared and screamed in dreadful agony." A child, seven years

old, "saw visions, and astonished the neighbours with her awful manner

of relating them." John Wesley personally interviewed a number of the

people seized in this manner, and was quite convinced of the

supernatural nature of the attacks. He said that he had "generally

observed more or less of these outward symptoms to attend the beginning

of a general work of God," although he admitted that in some cases

"Satan mimicked God's work in order to discredit the whole work." But

whether of God or Satan there was no question of their supernatural

character. Moreover, whatever may be one's opinion of these outbreaks,

there is one fact that stands out clear and indisputable. This is that

the Methodist revival owed a great deal of its vitality--as is also the

case with other religious movements--to phenomena of a distinctly

pathologic nature. Subtract from these movements all phenomena of the

class indicated, and such phrases as 'the revival fire' become

meaningless. Right through history religious conviction has been gained

in innumerable cases by the operation of factors that a more accurate

knowledge finds can be explained without any reference whatever to

supernatural forces.

Lest the above examples be dismissed as belonging to an old order of

things, I subjoin the following account--from a missionary--of a recent

revival scene in India:--

"There were people ... on the floor fairly writhing over the realisation

of sin as it came over them.... Saturday we were favoured with a

wonderful manifestation of the Spirit. One of the older girls who had

had a remarkable experience, went into a trance, with her head thrown

back, her arms folded, and motionless, except for a slight movement of

her foot. She seemed to be seeing something wonderful, for she would

marvel at it, and then laugh excitedly.... One girl rushed to the back

of the vestibule and, lying across a bench, with her head and hands

against the wall, she fairly writhed in agony for two hours before peace

came to her."[157]

I do not know on what grounds we are justified in calling civilised

people who chronicle these outbreaks as "a wonderful manifestation of

the Spirit." Civilised in other respects, in relation to other matters,

they may be. Civilised in relation to this particular matter they

certainly are not. Their viewpoint is precisely that of the lowest tribe

of savages. Savages, indeed, could not do more; our 'civilised'

missionaries do no less. Tylor well says that "such descriptions carry

us far back in the history of the human mind, showing modern men still

in ignorant sincerity producing the very fits and swoons to which for

untold ages savage tribes have given religious import. These

manifestations in modern Europe indeed form part of a revival of

religion, the religion of mental disease."[158]

The truth is that the appeals usually made to induce conversion, and the

methods adopted, tend to develop a morbid state of mind, which very

easily passes into the pathological. A too insistent habit of

introspection is always dangerous, and the danger is heightened when it

takes the form of religious brooding. In Dr. Starbuck's collection of

cases, seventy-five per cent. of the males and sixty per cent. of the

females confessed to feelings of depression, anxiety, and sadness before

conversion. This may be attributed partly to the harping upon a

conviction of sinfulness, which in itself is wholly of an unhealthy

character. It does not indicate moral health, and it is very far from

indicating physiological health. The following confessions are

pertinent, and will illustrate both points. I give in brackets the ages

of the subjects where stated:--

"I felt the wrath of God resting on me. I called on Him for aid, and

felt my sins forgiven" (13).

"I couldn't eat, and would lie awake all night."

"Often, very often, I cried myself to sleep" (19).

"Hymns would sound in my ears as if sung" (10).

"I had visions of Christ saying to me, Come to Me, My child" (15).

"Just before conversion I was walking along a pathway, thinking of

religious matters, when suddenly the word H-e-l-l was spelled out five

yards ahead of me" (17).

"I felt a touch of the Divine One, and a voice said 'Thy sins are

forgiven thee; arise and go in peace'" (12).

"The thoughts of my condition were terrible" (13).

"For three months it seemed as if God's Spirit had withdrawn from me.

Fear took hold of me. For a week I was on the border of despair" (16).

"A sense of sinfulness and estrangement from God grew daily" (15).

"Everything went wrong with me; it felt like Sunday all the time" (12).

"I felt that something terrible was going to happen" (14).

