RELIGION AND SUPERSTITION IN EAST AND WEST
We have now made a rough survey of the different religious systems
that are to be found in China, and especially in that part of China
with which these pages are chiefly concerned; and it is not improbable
that the reader's verdict will be that Confucianism is an admirable
if unemotional system of ethics, that Buddhism has decayed out of
recognition, and that Taoism has degenerated into mere ritual,
mythology and image-worship. But before we reproach the Chinese for the
childish superstitions that seem to occupy so large a place in their
outlook on life, let us remember that the Chinese are very far from
believing all they are supposed to believe.
When writers on comparative mythology and religion declare that this
or that race holds this or that strange belief they do not necessarily
mean that such belief is present to the minds of the people in question
in the definite and clear-cut fashion that a dogma of the Christian
faith may be supposed to present itself to a devout Catholic. A
so-called belief, when it comes to be closely examined, is often found
to be nothing more than some quaint old fancy that has crystallised
itself in the form of a quasi-religious ceremonial. Many a strange
national or tribal custom that seems to presuppose a definite religious
belief is carried on because it is traditional; the belief that it
represents may or may not be extinct: in some cases, indeed, it has
obviously been invented to explain the existence of a ceremony the
cause of which has long been forgotten. Sometimes the custom lingers
on--like the children's masquerades in the first Chinese month at
Weihaiwei[401]--not only after the ideas that originally prompted it
have disappeared but in spite of the fact that no one has thought it
worth while to evolve a new theory of origin.
If it were definitely proved that these children's dances sprang from
prehistoric magical rites connected with the growth of the crops, we
might soon hear from European writers on myth and religion that "the
people of Weihaiwei hold certain dances in the first month of each year
in the belief that they will conduce to good harvests." Yet this would
be a misleading statement, for whatever the origin of the custom may
have been the people of Weihaiwei at the present time are absolutely
destitute of any such belief. When studying comparative religion in
books it is very necessary to be on one's guard against obtaining quite
erroneous impressions of the actual conditions of belief among the
people treated of, for however careful and conscientious the writers
may be, it is very difficult for them (writing very largely from
travellers' and missionaries' notes) to distinguish between a belief
that is an active religious force and a stereotyped custom which merely
represents a belief that existed or is supposed to have existed in
days gone by. The mistakes that arise are of course the natural result
of studying books about men instead of studying the men themselves.
Unfortunately all of us are obliged to rely on books to a great extent,
as life is too short to enable each of us to make himself personally
familiar with the customs and religious ideas of more than a very small
number of different races. But this fact ought to make us particularly
careful not to run the risk of misleading others by misunderstanding
and therefore erroneously reporting the facts that have come under our
own observation.
There are few of the minor superstitious practices of the Chinese
which are regarded by their Western teachers as more ridiculous and
contemptible than their strange fancy that they can send money,
articles of furniture and clothing and written messages to the dead
by the simple and economical expedient of burning paper images or
representations of such things. Perhaps at a Chinese funeral one
may be shocked to see a liberal-minded Chinese gentleman of one's
own acquaintance joining the rest of the mourners in this foolish
occupation. If, after having gained his confidence, one asks him
whether he literally believes that paper money will turn into real
money in the other world or that his dead ancestors actually require
a supply of money to help them to keep up appearances among their
brother ghosts, he will in all likelihood say that of course he
believes in nothing of the kind, but that the paper-burning forms part
of the customary rites and it is not for him to alter them. Perhaps he
will say that the women and children believe, and that an attempt to
disabuse them of their silly notions might unsettle their minds and
cause trouble.
If he is a scholar he will perhaps say something like this: "In ancient
times real valuables were thrown into the grave. Money, jewels,
animals, even living men and women were once buried with the dead.
When it was decided that this custom must be given up it was thought
necessary to keep ignorant minds quiet by explaining that worthless
imitations of the real articles would serve the purpose equally well;
so clay and wood and paper began to be used at funerals, and their
use still continues. It is a foolish custom, but we think it helps to
convey a useful lesson to the average unthinking man and woman and
makes them feel that they are bound to their dead ancestors by ties of
love and reverence and gratitude. The more strongly their feelings are
moved in this way the more likely will they be to rule their families
well and to lead peaceful and orderly and industrious lives. They might
show love and reverence for the dead in some better way than by burning
heaps of paper? I grant you: but it happens to be our way, and when we
ourselves or rather the superstitious masses begin to disbelieve in it
and laugh at it then it will be time enough to make a change."
