CHAPTER XII.

“My vast and noble capital, my Daïtu, my splendidly-adorned;

And thou, my cool and delicious summer-seat, my Shangtu-Keibung.

* * * * *

Alas, for my illustrious name as the Sovereign of the World!

Alas, for my Daïtu, seat of sanctity, glorious work of the

immortal Kublaī!

All, all is rent from me!”--COL. YULE, in _Marco Polo_.

“As for what thou hearest others say, who persuade the many

that the soul, when once freed from the body, neither

suffers ... evil nor is conscious, I know that thou art

better grounded in the doctrines received by us from our

ancestors, and in the sacred orgies of Dionysus, than to

believe them; _for the mystic symbols are well known to us

who belong to the ‘Brotherhood.’_”--PLUTARCH.

“The problem of life is _man_. MAGIC, or rather Wisdom, is

the evolved knowledge of the potencies of man’s interior

being; which forces are Divine emanations, as intuition is

the perception of their origin, and initiation our induction

into that knowledge.... We begin with instinct; the end is

OMNISCIENCE.”--A. WILDER.

“Power belongs to him WHO KNOWS.”--_Brahmanical Book of

Evocation._

It would argue small discernment on our part were we to suppose

that we had been followed thus far through this work by any but

meta-physicians, or mystics of some sort. Were it otherwise, we

should certainly advise such to spare themselves the trouble of

reading this chapter; for, although nothing is said that is not

strictly true, they would not fail to regard the least wonderful of

the narratives as absolutely false, however substantiated.

To comprehend the principles of natural law involved in the several

phenomena hereinafter described, the reader must keep in mind the

fundamental propositions of the Oriental philosophy which we have

successively elucidated. Let us recapitulate very briefly:

1st. There is no miracle. Everything that happens is the result

of law--eternal, immutable, ever active. Apparent miracle is but

the operation of forces antagonistic to what Dr. W. B. Carpenter,

F.R.S.--a man of great learning but little knowledge--calls “the

well-ascertained laws of nature.” Like many of his class, Dr.

Carpenter ignores the fact that there may be laws once “known,” now

unknown to science.

2d. Nature is triune: there is a visible, objective nature; an

invisible, indwelling, energizing nature, the exact model of the

other, and its vital principle; and, above these two, _spirit_,

source of all forces, alone eternal, and indestructible. The lower

two constantly change; the higher third does not.

3d. Man is also triune: he has his objective, physical body; his

vitalizing astral body (or soul), the real man; and these two are

brooded over and illuminated by the third--the sovereign, the

immortal spirit. When the real man succeeds in merging himself with

the latter, he becomes an immortal entity.

4th. Magic, as a science, is the knowledge of these principles, and

of the way by which the omniscience and omnipotence of the spirit and

its control over nature’s forces may be acquired by the individual

while still in the body. Magic, as an art, is the application of this

knowledge in practice.

5th. Arcane knowledge misapplied, is sorcery; beneficently used, true

magic or wisdom.

6th. Mediumship is the opposite of adeptship; the medium is the

passive instrument of foreign influences, the adept actively controls

himself and all inferior potencies.

7th. All things that ever were, that are, or that will be, having

their record upon the astral light, or tablet of the unseen universe,

the initiated adept, by using the vision of his own spirit, can know

all that has been known or can be known.

8th. Races of men differ in spiritual gifts as in color, stature, or

any other external quality; among some peoples seership naturally

prevails, among others mediumship. Some are addicted to sorcery, and

transmit its secret rules of practice from generation to generation,

with a range of psychical phenomena, more or less wide, as the result.

9th. One phase of magical skill is the voluntary and conscious

withdrawal of the inner man (astral form) from the outer man

(physical body). In the cases of some mediums withdrawal occurs, but

it is unconscious and involuntary. With the latter the body is more

or less cataleptic at such times; but with the adept the absence

of the astral form would not be noticed, for the physical senses

are alert, and the individual appears only as though in a fit of

abstraction--“a brown study,” as some call it.

To the movements of the wandering astral form neither time nor space

offer obstacles. The thaumaturgist, thoroughly skilled in occult

science, can cause himself (that is, his physical body) to _seem_ to

disappear, or to apparently take on any shape that he may choose.

He may make his astral form visible, or he may give it protean

appearances. In both cases these results will be achieved by a

mesmeric hallucination of the senses of all witnesses, simultaneously

brought on. This hallucination is so perfect that the subject of it

would stake his life that he saw a reality, when it is but a picture

in his own mind, impressed upon his consciousness by the irresistible

will of the mesmerizer.

But, while the astral form can go anywhere, penetrate any obstacle,

and be seen at any distance from the physical body, the latter

is dependent upon ordinary methods of transportation. It may be

levitated under prescribed magnetic conditions, but not pass from one

locality to another except in the usual way. Hence we discredit all

stories of the aërial flight of mediums in body, for such would be

miracle, and miracle we repudiate. Inert matter may be, in certain

cases and under certain conditions, disintegrated, passed through

walls, and recombined, but living animal organisms cannot.

Swedenborgians believe and arcane science teaches that the

abandonment of the living body by the soul frequently occurs, and

that we encounter every day, in every condition of life, such living

corpses. Various causes, among them overpowering fright, grief,

despair, a violent attack of sickness, or excessive sensuality may

bring this about. The vacant carcass may be entered and inhabited

by the astral form of an adept sorcerer, or an elementary (an

earth-bound disembodied human soul), or, very rarely, an elemental.

Of course, an adept of white magic has the same power, but unless

some very exceptional and great object is to be accomplished, he

will never consent to pollute himself by occupying the body of an

impure person. In insanity, the patient’s astral being is either

semi-paralyzed, bewildered, and subject to the influence of every

passing spirit of any sort, or it has departed forever, and the

body is taken possession of by some vampirish entity near its own

disintegration, and clinging desperately to earth, whose sensual

pleasures it may enjoy for a brief season longer by this expedient.

10th. The corner-stone of MAGIC is an intimate practical knowledge

of magnetism and electricity, their qualities, correlations, and

potencies. Especially necessary is a familiarity with their effects

in and upon the animal kingdom and man. There are occult properties

in many other minerals, equally strange with that in the lodestone,

which all practitioners of magic _must_ know, and of which so-called

exact science is wholly ignorant. Plants also have like mystical

properties in a most wonderful degree, and the secrets of the herbs

of dreams and enchantments are only lost to European science, and

useless to say, too, are unknown to it, except in a few marked

instances, such as opium and hashish. Yet, the psychical effects of

even these few upon the human system are regarded as evidences of

a temporary mental disorder. The women of Thessaly and Epirus, the

female hierophants of the rites of Sabazius, did not carry their

secrets away with the downfall of their sanctuaries. They are still

preserved, and those who are aware of the nature of Soma, know the

properties of other plants as well.

To sum up all in a few words, MAGIC is spiritual WISDOM; nature,

the material ally, pupil and servant of the magician. One common

vital principle pervades all things, and this is controllable by the

perfected human will. The adept can stimulate the movements of the

natural forces in plants and animals in a preternatural degree. Such

experiments are not obstructions of nature, but quickenings; the

conditions of intenser vital action are given.

The adept can control the sensations and alter the conditions of

the physical and astral bodies of other persons not adepts; he can

also govern and employ, as he chooses, the spirits of the elements.

He cannot control the immortal spirit of any human being, living or

dead, for all such spirits are alike sparks of the Divine Essence,

and not subject to any foreign domination.

There are two kinds of seership--that of the soul and that of the

spirit. The seership of the ancient Pythoness, or of the modern

mesmerized subject, vary but in the artificial modes adopted to

induce the state of clairvoyance. But, as the visions of both depend

upon the greater or less acuteness of the senses of the astral body,

they differ very widely from the perfect, omniscient spiritual state;

for, at best, the subject can get but glimpses of truth, through

the veil which physical nature interposes. The astral principle, or

mind, called by the Hindu Yogin _fav-atma_, is the sentient soul,

inseparable from our physical brain, which it holds in subjection,

and is in its turn equally trammelled by it. This is the _ego_, the

intellectual life-principle of man, his conscious entity. While it

is yet _within_ the material body, the clearness and correctness of

its spiritual visions depend on its more or less intimate relation

with its higher Principle. When this relation is such as to allow the

most ethereal portions of the soul-essence to act independently of

its grosser particles and of the brain, it can unerringly comprehend

what it sees; then only is it the pure, rational, _super_sentient

soul. That state is known in India as the _Samâddi_; it is the

highest condition of spirituality possible to man on earth. Fakirs

try to obtain such a condition by holding their breath for hours

together during their religious exercises, and call this practice

_dam-sādhna_. The Hindu terms _Pranayama_, _Pratyahara_, and

_Dharana_, all relate to different psychological states, and show

how much more the Sanscrit, and even the modern Hindu language

are adapted to the clear elucidation of the phenomena that are

encountered by those who study this branch of psychological science,

than the tongues of modern peoples, whose experiences have not yet

necessitated the invention of such descriptive terms.

When the body is in the state of _dharana_--a total catalepsy of the

physical frame--the soul of the clairvoyant may liberate itself, and

perceive things subjectively. And yet, as the sentient principle of

the brain is alive and active, these pictures of the past, present,

and future will be tinctured with the terrestrial perceptions of the

objective world; the physical _memory_ and _fancy_ will be in the

way of clear vision. But the seer-adept knows how to suspend the

mechanical action of the brain. His visions will be as clear as truth

itself, uncolored and undistorted, whereas, the clairvoyant, unable

to control the vibrations of the astral waves, will perceive but more

or less broken images through the medium of the brain. The seer can

never take flickering shadows for realities, for his memory being as

completely subjected to his will as the rest of the body, he receives

impressions directly from his spirit. Between his subjective and

objective selves there are no obstructive mediums. This is the real

spiritual seership, in which, according to an expression of Plato,

soul is raised above all inferior good. When we reach “that which

is supreme, which is _simple, pure, and unchangeable, without form,

color, or human qualities_: the God--_our Nous_.”

This is the state which such seers as Plotinus and Apollonius

termed the “Union to the Deity;” which the ancient Yogins called

_Isvara_,[1129] and the modern call “Samâddi;” but this state is

as far above modern clairvoyance as the stars above glow-worms.

Plotinus, as is well known, was a clairvoyant-seer during his whole

and daily life; and yet, _he had been united to his God_ but six

times during the sixty-six years of his existence, as he himself

confessed to Porphyry.

Ammonius Sakkas, the “God-taught,” asserts that the only power

which is directly opposed to soothsaying and looking into

futurity is _memory_; and Olympiodorus calls it _phantasy_. “The

phantasy,” he says (in _Platonis Phæd._), is an impediment to our

intellectual conceptions; and hence, when we are agitated by the

inspiring influence of the Divinity, if the phantasy intervenes,

the enthusiastic energy ceases; for enthusiasm and the ecstasy are

contrary to each other. Should it be asked whether the soul is able

to energize without the phantasy, we reply, that its perception of

universals proves that it is able. It has perceptions, therefore,

independent of the phantasy; at the same time, however, the phantasy

attends it in its energies, just as a storm pursues him who sails on

the sea.”

A medium, moreover, needs either a foreign intelligence--whether it

be spirit or living mesmerizer--to overpower his physical and mental

parts, or some factitious means to induce trance. An adept, and even

a simple fakir requires but a few minutes of “self-contemplation.”

The brazen columns of Solomon’s temple; the golden bells and

pomegranates of Aaron; the Jupiter Capitolinus of Augustus, hung

around with harmonious bells;[1130] and the brazen bowls of the

Mysteries when the Kora was called,[1131] were all intended for such

artificial helps.[1132] So were the brazen bowls of Solomon hung

round with a double row of 200 pomegranates, which served as clappers

within the hollow columns. The priestesses of Northern Germany, under

the guidance of hierophants, could never prophesy but amidst the

roar of the tumultuous waters. Regarding fixedly the eddies formed

on the rapid course of the river they _hypnotized_ themselves. So

we read of Joseph, Jacob’s son, who sought for divine inspiration

with his silver divining-cup, which must have had a very bright

bottom to it. The priestesses of Dodona placed themselves under

the ancient oak of Zeus (the Pelasgian, not the Olympian god), and

listened intently to the rustling of the sacred leaves, while others

concentrated their attention on the soft murmur of the cold spring

gushing from underneath its roots.[1133] But the adept has no need of

any such extraneous aids--the simple exertion of his _will_-power is

all-sufficient.

The _Atharva-Veda_ teaches that the exercise of such will-power is

the highest form of prayer and its instantaneous response. To desire

is to realize in proportion to the intensity of the aspiration; and

that, in its turn, is measured by inward purity.

Some of these nobler Vedantic precepts on the soul and man’s mystic

powers, have recently been contributed to an English periodical

by a Hindu scholar. “The _Sankhya_,” he writes, “inculcates that

the soul (_i.e._, astral body) has the following powers: shrinking

into a minute bulk to which everything is pervious; enlarging to a

gigantic body; assuming levity (rising along a sunbeam to the solar

orb); possessing an unlimited reach of organs, as touching the moon

with the tip of a finger; irresistible will (for instance, sinking

into the earth as easily as in water); dominion over all things,

animate or inanimate; faculty of changing the course of nature;

ability to accomplish every desire.” Further, he gives their various

appellations:

“The powers are called: 1, _Anima_; 2, _Mahima_; 3, _Laghima_; 4,

_Garima_; 5, _Prapti_; 6, _Prakamya_; 7, _Vasitwa_; 8, _Isitwa_, or

divine power. The fifth, predicting future events, understanding

unknown languages, curing diseases, divining unexpressed thoughts,

understanding the language of the heart. The sixth is the power

of converting old age into youth. The seventh is the power of

mesmerizing human beings and beasts, and making them obedient; it is

the power of restraining passions and emotions. The eighth power is

the spiritual state, and presupposes the absence of the above seven

powers, as in this state the Yogi is full of God.”

“No writings,” he adds, “revealed or sacred, were allowed to be so

authoritative and final _as the teaching of the soul_. Some of the

Rishis appear to have laid the greatest stress on this supersensuous

source of knowledge.”[1134]

From the remotest antiquity _mankind_ as a whole _have always been

convinced of the existence of a personal spiritual entity within the

personal physical man_. This inner entity was more or less divine,

according to its proximity to the _crown_--Chrestos. The closer the

union the more serene man’s destiny, the less dangerous the external

conditions. This belief is neither bigotry nor superstition, only

an ever-present, instinctive feeling of the proximity of another

spiritual and invisible world, which, though it be subjective to the

senses of the outward man, is perfectly objective to the inner ego.

Furthermore, they believed that _there are external and internal

conditions which affect the determination of our will upon our

actions_. They rejected fatalism, for fatalism implies a blind course

of some still blinder power. But they believed in _destiny_, which

from birth to death every man is weaving thread by thread around

himself, as a spider does his cobweb; and this destiny is guided

either by that presence termed by some the guardian angel, or our

more intimate astral inner man, who is but too often the evil genius

of the man of flesh. Both these lead on the outward man, but one

of them must prevail; and from the very beginning of the invisible

affray the stern and implacable _law of compensation_ steps in and

takes its course, following faithfully the fluctuations. When the

last strand is woven, and man is seemingly enwrapped in the net-work

of his own doing, then he finds himself completely under the empire

of this _self-made_ destiny. It then either fixes him like the inert

shell against the immovable rock, or like a feather carries him away

in a whirlwind raised by his own actions.

The greatest philosophers of antiquity found it neither unreasonable

nor strange that “souls should come to souls, and impart to them

conceptions of future things, occasionally by letters, or by a mere

touch, or by a glance reveal to them past events or announce future

ones,” as Ammonius tells us. Moreover, Lamprias and others held

that if the _unembodied_ spirits or souls could descend on earth

and become guardians of mortal men, “we should not seek to deprive

_those souls which are still in the body_ of that power by which

the former know future events and are able to announce them. It is

not probable,” adds Lamprias, “that the soul gains a new power of

prophecy after separation from the body, and which before it did not

possess. We may rather conclude _that it possessed all these powers

during its union with the body, although in a lesser perfection_....

For as the sun does not shine only when it passes from among the

clouds, but has always been radiant and has only appeared dim and

obscured by vapors, the soul does not only receive the power of

looking into futurity when it passes from the body as from a cloud,

but _has possessed it always_, though dimmed by connection with the

earthly.”

A familiar example of one phase of the power of the soul or astral

body to manifest itself, is the phenomenon of the so-called

spirit-hand. In the presence of certain mediums these seemingly

detached members will gradually develop from a luminous nebula, pick

up a pencil, write messages, and then dissolve before the eyes of the

witnesses. Many such cases are recorded by perfectly competent and

trustworthy persons. These phenomena are real, and require serious

consideration. But false “phantom-hands” have sometimes been taken

for the genuine. At Dresden we once saw a hand and arm, made for the

purpose of deception, with an ingenious arrangement of springs that

would cause the machine to imitate to perfection the movements of the

natural member; while exteriorly it would require close inspection to

detect its artificial character. In using this, the dishonest medium

slips his natural arm out of his sleeve, and replaces it with the

mechanical substitute; both hands may then be made to seem resting

upon the table, while in fact one is touching the sitters, showing

itself, knocking the furniture, and making other phenomena.

The mediums for real manifestations are least able, as a rule,

to comprehend or explain them. Among those who have written most

intelligently upon the subject of these luminous hands, may be

reckoned Dr. Francis Gerry Fairfield, author of _Ten Years among

the Mediums_, an article from whose pen appears in the _Library

Table_ for July 19, 1877. A medium himself, he is yet a strong

opponent of the spiritualistic theory. Discussing the subject of the

“phantom-hand,” he testifies that “this the writer has personally

witnessed, under conditions of test provided by himself, in his own

room, in full daylight, with the medium seated upon a sofa from six

to eight feet from the table hovering upon which the apparition (the

hand) appeared. The application of the poles of a horse-shoe magnet

to the hand caused it to waver perceptibly, and threw the medium

into violent convulsions--pretty positive evidence that _the force

concerned in the phenomenon was generated in his own nervous system_.”

Dr. Fairfield’s deduction that the fluttering phantom-hand is an

emanation from the medium is logical, and it is correct. The test

of the horse-shoe magnet proves in a scientific way what every

kabalist would affirm upon the authority of experience, no less than

philosophy. The “force concerned in the phenomenon” is the will of

the medium, exercised unconsciously to the outer man, which for the

time is semi-paralyzed and cataleptic; the phantom-hand an extrusion

of the man’s inner or astral member. This is that real self whose

limbs the surgeon cannot amputate, but remain behind after the outer

casing is cut off, and (all theories of exposed or compressed nerve

termini to the contrary, notwithstanding) have all the sensations the

physical parts formerly experienced. This is that spiritual (astral)

body which “is raised in incorruption.” It is useless to argue that

these are _spirit_-hands; for, admitting even that at every seance

human spirits of many kinds are attracted to the medium, and that

they do guide and produce some manifestations, yet to make hands or

faces objective they are compelled to use either the astral limbs of

the medium, or the materials furnished them by the elementals, or yet

the combined aural emanations of all persons present. _Pure_ spirits

will not and _cannot_ show themselves objectively; those that do are

not pure spirits, but elementary and impure. Woe to the medium who

falls a prey to such!