"I fell on my face by a bench and tried to pray. Every time I would call

on God something like a man's hand would strangle me by choking. I

thought I would surely die if I could not get help. I made one final

effort to call on God for mercy if I did strangle and die, and the last

I remember at that time was falling back on the ground with that unseen

hand on my throat. When I came to myself there was a crowd around

praising God."

A crowd around praising God! For all substantial purposes this last

might be the description of a state of affairs in Central Africa instead

of an occurrence in a country that claims to be civilised. It is not

surprising that so great an authority as Sir T. S. Clouston gives an

emphatic warning against revival services and unusual religious

meetings, which should "on no account be attended by persons with weak

heads, excitable dispositions, and neurotic constitutions."[159]

Unfortunately it is precisely these classes for whom they possess the

greatest attractions, and from whom the larger number of chronicled

cases are drawn. The excitement of the revival meeting is as fatal an

attraction to them as the dram is to the confirmed alcoholist; and if

the ill-consequences are neither so immediately discernible nor as

repulsive in character, they are none the less present in a large number

of cases. The emotional strain to which the organism is subjected

occurs, as the ages of the converts show, precisely at the time when it

is least able to bear it safely. The main characteristic of adolescence

is instability, physical, emotional, and intellectual. It is a time of

stress and strain, of the formation of new feelings and associations and

desires that crave for expression and gratification. The instability of

the organic conditions is evidenced by the large proportion of nervous

disorders that occur during adolescence. Adolescent insanity is a

well-known form of mania, although it is usually of brief duration. Sir

T. S. Clouston, in his _Neuroses of Development_, gives a long list of

complaints attendant on adolescence, and Sir W. R. Gowers, dealing with

1450 cases of epilepsy, points out that "three-quarters of the cases of

epilepsy begin under twenty years, and nearly half (46 per cent.)

between ten and twenty, the maximum being at fourteen, fifteen, and

sixteen." Of hysteria, the same writer points out that of the total

cases 50 per cent. occurs from ten to twenty years of age, 20 per cent.

from twenty to thirty, and only 10 per cent. from thirty to forty.[160]

The peculiar danger, then, of the modern appeal for conversion is that

it is couched in a form likely to do the minimum of good and the maximum

of harm. Where religion exists as a normally operative factor of the

environment--as in lower stages of culture--the danger is avoided,

because no special machinery is required to bring about religious

conviction. The general social life secures this. But at a later stage,

when the religious and secular aspects of life become separated, with a

growing preponderance of the latter, religion must be, as it were,

specially and forcibly introduced. Whether for good or ill, it is a

disturbing force. It strives to divert the developing organic energies

into a new channel. To effect this, it plays upon the emotions to an

altogether dangerous extent, in complete ignorance of the nature of the

passions excited. In the older form of the religious appeal, that in

which fear was the chief emotion aroused, it is now generally conceded

that the consequences were wholly bad. But under any form the emotional

appeal is fraught with danger, since the tendency is for it to bring out

unsuspected weaknesses in other directions. Sir W. R. Gowers wisely

points out that "mental emotion--fright, excitement, anxiety--is the

most potent cause of epilepsy," which is accounted for by bearing in

mind "the profoundly disturbing effect of alarm on the nervous system,

deranging as it does almost every function of the nervous system."

Persons with predispositions to nervous disorders may pass with safety

through the period of adolescence so long as their circumstances provide

opportunities for healthy occupation with no undue emotional strain. But

let the former be lacking, and the latter danger is always present. The

hidden weakness develops, and injury more or less permanent follows.

There is hardly a qualified medical authority in the country who would

deny the truth of what has been said, although many do not care to speak

out in relation to religious matters. But all would doubtless agree with

Dr. Mercier that "every revival is attended by its crop of cases of

insanity, which are the more numerous as the revival is more fervent and

long continued."[161]

Something must be said on the moral character of conversions in

general. This is, naturally, greatly exaggerated, often deliberately so.