But why should we take the Chinese to task for a custom which we
tolerate within a stone's throw of the Vatican itself? How puzzled
our Chinese gentleman would be, after listening to our arguments on
the folly of burning paper for the dead, to read such a paragraph as
this: "In the Church of the Jesuit College at Rome lies buried St.
Aloysius Gonzaga, on whose festival it is customary especially for the
college students to write letters to him, which are placed on his gaily
decorated and illuminated altar, and afterwards burned unopened. The
miraculous answering of these letters is vouched for in an English book
of 1870."[402]
It is well to remember that as regards the world beyond the grave and
the nature of spirits the Chinese ideas--like those of the average
European--are vague and inconsistent. The ordinary Christian seems
able to reconcile in his own mind (perhaps by providing himself with
separate thought-tight compartments) all kinds of heterogeneous beliefs
and notions about heaven and hell and the Day of Judgment and the
present lot of those who have "gone before." A Chinese who, knowing
nothing of Western religious notions, began with an unbiassed mind
to study many of our Church hymns, our old-fashioned epitaphs and
obituary notices, our funeral sermons and a good deal of our serious
poetry (such as Tennyson's magnificent "Ode on the Death of the Duke
of Wellington") would probably account for obvious inconsistencies
of doctrine by the supposition that the eschatological ideas of the
West were rather like those of his own land, inasmuch as each dead man
evidently possessed at least three souls--one that remained in the
grave, another that hovered round the bereaved relatives, and a third
that wore a crown in heaven. Yet the devout church-goer would doubtless
be surprised to hear that his prayers and hymns contained any words
which could give an outsider so false an impression of his real belief.
I have been asked this question: How is it that from all accounts
the Chinese are such sensible and intelligent men and yet hold such
puerile and idiotic views about nature and religion? The answer is that
backwardness in scientific knowledge (especially in such knowledge as
has been acquired very recently even by Western peoples) is accountable
for many of their foolish imaginings, but that a very great number of
the most childish superstitions and customs of the Chinese are not
founded on any existing beliefs at all but are merely traditional
forms. The "heathen" rites so harrowingly described by missionaries
are very often much more harmless than one would suppose from their
accounts. A careless Chinese traveller in England might after observing
some of our English rites and customs tell tales which would make
England appear hardly less grotesque than poor China appears in
numberless books written by well-intentioned foreigners. If he visited
an old-fashioned country-house in England and watched the yule-log
blazing in the hall at Christmas time he might suppose (after learning
the origin of the custom) that his host was knowingly practising an old
heathen rite connected with the winter solstice.[403]
At dawn on May Morning it is the custom for the surpliced choristers
of Magdalen College to ascend the Great Tower and there greet the
rising sun with the sweet strains of a Latin hymn. Just as the full
circle of the sun flushes with morning light the grey stone pinnacles
the beautiful hymn comes to an end, and the tower--the "dawn-smitten
Memnon of a happier hour"--trembles and sways as its eight mighty bells
leap into glad music and awaken "the college of the lily" into joyous
life. No one seems to know the certain origin of the ancient rite of
which this is a survival, but some have said that it represents an
old heathen ceremony connected with the worship of the sun. The rite
(in a modern form) is very properly kept up because it is singularly
beautiful--the most beautiful and impressive ceremony of its kind
practised throughout the length and breadth of England. But would
not Oxford be politely surprised and somewhat amused if our Chinese
traveller were to inform his fellow-countrymen that sun-worship was
still kept up at England's academic capital and that the President of
Magdalen was an Egyptian initiate or a Druid?
The analogy between Chinese and English survivals is far from perfect.