The same principle involved in the unconscious extrusion of a

phantom limb by the cataleptic medium, applies to the projection

of his entire “double” or astral body. This may be withdrawn by

the will of the medium’s own inner self, without his retaining in

his physical brain any recollection of such an intent--that is one

phase of man’s dual capacity. It may also be effected by elementary

and elemental spirits, to whom he may stand in the relation of

mesmeric subject. Dr. Fairfield is right in one position taken in

his book, viz.: mediums are usually diseased, and in many if not

most cases the children or near connections of mediums. But he

is wholly wrong in attributing all psychical phenomena to morbid

physiological conditions. The adepts of Eastern magic are uniformly

in perfect mental and bodily health, and in fact the voluntary and

independent production of phenomena is impossible to any others. We

have known many, and never a sick man among them. The adept retains

perfect consciousness; shows no change of bodily temperature, or

other sign of morbidity; requires no “conditions,” but will do his

feats anywhere and everywhere; and instead of being passive and in

subjection to a foreign influence, rules the forces with iron will.

But we have elsewhere shown that the medium and the adept are as

opposed as the poles. We will only add here that the body, soul, and

spirit of the adept are all conscious and working in harmony, and the

body of the medium is an inert clod, and even his soul may be away in

a dream while its habitation is occupied by another.

An adept can not only project and make visible a hand, a foot, or

any other portion of his body, but the whole of it. We have seen one

do this, in full day, while his hands and feet were being held by a

skeptical friend whom he wished to surprise.[1135] Little by little

the whole astral body oozed out like a vapory cloud, until before us

stood two forms, of which the second was an exact duplicate of the

first, only slightly more shadowy.

The medium need not exercise any _will-power_. It suffices that

she or he shall know what is expected by the investigators. The

medium’s “spiritual” entity, when not obsessed by other spirits,

will act outside the will or consciousness of the physical being, as

surely as it acts when within the body during a fit of somnambulism.

Its perceptions, external and internal, will be acuter and far

more developed, precisely as they are in the sleep-walker. And

this is why “the materialized form sometimes knows more than the

medium,”[1136] for the intellectual perception of the astral entity

is proportionately as much higher than the corporeal intelligence

of the medium in its normal state, as the spirit entity is finer

than itself. Generally the medium will be found cold, the pulse will

have visibly changed, and a state of nervous prostration succeeds

the phenomena, bunglingly and without discrimination attributed to

disembodied spirits; whereas, but one-third of them may be produced

by the latter, another third by elementals, and the rest by the

astral double of the medium himself.

But, while it is our firm belief that most of the physical

manifestations, _i.e._, those which neither need nor show

intelligence nor great discrimination, are produced mechanically

by the _scin-lecca_ (double) of the medium, as a person in sound

sleep will when apparently awake do things of which he will retain

no remembrance. The purely subjective phenomena are but in a very

small proportion of cases due to the action of the personal astral

body. They are mostly, and according to the moral, intellectual, and

physical purity of the medium, the work of either the elementary, or

sometimes very pure human spirits. Elementals have naught to do with

subjective manifestations. In rare cases it is the _divine_ spirit of

the medium himself that guides and produces them.

As Baboo Peary Chand Mittra says, in a letter[1137] to the President

of the National Association of Spiritualists, Mr. Alexander

Calder,[1138] “a spirit is an essence or power, and has no form....

The very idea of form implies ‘materialism.’ The spirits [astral

souls, we should say] ... can assume forms for a time, but form is

not their permanent state. The more material is our soul, the more

material is our conception of spirits.”

Epimenides, the Orphikos, was renowned for his “sacred and marvellous

nature,” and for the faculty his soul possessed of quitting its body

“_as long and as often as it pleased_.” The ancient philosophers who

have testified to this ability may be reckoned by dozens. Apollonius

left his body at a moment’s notice, but it must be remembered

Apollonius was an adept--a “magician.” Had he been simply a medium,

he could not have performed such feats _at will_. Empedocles of

Agrigentum, the Pythagorean thaumaturgist, required no _conditions_

to arrest a waterspout which had broken over the city. Neither did

he need any to recall a woman to life, as he did. Apollonius used no

_darkened_ room in which to perform his æthrobatic feats. Vanishing

suddenly in the air before the eyes of Domitian and a whole crowd of

witnesses (many thousands), he appeared an hour after in the grotto

of Puteoli. But investigation would have shown that his physical

body having become invisible by the concentration of akâsa about

it, he could walk off unperceived to some secure retreat in the

neighborhood, and an hour after his astral form appear at Puteoli to

his friends, and seem to be the man himself.

No more did Simon Magus wait to be entranced to fly off in the

air before the apostles and crowds of witnesses. “It requires no

conjuration and ceremonies; circle-making and incensing are mere

nonsense and juggling,” says Paracelsus. The human spirit “is so

great a thing that no man can express it; as God Himself is eternal

and unchangeable, so also is the mind of man. If we rightly

understood its powers, nothing would be impossible to us on earth.

The imagination is strengthened and developed through _faith in our

will_. Faith must confirm the imagination, for faith establishes the

will.”

A singular account of the personal interview of an English ambassador

in 1783, with a reïncarnated Buddha--barely mentioned in volume

i.--an infant of eighteen months old at that time, is given in the

_Asiatic Journal_ from the narrative of an eye-witness himself,

Mr. Turner, the author of _The Embassy to Thibet_. The cautious

phraseology of a skeptic dreading public ridicule ill conceals

the amazement of the witness, who, at the same time, desires to

give facts as truthfully as possible. The infant lama received the

ambassador and his suite with a dignity and decorum so natural

and unconstrained that they remained in a perfect maze of wonder.

The behavior of this infant, says the author, was that of an old

philosopher, grave and sedate and exceedingly courteous. He contrived

to make the young pontiff understand the inconsolable grief into

which the Governor-General of Galagata (Calcutta) the City of Palaces

and the people of India were plunged when he died, and the general

rapture when they found that he had resurrected in a young and fresh

body again; at which compliment the young lama regarded him and his

suite with looks of singular complacency, and courteously treated

them to confectionery from a golden cup. “The ambassador continued to

express the Governor-General’s hope that the lama might long continue

to illumine the world with his presence, and that the friendship

which had heretofore subsisted between them might be yet more

strongly cemented, for the benefit and advantage of the intelligent

votaries of the lama ... all which made the little creature look

steadfastly at the speaker, and graciously bow and nod--and bow

and nod--as _if he_ understood and approved of every word that was

uttered.”[1139]

As _if_ he understood! _If_ the infant behaved in the most natural

and dignified way during the reception, and “when their cups were

empty of tea became uneasy and throwing back his head and contracting

the skin of his brow, continued making a noise till they were filled

again,” why could he not understand as well what was said to him?

Years ago, a small party of travellers were painfully journeying

from Kashmir to Leh, a city of Ladâhk (Central Thibet). Among

our guides we had a Tartar Shaman, a very mysterious personage,

who spoke Russian a little and English not at all, and yet who

managed, nevertheless, to converse with us, and proved of great

service. Having learned that some of our party were Russians, he had

imagined that our protection was all-powerful, and might enable

him to safely find his way back to his Siberian home, from which,

for reasons unknown, some twenty years before, he had fled, as he

told us, via Kiachta and the great Gobi Desert, to the land of the

Tcha-gars.[1140] With such an interested object in view, we believed

ourselves safe under his guard. To explain the situation briefly:

Our companions had formed the unwise plan of penetrating into Thibet

under various disguises, none of them speaking the language, although

one, a Mr. K----, had picked up some Kasan Tartar, and thought he

did. As we mention this only incidentally, we may as well say at once

that two of them, the brothers N----, were very politely brought back

to the frontier before they had walked sixteen miles into the weird

land of Eastern Bod; and Mr. K----, an ex-Lutheran minister, could

not even attempt to leave his miserable village near Leh, as from

the first days he found himself prostrated with fever, and had to

return to Lahore via Kashmere. But one sight seen by him was as good

as if he had witnessed the reïncarnation of Buddha itself. Having

heard of this “miracle” from some old Russian missionary in whom

he thought he could have more faith than in Abbé Huc, it had been

for years his desire to expose the “great heathen” jugglery, as he

expressed it. K---- was a positivist, and rather prided himself on

this anti-philosophical neologism. But his positivism was doomed to

receive a death-blow.

About four days journey from Islamabad, at an insignificant mud

village, whose only redeeming feature was its magnificent lake,

we stopped for a few days’ rest. Our companions had temporarily

separated from us, and the village was to be our place of meeting.

It was there that we were apprised by our Shaman that a large party

of Lamaïc “Saints,” on pilgrimage to various shrines, had taken up

their abode in an old cave-temple and established a temporary Vihara

therein. He added that, as the “Three Honorable Ones”[1141] were said

to travel along with them, the holy Bikshu (monks) were capable of

producing the greatest miracles. Mr. K----, fired with the prospect

of exposing this humbug of the ages, proceeded at once to pay them

a visit, and from that moment the most friendly relations were

established between the two camps.

The Vihar was in a secluded and most romantic spot secured against

all intrusion. Despite the effusive attentions, presents, and

protestations of Mr. K----, the Chief, who was Pase-Budhu (an ascetic

of great sanctity), declined to exhibit the phenomenon of the

“incarnation” until a certain talisman in possession of the writer

was exhibited.[1142] Upon seeing this, however, preparations were at

once made, and an infant of three or four months was procured from

its mother, a poor woman of the neighborhood. An oath was first of

all exacted of Mr. K----, that he would not divulge what he might

see or hear, for the space of seven years. The talisman is a simple

agate or carnelian known among the Thibetans and others as _A-yu_,

and naturally possessed, or had been endowed with very mysterious

properties. It has a triangle engraved upon it, within which are

contained a few mystical words.[1143]

Several days passed before everything was ready; nothing of a

mysterious character occurring, meanwhile, except that, at the

bidding of a Bikshu, ghastly faces were made to peep at us out of

the glassy bosom of the lake, as we sat at the door of the Vihar,

upon its bank. One of these was the countenance of Mr. K----’s

sister, whom he had left well and happy at home, but who, as we

subsequently learned, had died some time before he had set out on

the present journey. The sight affected him at first, but he called

his skepticism to his aid, and quieted himself with theories of

cloud-shadows, reflections of tree-branches, etc., such as people of

his kind fall back upon.

On the appointed afternoon, the baby being brought to the Vihara,

was left in the vestibule or reception-room, as K---- could go no

further into the temporary sanctuary. The child was then placed on a

bit of carpet in the middle of the floor, and every one not belonging

to the party being sent away, two “mendicants” were placed at the

entrance to keep out intruders. Then all the lamas seated themselves

on the floor, with their backs against the granite walls, so that

each was separated from the child by a space, at least, of ten feet.

The chief, having had a square piece of leather spread for him by

the _desservant_, seated himself at the farthest corner. Alone, Mr.

K---- placed himself close by the infant, and watched every movement

with intense interest. The only condition exacted of us was that

we should preserve a strict silence, and patiently await further

developments. A bright sunlight streamed through the open door.

Gradually the “Superior” fell into what seemed a state of profound

meditation, while the others, after a _sotto voce_ short invocation,

became suddenly silent, and looked as if they had been completely

petrified. It was oppressively still, and the crowing of the child

was the only sound to be heard. After we had sat there a few moments,

the movements of the infant’s limbs suddenly ceased, and his body

appeared to become rigid. K---- watched intently every motion, and

both of us, by a rapid glance, became satisfied that all present

were sitting motionless. The superior, with his gaze fixed upon the

ground, did not even look at the infant; but, pale and motionless, he

seemed rather like a bronze statue of a Talapoin in meditation than a

living being. Suddenly, to our great consternation, we saw the child,

not raise itself, but, as it were, violently jerked into a sitting

posture! A few more jerks, and then, like an automaton set in motion

by concealed wires, the four months’ baby stood upon his feet! Fancy

our consternation, and, in Mr. K----’s case, horror. Not a hand had

been outstretched, not a motion made, nor a word spoken; and yet,

here was a baby-in-arms standing erect and firm as a man!

The rest of the story we will quote from a copy of notes written on

this subject by Mr. K----, the same evening, and given to us, in case

it should not reach its place of destination, or the writer fail to

see anything more.

“After a minute or two of hesitation,” writes K----, “the baby turned

his head and looked at me with an expression of intelligence that

was simply awful! It sent a chill through me. I pinched my hands

and bit my lips till the blood almost came, to make sure that I did

not dream. But this was only the beginning. The miraculous creature,

making, _as I fancied_, two steps toward me, resumed his sitting

posture, and, without removing his eyes from mine, repeated, sentence

by sentence, in what I supposed to be Thibetan language, the very

words, which I had been told in advance, are commonly spoken at the

incarnations of Buddha, beginning with ‘I am Buddha; I am the old

Lama; I am his spirit in a new body,’ etc. I felt a real terror; my

hair rose upon my head, and my blood ran cold. For my life I could

not have spoken a word. There was no trickery here, no ventriloquism.

The infant lips moved, and the eyes seemed to search my very soul

with an expression that _made me think it was the face of the

Superior himself_, his eyes, his very look that I was gazing upon. It

was _as if his spirit had entered the little body, and was looking at

me through the transparent mask of the baby’s face_. I felt my brain

growing dizzy. The infant reached toward me, and laid his little hand

upon mine. I started as if I had been touched by a hot coal; and,

unable to bear the scene any longer, covered my face with my hands.

It was but for an instant; but when I removed them, the little actor

had become a crowing baby again, and a moment after, lying upon his

back, set up a fretful cry. The superior had resumed his normal

condition, and conversation ensued.

“It was only after a series of similar experiments, extending over

ten days, that I realized the fact that I had seen the incredible,

astounding phenomenon described by certain travellers, but always

by me denounced as an imposture. Among a multitude of questions

unanswered, despite my cross-examination, the Superior let drop one

piece of information, which must be regarded as highly significant.

‘What would have happened,’ I inquired, through the shaman, ‘if,

while the infant was speaking, in a moment of insane fright, at the

thought of its being the “Devil,” I had killed it?’ He replied that,

if the blow had not been instantly fatal, the child _alone_ would

have been killed.’ ‘But,’ I continued, ‘suppose that it had been as

swift as a lightning-flash?’ ‘In such case,’ was the answer, ‘_you

would have killed me also_.’”

In Japan and Siam there are two orders of priests, of which

one are public, and deal with the people, the other strictly

private. The latter are never seen; their existence is known but

to very few natives, never to foreigners. Their powers are never

displayed in public, nor ever at all except on rare occasions of

the utmost importance, at which times the ceremonies are performed

in subterranean or otherwise inaccessible temples, and in the

presence of a chosen few whose heads answer for their secrecy. Among

such occasions are deaths in the Royal family, or those of high

dignitaries affiliated with the Order. One of the most weird and

impressive exhibitions of the power of these magicians is that of

the withdrawal of the astral soul from the cremated remains of human

beings, a ceremony practiced likewise in some of the most important

lamaseries of Thibet and Mongolia.

In Siam, Japan, and Great Tartary, it is the custom to make

medallions, statuettes, and idols out of the ashes of cremated

persons;[1144] they are mixed with water into a paste, and after

being moulded into the desired shape, are baked and then gilded. The

Lamasery of Ou-Tay, in the province of Chan-Si, Mongolia, is the

most famous for that work, and rich persons send the bones of their

defunct relatives to be ground and fashioned there. When the adept

in magic proposes to facilitate the withdrawal of the astral soul

of the deceased, which otherwise they think might remain stupefied

for an indefinite period _within_ the ashes, the following process

is resorted to: The sacred dust is placed in a heap upon a metallic

plate, strongly magnetized, of the size of a man’s body. The adept

then slowly and gently fans it with the _Talapat Nang_,[1145] a fan

of a peculiar shape and inscribed with certain signs, muttering,

at the same time, a form of invocation. The ashes soon become, as

it were, imbued with life, and gently spread themselves out into a

thin layer which assumes the outline of the body before cremation.

Then there gradually arises a sort of whitish vapor which after a

time forms into an erect column, and compacting itself, is finally

transformed into the “double,” or ethereal, astral counterpart of the

dead, which in its turn dissolves away into thin air, and disappears

from mortal sight.[1146]

The “Magicians” of Kashmir, Thibet, Mongolia, and Great Tartary are

too well known to need comments. If _jugglers_ they be, we invite the

most expert jugglers of Europe and America to match them if they can.

If our scientists are unable to imitate the mummy-embalming of the

Egyptians, how much greater would be their surprise to see, as we

have, dead bodies preserved by alchemical art, so that after the

lapse of centuries, they seem as though the individuals were but

sleeping. The complexions were as fresh, the skin as elastic, the

eyes as natural and sparkling as though they were in the full flush

of health, and the wheels of life had been stopped but the instant

before. The bodies of certain very eminent personages are laid upon

catafalques, in rich mausoleums, sometimes overlaid with gilding or

even with plates of real gold; their favorite arms, trinkets, and

articles of daily use gathered about them, and a suite of attendants,

blooming young boys and girls, but still corpses, preserved like

their masters, stand as if ready to serve when called. In the convent

of Great Kouren, and in one situated upon the Holy Mountain (Bohté

Oula) there are said to be several such sepulchres, which have been

respected by all the conquering hordes that have swept through those

countries. Abbé Huc heard that such exist, but did not see one,

strangers of all kinds being excluded, and missionaries and European

travellers not furnished with the requisite protection, being the

last of all persons who would be permitted to approach the sacred

places. Huc’s statement that the tombs of Tartar sovereigns are

surrounded with children “who were compelled to swallow mercury until

they were suffocated,” by which means “the color and freshness of the

victims is preserved so well that they appear alive,” is one of these

idle missionary fables which impose only upon the most ignorant who

accept on hearsay. Buddhists have never immolated victims, whether

human or animal. It is utterly against the principles of their

religion, and no Lamaist was ever accused of it. When a rich man

desired to be interred in _company_, messengers were sent throughout

the country with the Lama-embalmers, and children just dead in the

natural way were selected for the purpose. Poor parents were but too

glad to preserve their departed children in this poetic way, instead

of abandoning them to decay and wild beasts.

At the time when Abbé Huc was living in Paris, after his return

from Thibet, he related, among other unpublished wonders, to a Mr.

Arsenieff, a Russian gentleman, the following curious fact that he

had witnessed during his long sojourn at the lamasery of Kounboum.