In the first place, confessions of 'sinfulness' in a pre-conversion

state, when made by youths of both sexes, may be dismissed as quite

worthless. They are merely using the language placed in their mouths by

professional evangelists, and the similarity of the confessions carry

their own condemnation. Leading a sinful, or even a vicious life,

usually means no more than visiting a theatre, or a music hall, or

playing cards, or non-attendance at church, or not troubling about

religious doctrines. Very often the vague feeling of restlessness

incident to adolescence is interpreted as due to sin or estrangement

from God, and after conversion the convert is, for purposes of

self-glorification, given to magnify the benefits and comforts derived

from his religious convictions. The magnitude of the change increases

the value of the convert, and with well-known characters there has been

as great an exaggeration of vices before conversion as of virtues

subsequently. The way in which evangelical Christianity has created a

life of the wildest dissipation for the earlier years of John Bunyan is

an instructive instance of this procedure.

So far as older converts are concerned, everyone of balanced judgment

will regard stories of conversion from extreme vice to extreme virtue

with the greatest suspicion. Character does not change suddenly,

although there may be cases of 'sports' in the moral world as elsewhere.

Where some modification of conduct, but hardly of character, results,

the machinery is very obvious, and does not in the least necessitate an

appeal to the intrusion of a supernatural influence for an explanation.

The religious gathering opens--as any non-religious meeting may open--a

new circle of associates with different ideals and standards of value.

So long as the newcomer is desirous of retaining the respect of his

fresh associates, so long he will try to act as they act and think as

they think. There will be a change of conduct, but not, as I have said,

of character. Those who look closely will find the same character still

active. The mean character remains mean, the untruthful one remains

untruthful. The only difference is that these qualities will be

expressed in a different form. Moreover, the same thing may be seen

occurring quite apart from religion. Every association of men and women

exerts precisely the same influence. In the army, a regiment that has a

reputation for steadiness and sobriety develops these qualities in all

who enter it. Regiments with a reputation for opposite qualities do not

fail to convert newcomers. A workshop, a club, a profession, exerts a

precisely similar influence. One man finds inspiration in the Bible and

another in the Newgate Calendar. A man will usually be guided by the

ideals of his associates, whether these ideals be those of a thieves'

kitchen or of a philanthropic institution. This only means that each

individual is subject to the influence of the group spirit. For good and

evil this is one of the deepest and most pregnant facts of human nature.

The utilisation and distortion of this fact in the interests of

religious organisations has served to prevent its general recognition

and the wise use of it by the community at large.

Finally, it has to be borne in mind, in view of the data given above,

that conversion is experienced by the individual at that period of life

when the more social side of human nature is beginning to find

expression. In this way the natural growth from the small world of

childhood to the larger world of adult humanity is taken advantage of by

religion, and the process of inevitable growth is attributed to the

influence of religious belief. In itself the phenomenon is in no degree

religious, but wholly social. The process is well enough described by

Starbuck in the following passage--although there are certain quite

unnecessary theological implications:--

"Conversion is the surrender of the personal will to be guided by the

larger forces of which it is a part. These two aspects are often

mingled. In both there is much in common. There is a sudden revelation

and recognition of a higher order than that of the personal will. The

sympathies follow the direction of the new insight, and the convert

transfers the centre of life and activity from the part to the whole.

With new insight comes new beauty. Beauty and worth awaken love--love

for parents, kindred, kind, society, cosmic order, truth, and spiritual

life. The individual learns to transfer himself from a centre of

self-activity into an organ of revelation of universal being, and to

live a life of affection for and oneness with the larger life outside.