Heathen ceremonies in England have been Christianised; in China all
ceremonies remain "heathen." But, after all, the difference ceases to
oppress us by its magnitude if we regard Religion as One though creeds
are many. What good do we do the cause of truth by heaping disagreeable
epithets on faiths other than our own? Socrates was denounced as an
atheist by his fellow-countrymen. Which of us now would not be proud to
have been an atheist with Socrates? Christians themselves were at one
time stigmatised as atheists by both Greeks and Romans. What good does
the Vatican do to the cause of Christ by vituperating the Modernists
because they are honest? What did Athanasius gain, either for himself
or for "Orthodoxy," by applying to the Arians such ugly names as
"devils, antichrists, maniacs leeches, beetles, gnats, chameleons,
hydras" and other terms equally discourteous?[404]
But, comes the reply, when we say the Chinese are idolaters we are only
stating a simple fact that any one can verify for himself. "That the
Chinese have profound faith in their idols," says a Western writer, "is
a fact that cannot for a moment be questioned. China is a nation of
idolaters, and neither learning nor intelligence nor high birth tends
to quench the belief that has come down from the past that these wooden
gods have a power of interfering in human life, and of being able to
bestow blessings or to send down curses upon men."[405]
Now this question of idolatry is a difficult one to deal with, for
plain speaking is sure to offend. It is on the heads of the unfortunate
Chinese "idols" that the vials of Christian wrath are chiefly poured.
As a matter of fact it is rather questionable whether the images
in Chinese temples are correctly described as idols at all. Surely
it would be less misleading to reserve that term for images which
are regarded as gods _per se_ and not merely as clay or wooden
representations of gods. One sees a Chinese "worshipping" an image,
say, of Kuan Yin. Does he regard Kuan Yin as actually present before
him or does he merely regard the image as a man-made statue of his
goddess,--an image set up as an aid to prayer or as a stimulator of the
imagination or the emotions?
[Illustration: SHRINE ON SUMMIT OF KU SHAN (see p. 396).]
[Illustration: VILLAGERS AT A TEMPLE DOORWAY (see p. 415).]
Theoretically, at least, he most emphatically does not believe that
the goddess is herself before him: for he knows perfectly well that if
he walks two miles to another temple he will find another image of the
same divinity; and that if he wishes to do so he may come across three
or four Kuan Yins in the course of a single day's walk. On the island
of Pootoo he could see dozens in a couple of hours. Unless the goddess
is endowed with multiple personalities it is obvious that she cannot
possibly be present in every image, and that all these clay figures are
therefore merely lifeless statues which fulfil a useful enough function
in exciting the devotional feelings of worshippers who might feel
unable to offer up prayers to a blank wall. If the Christian urges that
the Chinese worshipper of Kuan Yin is still an idolater because there
is no such person as Kuan Yin either in the material world or in the
spiritual and that therefore nothing remains to worship but the image,
it may at least be tentatively suggested that if indeed there be a God
of Love then the prayers that fly forth on the wings of sincerity from
an upright heart will not be allowed--though they be misdirected--to
flutter aimlessly for ever in some dark region of Godlessness.
That the Chinese sometimes treat the images of their gods or saints
as if they were sentient creatures is true enough. They are taken out
in processions, for example, and sometimes--if public prayers have
been disregarded--they are buffeted and even mutilated. This is simply
another instance of the remarkable inconsistency that seems to go hand
in hand with religious opinions all over the world, and in the case
of the most ignorant classes is doubtless due to the fact that many
uneducated people cannot conceive of the existence of a being that is
in no way cognisable by the bodily senses. Is Christendom free from
such inconsistency? Certainly not in the matter of images,[406] as any
one may see for himself at any time in southern Europe and elsewhere.
There is a story told of St. Bernard, who eight hundred years ago knelt
in a cathedral in front of an image of Mary. Devoutly and fervently
he commenced to pray: "O gracious, mild and highly favoured Mother of
God," he began: when lo! the image opened its lips and vouchsafed an
answer. "Welcome, my Bernard!" it said. In high displeasure the saint
rose to his feet. "Silence!" he said, with a frown at his holy patron.
"No woman is allowed to speak in the congregation."