One day while conversing with one of the lamas, the latter suddenly

stopped speaking, and assumed the attentive attitude of one who is

listening to a message being delivered to him, although he (Huc)

heard never a word. “Then, I must go;” suddenly broke forth the lama,

as if in response to the message.

“Go where?” inquired the astonished “lama of Jehovah” (Huc). “And

with whom are you talking?”

“To the lamasery of * * *,” was the quiet answer. “The Shaberon wants

me; it was he who summoned me.”

Now this lamasery was many days’ journey from that of Kounboum, in

which the conversation was taking place. But what seemed to astonish

Huc the most was, that, instead of setting off on his journey, the

lama simply walked to a sort of cupola-room on the roof of the house

in which they lived, and another lama, after exchanging a few words,

followed them to the terrace by means of the ladder, and passing

between them, locked and barred his companion in. Then turning to Huc

after a few seconds of meditation, he smiled and informed the guest

that “he had gone.”

“But how could he? Why you have locked him in, and the room has no

issue?” insisted the missionary.

“And what good would a door be to him?” answered the custodian. “_It

is he himself who went away; his body is not needed, and so he left

it in my charge._”

Notwithstanding the wonders which Huc had witnessed during his

perilous journey, his opinion was that both of the lamas had

mystified him. But three days later, not having seen his habitual

friend and entertainer, he inquired after him, and was informed that

he would be back in the evening. At sunset, and just as the “other

lamas” were preparing to retire, Huc heard his absent friend’s voice

calling as if from the clouds, to his companion to open the door

for him. Looking upward, he perceived the “traveller’s” outline

behind the lattice of the room where he had been locked in. When

he descended he went straight to the Grand Lama of Kounboum, and

delivered to him certain messages and “orders,” from the place which

he “pretended” he had just left. Huc could get no more information

from him as to his _aërial_ voyage. But he always thought, he

said, that this “farce” had something to do with the immediate and

extraordinary preparations for the polite expulsion of both the

missionaries, himself and Father Gabet, to Chogor-tan, a place

belonging to the Kounboum. The suspicion of the daring missionary

may have been correct, in view of his impudent inquisitiveness and

indiscretion.

If the Abbé had been versed in Eastern philosophy, he would have

found no great difficulty in comprehending both the flight of the

lama’s astral body to the distant lamasery while his physical frame

remained behind, or the carrying on of a conversation with the

Shaberon that was inaudible to himself. The recent experiments with

the telephone in America, to which allusion was made in Chapter V.

of our first volume, but which have been greatly perfected since

those pages went to press, prove that the human voice and the

sounds of instrumental music may be conveyed along a telegraphic

wire to a great distance. The Hermetic philosophers taught, as we

have seen, that the disappearance from sight of a flame does not

imply its actual extinction. It has only passed from the visible

to the invisible world, and may be perceived by the inner sense

of vision, which is adapted to the things of that other and more

real universe. The same rule applies to sound. As the physical ear

discerns the vibrations of the atmosphere up to a certain point,

not yet definitely fixed, but varying with the individual, so the

adept whose interior hearing has been developed, can take the sound

at this vanishing-point, and hear its vibrations in the astral light

indefinitely. He needs no wires, helices, or sounding-boards; his

will-power is all-sufficient. Hearing with the spirit, time and

distance offer no impediments, and so he may converse with another

adept at the antipodes with as great ease as though they were in the

same room.

Fortunately, we can produce numerous witnesses to corroborate our

statement, who, without being adepts at all, have, nevertheless,

heard the sound of aërial music and of the human voice, when neither

instrument nor speaker were within thousands of miles of the place

where we sat. In their case they actually heard interiorly, though

they supposed their physical organs of hearing alone were employed.

The adept had, by a simple effort of will-power, given them for the

brief moment the same perception of the spirit of sound as he himself

constantly enjoys.

If our men of science could only be induced to test instead of

deriding the ancient philosophy of the trinity of all the natural

forces, they would go by leaps toward the dazzling truth, instead

of creeping, snail-like, as at present. Prof. Tyndall’s experiments

off the South Foreland, at Dover, in 1875, fairly upset all previous

theories of the transmission of sound, and those he has made with

sensitive flames[1147] bring him to the very threshold of arcane

science. One step further, and he would comprehend how adepts can

converse at great distances. But that step will _not_ be taken. Of

his sensitive--in truth, magical--flame, he says: “The slightest tap

on a distant anvil causes it to fall to seven inches. When a bunch

of keys is shaken, the flame is violently agitated, and emits a loud

roar. The dropping of a sixpence into a hand already containing coin,

knocks the flame down. The creaking of boots sets it in violent

commotion. The crumpling or tearing of a bit of paper, or the rustle

of a silk dress does the same. Responsive to every tick of a watch

held near it, it falls and explodes. The winding up of a watch

produces tumult. From a distance of thirty yards we may chirrup to

this flame, and cause it to fall and roar. Repeating a passage from

the _Faërie Queene_, the flame sifts and selects the manifold sounds

of my voice, noticing some by a slight nod, others by a deeper bow,

while to others it responds by violent agitation.”

Such are the wonders of modern physical science; but at what cost of

apparatus, and carbonic acid and coal gas; of American and Canadian

whistles, trumpets, gongs, and bells! The poor heathen have none such

_impedimenta_, but--will European science believe it--nevertheless,

produce the very same phenomena. Upon one occasion, when, in a case

of exceptional importance, an “oracle” was required, we saw the

possibility of what we had previously vehemently denied--namely, a

simple mendicant cause a sensitive flame to give responsive flashes

without a particle of apparatus. A fire was kindled of branches of

the _Beal_-tree, and some sacrificial herbs were sprinkled upon it.

The mendicant sat near by, motionless, absorbed in contemplation.

During the intervals between the questions the fire burned low and

seemed ready to go out, but when the interrogatories were propounded,

the flames leaped, roaring, skyward, flickered, bowed, and sent fiery

tongues flaring toward the east, west, north, or south; each motion

having its distinct meaning in a code of signals well understood.

Between whiles it would sink to the ground, and the tongues of flame

would lick the sod in every direction, and suddenly disappear,

leaving only a bed of glowing embers. When the interview with the

flame-spirits was at an end, the Bikshu (mendicant) turned toward the

jungle where he abode, keeping up a wailing, monotonous chant, to the

rhythm of which the sensitive flame kept time, not merely like Prof.

Tyndall’s, when he read the _Faërie Queene_, by simple motions, but

by a marvellous modulation of hissing and roaring until he was out of

sight. Then, as if its very life were extinguished, it vanished, and

left a bed of ashes before the astonished spectators.

Both in Western and Eastern Thibet, as in every other place where

Buddhism predominates, there are two distinct religions, the same

as it is in Brahmanism--the secret philosophy and the popular

religion. The former is that of the followers of the doctrine of the

sect of the Sutrântika.[1148] They closely adhere to the spirit of

Buddha’s original teachings which show the necessity of _intuitional_

perception, and all deductions therefrom. These do not proclaim their

views, nor allow them to be made public.

“All _compounds_ are perishable,” were the last words uttered by the

lips of the dying Gautama, when preparing under the Sâl-tree to enter

into Nirvana. “Spirit is the sole, elementary, and primordial unity,

and each of its rays is immortal, infinite, and indestructible.

Beware of the illusions of matter.” Buddhism was spread far and wide

over Asia, and even farther, by Dharm-Asôka. He was the grandson of

the miracle-worker Chandragupta, the illustrious king who rescued the

Punjâb from the Macedonians--if they ever were at Punjâb at all--and

received Megasthenes at his court in Pataliputra. Dharm-Asôka was

the greatest King of the Maûrya dynasty. From a reckless profligate

and atheist, he had become Pryâdasi, the “beloved of the gods,” and

never was the purity of his philanthropic views surpassed by any

earthly ruler. His memory has lived for ages in the hearts of the

Buddhists, and has been perpetuated in the humane edicts engraved

in several popular dialects on the columns and rocks of Allahabad,

Delhi, Guzerat, Peshawur, Orissa, and other places.[1149] His famous

grandfather had united all India under his powerful sceptre. When

the Nâgas, or serpent-worshippers of Kashmere had been converted

through the efforts of the apostles sent out by the Sthaviras of

the third councils, the religion of Gautama spread like wild-fire.

Gândhara, Cabul, and even many of the Satrapies of Alexander the

Great, accepted the new philosophy. The Buddhism of Nepâl being the

one which may be said to have diverged less than any other from the

primeval ancient faith, the Lamaism of Tartary, Mongolia, and Thibet,

which is a direct offshoot of this country, may be thus shown to be

the purest Buddhism; for we say it again, Lamaism properly is but an

external form of rites.

The Upâsakas and Upâsakis, or male and female semi-monastics and

semi-laymen, have equally with the lama-monks themselves, to strictly

abstain from violating any of Buddha’s rules, and must study _Meipo_

and every psychological phenomenon as much. Those who become guilty

of any of the “five sins” lose all right to congregate with the pious

community. The most important of these is _not to curse upon any

consideration, for the curse returns upon the one that utters it, and

often upon his innocent relatives who breathe the same atmosphere

with him_. To love each other, and even our bitterest enemies; to

offer our lives even for animals, to the extent of abstaining from

defensive arms; to gain the greatest of victories by conquering

one’s self; to avoid all vices; to practice all virtues, especially

humility and mildness; to be obedient to superiors, to cherish and

respect parents, old age, learning, virtuous and holy men; to provide

food, shelter, and comfort for men and animals; to plant trees on

the roads and dig wells for the comfort of travellers; such are the

moral duties of Buddhists. Every Ani or Bikshuni (nun) is subjected

to these laws.

Numerous are the Buddhist and Lamaic saints who have been renowned

for the unsurpassed sanctity of their lives and their “miracles.” So

Tissu, the Emperor’s spiritual teacher, who consecrated Kublaï-Khan,

the Nadir Shah, was known far and wide as much for the extreme

holiness of his life as for the many wonders he wrought. But he

did not stop at fruitless miracles, but did better than that. Tissu

purified completely his religion; and from one single province

of Southern Mongolia is said to have forced Kublai to expel from

convents 500,000 monkish impostors, who made a pretext of their

profession, to live in vice and idleness. Then the Lamaists had

their great reformer, the Shaberon Son-Ka-po, who is claimed to

have been immaculately conceived by his mother, a virgin from

Koko-nor (fourteenth century), who is another wonder-worker. The

sacred tree of Kounboum, the tree of the 10,000 images, which, in

consequence of the degeneration of the true faith had ceased budding

for several centuries, now shot forth new sprouts and bloomed more

vigorously than ever from the hair of this avatar of Buddha, says the

legend. The same tradition makes him (Son-Ka-po) ascend to heaven

in 1419. Contrary to the prevailing idea, few of these saints are

_Khubilhans_, or Shaberons--reïncarnations.

Many of the lamaseries contain schools of magic, but the most

celebrated is the collegiate monastery of the Shu-tukt, where there

are over 30,000 monks attached to it, the lamasery forming quite a

little city. Some of the female nuns possess marvellous psychological

powers. We have met some of these women on their way from Lha-Ssa

to Candi, the Rome of Buddhism, with its miraculous shrines and

Gautama’s relics. To avoid encounters with Mussulmans and other sects

they travel by night alone, unarmed, and without the least fear of

wild animals, _for these will not touch them_. At the first glimpses

of dawn, they take refuge in caves and viharas prepared for them by

their co-religionists at calculated distances; for notwithstanding

the fact that Buddhism has taken refuge in Ceylon, and nominally

there are but few of the denomination in British India, yet the

secret Byauds (Brotherhoods) and Buddhist viharas are numerous, and

every Jain feels himself obliged to help, indiscriminately, Buddhist

or Lamaist.

Ever on the lookout for occult phenomena, hungering after sights,

one of the most interesting that we have seen was produced by one of

these poor travelling Bikshu. It was years ago, and at a time when

all such manifestations were new to the writer. We were taken to

visit the pilgrims by a Buddhist friend, a mystical gentleman born at

Kashmir, of Katchi parents, but a Buddha-Lamaist by conversion, and

who generally resides at Lha-Ssa.

“Why carry about this bunch of dead plants?” inquired one of the

Bikshuni, an emaciated, tall and elderly woman, pointing to a large

nosegay of beautiful, fresh, and fragrant flowers in the writer’s

hands.

“Dead?” we asked, inquiringly. “Why they just have been gathered in

the garden?”

“And yet, they are dead,” she gravely answered. “To be born in this

world, is this not death? See, how these herbs look when alive in the

world of eternal light, in the gardens of our blessed Foh?”

Without moving from the place where she was sitting on the ground,

the Ani took a flower from the bunch, laid it in her lap, and began

to draw together, by large handfuls as it were, invisible material

from the surrounding atmosphere. Presently a very, very faint nodule

of vapor was seen, and this slowly took shape and color, until,

poised in mid-air, appeared a copy of the bloom we had given her.

Faithful to the last tint and the last petal it was, and lying on its

side like the original, but a thousand-fold more gorgeous in hue and

exquisite in beauty, as the glorified human spirit is more beauteous

than its physical capsule. Flower after flower to the minutest herb

was thus reproduced and made to vanish, reappearing at our desire,

nay, at our simple thought. Having selected a full-blown rose we

held it at arm’s length, and in a few minutes our arm, hand, and the

flower, perfect in every detail, appeared reflected in the vacant

space, about two yards from where we sat. But while the flower seemed

immeasurably beautified and as ethereal as the other spirit flowers,

the arm and hand appeared like a mere reflection in a looking-glass,

even to a large spot on the fore arm, left on it by a piece of damp

earth which had stuck to one of the roots. Later we learned the

reason why.

A great truth was uttered some fifty years ago by Dr. Francis Victor

Broussais, when he said: “If magnetism were true, medicine would be

an absurdity.” Magnetism _is_ true, and so we shall not contradict

the learned Frenchman as to the rest. Magnetism, as we have shown,

is the alphabet of magic. It is idle for any one to attempt to

understand either the theory or the practice of the latter until

the fundamental principle of magnetic attractions and repulsions

throughout nature is recognized.

Many so-called popular superstitions are but evidences of an

instinctive perception of this law. An untutored people are taught

by the experience of many generations that certain phenomena occur

under fixed conditions; they give these conditions and obtain the

expected results. Ignorant of the laws, they explain the fact by

supernaturalism, for experience has been their sole teacher.

In India, as well as in Russia and some other countries, there is an

instinctive repugnance to stepping across a man’s shadow, especially

if he have red hair; and in the former country, natives are extremely

reluctant to shake hands with persons of another race. These are

not idle fancies. Every person emits a magnetic exhalation or aura,

and a man may be in perfect physical health, but at the same time

his exhalation may have a morbific character for others, sensitive

to such subtile influences. Dr. Esdaile and other mesmerists long

since taught us that Oriental people, especially Hindus, are more

susceptible than the white-skinned races. Baron Reichenbach’s

experiments--and, in fact, the world’s entire experience--prove that

these magnetic exhalations are most intense from the extremities.

Therapeutic manipulations show this; hand-shaking is, therefore, most

calculated to communicate antipathetic magnetic conditions, and the

Hindus do wisely in keeping their ancient “superstition”--derived

from Manu--constantly in mind.

The magnetism of a red-haired man, we have found, in almost every

nation, is instinctively dreaded. We might quote proverbs from the

Russian, Persian, Georgian, Hindustani, French, Turkish, and even

German, to show that treachery and other vices are popularly supposed

to accompany the rufous complexion. When a man stands exposed to

the sun, the magnetism of that luminary causes his emanations to

be projected toward the shadow, and the increased molecular action

develops more electricity. Hence, an individual to whom he is

antipathetic--though neither might be sensible of the fact--would

act prudently in not passing through the shadow. Careful physicians

wash their hands upon leaving each patient; why, then, should they

not be charged with superstition, as well as the Hindus? The sporules

of disease are invisible, but no less real, as European experience

demonstrates. Well, _Oriental experience for a hundred centuries has

shown that the germs of moral contagion linger about localities, and

impure magnetism can be communicated by the touch_.

Another prevalent belief in some parts of Russia, particularly

Georgia (Caucasus), and in India, is that in case the body of a

drowned person cannot be otherwise found, if a garment of his be

thrown into the water it will float until directly over the spot, and

then sink. We have even seen the experiment successfully tried with

the sacred cord of a Brahman. It floated hither and thither, circling

about as though in search of something, until suddenly darting in a

straight line for about fifty yards, it sank, and at that exact spot

the divers brought up the body. We find this “superstition” even

in America. A Pittsburg paper, of very recent date, describes the

finding of the body of a young boy, named Reed, in the Monongahela,

by a like method. All other means having failed, it says, “a curious

superstition was employed. One of the boy’s shirts was thrown into

the river where he had gone down, and, it is said, floated on the

surface for a time, and finally settled to the bottom at a certain

place, which proved to be the resting-place of the body, and which

was then drawn out. The belief that the shirt of a drowned person

when thrown into the water will follow the body is well-spread,

absurd as it appears.”

This phenomenon is explained by the law of the powerful attraction

existing between the human body and objects that have been long worn

upon it. The oldest garment is most effective for the experiment; a

new one is useless.

From time immemorial, in Russia, in the month of May, on Trinity

Day, maidens from city and village have been in the habit of casting

upon the river wreaths of green leaves--which each girl has to form

for herself--and consulting their oracles. If the wreath sinks, it

is a sign that the girl will die unmarried within a short time; if

it floats, she will be married, the time depending upon the number

of verses she can repeat during the experiment. We positively affirm

that we have personal knowledge of several cases, two of them our

intimate friends, where the augury of death proved true, and the

girls _died_ within twelve months. Tried on any other day than

Trinity, the result would doubtless be the same. The sinking of the

wreath is attributable to its being impregnated with the unhealthy

magnetism of a system which contains the germs of early death; such

magnetisms having an attraction for the earth at the bottom of the

stream. As for the rest, we are willing to abandon it to the friends

of coincidence.

The same general remark as to superstition having a scientific basis

applies to the phenomena produced by fakirs and jugglers, which

skeptics heap into the common category of trickery. And yet, to a

close observer, even to the uninitiated, an enormous difference is

presented between the _kîmiya_ (phenomenon) of a fakir, and the

_batte-bâzi_ (jugglery) of a trickster, and the necromancy of a

_jâdûgar_, or _sâhir_, so dreaded and despised by the natives. This

difference, imperceptible--nay incomprehensible--to the skeptical

European, is instinctively appreciated by every Hindu, whether of

high or low caste, educated or ignorant. The _kangâlin_, or witch,

who uses her terrible _abhi-châr_ (mesmeric powers) with intent to

injure, may expect death at any moment, for every Hindu finds it

lawful to kill her; a _bukka-baz_, or juggler, serves to amuse. A

serpent-charmer, with his _bâ-îni_ full of venomous snakes, is less

dreaded, for his powers of fascination extend but to animals and

reptiles; he is unable to charm human beings, to perform that which

is called by the natives _mantar phûnknâ_, to throw spells on men

by magic. But with the yogi, the sannyâsi, the holy men who acquire

enormous psychological powers by mental and physical training, the

question is totally different. Some of these men are regarded by the

Hindus as demi-gods. Europeans cannot judge of these powers but in

rare and exceptional cases.