As a necessary condition of the spiritual awakening is the birth of

fresh activity and of a larger self-consciousness, which often assert

themselves as the dominant element in consciousness."[162]

Adolescence is the golden period of life, because it is the age in which

the formative influences effect their strongest and most permanent

impressions. But this susceptibility, while pregnant with promise, is

because of this susceptibility likewise fraught with the possibilities

of danger. The developing qualities of mind need to be wisely and

carefully guided; and it is little short of criminal that at this

critical juncture so many young people should be handed over to the

ignorant ministrations of professional evangelism. The true sociological

significance of the development is ignored, and it is small wonder that,

having wasted this impressionable period, so many people should go

through life with a quite rudimentary sense of social responsibility and

duty. An American author, speaking of the connection between certain

brutal manifestations in social life in the United States and religious

teaching, says:--

"It is well known that lynching in the South is carried on largely by

the ignorant and baser elements of the white population. It is also well

known that the chief method of religious influence and training of the

black man and the ignorant white man is impulsive and emotional

revivalism. It is a highly dangerous situation, and deserves the earnest

consideration of the ecclesiastical statesmen of all denominations which

work in the South. It will be impossible to protect that part of the

nation, or any other, from the epidemic madness of the lynching mob if

the seeds of it are sown in the sacred soil of religion.... Their

preachers are great 'soul-savers,' but they lack the practical sense to

build up their emotionalised converts into anything that approaches a

higher life."[163]

The truth of this passage has a very wide implication. It is not alone

true that so long as the lower kind of revivalism is encouraged, we are

unconsciously perpetuating certain very ugly manifestations of social

life; it is also true that while we give a supernaturalistic

interpretation of phenomena that are wholly physiological and

sociological in character, we can never make the most of the human

material we possess. On the one side we have a deplorable encouragement

of unhealthy emotionalism, and on the other a sheer misdirection and

misuse of human faculty. The increase of self-consciousness, the craving

for sympathy and communion with one's fellows, the impulse to service in

the common life of the State, have no genuine connection with religion,

although all these qualities are classified as religious, and are

utilised by religious organisations. Actually and fundamentally they

belong to the social side of human nature. As our hands are developed

for grasping, and the various organs of the body for their respective

functions, so mental and emotional qualities are developed in their due

course for a rational social life. Biologically and psychologically,

male and female are at adolescence entering into a deeper and more

enduring relationship with the life of the race. There is no other

meaning to the process.

Naturally enough, the vast majority of people express their developing

nature in accordance with the fashion of their environment. If this

environmental influence were rationally non-religious, the language

would be that of a non-religious philosophy. As, however,

supernaturalism, in some form or other, is still a potent force we have

a contrary result. It is only here and there that one is found with the

inclination or the wit to analyse his or her impulses, and few possess

enough knowledge to make the analysis profitable. There is no wonder

that concerning many of the most important phenomena of human life we

are still little above the level of the fetish worshipper. We may have a

more elaborate phraseology, but the old ideas are still operative. The

consequence is that each newcomer finds certain ideas and forms of

speech ready for his acceptance, and is handed over, bound hand and

foot, to influences that are the least capable of sane direction. We do

not merely sacrifice our first-born; we immolate the whole of our

progeny. The ignorant past plays into the hands of the designing

present; the present conspires with the past to rob the future of the

good that might result from the growth of a wiser and a better race.

Were society really enlightened and genuinely civilised, the truth of

what has been said would be recognised as soon as stated. It would,

indeed, be unnecessary to labour what would then be a generally

recognised truth. But the mass of the people are not genuinely

enlightened, our civilisation is largely a veneer, and numerous agencies

prevent our reaping the full benefit of our available knowledge. Thus it

happens that in place of an explanation of human qualities in terms of

biologic and social evolution, we find current an explanation that is

based upon pre-scientific ideas. Because our less instructed ancestors

accounted for various manifestations of human qualities as due to a

supernatural influence, we continue to perpetuate the delusion. We teach

youth to express itself in terms of supernaturalism, and then treat the

language and the fact as inseparable. In this respect, sociology is

passing through a phase from which some of the sciences have finally

emerged. In physics and astronomy, for instance, the fact has been

separated from the supernatural explanation, and shown to be

independent of it. An exploitation of social life in the interests of

supernaturalism is still in active operation. It is this that is really

the central truth of the situation. And in ignoring this truth we expose

a growing generation to the worst possible of educative influences, at a

time when a wiser control would be preparing it for an intelligent

participation in the serious and enduring work of social organisation.

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