The British resident who has encountered in the _maidans_ and public

places what he regards as frightful and loathsome human beings,

sitting motionless in the self-inflicted torture of the _ûrddwa

bahu_, with arms raised above the head for months, and even years,

need not suppose they are the wonder-working fakirs. The phenomenon

of the latter are visible only through the friendly protection of

a Brahman, or under peculiarly fortuitous circumstances. Such men

are as little accessible as the real Nautch girls, of whom every

traveller talks, but very few have actually seen, since they belong

exclusively to the pagodas.

It is surpassingly strange, that with the thousands of travellers

and the millions of European residents who have been in India, and

have traversed it in every direction, so little is yet known of that

country and the lands which surround it. It may be that some readers

will feel inclined not merely to doubt the correctness but even

openly contradict our statement? Doubtless, we will be answered that

all that it is desirable to know about India is already known? In

fact this very reply was once made to us personally. That resident

Anglo-Indians should not busy themselves with inquiries is not

strange; for, as a British officer remarked to us upon one occasion,

“society does not consider it well-bred to care about Hindus or

their affairs, or even show astonishment or desire information upon

anything they may see extraordinary in that country.” But it really

surprises us that at least travellers should not have explored

more than they have this interesting realm. Hardly fifty years

ago, in penetrating the jungles of the Blue or Neilgherry Hills in

Southern Hindustan, a strange race, perfectly distinct in appearance

and language from any other Hindu people, was discovered by two

courageous British officers who were tiger-hunting. Many surmises,

more or less absurd, were set on foot, and the missionaries, always

on the watch to connect every mortal thing with the _Bible_, even

went so far as to suggest that this people was one of the lost

tribes of Israel, supporting their ridiculous hypothesis upon their

very fair complexions and “strongly-marked Jewish features.” The

latter is perfectly erroneous, the Todas, as they are called, not

bearing the remotest likeness to the Jewish type; either in feature,

form, action, or language. They closely resemble each other, and,

as a friend of ours expresses himself, the handsomest of the Todas

resemble the statue of the Grecian Zeus in majesty and beauty of form

more than anything he had yet seen among men.

Fifty years have passed since the discovery; but though since that

time towns have been built on these hills and the country has been

invaded by Europeans, no more has been learned of the Todas than

at the first. Among the foolish rumors current about this people,

the most erroneous are those in relation to their numbers and to

their practicing polyandry. The general opinion about them is that

on account of the latter custom their number has dwindled to a

few hundred families, and the race is fast dying out. We had the

best means of learning much about them, and therefore state most

positively that the Todas neither practice polyandry nor are they

as few in number as supposed. We are ready to show that no one

has ever seen children belonging to them. Those that may have been

seen in their company have belonged to the Badagas, a Hindu tribe

totally distinct from the Todas, in race, color, and language, and

which includes the most direct “worshippers” of this extraordinary

people. We say _worshippers_, for the Badagas clothe, feed, serve,

and positively look upon every Toda as a divinity. They are giants

in stature, white as Europeans, with tremendously long and generally

brown, wavy hair and beard, which no razor ever touched from birth.

Handsome as a statue of Pheidias or Praxiteles, the Toda sits the

whole day inactive, as some travellers who have had a glance at them

affirm. From the many conflicting opinions and statements we have

heard from the very residents of Ootakamund and other little new

places of civilization scattered about the Neilgherry Hills, we cull

the following:

“They never use water; they are wonderfully handsome and noble

looking, but extremely unclean; unlike all other natives they despise

jewelry, and never wear anything but a large black drapery or blanket

of some woollen stuff, with a colored stripe at the bottom; they

never drink anything but pure milk; they have herds of cattle but

neither eat their flesh, nor do they make their beasts of labor

plough or work; they neither sell nor buy; the Badagas feed and

clothe them; they never use nor carry weapons, not even a simple

stick; the Todas can’t read and won’t learn. They are the despair of

the missionaries and apparently have no sort of religion, beyond the

worship of themselves as the Lords of Creation.”[1150]

We will try to correct a few of these opinions, as far as we have

learned from a very holy personage, a Brahmanam-guru, who has our

great respect.

Nobody has ever seen more than five or six of them at one time; they

will not talk with foreigners, nor was any traveller ever inside

their peculiar long and flat huts, which apparently are without

either windows or chimney and have but one door; nobody ever saw

the funeral of a Toda, nor very old men among them; nor are they

taken sick with cholera, while thousands die around them during such

periodical epidemics; finally, though the country all around swarms

with tigers and other wild beasts, neither tiger, serpent, nor any

other animal so ferocious in those parts, was ever known to touch

either a Toda or one of their cattle, though, as said above, they

never use even a stick.

Furthermore the Todas do not marry at all. They seem few in number,

for no one has or ever will have a chance of numbering them; as soon

as their solitude was profaned by the avalanche of civilization--which

was, perchance, due to their own carelessness--the Todas began moving

away to other parts as unknown and more inaccessible than the

Neilgherry hills had formerly been; they are not born of Toda mothers,

nor of Toda parentage; they are the children of a certain very select

sect, and are set apart from their infancy for special religious

purposes. Recognized by a peculiarity of complexion, and certain other

signs, such a child is known as what is vulgarly termed a Toda, from

birth. Every third year, each of them must repair to a certain place

for a certain period of time, where each of them must meet; their

“dirt” is but a mask, such as a sannyâsi puts on in public in

obedience to his vow; their cattle are, for the most part, devoted to

sacred uses; and, though their places of worship have never been

trodden by a profane foot, they nevertheless exist, and perhaps rival

the most splendid pagodas--_goparams_--known to Europeans. The Badagas

are their special vassals, and--as has been truly remarked--worship

them as half-deities; for their birth and mysterious powers entitle

them to such a distinction.

The reader may rest assured that any statements concerning them, that

clash with the little that is above given, are false. No missionary

will ever catch one with his bait, nor any Badaga betray them, though

he were cut to pieces. They are a people who fulfill a certain high

purpose, and whose secrets are inviolable.

Furthermore, the Todas are not the only such mysterious tribe in

India. We have named several in a preceding chapter, but how many are

there besides these, that will remain unnamed, unrecognized, and yet

ever present!

What is now generally known of Shamanism is very little; and that has

been perverted, like the rest of the non-Christian religions. It is

called the “heathenism” of Mongolia, and wholly without reason, for

it is one of the oldest religions of India. It is spirit-worship, or

belief in the immortality of the souls, and that the latter are still

the same men they were on earth, though their bodies have lost their

objective form, and man has exchanged his physical for a spiritual

nature. In its present shape, it is an offshoot of primitive theurgy,

and a practical blending of the visible with the invisible world.

Whenever a denizen of earth desires to enter into communication with

his invisible brethren, he has to assimilate himself to their nature,

_i.e._, he meets these beings half-way, and, furnished by them with a

supply of spiritual essence, endows them, in his turn, with a portion

of his physical nature, thus enabling them sometimes to appear in a

semi-objective form. It is a temporary exchange of natures, called

theurgy. Shamans are called sorcerers, because they are said to

evoke the “spirits” of the dead for purposes of necromancy. The

true Shamanism--striking features of which prevailed in India in

the days of Megasthenes (300 B.C.)--can no more be judged by its

degenerated scions among the Shamans of Siberia, than the religion

of Gautama-Buddha can be interpreted by the fetishism of some of

his followers in Siam and Burmah. It is in the chief lamaseries of

Mongolia and Thibet that it has taken refuge; and there Shamanism, if

so we must call it, is practiced to the utmost limits of intercourse

allowed between man and “spirit.” The religion of the lamas has

faithfully preserved the primitive science of _magic_, and produces

as great feats now as it did in the days of Kublaï-Khan and his

barons. The ancient mystic formula of the King Srong-ch-Tsans-Gampo,

the “Aum mani padmé houm,”[1151] effects its wonders now as well

as in the seventh century. Avalokitesvara, highest of the three

Boddhisattvas, and patron saint of Thibet, projects his shadow, full

in the view of the faithful, at the lamasery of Dga-G’Dan, founded

by him; and the luminous form of Son-Ka-pa, under the shape of a

fiery cloudlet, that separates itself from the dancing beams of

the sunlight, holds converse with a great congregation of lamas,

numbering thousands; the voice descending from above, like the

whisper of the breeze through foliage. Anon, say the Thibetans, the

beautiful appearance vanishes in the shadows of the sacred trees in

the park of the lamasery.

At Garma-Khian (the mother-cloister) it is rumored that bad and

unprogressed spirits are made to appear on certain days, and _forced_

to give an account of their evil deeds; they are compelled by the

lamaic adepts to redress the wrongs done by them to mortals. This

is what Huc naïvely terms “personating evil spirits,” _i.e._,

devils. Were the skeptics of various European countries permitted to

consult the accounts printed daily[1152] at Moru, and in the “City

of Spirits,” of the business-like intercourse which takes place

between the lamas and the invisible world, they would certainly feel

more interest in the phenomena described so triumphantly in the

spiritualistic journals. At Buddha-lla, or rather Foht-lla (Buddha’s

Mount), in the most important of the many thousand lamaseries of that

country, the sceptre of the Boddhisgat is seen floating, unsupported,

in the air, and its motions regulate the actions of the community.

Whenever a lama is called to account in the presence of the Superior

of the monastery, he knows beforehand it is useless for him to

tell an untruth; the “regulator of justice” (the sceptre) is there,

and its waving motion, either approbatory or otherwise, decides

instantaneously and unerringly the question of his guilt. We do not

pretend to have witnessed all this personally--we wish to make no

pretensions of any kind. Suffice it, with respect to any of these

phenomena, that what we have not seen with our own eyes has been so

substantiated to us that we indorse its genuineness.

A number of lamas in Sikkin produce _meipo_--“miracle”--by magical

powers. The late Patriarch of Mongolia, Gegen Chutuktu, who resided

at Urga, a veritable paradise, was the sixteenth incarnation

of Gautama, therefore a Boddhisattva. He had the reputation of

possessing powers that were phenomenal, even among the thaumaturgists

of the land of miracles _par excellence_. Let no one suppose that

these powers are developed without cost. The lives of most of these

holy men, miscalled idle vagrants, cheating beggars, who are supposed

to pass their existence in preying upon the easy credulity of their

victims, are miracles in themselves. Miracles, because they show what

a determined will and perfect purity of life and purpose are able to

accomplish, and to what degree of preternatural ascetism a human body

can be subjected and yet live and reach a ripe old age. No Christian

hermit has ever dreamed of such refinement of monastic discipline;

and the aërial habitation of a Simon Stylite would appear child’s

play before the fakir’s and the Buddhist’s inventions of will-tests.

But the theoretical study of magic is one thing; the possibility

of practicing it quite another. At _Brâs-ss-Pungs_, the Mongolian

college where over three hundred magicians (_sorciers_, as the

French missionaries call them) teach about twice as many pupils from

twelve to twenty, the latter have many years to wait for their final

initiation. Not one in a hundred reaches the highest goal; and out of

the many thousand lamas occupying nearly an entire city of detached

buildings clustering around it, not more than two per cent. become

wonder-workers. One may learn by heart every line of the 108 volumes

of _Kadjur_,[1153] and still make but a poor practical magician.

There is but one thing which leads surely to it, and this particular

study is hinted at by more than one Hermetic writer. One, the Arabian

alchemist Abipili, speaks thus: “I admonish thee, whosoever thou art

that desirest to dive into the inmost parts of nature; if that thou

seekest thou findest not _within thee_, thou wilt _never find it

without thee_. If thou knowest not the excellency of thine own house,

why dost thou seek after the excellency of other things?... O MAN,

KNOW THYSELF! IN THEE IS HID THE TREASURE OF TREASURERS.”

In another alchemic tract, _De manna Benedicto_, the author expresses

his ideas of the philosopher’s stone, in the following terms: “My

intent is for certain reasons not to prate too much of the matter,

which yet is but one only thing, already too plainly described; for

it shows and sets down such magical and natural uses of it [the

stone] as many that have had it never knew nor heard of; and such as,

when I beheld them, _made my knees to tremble and my heart to shake,

and I to stand amazed at the sight of them_!”

Every neophyte has experienced more or less such a feeling; but once

that it is overcome, the man is an ADEPT.

Within the cloisters of Dshashi-Lumbo and Si-Dzang, these powers,

inherent in every man, called out by so few, are cultivated to their

utmost perfection. Who, in India, has not heard of the Banda-Chan

Ramboutchi, the _Houtouktou_ of the capital of Higher Thibet? His

brotherhood of Khe-lan was famous throughout the land; and one of

the most famous “brothers” was a _Peh-ling_ (an Englishman) who had

arrived one day during the early part of this century, from the West,

a thorough Buddhist, and after a month’s preparation was admitted

among the Khe-lans. He spoke every language, including the Thibetan,

and knew every art and science, says the tradition. His sanctity and

the phenomena produced by him caused him to be proclaimed a shaberon

after a residence of but a few years. His memory lives to the present

day among the Thibetans, but his real name is a secret with the

shaberons alone.

The greatest of the _meipo_--said to be the object of the ambition of

every Buddhist devotee--was, and yet is, the faculty of walking in

the air. The famous King of Siam, Pia Metak, the Chinese, was noted

for his devotion and learning. But he attained this “supernatural

gift” only after having placed himself under the direct tuition of

a priest of Gautama-Buddha. Crawfurd and Finlayson, during their

residence at Siam, followed with great interest the endeavors of some

Siamese nobles to acquire this faculty.[1154]

Numerous and varied are the sects in China, Siam, Tartary,

Thibet, Kashmir, and British India, which devote their lives to

the cultivation of “supernatural powers,” so called. Discussing

one of such sects, the _Taossé_, Semedo says: “They pretend that

by means of certain exercises and meditations one shall regain

his youth, and others will attain to be _Shien-sien_, _i.e._,

‘Terrestrial Beati,’ in whose state every desire is gratified,

whilst they have the power to transport themselves from one place

to another, _however distant_, with speed and facility.”[1155] This

faculty relates but to the _projection_ of the _astral entity_,

in a more or less corporealized form, and certainly not to bodily

transportation. This phenomenon is no more a miracle than one’s

reflection in a looking-glass. No one can detect in such an image a

particle of matter, and still there stands our double, faithfully

representing, even to each single hair on our heads. If, by this

simple law of reflection, our double can be seen in a mirror, how

much more striking a proof of its existence is afforded in the

art of photography! _It is no reason, because our physicists have

not yet found the means of taking photographs, except at a short

distance, that the acquirement should be impossible to those who

have found these means in the power of the human will itself,

freed from terrestrial concern._[1156] Our thoughts are _matter_,

says science; every energy produces more or less of a disturbance

in the atmospheric waves. Therefore, as every man--in common with

every other living, and even inert object--has an _aura_ of his own

emanations surrounding him; and, moreover, is enabled, by a trifling

effort, to transport himself in _imagination_ wherever he likes,

why is it scientifically impossible that his thought, regulated,

intensified, and guided by that powerful magician, the educated will,

may become corporealized for the time being, and appear to whom it

likes, a faithful double of the original? Is the proposition, in the

present state of science, any more unthinkable than the photograph or

telegraph were less than forty years ago, or the telephone less than

fourteen months ago?

If the sensitized plate can so accurately seize upon the _shadow_ of

our faces, then this shadow or reflection, although we are unable to

perceive it, must be something substantial. And, if we can, with the

help of optical instruments, project our _semblances_ upon a white

wall, at several hundred feet distance, sometimes, then there is no

reason why the adepts, the alchemists, the savants of the secret art,

should not have already found out that which scientists deny to-day,

but may discover true to-morrow, _i.e._, how to project electrically

their astral bodies, in an instant, through thousands of miles of

space, leaving their material shells with a certain amount of animal

vital principle to keep the physical life going, and acting within

their spiritual, ethereal bodies as safely and intelligently as

when clothed with the covering of flesh? There is a higher form of

electricity than the physical one known to experimenters; a thousand

correlations of the latter are as yet veiled to the eye of the modern

physicist, and none can tell where end its possibilities.

Schott explains that by _Sian_ or _Shin-Sian_ are understood in the

old Chinese conception, and particularly in that of the Tao-Kiao

(Taossé) sect, “persons who withdraw to the hills to lead the life

of anchorites, and who have attained, either through their ascetic

observances or by the power of charms and elixirs, to the possession

of miraculous gifts and of terrestrial _immortality_”[1157](?) This

is exaggerated if not altogether erroneous. What they claim, is

merely their ability to prolong human life; and they can do so, if

we have to believe human testimony. What Marco Polo testifies to in

the thirteenth century is corroborated in our own days. “There are

another class of people called _Chughi_” (Yogi), he says, “who are

indeed properly called _Abraiamans_ (Brahmans?) who are extremely

long-lived, every man of them living to 150 or 200 years. They eat

very little, rice and milk chiefly. And these people make use of a

very strange beverage, a potion of sulphur and quicksilver mixed

together, and this they drink twice every month.... This, they say,

gives them long life; and it is a potion they are used to take from

their childhood.”[1158] Burnier shows, says Colonel Yule, the Yogis

very skilful in preparing mercury “so admirably that one or two

grains taken every morning restored the body to perfect health;”

and adds that the _mercurius vitæ_ of Paracelsus was a compound in

which entered antimony and quicksilver.[1159] This is a very careless

statement, to say the least, and we will explain what we know of it.

The longevity of some lamas and Talapoins is proverbial; and it is

generally known that they use some compound which “renews the old

blood,” as they call it. And it was equally a recognized fact with

alchemists that a judicious administration, “of _aura of silver_ does

restore health and prolongs life itself to a wonderful extent.” But

we are fully prepared to oppose the statements of both Bernier and

Col. Yule who quotes him, that it is _mercury_ or quicksilver which

the Yogis and the alchemists used. The Yogis, in the days of Marco

Polo, as well as in our modern times, _do use that which may appear

to be quicksilver, but is not_. Paracelsus, the alchemists, and other

mystics, meant by _mercurius vitæ_, the living spirit of silver, the

_aura_ of silver, not the _argent vive_; and this _aura_ is certainly

not the mercury known to our physicians and druggists. There can be

no doubt that the imputation that Paracelsus introduced mercury into

medical practice is utterly incorrect. No mercury, whether prepared

by a mediæval fire-philosopher or a modern self-styled physician, can

or ever did restore the body to perfect health. Only an unmitigated

charlatan ever will use such a drug. And it is the opinion of many

that it is just with the wicked intention of presenting Paracelsus in

the eyes of posterity as a _quack_, that his enemies have invented

such a preposterous lie.

The Yogis of the olden times, as well as modern lamas and Talapoins,

use a certain ingredient with a minimum of sulphur, and a milky juice

which they extract from a medicinal plant. They must certainly be

possessed of some wonderful secrets, as we have seen them healing the

most rebellious wounds in a few days; restoring broken bones to good

use in as many hours as it would take days to do by means of common

surgery. A fearful fever contracted by the writer near Rangoon, after

a flood of the Irrawaddy River, was cured in a few hours by the juice

of a plant called, if we mistake not, Kukushan, though there may be

thousands of natives ignorant of its virtues who are left to die of

fever. This was in return for a trifling kindness we had done to

a _simple mendicant_; a service which can interest the reader but

little.

We have heard of a certain water, also, called _âb-i-hayât_, which

the popular superstition thinks hidden from every mortal eye, except

that of the holy sannyâsi; the fountain itself being known as the

âb-i-haiwân-î. It is more than probable though, that the Talapoins

will decline to deliver up their secrets, even to academicians and

missionaries; as these remedies must be used for the benefit of

humanity, never for money.[1160]

At the great festivals of Hindu pagodas, at the marriage feasts

of rich high-castes, everywhere where large crowds are gathered,

Europeans find gunî--or serpent-charmers, fakirs-mesmerizers,

thaum-working sannyâsi, and so-called “jugglers.” To deride is

easy--to explain, rather more troublesome--to science impossible.

The British residents of India and the travellers prefer the first

expedient. But let any one ask one of these Thomases how the

following results--which they cannot and do not deny--are produced?

When crowds of gunî and fakirs appear with their bodies encircled

with cobras-de-capello, their arms ornamented with bracelets of

_corallilos_--diminutive snakes inflicting certain death in a few

seconds--and their shoulders with necklaces of trigonocephali, the

most terrible enemy of naked Hindu feet, whose bite kills like a

flash of lightning, the sceptic witness smiles and gravely proceeds

to explain how these reptiles, having been thrown in cataleptic

torpor, were all deprived by the gunî of their fangs. “They are

harmless and it is ridiculous to fear them.” “Will the Saëb caress

one of my nâg?” asked once a gunî approaching our interlocutor,

who had been thus humbling his listeners with his herpetological

achievements for a full half hour. Rapidly jumping back--the brave

warrior’s feet proving no less nimble than his tongue--Captain

B----’s angry answer could hardly be immortalized by us in print.

Only the gunî’s terrible body-guard saved him from an unceremonious

thrashing. Besides, say a word, and for a half-roupee any

professional serpent-charmer will begin creeping about and summon

around in a few moments numbers of untamed serpents of the most

poisonous species, and will handle them and encircle his body with

them. On two occasions in the neighborhood of Trinkemal a serpent was

ready to strike at the writer, who had once nearly sat on its tail,

but both times, at a rapid whistle of the gunî whom we had hired to

accompany us, it stopped--hardly a few inches from our body, as if

arrested by lightning and slowly sinking its menacing head to the

ground, remained stiff and motionless as a dead branch, under the

charm of the _kīlnā_.[1161]

Will any European juggler, tamer, or even mesmerizer, risk repeating

just once an experiment that may be daily witnessed in India, if

you know where to go to see it? There is nothing in the world more

ferocious than a royal Bengal tiger. Once the whole population of

a small village, not far from Dakka, situated on the confines of a

jungle, was thrown into a panic at the appearance of an enormous

tigress, at the dawn of the day. These wild beasts never leave their

dens but at night, when they go searching for prey and for water.

But this unusual circumstance was due to the fact that the beast was

a mother, and she had been deprived of her two cubs, which had been

carried away by a daring hunter, and she was in search of them. Two

men and a child had already become her victims, when an aged fakir,

bent on his daily round, emerging from the gate of the pagoda, saw

the situation and understood it at a glance. Chanting a mantrâm he

went straight to the beast, which with flaming eye and foaming mouth

crouched near a tree ready for a new victim. When at about ten feet

from the tigress, without interrupting his modulated prayer, the

words of which no layman comprehends, he began a regular process of

mesmerization, as we understood it; he made _passes_. A terrific

howl which struck a chill into the heart of every human being in the

place, was then heard. This long, ferocious, drawling howl gradually

subsided into a series of plaintive broken sobs, as if the bereaved

mother was uttering her complaints, and then, to the terror of the

crowd which had taken refuge on trees and in the houses, the beast

made a tremendous leap--on the holy man as they thought. They were

mistaken, she was at his feet, rolling in the dust, and writhing. A

few moments more and she remained motionless, with her enormous head

laid on her fore-paws, and her bloodshot but now mild eye riveted on

the face of the fakir. Then the holy man of prayers sat beside the

tigress and tenderly smoothed her striped skin, and patted her back,

until her groans became fainter and fainter, and half an hour later

all the village was standing around this group; the fakir’s head

lying on the tigress’s back as on a pillow, his right hand on her

head, and his left thrown on the sod under the terrible mouth, from

which the long red protruding tongue was gently licking it.

This is the way the fakirs tame the wildest beasts in India. Can

European tamers, with their white-hot iron rods, do as much? Of

course every fakir is not endowed with such a power; comparatively

very few are. And yet the actual number is large. How they are

_trained_ to these requirements in the pagodas will remain an

eternal secret, to all except the Brahmans and the adepts in occult

mysteries. The stories, hitherto considered fables, of Christna and

Orpheus charming the wild beasts, thus receives its corroboration

in our day. There is one fact which remains undeniable. _There is

not a single European_ in India who could have, or has ever boasted

of having, penetrated into the enclosed sanctuary _within_ the

pagodas. Neither authority nor money has ever induced a Brahman to

allow an uninitiated foreigner to pass the threshold of the reserved

precinct. To use authority in such a case would be equivalent to

throwing a lighted taper into a powder magazine. The Hindus, mild,

patient, long-suffering, whose very apathy saved the British from

being driven out of the country in 1857, would raise their hundred

millions of devotees as one man, at such a profanation; regardless

of sects or castes, they would exterminate every Christian. The

East India Company knew this well and built her stronghold on the

friendship of the Brahmans, and by paying subsidy to the pagodas;

and the British Government is as prudent as its predecessor. It is

the castes, and non-interference with the prevailing religions, that

secure its comparative authority in India. But we must once more

recur to Shamanism, that strange and most despised of all surviving

religions--“Spirit-worship.”

Its followers have neither altars nor idols, and it is upon the

authority of a Shaman priest that we state that their true rites,

which they are bound to perform only once a year, on the shortest

day of winter, cannot take place before any stranger to their faith.

Therefore, we are confident that all descriptions hitherto given in

the _Asiatic Journal_ and other European works, are but guess-work.

The Russians, who, from constant intercourse with the Shamans in

Siberia and Tartary, would be the most competent of all persons

to judge of their religion, have learned nothing except of the

personal proficiency of these men in what they are half inclined to

believe clever jugglery. Many Russian residents, though, in Siberia,

are firmly convinced of the “supernatural” powers of the Shamans.

Whenever they assemble to worship, it is always in an open space, or

a high hill, or in the hidden depths of a forest--in this reminding

us of the old Druidical rites. Their ceremonies upon the occasions

of births, deaths, and marriages are but trifling parts of their

worship. They comprise offerings, the sprinkling of the fire with

spirits and milk, and weird hymns, or rather, magical incantations,

intoned by the officiating Shaman, and concluding with a chorus of

the persons present.

The numerous small bells of brass and iron worn by them on the

priestly robe of deerskin,[1162] or the pelt of some other animal

reputed magnetic, are used to drive away the malevolent spirits

of the air, a _superstition_ shared by all the nations of old,

including Romans, and even the Jews, whose golden bells tell the

story. They have iron staves also covered with bells, for the same

reason. When, after certain ceremonies, the desired crisis is

reached, and “the spirit has spoken,” and the priest (who may be

either male or female) feels its overpowering influence, the hand of

the Shaman is drawn by some occult power toward the top of the staff,

which is commonly covered with hieroglyphics. With his palm pressing

upon it, he is then raised to a considerable height in the air, where

he remains for some time. Sometimes he leaps to an extraordinary

height, and, according to the control--for he is often but an

irresponsible medium--pours out prophecies and describes future

events. Thus, it was that, in 1847, a Shaman in a distant part of

Siberia prophesied and accurately detailed the issue of the Crimean

war. The particulars of the prognostication being carefully noted by

those present at the time, were all verified six years after this

occurrence. Although usually ignorant of even the name of astronomy,

let alone having studied this science, they often prophesy eclipses

and other astronomical phenomena. When consulted about thefts and

murders, they invariably point out the guilty parties.

The Shamans of Siberia are all ignorant and illiterate. Those of

Tartary and Thibet--few in number--are mostly learned men in their

own way, and will not allow themselves to fall under the control of

spirits of any kind. The former are _mediums_ in the full sense of

the word; the latter, “magicians.” It is not surprising that pious

and superstitious persons, after seeing one of such crises, should

declare the Shaman to be under demoniacal possession. As in the

instances of Corybantic and Bacchantic fury among the ancient Greeks,

the “spiritual” crisis of the Shaman exhibits itself in violent

dancing and wild gestures. Little by little the lookers-on feel the

spirit of imitation aroused in them; seized with an irresistible

impulse, they dance, and become, in their turn, ecstatics; and he who

begins by joining the chorus, gradually and unconsciously takes part

in the gesticulations, until he sinks to the ground exhausted, and

often dying.

“O, young girl, a god possesses thee! it is either Pan, or Hekaté, or

the venerable Corybantes, or Cybelé that agitates thee!” the chorus

says, addressing Phœdra, in Euripides. This form of psychological

epidemic has been too well known from the time of the middle ages

to cite instances from it. The _Chorœa sancti Viti_ is an historical

fact, and spread throughout Germany. Paracelsus cured quite a number

of persons possessed of such a spirit of imitation. But he was a

kabalist, and therefore accused, by his enemies, of having cast out

the devils by the power of a stronger demon, which he was believed to

carry about with him in the hilt of his sword. The Christian judges

of those days of horror found a better and a surer remedy. Voltaire

states that, in the district of Jura, between 1598 and 1600, over 600

lycanthropes were put to death by a pious judge.

But, while the illiterate Shaman is a victim, and during his crisis

sometimes sees the persons present, under the shape of various

animals, and often makes them share his hallucination, his brother

Shaman, learned in the mysteries of the priestly colleges of Thibet,

_expels_ the elementary creature, which can produce the hallucination

as well as a living mesmerizer, not through the help of a stronger

demon, but simply through his knowledge of the nature of the

invisible enemy. Where academicians have failed, as in the cases of

the Cevennois, a Shaman or a lama would have soon put an end to the

epidemic.

We have mentioned a kind of carnelian stone in our possession,

which had such an unexpected and favorable effect upon the Shaman’s

decision. Every Shaman has such a talisman, which he wears attached

to a string, and carries under his left arm.

“Of what use is it to you, and what are its virtues?” was the

question we often offered to our guide. To this he never answered

directly, but evaded all explanation, promising that as soon as an

opportunity was offered, and we were alone, he would ask the stone

_to answer for himself_. With this very indefinite hope, we were left

to the resources of our own imagination.

But the day on which the stone “spoke” came very soon. It was during

the most critical hours of our life; at a time when the vagabond

nature of a traveller had carried the writer to far-off lands, where

neither civilization is known, nor security can be guaranteed for one

hour. One afternoon, as every man and woman had left the _yourta_

(Tartar tent), that had been our home for over two months, to witness

the ceremony of the Lamaïc exorcism of a Tshoutgour,[1163] accused

of breaking and spiriting away every bit of the poor furniture and

earthenware of a family living about two miles distant, the Shaman,

who had become our only protector in those dreary deserts, was

reminded of his promise. He sighed and hesitated; but, after a short

silence, left his place on the sheepskin, and, going outside, placed

a dried-up goat’s head with its prominent horns over a wooden peg,

and then dropping down the felt curtain of the tent, remarked that

now no living person would venture in, for the goat’s head was a sign

that he was “at work.”

After that, placing his hand in his bosom, he drew out the little

stone, about the size of a walnut, and, carefully unwrapping it,

proceeded, as it appeared, to swallow it. In a few moments his limbs

stiffened, his body became rigid, and he fell, cold and motionless as

a corpse. But for a slight twitching of his lips at every question

asked, the scene would have been embarrassing, nay--dreadful. The

sun was setting, and were it not that dying embers flickered at the

centre of the tent, complete darkness would have been added to the

oppressive silence which reigned. We have lived in the prairies

of the West, and in the boundless steppes of Southern Russia; but

nothing can be compared with the silence at sunset on the sandy

deserts of Mongolia; not even the barren solitudes of the deserts of

Africa, though the former are partially inhabited, and the latter

utterly void of life. Yet, there was the writer alone with what

looked no better than a corpse lying on the ground. Fortunately, this

state did not last long.

“Mahandū!” uttered a voice, which seemed to come from the bowels of

the earth, on which the Shaman was prostrated. “Peace be with you ...

what would you have me do for you?”

Startling as the fact seemed, we were quite prepared for it, for we

had seen other Shamans pass through similar performances. “Whoever

you are,” we pronounced mentally, “go to K----, and try to bring that

person’s _thought_ here. See what that other party does, and tell * *

* what we are doing and how situated.”

“I am there;” answered the same voice. “The old lady (kokona)[1164]

is sitting in the garden ... she is putting on her spectacles and

reading a letter.”

“The contents of it, and hasten,” was the hurried order while

preparing note-book and pencil. The contents were given slowly, as

if, while dictating, the invisible presence desired to afford us time

to put down the words phonetically, for we recognized the Valachian

language of which we know nothing beyond the ability to recognize it.

In such a way a whole page was filled.

“Look west ... toward the third pole of the yourta,” pronounced the

Tartar in his natural voice, though it sounded hollow, and as if

coming from afar. “Her _thought_ is here.”

Then with a convulsive jerk, the upper portion of the Shaman’s body

seemed raised, and his head fell heavily on the writer’s feet, which

he clutched with both his hands. The position was becoming less and

less attractive, but curiosity proved a good ally to courage. In

the west corner was standing, life-like but flickering, unsteady

and mist-like, the form of a dear old friend, a Roumanian lady of

Valachia, a mystic by disposition, but a thorough disbeliever in this

kind of occult phenomena.

“Her thought is here, but her body is lying unconscious. We could not

bring her here otherwise,” said the voice.

We addressed and supplicated the apparition to answer, but all in

vain. The features moved, and the form gesticulated as if in fear

and agony, but no sound broke forth from the shadowy lips; only

we imagined--perchance it was a fancy--hearing as if from a long

distance the Roumanian words, “_Non se póte_” (it cannot be done).

For over two hours, the most substantial, unequivocal proofs that the

Shaman’s astral soul was travelling at the bidding of our unspoken

wish, were given us. Ten months later, we received a letter from our

Valachian friend in response to ours, in which we had enclosed the

page from the note-book, inquiring of her what she had been doing

on that day, and describing the scene in full. She was sitting--she

wrote--in the garden on that morning[1165] prosaically occupied in

boiling some conserves; the letter sent to her was word for word the

copy of the one received by her from her brother; all at once--in

consequence of the heat, she thought--she fainted, and remembered

distinctly _dreaming_ she saw the writer in a desert place which she

accurately described, and sitting under a “gypsy’s tent,” as she

expressed it. “Henceforth,” she added, “I can doubt no longer!”

But our experiment was proved still better. We had directed the

Shaman’s inner _ego_ to the same friend heretofore mentioned in this

chapter, the Kutchi of Lha-Ssa, who travels constantly to British

India and back. _We know_ that he was apprised of our critical

situation in the desert; for a few hours later came help, and we were

rescued by a party of twenty-five horsemen who had been directed by

their chief to find us at the place where we were, which no living

man endowed with common powers could have known. The chief of this

escort was a Shaberon, an “adept” whom we had never seen before, nor

did we after that, for he never left his _soumay_ (lamasery), and

we could have no access to it. But _he was a personal friend of the

Kutchi_.

The above will of course provoke naught but incredulity in the

general reader. But we write for those who will believe; who,

like the writer, understand and know the illimitable powers and

possibilities of the human astral soul. In this case we willingly

believe, nay, we know, that the “spiritual double” of the Shaman did

not act alone, for he was no adept, but simply a medium. According to

a favorite expression of his, as soon as he placed the stone in his

mouth, his “father appeared, dragged him out of his skin, and took

him wherever he wanted,” and at his bidding.

One who has only witnessed the chemical, optical, mechanical, and

sleight-of-hand performances of European prestidigitateurs, is

not prepared to see, without amazement, the open-air and off-hand

exhibitions of Hindu jugglers, to say nothing of fakirs. Of the

mere displays of deceptive dexterity we make no account, for Houdin

and others far excel them in that respect; nor do we dwell upon

feats that permit of confederacy, whether resorted to or not. It is

unquestionably true that non-expert travellers, especially if of an

imaginative turn of mind, exaggerate inordinately. But our remark is

based upon a class of phenomena not to be accounted for upon any of

the familiar hypotheses. “I have seen,” says a gentleman who resided

in India, “a man throw up into the air a number of balls numbered

in succession from one upwards. As each went up--and there was no

deception about their going up--the ball was seen clearly in the

air, getting smaller and smaller, till it disappeared altogether out

of sight. When they were all up, twenty or more, the operator would

politely ask which ball you wanted to see, and then would shout out,

‘No. 1,’ ‘No. 15,’ and so on, as instructed by the spectators, when

the ball demanded would bound to his feet violently from some remote

distance.... These fellows have very scanty clothing, and apparently

no apparatus whatever. Then, I have seen them swallow three different

colored powders, and then, throwing back the head, wash them down

with water, drunk, in the native fashion, in a continuous stream from

a _lotah_, or brass-pot, held at arm’s length from the lips, and keep

on drinking till the swollen body could not hold another drop, and

water overflowed from the lips. Then, these fellows, after squirting

out the water in their mouths, have spat out the three powders on a

clean piece of paper, dry and unmixed.”[1166]

In the eastern portion of Turkey and Persia, have dwelt, from time

immemorial, the warlike tribes of the Koordistan. This people

of purely Indo-European origin, and without a drop of Semitic

blood in them (though some ethnologists seem to think otherwise),

notwithstanding their brigand-like disposition, unite in themselves

the mysticism of the Hindu and the practices of the Assyrio-Chaldean

magians, vast portions of whose territory they have helped themselves

to, and will not give up, to please either Turkey or even all

Europe.[1167] Nominally, Mahometans of the sect of Omar, their

rites and doctrines are purely magical and magian. Even those who

are Christian Nestorians, are Christians but in name. The Kaldany,

numbering nearly 100,000 men, and with their two Patriarchs, are

undeniably rather Manicheans than Nestorians. Many of them are Yezids.

One of these tribes is noted for its fire-worshipping predilections.

At sunrise and sunset, the horsemen alight and, turning towards the

sun, mutter a prayer; while at every new moon they perform mysterious

rites throughout the whole night. They have a tent set apart for

the purpose, and its thick, black, woolen fabric is decorated with

weird signs, worked in bright red and yellow. In the centre is

placed a kind of altar, encircled by three brass bands, to which

are suspended numerous rings by ropes of camel’s hair, which every

worshipper holds with his right hand during the ceremony. On the

altar burns a curious, old-fashioned silver lamp, a relic found

possibly among the ruins of Persepolis.[1168] This lamp, with three

wicks, is an oblong cup with a handle to it, and is evidently of the

class of Egyptian sepulchral lamps, once found in such profusion in

the subterranean caves of Memphis, if we may believe Kircher.[1169]

It widened from its end toward the middle, and its upper part was of

the shape of a heart; the apertures for the wicks forming a triangle,

and its centre being covered by an inverted heliotrope attached to a

gracefully-curved stalk proceeding from the handle of the lamp. This

ornament clearly bespoke its origin. It was one of the sacred vessels

used in sun-worship. The Greeks gave the _heliotrope_ its name from

its strange propensity to ever incline towards the sun. The ancient

Magi used it in their worship; and who knows but Darius had performed

the mysterious rites with its triple light illuminating the face of

the king-hierophant!

If we mention the lamp at all, it is because there happened to be a

strange story in connection with it. What the Koords do, during their

nocturnal rites of lunar-worship, we know but from hearsay; for they

conceal it carefully, and no stranger could be admitted to witness

the ceremony. But every tribe has one old man, sometimes several,

regarded as “holy beings,” who know the past, and can divulge the

secrets of the future. These are greatly honored, and generally

resorted to for information in cases of theft, murders, or danger.

Travelling from one tribe to the other, we passed some time in

company with these Koords. As our object is not autobiographical,

we omit all details that have no immediate bearing upon some occult

fact, and even of these, have room but for a few. We will then simply

state that a very expensive saddle, a carpet, and two Circassian

daggers, richly mounted and chiselled in gold, had been stolen from

the tent, and that the Koords, with the chief of the tribe at the

head, had come, taking Allah for their witness that the culprit could

not belong to their tribe. We believed it, for it would have been

unprecedented among these nomadic tribes of Asia, as famed for the

sacredness in which they hold their guests, as for the ease with

which they plunder and occasionally murder them, when once they have

passed the boundaries of their _aoûl_.

A suggestion was then made by a Georgian belonging to our caravan to

have resort to the light of the _koodian_ (sorcerer) of their tribe.

This was arranged in great secrecy and solemnity, and the interview

appointed to take place at midnight, when the moon would be at its

full. At the stated hour we were conducted to the above-described

tent.

A large hole, or square aperture, was managed in the arched roof of

the tent, and through it poured in vertically the radiant moonbeams,

mingling with the vacillating triple flame of the little lamp.

After several minutes of incantations, addressed, as it seemed to

us, to the moon, the conjurer, an old man of tremendous stature,

whose pyramidal turban touched the top of the tent, produced a

round looking-glass, of the kind known as “Persian mirrors.” Having

unscrewed its cover, he then proceeded to breathe on it, for over ten

minutes, and wipe off the moisture from the surface with a package

of herbs, muttering incantations the while _sotto voce_. After every

wiping the glass became more and more brilliant, till its crystal

seemed to radiate refulgent phosphoric rays in every direction. At

last the operation was ended; the old man, with the mirror in his

hand, remained as motionless as if he had been a statue. “Look,

Hanoum ... look steadily,” he whispered, hardly moving his lips.

Shadows and dark spots began gathering, where one moment before

nothing was reflected but the radiant face of the full moon. A few

more seconds, and there appeared the well-known saddle, carpet, and

daggers, which seemed to be rising as from a deep, clear water, and

becoming with every instant more definitely outlined. Then a still

darker shadow appeared hovering over these objects, which gradually

condensed itself, and then came out, as visibly as at the small end

of a telescope, the full figure of a man crouching over them.

“I know him!” exclaimed the writer. “It is the Tartar who came to us

last night, offering to sell his mule!”

The image disappeared, as if by enchantment. The old man nodded

assent, but remained motionless. Then he muttered again some

strange words, and suddenly began a song. The tune was slow and

monotonous, but after he had sung a few stanzas in the same unknown

tongue, without changing either rhythm or tune, he pronounced,

_recitative_-like, the following words, in his broken Russian:

“Now, Hanoum, look well, whether we will catch him--the fate of the

robber--we will learn this night,” etc.

The same shadows began gathering, and then, almost without

transition, we saw the man lying on his back, in a pool of blood,

across the saddle, and two other men galloping off at a distance.

Horror-stricken, and sick at the sight of this picture, we desired to

see no more. The old man, leaving the tent, called some of the Koords

standing outside, and seemed to give them instructions. Two minutes

later, a dozen of horsemen were galloping off at full speed down the

side of the mountain on which we were encamped.

Early in the morning they returned with the lost objects. The saddle

was all covered with coagulated blood, and of course abandoned to

them. The story they told was, that upon coming in sight of the

fugitive, they saw disappearing over the crest of a distant hill two

horsemen, and upon riding up, the Tartar thief was found dead upon

the stolen property, exactly as we had seen him in the magical glass.

He had been murdered by the two banditti, whose evident design to rob

him was interrupted by the sudden appearance of the party sent by the

old Koodian.

The most remarkable results are produced by the Eastern “wise men,”

by the simple act of breathing upon a person, whether with good or

evil intent. This is pure mesmerism; and among the Persian dervishes

who practice it the animal magnetism is often reinforced by that of

the elements. If a person happens to stand facing a certain wind,

there is always danger, they think; and many of the “learned ones”

in occult matters can never be prevailed upon to go at sunset in

a certain direction from whence blows the wind. We have known an

old Persian from Baku,[1170] on the Caspian Sea, who had the most

unenviable reputation for _throwing spells_ through the timely help

of this wind, which blows but too often at that town, as its Persian

name itself shows.[1171] If a victim, against whom the wrath of the

old fiend was kindled, happened to be facing this wind, he would

appear, as if by enchantment, cross the road rapidly, and breathe in

his face. From that moment, the latter would find himself afflicted

with every evil--he was under the spell of the “evil eye.”

The employment of the human breath by the sorcerer as an adjunct

for the accomplishment of his nefarious purpose, is strikingly

illustrated in several terrible cases recorded in the French

annals--notably those of several Catholic priests. In fact, this

species of sorcery was known from the oldest times. The Emperor

Constantine (in Statute iv., _Code de Malef._, etc.) prescribed

the severest penalties against such as should employ sorcery to do

violence to chastity and excite unlawful passion. Augustine (_Cité

de Dieu_) warns against it; Jerome, Gregory, Nazianzen and many

other ecclesiastical authorities, lend their denunciation of a crime

not uncommon among the clergy. Baffet (book v., tit. 19, chap. 6)

relates the case of the curé of Peifane, who accomplished the ruin of

a highly-respected and virtuous lady parishioner, the Dame du Lieu,

by resort to sorcery, and was burned alive for it by the Parliament

of Grenoble. In 1611, a priest named Gaufridy was burned by the

Parliament of Provence for seducing a penitent at the confessional,

named Magdelaine de la Palud, _by breathing upon her_, and thus

throwing her into a delirium of sinful love for him.

The above cases are cited in the official report of the famous case

of Father Girard, a Jesuit priest of very great influence, who,

in 1731, was tried before the Parliament of Aix, France, for the

seduction of his parishioner, Mlle. Catherine Cadière, of Toulon,

and certain revolting crimes in connection with the same. The

indictment charged that the offence was brought about by resort

to sorcery. Mlle. Cadière was a young lady noted for her beauty,

piety, and exemplary virtues. Her attention to her religious

duties was exceptionally rigorous, and that was the cause of her

perdition. Father Girard’s eye fell upon her, and he began to

manœuvre for her ruin. Gaining the confidence of the girl and her

family by his apparent great sanctity, he one day made a pretext

to blow his breath upon her. The girl became instantly affected

with a violent passion for him. She also had ecstatic visions of a

religious character, stigmata, or blood-marks of the “Passion,” and

hysterical convulsions. The long-sought opportunity of seclusion

with his penitent finally offering, the Jesuit breathed upon her

again, and before the poor girl recovered her senses, his object had

been accomplished. By sophistry and the excitation of her religious

fervor, he kept up this illicit relation for months, without her

suspecting that she had done anything wrong. Finally, however, her

eyes were opened, her parents informed, and the priest was arraigned.

Judgment was rendered October 12th, 1731. Of twenty-five judges,

twelve voted to send him to the stake. The criminal priest was

defended by all the power of the Society of Jesus, and it is said

that a million francs were spent in trying to suppress the evidence

produced at the trial. The facts, however, were printed in a work

(in 5 vols., 16mo), now rare, entitled _Recueil Général des Pièces

contenues au Procez du Père Jean-Baptiste Girard, Jesuite_, etc.,

etc.[1172]

We have noted the circumstance that, while under the sorcerous

influence of Father Girard, and in illicit relations with him, Mlle.

Cadière’s body was marked with the _stigmata_ of the _Passion_,

viz.: the bleeding wounds of thorns on her brow, of nails in her

hands and feet, and of a lance-cut in her side. It should be added

that the same marks were seen upon the bodies of six other penitents

of this priest, viz.: Mesdames Guyol, Laugier, Grodier, Allemande,

Batarelle, and Reboul. In fact, it became commonly remarked that

Father Girard’s handsome parishioners were strangely given to

ecstasies and _stigmata_! Add this to the fact that, in the case

of Father Gaufridy, above noted, the same thing was proved, upon

surgical testimony, to have happened to Mlle. de Palud, and we have

something worth the attention of all (especially spiritualists) who

imagine these _stigmata_ are produced by pure spirits. Barring the

agency of the Devil, whom we have quietly put to rest in another

chapter, Catholics would be puzzled, we fancy, despite all their

infallibility, to distinguish between the stigmata of the sorcerers

and those produced through the intervention of the Holy Ghost or the

angels. The Church records abound in instances of alleged diabolical

imitations of these signs of saintship, but, as we have remarked, the

Devil is out of court.

By those who have followed us thus far, it will naturally be asked,

to what practical issue this book tends; much has been said about

magic and its potentiality, much of the immense antiquity of its

practice. Do we wish to affirm that the occult sciences ought to be

studied and practiced throughout the world? Would we replace modern

spiritualism with the ancient magic? Neither; the substitution could

not be made, nor the study universally prosecuted, without incurring

the risk of enormous public dangers. At this moment, a well-known

spiritualist and lecturer on mesmerism is imprisoned on the charge

of raping a subject whom he had hypnotized. A sorcerer is a public

enemy, and mesmerism may most readily be turned into the worst of

sorceries.

We would have neither scientists, theologians, nor spiritualists turn

practical magicians, but all to realize that there was true science,

profound religion, and genuine phenomena before this modern era. We

would that all who have a voice in the education of the masses should

first know and then _teach_ that the safest guides to human happiness

and enlightenment are those writings which have descended to us from

the remotest antiquity; and that nobler spiritual aspirations and a

higher average morality prevail in the countries where the people

take their precepts as the rule of their lives. We would have all to

realize that magical, _i.e._, spiritual powers exist in every man,

and those few to practice them who feel called to teach, and are

ready to pay the price of discipline and self-conquest which their

development exacts.

Many men have arisen who had glimpses of the truth, and fancied

they had it all. Such have failed to achieve the good they might

have done and sought to do, because vanity has made them thrust

their personality into such undue prominence as to interpose it

between their believers and the _whole_ truth that lay behind. The

world needs no sectarian church, whether of Buddha, Jesus, Mahomet,

Swedenborg, Calvin, or any other. There being but ONE Truth, man

requires but one church--the Temple of God within us, walled in by

matter but penetrable by any one who can find the way; _the pure in

heart see God_.

_The trinity of nature is the lock of magic, the trinity of man the

key that fits it._ Within the solemn precincts of the sanctuary the

SUPREME had and has no name. It is unthinkable and unpronounceable;

and yet every man finds in himself his god. “Who art thou, O fair

being?” inquires the disembodied soul, in the _Khordah-Avesta_, at

the gates of Paradise. “I am, O Soul, _thy good and pure thoughts_,

thy works and thy _good law_ ... thy angel ... and thy god.” Then

man, or the soul, is reunited with ITSELF, for this “Son of God” is

one with him; it is his own mediator, the _god_ of his human soul and

his “Justifier.” “_God not revealing himself immediately to man, the

spirit is his interpreter_,” says Plato in the _Banquet_.

Besides, there are many good reasons why the study of magic, except

in its broad philosophy, is nearly impracticable in Europe and

America. Magic being what it is, the most difficult of all sciences

to learn experimentally--its acquisition is practically beyond the

reach of the majority of white-skinned people; and that, whether

their effort is made at home or in the East. Probably not more than

one man in a million of European blood is fitted--either physically,

morally, or psychologically--to become a practical magician, and

not one in ten millions would be found endowed with all these three

qualifications as required for the work. Civilized nations lack

the phenomenal powers of endurance, both mental and physical, of

the Easterns; the favoring temperamental idiosyncrasies of the

Orientals are utterly wanting in them. In the Hindu, the Arabian,

the Thibetan, an intuitive perception of the possibilities of occult

natural forces in subjection to human will, comes by inheritance;

and in them, the physical senses as well as the spiritual are far

more finely developed than in the Western races. Notwithstanding the

notable difference of thickness between the skulls of a European and

a Southern Hindu, this difference, being a purely climatic result,

due to the intensity of the sun’s rays, involves no psychological

principles. Furthermore, there would be tremendous difficulties in

the way of _training_, if we can so express it. Contaminated by

centuries of dogmatic superstition, by an ineradicable--though quite

unwarranted--sense of superiority over those whom the English term

so contemptuously “niggers,” the white European would hardly submit

himself to the practical tuition of either Kopt, Brahman, or Lama.

To become a neophyte, one must be ready to devote himself heart and

soul to the study of mystic sciences. Magic--most imperative of

mistresses--brooks no rival. Unlike other sciences, a theoretical

knowledge of formulæ without mental capacities or soul powers, is

utterly useless in magic. The spirit must hold in complete subjection

the combativeness of what is loosely termed educated reason, until

facts have vanquished cold human sophistry.

Those best prepared to appreciate occultism are the spiritualists,

although, through prejudice, until now they have been the bitterest

opponents to its introduction to public notice. Despite all foolish

negations and denunciations, their phenomena are real. Despite, also,

their own assertions they are wholly misunderstood by themselves. The

totally insufficient theory of the constant agency of disembodied

human spirits in their production has been the bane of the _Cause_.

A thousand mortifying rebuffs have failed to open their reason

or intuition to the truth. Ignoring the teachings of the past,

they have discovered no substitute. We offer them philosophical

deduction instead of unverifiable hypothesis, scientific analysis and

demonstration instead of undiscriminating faith. Occult philosophy

gives them the means of meeting the reasonable requirements of

science, and frees them from the humiliating necessity to accept the

oracular teachings of “intelligences,” which as a rule have less

intelligence than a child at school. So based and so strengthened,

modern phenomena would be in a position to command the attention

and enforce the respect of those who carry with them public

opinion. Without invoking such help, spiritualism must continue to

vegetate, equally repulsed--not without cause--both by scientists

and theologians. In its modern aspect, it is neither a science, a

religion, nor a philosophy.

Are we unjust; does any intelligent spiritualist complain that we

have misstated the case? To what can he point us but to a confusion

of theories, a tangle of hypotheses mutually contradictory? Can he

affirm that spiritualism, even with its thirty years of phenomena,

has any defensible philosophy; nay, that there is anything like an

established method that is generally accepted and followed by its

recognized representatives?

And yet, there are many thoughtful, scholarly, earnest writers among

the spiritualists, scattered the world over. There are men who, in

addition to a scientific mental training and a reasoned faith in

the phenomena _per se_, possess all the requisites of leaders of

the movement. How is it then, that, except throwing off an isolated

volume or so, or occasional contributions to journalism, they all

refrain from taking any active part in the formation of a system of

philosophy? This is from no lack of moral courage, as their writings

well show. Nor because of indifference, for enthusiasm abounds,

and they are sure of their facts. Nor is it from lack of capacity,

because many are men of mark, the peers of our best minds. It is

simply for the reason that, almost without exception, they are

bewildered by the contradictions they encounter, and wait for their

tentative hypotheses to be verified by further experience. Doubtless

this is the part of wisdom. It is that adopted by Newton, who, with

the heroism of an honest, unselfish heart, withheld for seventeen

years the promulgation of his theory of gravitation, only because he

had not verified it to his own satisfaction.

Spiritualism, whose aspect is rather that of aggression than of

defense, has tended toward iconoclasm, and so far has done well.

But, in pulling down, it does not rebuild. Every really substantial

truth it erects is soon buried under an avalanche of chimeras, until

all are in one confused ruin. At every step of advance, at the

acquisition of every new vantage-ground of FACT, some cataclysm,

either in the shape of fraud and exposure, or of premeditated

treachery, occurs, and throws the spiritualists back powerless

because they _cannot_ and their invisible friends _will_ not (or

perchance can, less than themselves) make good their claims.

Their fatal weakness is that they have but _one_ theory to offer

in explanation of their challenged facts--the agency of _human

disembodied spirits_, and the medium’s complete subjection to them.

They will attack those who differ in views with them with a vehemence

only warranted by a better cause; they will regard every argument

contradicting their theory as an imputation upon their common sense

and powers of observation; and they will positively refuse even to

argue the question.

How, then, can spiritualism be ever elevated to the distinction of a

science? This, as Professor Tyndall shows, includes three absolutely

necessary elements: observation of facts; induction of laws from

these facts; and verification of those laws by constant practical

experience. What experienced observer will maintain that spiritualism

presents either one of these three elements? The medium is not

uniformly surrounded by such test conditions that we may be sure of

the facts; the inductions from the supposed facts are unwarranted

in the absence of such verification; and, as a corollary, there has

been no sufficient verification of those hypotheses by experience. In

short, the prime element of accuracy has, as a rule, been lacking.

That we may not be charged with desire to misrepresent the position

of spiritualism, at the date of this present writing, or accused

of withholding credit for advances actually made, we will cite a

few passages from the London _Spiritualist_ of March 2, 1877. At

the fortnightly meeting, held February 19, a debate occurred upon

the subject of “Ancient Thought and Modern Spiritualism.” Some of

the most intelligent Spiritualists of England participated. Among

these was Mr. W. Stainton Moses, M.A., who has recently given some

attention to the relation between ancient and modern phenomena. He

said: “Popular spiritualism is not scientific; it does very little in

the way of scientific verification. Moreover, exoteric spiritualism

is, to a large extent, devoted to presumed communion with personal

friends, or to the gratification of curiosity, or the mere evolution

of marvels.... The truly esoteric science of spiritualism is very

rare, and not more rare than valuable. To it we must look to the

origination of knowledge which may be developed exoterically....

We proceed too much on the lines of the physicists; our tests are

crude, and often illusory; we know too little of the Protean power

of spirit. Here the ancients were far ahead of us, and can teach us

much. We have not introduced any certainty into the conditions--a

necessary prerequisite for true scientific experiment. This is

largely owing to the fact that our circles are constructed on no

principle.... We have not even mastered the elementary truths which

the ancients knew and acted on, _e.g._, the isolation of mediums.

We have been so occupied with wonder-hunting that we have hardly

tabulated the phenomena, or propounded one theory to account for

the production of the simplest of them.... We have never faced the

question: What is the intelligence? This is the great blot, the most

frequent source of error, and here we might learn with advantage

from the ancients. There is the strongest disinclination among

spiritualists to admit the possibility of the truth of occultism.

In this respect they are as hard to convince as is the outer world

of spiritualism. Spiritualists start with a fallacy, viz.: that all

phenomena are caused by the action of departed human spirits; _they

have not looked into the powers of the human spirit_; they do not

know the extent to which spirit acts, how far it reaches, what it

underlies.”

Our position could not be better defined. If Spiritualism has a

future; it is in the keeping of such men as Mr. Stainton Moses.

Our work is done--would that it were better done! But, despite our

inexperience in the art of book-making, and the serious difficulty of

writing in a foreign tongue, we hope we have succeeded in saying some

things that will remain in the minds of the thoughtful. The enemies

of truth have been all counted, and all passed in review. Modern

science, powerless to satisfy the aspirations of the race, makes the

future a void, and bereaves man of hope. In one sense, it is like the

Baital Pachisi, the Hindu vampire of popular fancy, which lives in

dead bodies, and feeds but on the rottenness of matter. The theology

of Christendom has been rubbed threadbare by the most serious minds

of the day. It is found to be, on the whole, subversive, rather than

promotive of spirituality and good morals. Instead of expounding the

rules of divine law and justice, it teaches but _itself_. In place

of an ever-living Deity, it preaches the Evil One, and makes him

indistinguishable from God Himself! “Lead us not into temptation”

is the aspiration of Christians. Who, then, is the tempter? Satan?

No; the prayer is not addressed to him. It is that tutelar genius

who hardened the heart of Pharaoh, put an evil spirit into Saul,

sent lying messengers to the prophets, and tempted David to sin; it

is--the _Bible_-God of Israel!

Our examination of the multitudinous religious faiths that mankind,

early and late, have professed, most assuredly indicates that they

have all been derived from one primitive source. It would seem as

if they were all but different modes of expressing the yearning of

the imprisoned human soul for intercourse with supernal spheres. As

the white ray of light is decomposed by the prism into the various

colors of the solar spectrum, so the beam of divine truth, in passing

through the _three-sided_ prism of man’s nature, has been broken

up into vari-colored fragments called RELIGIONS. And, as the rays

of the spectrum, by imperceptible shadings, merge into each other,

so the great theologies that have appeared at different degrees of

divergence from the original source, have been connected by minor

schisms, schools, and off-shoots from the one side or the other.

Combined, their aggregate represents one eternal truth; separate,

they are but shades of human error and the signs of imperfection. The

worship of the Vedic _pitris_ is fast becoming the worship of the

spiritual portion of mankind. It but needs the right perception of

things objective to finally discover that the only world of reality

is the subjective.

What has been contemptuously termed Paganism, was ancient wisdom

replete with Deity; and Judaism and its offspring, Christianity and

Islamism, derived whatever of inspiration they contained from this

ethnic parent. Pre-Vedic Brahmanism and Buddhism are the double

source from which all religions sprung; Nirvana is the ocean to which

all tend. For the purposes of a philosophical analysis, we need not

take account of the enormities which have blackened the record of

many of the world’s religions. True faith is the embodiment of divine

charity; those who minister at its altars, are but human. As we turn

the bloodstained pages of ecclesiastical history, we find that,

whoever may have been the hero, and whatever costumes the actors may

have worn, the plot of the tragedy has ever been the same. But the

Eternal Night was in and behind all, and we pass from what we see to

that which is invisible to the eye of sense. Our fervent wish has

been to show true souls how they may lift aside the curtain, and, in

the brightness of that Night made Day, look with undazzled gaze upon

the UNVEILED TRUTH.

THE END.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] These figures are copied from the “Religious Statistics

of the United States for the year 1871.”

[2] These are: The _Baptists_, _Congregationalists_,

_Episcopalians_, Northern _Methodists_, Southern

_Methodists_, Methodists _various_, Northern

_Presbyterians_, Southern _Presbyterians_, _United

Presbyterians_, _United Brethren_, _Brethren in

Christ_, _Reformed Dutch_, _Reformed German_, _Reformed

Presbyterians_, _Cumberland Presbyterians_.

[3] H. Maudsley: “Body and Mind.”

[4] “Boston Sunday Herald,” November 5, 1876.

[5] See the self-glorification of the present Pope in the

work entitled, “Speeches of Pope Pius IX.” by Don

Pascale de Franciscis; and the famous pamphlet of that

name by the Rt. Hon. W. E. Gladstone. The latter quotes

from the work named the following sentence pronounced

by the Pope: “My wish is that all governments should

know that I am speaking in this strain.... And I have

_the right_ to speak, _even more than Nathan the

prophet_ to David the king, _and a great deal more than

St. Ambrose had to Theodosius_!!”

[6] See King’s “Gnostics,” and other works.

[7] Des Mousseaux: “La Magie au XIXme Siècle,” chap. i.

[8] Hargrave Jennings: “The Rosicrucians,” pp. 228-241.

[9] Des Mousseaux: “Hauts Phénomenes de la Magie.”

[10] Don Pasquale di Franciscis: “Discorsi del Sommo

Pontefice Pio IX.,” Part i., p. 340.

[11] “Speeches of Pius IX.,” p. 14. Am. Edition.

[12] Vide “Speeches of Pope Pius IX.,” by Don Pasq. di

Franciscis; Gladstone’s pamphlet on this book; Draper’s

“Conflict between Religion and Science,” and others.

[13] The fact is given to us by an eye-witness who has visited

the church several times; a Roman Catholic, who felt

perfectly _horrified_, as he expressed it.

[14] Referring to the seed planted by Jesus and his Apostles.

[15] “Chips,” vol. i., p. 26, Preface.

[16] Mallet: “Northern Antiquities.”

[17] Ether is both _pure_ and _impure_ fire. The composition

of the latter comprises all its visible forms, such as

the “correlation of forces”--heat, flame, electricity,

etc. The former is the _Spirit_ of Fire. The difference

is purely alchemical.

[18] See “Inquiry into the Nature and Place of Hell,” by

Rev. T. Surnden.

[19] Revelation xvi. 8-9.

[20] Aristotle mentions Pythagoreans who placed the sphere of

fire in the sun, and named it _Jupiter’s Prison_. See

“De Cœlo,” lib. ii.

[21] “De Civit. Dei,” 1, xxi., c. 17.

[22] “Demonologia and Hell,” p. 289.

[23] “Les Hauts Phénomènes de la Magie,” p. v., Preface.

[24] Dr. Stanley: “Lectures on the Eastern Church,” p. 407.

[25] In the government of Tambov, a gentleman, a rich landed

proprietor, had a curious case happen in his family

during the Hungarian campaign of 1848. His only and

much-beloved nephew, whom, having no children, he had

adopted as a son, was in the Russian army. The elderly

couple had a portrait of his--a water-color painting--

constantly, during the meals, placed on the table in

front of the young man’s usual seat. One evening as the

family, with some friends, were at their early tea, the

glass over the portrait, without any one touching it,

was shattered to atoms with a loud explosion. As the

aunt of the young soldier caught the picture in her hand

she saw the forehead and head besmeared with blood. The

guests, in order to quiet her, attributed the blood to

her having cut her fingers with the broken glass. But,

examine as they would, they could not find the vestige

of a cut on her fingers, and no one had touched the

picture but herself. Alarmed at her state of excitement

the husband, pretending to examine the portrait more

closely, cut his finger on purpose, and then tried to

assure her that it was his blood and that, in the first

excitement, he had touched the frame without any one

remarking it. All was in vain, the old lady felt sure

that Dimitry was killed. She began to have masses said

for him daily at the village church, and arrayed the

whole household in deep mourning. Several weeks later,

an official communication was received from the colonel

of the regiment, stating that their nephew was killed by

a fragment of a shell which had carried off the upper

part of his head.

[26] Executions for witchcraft took place, not much later than

a century ago, in other of the American provinces.

Notoriously there were negroes executed in New Jersey by

burning at the stake--the penalty denounced in several

States. Even in South Carolina, in 1865, when the State

government was “reconstructed,” after the civil war, the

statutes inflicting death for witchcraft were found to

be still unrepealed. It is not a hundred years since

they have been enforced to the murderous letter of their

text.

[27] _Vide_ the title-page on the English translation of

Mayerhoff’s “Reuchlin und Seine Zeit,” Berlin, 1830.

“The Life and Times of John Reuchlin, or Capnion, the

Father of the German Reformation,” by F. Barham, London,

1843.

[28] Lord Coke: 3 “Institutes,” fol. 44.

[29] _Vide_ “The Life of St. Gregory of Tours.”

[30] Translated from the original document in the Archives of

Orleans, France; also see “Sortes and Sortilegium;”

“Life of Peter de Blois.”

[31] “Miracles and Modern Spiritualism.”

[32] There were two chairs of the titular apostle at Rome. The

clergy, frightened at the uninterrupted evidence

furnished by scientific research, at last decided to

confront the enemy, and we find the “Chronique des Arts”

giving the cleverest, and at the same time most

_Jesuitical_, explanation of the fact. According to

their story, “The _increase_ in the number of the

faithful decided Peter upon making Rome henceforth the

centre of his action. The cemetery of Ostrianum was too

distant and would _not suffice for the reünions of the

Christians_. The motive which had induced the Apostle to

confer on _Linus and Cletus_ successively the episcopal

character, in order to render them capable of sharing

the solicitudes of a church whose extent was to be

without limits, led naturally to a multiplication of the

places of meeting. The particular residence of Peter was

therefore fixed at Viminal; and there was established

that mysterious Chair, the symbol of power and truth.

The august seat which was venerated at the Ostrian

Catacombs was not, however, removed. Peter still visited

this cradle of the Roman Church, and often, without

doubt, exercised his holy functions there. A _second_

Chair, expressing the same mystery as the first, was set

up at Cornelia, and it is this which has come down to us

through the ages.”

Now, so far from it being possible that there ever were

two genuine chairs of this kind, the majority of critics

show that Peter never was at Rome at all; the reasons

are many and unanswerable. Perhaps we had best begin by

pointing to the works of Justin Martyr. This great

champion of Christianity, writing in the early part of

the second century _in Rome_, where he fixed his abode,

eager to get hold of the least proof in favor of the

truth for which he suffered, seems _perfectly unconscious

of St. Peter’s existence_!!

Neither does any other writer of any consequence mention

him in connection with the Church of Rome, earlier than

the days of Irenæus, when the latter set himself to

invent a new religion, drawn from the depths of his

imagination. We refer the reader anxious to learn more

to the able work of Mr. George Reber, entitled “The

Christ of Paul.” The arguments of this author are

conclusive. The above article in the “Chronique des

Arts,” speaks of the _increase_ of the faithful to such

an extent that Ostrianum could not contain the number of

Christians. Now, if Peter was at Rome at all--runs Mr.

Reber’s argument--it must have been between the years A.

D. 64 and 69; for at 64 he was at Babylon, from whence

he wrote epistles and letters to Rome, and at some time

between 64 and 68 (the reign of Nero) he either died a

martyr or in his bed, for Irenæus makes him deliver the

Church of Rome, together with Paul (!?) (whom he

persecuted and quarrelled with all his life), into the

hands of _Linus_, who became bishop in 69 (see Reber’s

“Christ of Paul,” p. 122). We will treat of it more

fully in chapter iii.

Now, we ask, in the name of common sense, how could the

_faithful_ of Peter’s Church _increase_ at such a rate,

when Nero trapped and killed them like so many mice

during his reign? History shows the few Christians

fleeing from Rome, wherever they could, to avoid the

persecution of the emperor, and the “Chronique des Arts”

makes them increase and multiply! “Christ,” the article

goes on to say, “willed that this visible sign of the

doctrinal authority of his vicar should also have its

portion of immortality; one can follow it from age to

age in the documents of the Roman Church.” Tertullian

formally attests its existence in his book “De

Præscriptionibus.” Eager to learn everything concerning

so interesting a subject, we would like to be shown when

did _Christ_ WILL anything of the kind? However:

“Ornaments of ivory have been fitted to the front and

back of the chair, but only on those parts repaired with

acacia-wood. Those which cover the panel in front are

divided into three superimposed rows, each containing

six plaques of ivory, on which are engraved various

subjects, among others the ‘Labors of Hercules.’ Several

of the plaques were wrongly placed, and seemed to have

been affixed to the chair at a time when the remains of

antiquity were employed as ornaments, without much

regard to fitness.” This is the point. The article was

written simply as a clever answer to several facts

published during the present century. Bower, in his

“History of the Popes” (vol. ii., p. 7), narrates that

in the year 1662, while cleaning one of the chairs, “the

‘Twelve Labors of Hercules’ unluckily appeared engraved

upon it,” after which the chair was removed and another

substituted. But in 1795, when Bonaparte’s troops

occupied Rome, the chair was again examined. This time

there was found the Mahometan confession of faith, in

Arabic letters: “There is no Deity but Allah, and

Mahomet is his Apostle.” (See appendix to “Ancient

Symbol-Worship,” by H. M. Westropp and C. Staniland

Wake.) In the appendix Prof. Alexander Wilder very

justly remarks as follows: “We presume that the Apostle

of the Circumcision, as Paul, his great rival, styles

him, was never at the Imperial City, nor had a successor

there, not even in the ghetto. The ‘Chair of Peter,’

therefore, is _sacred_ rather than apostolical. Its

sanctity proceeded, however, from the esoteric religion

of the former times of Rome. The hierophant of the

Mysteries probably occupied it on the day of initiations,

when exhibiting to the candidates the _Petroma_ (stone

tablet containing the last revelation made by the

hierophant to the neophyte for initiation).”

[33] Joshua xxiv. 15.

[34] One of the most surprising facts that have come under our

observation, is that students of profound research

should not couple the frequent recurrence of these

“unexpected and almost miraculous” discoveries of

important documents, at the most opportune moments, with

a premeditated design. Is it so strange that the

custodians of “Pagan” lore, seeing that the proper

moment had arrived, should cause the needed document,

book, or relic to fall as if by accident in the right

man’s way? Geological surveyors and explorers even as

competent as Humboldt and Tschuddi, have not discovered

the hidden mines from which the Peruvian Incas dug their

treasure, although the latter confesses that the present

degenerate Indians have the secret. In 1839, Perring,

the archæologist, proposed to the sheik of an Arab

village two purses of gold, if he helped him to discover

the entrance to the hidden passage leading to the

sepulchral chambers in the North Pyramid of Doshoor. But

though his men were out of employment and half-starved,

the sheik proudly refused to “sell the secret of the

dead,” promising to show it _gratis_, when _the time

would come for it_. Is it, then, impossible that in some

other regions of the earth are guarded the remains of

that glorious literature of the past, which was the

fruit of its majestic civilization? What is there so

surprising in the idea? Who knows but that as the

Christian Church has unconsciously begotten free thought

by reaction against her own cruelty, rapacity, and

dogmatism, the public mind may be glad to follow the

lead of the Orientalists, away from Jerusalem and

towards Ellora; and that then much more will be

discovered that is now hidden?

[35] “Chips from a German Workshop,” vol. i., p. 373; Semitic

Monotheism.

[36] An after-thought has made us fancy that we can understand

what is meant by the following sentences of _Moses of

Chorenè_: “The ancient Asiatics,” says he, “five

centuries before our era--and especially the Hindus, the

Persians, and the Chaldeans, had in their possession a

quantity of historical and scientific books. These works

were partially borrowed, partially translated in the

Greek language, mostly since the Ptolemies had established

the Alexandrian library and encouraged the writers by

their liberalities, so that the Greek language became

the deposit of all the sciences” (“History of Armenia”).

Therefore, the greater part of the literature included

in the 700,000 volumes of the Alexandrian Library was

due to India, and her next neighbors.

[37] Bonamy says in “Le Bibliotheque d’Alexandrie,” quoting,

we suppose, the Presbyter Orosius, who was an

eye-witness, “_thirty_ years later.”

[38] Since the above was written, the spirit here described

has been beautifully exemplified at Barcelona, Spain,

where the Bishop Fray Joachim invited the local

spiritualists to witness a formal burning of spiritual

books. We find the account in a paper called “The

Revelation,” published at Alicante, which sensibly adds

that the performance was “a caricature of the memorable

epoch of the Inquisition.”

[39] E. Pococke gives the variations of the name Buddha as:

Bud’ha, Buddha, Booddha, Butta, Pout, Pote, Pto, Pte,

Phte, Phtha, Phut, etc., etc. See “India in Greece,”

Note, Appendix, 397.

[40] The tiara of the Pope is also a perfect copy of that of

the Dalaï-Lama of Thibet.

[41] It is the traditional policy of the College of Cardinals

to elect, whenever practicable, the new Pope among the

oldest valetudinarians. The hierophant of the Eleusinia

was likewise always an old man, and unmarried.

[42] This is not correct.

[43] “Le Spiritisme dans le Monde,” p. 28.

[44] Translated by Prof. Draper for “Conflict between Religion

and Science;” book xii.

[45] “Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire.”

[46] “Sohar Comment.,” Gen. xl. 10; “Kabbal. Denud.,” i., 528.

[47] “The beings which the philosophers of other peoples

distinguish by the name ‘Dæmons,’ Moses names ‘Angels,’”

says Philo Judæus.--“De Gigant,” i. 253.

[48] Deuteronomy xxxiii. 2., אשדת is translated “fiery

law” in the English Bible.

[49] See Rees’s “Encyclopædia,” art. Kabala.

[50] “Histor. Manich.,” Liv. vi., ch. i., p. 291.

[51] “The altogether mystical coloring of Christianity

harmonized with the Essene rules of life and opinions,

and it is not improbable that Jesus and John the Baptist

were initiated into the Essene Mysteries, to which

Christianity may be indebted for many a form of

expression; as indeed the community of Therapeutæ, an

offspring of the Essene order, soon belonged wholly to

Christianity” (“Yost,” i., 411--quoted by the author of

“Sod, the Son of the Man”).

[52] A. Franck: “Die Kabbala.”

[53] “Le Spiritisme dans le Monde.”

[54] “Asiàt. Trans.,” i., p. 579.

[55] Louis Jacolliot: “The Initiates of the Ancient Temples.”

[56] Franck: “Die Kabbala.”

[57] See “Conflict between Religion and Science,” p. 224.

[58] See “Sohar;” “Kab. Den.;” “The Book of Mystery,” the

oldest book of the kabalists; and Milman: “History of

Christianity,” pp. 212, 213-215.

[59] Milman: “History of Christianity,” p. 280. The _Kurios_

and _Kora_ are mentioned repeatedly in “Justin Martyr.”

See p. 97.

[60] See Olshausen: “Biblischer Commentar über sammtliche

Schriften des Neuen Testaments,” ii.

[61] There is a wide-spread _superstition_ (?), especially

among the Slavonians and Russians, that the _magician_

or wizard cannot die before he has passed the “word” to

a successor. So deeply is it rooted among the popular

beliefs, that we do not imagine there is a person in

Russia who has not heard of it. It is but too easy to

trace the origin of this superstition to the old

Mysteries which had been for ages spread all over the

globe. The ancient _Variago-Rouss_ had his Mysteries in

the North as well as in the South of Russia; and there

are many relics of the by-gone faith scattered in the

lands watered by the sacred Dnieper, the baptismal

Jordan of all Russia. No _Znâchar_ (the knowing one) or

_Koldoun_ (sorcerer), male or female, can die in fact

before he has passed the mysterious word to some one.

The popular belief is that unless he does that he will

linger and suffer for weeks and months, and were he even

finally to get liberated, it would be only to wander on

earth, unable to quit its region unless he finds a

successor even after death. How far the belief may be

verified by others, we do not know, but we have seen a

case which, for its tragical and mysterious _dénoument_,

deserves to be given here as an illustration of the

subject in hand. An old man, of over one hundred years

of age, a peasant-serf in the government of S----,

having a wide reputation as a sorcerer and healer, was

said to be dying for several days, and still unable to

die. The report spread like lightning, and the poor old

fellow was shunned by even the members of his own

family, as the latter were afraid of receiving the

unwelcome inheritance. At last the public rumor in the

village was that he had sent a message to a colleague

less versed than himself in the art, and who, although

he lived in a distant district, was nevertheless coming

at the call, and would be on hand early on the following

morning. There was at that time on a visit to the

proprietor of the village a young physician who,

belonging to the famous school of _Nihilism_ of that

day, laughed outrageously at the idea. The master of the

house, being a very pious man, and but half inclined to

make so cheap of the “superstition,” smiled--as the

saying goes--but with one corner of his mouth. Meanwhile

the young skeptic, to gratify his curiosity, had made a

visit to the dying man, had found that he could not live

twenty-four hours longer, and, determined to prove the

absurdity of the “superstition,” had taken means to

detain the coming “successor” at a neighboring village.

Early in the morning a company of four persons,

comprising the physician, the master of the place, his

daughter, and the writer of the present lines, went to

the hut in which was to be achieved the triumph of

skepticism. The dying man was expecting his liberator

every moment, and his agony at the delay became extreme.

We tried to persuade the physician to humor the patient,

were it for humanity’s sake. He only laughed. Getting

hold with one hand of the old wizard’s pulse, he took

out his watch with the other, and remarking in French

that all would be over in a few moments, remained

absorbed in his professional experiment. The scene was

solemn and appalling. Suddenly the door opened, and a

young boy entered with the intelligence, addressed to

the doctor, that the _koum_ was lying dead drunk at a

neighboring village, and, according to _his orders_,

could not be with “grandfather” till the next day. The

young doctor felt confused, and was just going to

address the old man, when, as quick as lightning, the

Znâchar snatched his hand from his grasp and raised

himself in bed. His deep-sunken eyes flashed; his

yellow-white beard and hair streaming round his livid

face made him a dreadful sight. One instant more, and

his long, sinewy arms were clasped round the physician’s

neck, as with a supernatural force he drew the doctor’s

head closer and closer to his own face, where he held

him as in a vise, while _whispering_ words inaudible to

us in his ear. The skeptic struggled to free himself,

but before he had time to make one effective motion the

work had evidently been done; the hands relaxed their

grasp, and the old sorcerer fell on his back--a corpse!

A strange and ghostly smile had settled on the stony

lips--a smile of fiendish triumph and satisfied revenge;

but the doctor looked paler and more ghastly than the

dead man himself. He stared round with an expression of

terror difficult to describe, and without answering our

inquiries rushed out wildly from the hut, in the

direction of the woods. Messengers were sent after him,

but he was nowhere to be found. About sunset a report

was heard in the forest. An hour later his body was

brought home, with a bullet through his head, for the

skeptic had blown out his brains!

What made him commit suicide? What magic spell of

sorcery had the “word” of the dying wizard left on his

mind? Who can tell?

[62] “Anacalypsis;” also Tertullian.

[63] “Anthon,” art. Eleusinia.

[64] Dunlap: “Musah, His Mysteries,” p. 71.

[65] 1 Kings, viii. 2.

[66] Let us remember in this connection that Col. Van Kennedy

has long ago declared his opinion that Babylonia was

once the seat of the Sanscrit language and of

Brahmanical influence.

[67] “‘The Agrouchada-Parikshai,’ which discloses, to a certain

extent, the order of initiation, does not give the

formula of evocation,” says Jacolliot, and he adds that,

according to some Brahmans, “these formula were never

written, they were and still are imparted in a whisper

in the ear of the adepts” (“_mouth to ear, and the word

at low breath_,” say the Masons).--“Le Spiritisme dans

le Monde,” p. 108.

[68] “Le Spiritisme dans le Monde,” p. 108.

[69] W. D. Whitney: “Oriental and Linguistic Studies, The

Veda, etc.”

[70] Jacolliot seems to have very logically demonstrated the

absurd contradictions of some philologists, anthropologists,

and Orientalists, in regard to their _Akkado and Semito_

mania. “There is not, perhaps, much of good faith in

their negations,” he writes. “The scientists who invent

Turanian peoples know very well that in _Manu_ alone,

there is more of veritable science and philosophy than

in all that this pretended Semitism has hitherto

furnished us with; but they are the slaves of a path

which some of them are following the last fifteen,

twenty, or even thirty years.... We expect, therefore,

nothing of the present. India will owe its

reconstitution to the scientists of the next generation”

(“Le Genèse de l’Humanité,” pp. 60-61).

[71] Cory: “Anc. Frag.”

[72] Movers: “Phoinizer,” 263.

[73] Dunlap: “Sp. Hist. of Man,” p. 281.

[74] Siva is not a god of the _Vedas_, strictly speaking. When

the _Vedas_ were written, he held the rank of Maha-Deva

or Bel among the gods of aboriginal India.

[75] “De Antro Nympharum.”

[76] “Navarette,” book ii., c. x.

[77] “On the Origin of Heathen Idolatry.”

[78] Isis and Osiris are said, in the Egyptian sacred books,

to have appeared (_i.e._, been worshipped), on earth,

later than Thot, the _first_ Hermes, called Trismegistus,

who wrote all their sacred books according to the

command of God or by “divine revelation.” The companion

and instructor of Isis and Osiris was Thot, or Hermes

II., who was an incarnation of the celestial Hermes.

[79] Lord Kingsborough: “Ant. Mex.,” p. 165.

[80] “Ap. Malal.,” lib. i., cap. iv.

[81] Payne Knight: “Phallic Worship.”

[82] The Celsus above mentioned, who lived between the second

and third centuries, is not Celsus the Epicurean. The

latter wrote several works against Magic, and lived

earlier, during the reign of Hadrian.

[83] We have the facts from a trustworthy witness, having no

interest to invent such a story. Having injured his leg

in a fall from the steamer into the boat in which he was

to land at the Mount, he was taken care of by these

monks, and during his convalescence, through gifts of

money and presents, became their greatest friend, and

finally won their entire confidence. Having asked for

the loan of some books, he was taken by the Superior to

a large cellar in which they keep their sacred vessels

and other property. Opening a great trunk, full of old

musty manuscripts and rolls, he was invited by the

Superior to “_amuse_ himself.” The gentleman was a

scholar, and well versed in Greek and Latin text. “I was

amazed,” he says, in a private letter, “and had my

breath taken away, on finding among these old parchments,

so unceremoniously treated, some of the most valuable

relics of the first centuries, hitherto believed to have

been lost.” Among others he found a half-destroyed

manuscript, which he is perfectly sure must be a copy of

the “True Doctrine,” the Λόγος ἀληθής of Celsus, out of

which Origen quoted whole pages. The traveller took as

many notes as he could on that day, but when he came to

offer to the Superior to purchase some of these writings

he found, to his great surprise, that no amount of money

would tempt the monks. They did not know what the

manuscripts contained, nor “did they care,” they said.

But the “heap of writing,” they added, was transmitted

to them from one generation to another, and there was a

tradition among them that these papers would one day

become the means of crushing the “Great Beast of the

Apocalypse,” their hereditary enemy, the Church of Rome.

They were constantly quarrelling and fighting with the

Catholic monks, and among the whole “heap” they _knew_

that there was a “holy” relic which protected them. They

did not know _which_, and so in their doubt abstained.

It appears that the Superior, a shrewd Greek, understood

his _bevue_ and repented of his kindness, for first of

all he made the traveller give him his most sacred word

of honor, strengthened by an oath he made him take on

the image of the Holy Patroness of the Island, never to

betray their secret, and never mention, at least, the

name of their convent. And finally, when the anxious

student who had passed a fortnight in reading all sorts

of antiquated trash before he happened to stumble over

some precious manuscript, expressed the desire to have

the key, to “amuse himself” with the writings once more,

he was very _naïvely_ informed that the “key had been

lost,” and that they did not know where to look for it.

And thus he was left to the few notes he had taken.

[84] See the historical romance of Canon Kingsley, “Hypatia,”

for a highly picturesque account of the tragical fate of

this young martyr.

[85] We beg the reader to bear in mind that it is the same

Cyril who was accused and proved guilty of having sold

the gold and silver ornaments of his church, and spent

the money. He pleaded guilty, but tried to excuse

himself on the ground that he had used the money for the

poor, but could not give evidence of it. His duplicity

with Arius and his party is well known. Thus one of the

first Christian saints, and the founder of the Trinity,

appears on the pages of history as a murderer and a

thief!

[86] “La Démonomanie, ou traité des Sorciers.” Paris, 1587.

[87] Dr. W. G. Soldan: “Geschichte der Hexen processe, aus den

Quellen dargestellt.” Stuttgart, 1843.

[88] Frederick Forner, Suffragan of Bamberg, author of a

treatise against heretics and sorcerers, under the title

of “Panoplia Armaturæ Dei.”

[89] “Sorcery and Magic,” by T. Wright, M.A., F.S.A., etc.,

Corresponding Member of the National Institute of

France, vol. ii., p. 185.

[90] Besides these burnings in Germany, which amount to many

thousands, we find some very interesting statements in

Prof. Draper’s “Conflict between Religion and Science.”

On page 146, he says: “The families of the convicted

were plunged into irretrievable ruin. Llorente, the

historian of the Inquisition, computes that Torquemada

and his collaborators, in the course of eighteen years,

burned at the stake 10,220 persons, 6,860 in effigy, and

otherwise punished 97,321!... With unutterable disgust

and indignation, we learn that the papal government

realized much money by selling to the rich, dispensations

to secure them from the Inquisition.”

[91] “Sorcery and Magic;” “The Burnings at Würtzburg,” p. 186.

[92] And retinted in the blood of the millions murdered in his

name--in the no less innocent blood than his own, of the

little child-_witches_!

[93] St. Augustine: “City of God,” I, xxi., ch. vi.; des

Mousseaux: “Mœurs et Pratiques des Demons.”

[94] A correspondent of the London “Times” describes the

Catalonian exorcist in the following lines:

“About the 14th of October it was privately announced

that a young woman of seventeen or eighteen years of

age, of the lower class, having long been afflicted with

‘a hatred of holy things,’ the senior priest of the

Church of the Holy Spirit would cure her of her disease.

The exhibition was to be held in a church frequented by

the best part of the community. The church was dark, but

a sickly light was shed by wax lights on the sable forms

of some eighty or a hundred persons who clustered round

the _presbyterio_, or sanctuary, in front of the altar.

Within the little enclosure or sanctuary, separated from

the crowd by a light railing, lay, on a common bench,

with a little pillow for her head to recline upon, a

poorly-clad girl, probably of the peasant or artisan

class; her brother or husband stood at her feet to

restrain her (at times) frantic kicking by holding her

legs. The door of the vestry opened; the exhibitor--I

mean the priest--came in. The poor girl, not without

just reason, ‘had an aversion to holy things,’ or, at

least, the 400 devils within her distorted body had such

an aversion, and in the confusion of the moment,

thinking that the father was ‘a holy thing,’ she doubled

up her legs, screamed out with twitching mouth, her

whole body writhing, and threw herself nearly off the

bench. The male attendant seized her legs, the women

supported her head and swept out her dishevelled hair.

The priest advanced and, mingling familiarly with the

shuddering and horror-struck crowd, said, pointing at

the suffering child, now sobbing and twitching on the

bench, ‘Promise me, my children, that you will be

prudent (_prudentes_), and of a truth, sons and

daughters mine, you shall see marvels.’ The promise was

given. The exhibitor went to procure stole and short

surplice (_estola y roquete_), and returned in a moment,

taking his stand at the side of the ‘possessed with the

devils,’ with his face toward the group of students. The

order of the day’s proceedings was a lecture to the

bystanders, and the operation of exorcising the devils.

‘You know,’ said the priest, ‘that so great is this

girl’s aversion to holy things, myself included, that

she goes into convulsions, kicks, screams, and distorts

her body the moment she arrives at the corner of this

street, and her convulsive struggles reach their climax

when she enters the sacred house of the Most High.’

Turning to the prostrate, shuddering, most unhappy

object of his attack, the priest commenced: ‘In the name

of God, of the saints, of the blessed Host, of every

holy sacrament of our Church, I adjure thee, Rusbel,

come out of her.’ (N. B. ‘Rusbel’ is the name of a

devil, the devil having 257 names in Catalonia.) Thus

adjured, the girl threw herself--in an agony of

convulsion, till her distorted face, foam-bespattered

lips and writhing limbs grew well-nigh stiff--at full

length upon the floor, and, in language semi-obscene,

semi-violent, screamed out, ‘I don’t choose to come out,

you thieves, scamps, robbers.’ At last, from the

quivering lips of the girl, came the words, ‘I will;’

but the devil added, with traditional perversity, ‘I

will cast the 100 out, but by the mouth of the girl.’

The priest objected. The exit, he said, of 100 devils

out of the small Spanish mouth of the woman would ‘leave

her suffocated.’ Then the maddened girl said she must

undress herself for the devils to escape. This petition

the holy father refused. ‘Then I will come out through

the right foot, but first’--the girl had on a hempen

sandal, she was obviously of the poorest class--‘you

must take off her sandal.’ The sandal was untied; the

foot gave a convulsive plunge; the devil and his

myrmidons (so the _cura_ said, looking round triumphantly)

had gone to their own place. And, assured of this, the

wretched dupe of a girl lay quite still. The bishop was

not cognizant of this freak of the clergy, and the

moment it came to the ears of the civil authorities, the

sharpest means were taken to prevent a repetition of the

scandal.”

[95] Louis Jacolliot: “Le Spiritisme dans le Monde,” p. 162.

[96] St. Augustine: “City of God.”

[97] “Mœurs et Pratiques des Demons,” p. ii.

[98] Des Mousseaux: “Table des Matières.”

[99] “Demonologia;” London, 1827, J. Bumpus, 23 Skinner Street.

[100] “Traité Preparatif à l’Apologie pour Herodote,” c. 39.

[101] De Missa Privatâ et Unctione Sacerdotum.

[102] See the “Life of St. Dominick” and the story about

the miraculous Rosary; also the “Golden Legend.”

[103] James de Varasse, known by the Latin name of James

de Veragine, was Vicar General of the Dominicans and

Bishop of Genoa in 1290.

[104] Thirteenth century.

[105] “Rituale Romanum,” pp. 475-478. Parisiis, 1852.

[106] “Mœurs et Pratiques des Demons,” p. 177.

[107] See the narrative selected from the “Golden Legend,”

by Alban Butler.

[108] See the “Golden Legend;” “Life of St. Francis;”

“Demonologia.”

[109] “The Mythology of the Hindus,” by Charles Coleman.

Japan.

[110] “Supernatural Religion.”

[111] Neither do we, if by _true religion_ the world shall

at last understand the adoration of one Supreme,

Invisible, and Unknown Deity, by works and acts, not by

the profession of vain human dogmas. But our intention

is to go farther. We desire to demonstrate that if we

exclude ceremonial and fetish worship from being

regarded as essential parts of religion, then the true

Christ-like principles have been exemplified, and true

Christianity practiced since the days of the apostles,

exclusively among Buddhists and “heathen.”

[112] “Ancient Pagan and Modern Christian Symbolism,” p. xvi.

[113] “Discourses of Miracles wrought in the Roman Catholic

Church; or a full Refutation of Dr. Stillingfleet’s

unjust Exceptions against Miracles.” Octavo, 1676, p. 64.

[114] After this, why should the Roman Catholics object to

the claims of the Spiritualists? If, without proof, they

believe in the “materialization” of Mary and John, for

Ignatius, how can they logically deny the

materialization of Katie and John (King), when it is

attested by the careful experiments of Mr. Crookes, the

English chemist, and the cumulative testimony of a large

number of witnesses?

[115] The “Mother of God” takes precedence therefore of God?

[116] See the “New Era” for July, 1875. N. Y.

[117] “Paul and Plato.”

[118] See “La Magie au XIXme Siècle,” p. 168.

[119] “Rom. Rit.,” edit. of 1851, pp. 291-296, etc., etc.

[120] _Creature_ of salt, air, water, or of any object to

be _enchanted_ or _blessed_, is a technical word in

magic, adopted by the Christian clergy.

[121] “Rom. Rit.,” pp. 421-435.

[122] See “Art-Magic,” art. Peter d’Abano.

[123] “Ritual,” pp. 429-433; see “La Magie au XIXme Siècle,”

pp. 171, 172.

[124] “Dogme et Rituel de la Haute Magie,” vol. ii., p. 88.

[125] “Conferences,” by Le Père Ventura, vol. ii., part i.,

p. lvi., Preface.

[126] “Conflict between Religion and Science,” p. 62.

[127] “De Baptismo Contra Donatistas,” lib. vi., ch. xliv.

[128] “Conflict, etc.,” p. 37.

[129] Ibid.

[130] “Paul and Plato,” by A. Wilder, editor of “The

Eleusinian and Bacchic Mysteries,” of Thomas Taylor.

[131] “Paul and Plato.”

[132] See Taylor’s “Eleus. and Bacchic Myst.”

[133] 1 Corin., iii. 10.