Let us pass this over as a fable, for it finds no place in the _Aurea
Legenda_ and is useful only as an indication that St. Bernard, though
doubtless a true disciple of St. Paul,[407] took a somewhat ungenerous
view of women's rights. But there are other facts to be noted which are
not fables. "Is it not notorious," says Max Müller, "what treatment
the images of saints receive at the hands of the lower classes in
Roman Catholic countries? Della Valle relates that Portuguese sailors
fastened the image of St. Anthony to the bowsprit, and then addressed
him kneeling, with the following words: 'O St. Anthony, be pleased to
stay there till thou hast given us a fair wind for our voyage.' Frezier
writes of a Spanish captain who tied a small image of the Virgin
Mary to the mast, declaring that it should hang there till it had
granted him a favourable wind. Kotzebue declares that the Neapolitans
whip their saints if they do not grant their requests."[408] In a
missionary's account of China I recently came across a statement to the
effect that in this land of idolatry, gamblers and other evil-doers
will sometimes take the precaution of bandaging their idols' eyes so
that the divinity may not be aware of what they are doing. This I
believe is true enough, and it proves that in such cases, at least,
the clay figures are supposed to be endowed with human senses; unless
indeed the real idea at the root of the proceeding is connected with
what is known as sympathetic magic: "As I bandage the eyes of the
god's image so the eyes of the god himself (wherever he may be) will
for the nonce be sightless." But even this practice is not unknown
to Christendom, however repugnant it may be to Christianity. In the
passage from which I have just quoted Max Müller goes on to mention an
analogous practice in Russia: "Russian peasants, we are told, cover
the face of an image when they are doing anything unseemly, nay, they
even borrow their neighbours' saints if they have proved themselves
particularly successful."[409]
There are Protestant missionaries who will agree that in tolerating
superstitions of this kind the Roman Catholics and the Greek Church
are as bad or nearly as bad as the Chinese themselves--and they will
not hesitate to let their Chinese "enquirers" know what their opinions
on the subject are. The Rev. J. Edkins, in describing a great Roman
Catholic establishment at Shanghai, remarks that "it caused us some
painful reflections to see them forming images of Joseph and Mary
and other Scripture personages, in the same way that idol-makers in
the neighbouring towns were moulding Buddhas and gods of war and
riches, destined too to be honoured in much the same manner."[410]
Elsewhere the same writer remarks that "unfortunately, Catholicism
must always carry with it the worship of the Madonna, the masses for
the dead, the crucifix and the rosary. Some of the books the Jesuits
have published in Chinese contain the purest Christian truth; but it
is an unhappy circumstance that they must be accompanied by others
which teach frivolous superstition."[411] It is interesting to observe
with what comfortable confidence the Protestant missionary tacitly
assumes infallibility as to what does and what does not constitute
_the purest Christian truth_ and what is and what is not _frivolous
superstition_. Noah's ark and Jonah's whale would no doubt come under
the former heading, the doctrine of the Real Presence under the latter.
Yet Dr. Edkins might have remembered that Roman Catholicism and the
Eastern (Greek) Church embrace, after all, an exceedingly large part
of Christendom, and are just as confident of their own possession of
the truth as he was. As for Protestants, if they have refrained from
worshipping pictures and images, have they not come perilously near
worshipping a Book?
No wonder Emergency Committees and English University officials are
bestirring themselves to find means for the education of China when
they are told, for example, that the people of that country from the
Emperor downwards believe that an eclipse signifies the eating of the
sun or moon by a celestial dog or a dragon. Perhaps it may be worth
while to dwell a little on this particular superstition. I will not
venture to deny that this quaint belief is honestly held by many, but I
may say that after questioning very many Chinese, mostly ignorant and
illiterate, on this threadbare subject I have only discovered one who
appeared (after cross-examination) sincerely to believe that eclipses
are caused by a hungry beast. That person was an old woman (only half
Chinese by race) who kept a tea-house near Tali in western Yünnan. Her
confession of belief, I may add, was greeted with roars of laughter by
the crowd of Chinese coolies who were sipping their tea close by and
who heard my question and the woman's reply.
In Dr. Tylor's great work we read that the Chiquitos of South America
"thought" that the moon in an eclipse was hunted across the sky by
huge dogs, and they raised frightful howls and lamentation to drive
them off; the Caribs "thought" that the demon Maboya, hater of light,
was seeking to devour the sun and moon, and danced and howled all
night to scare him away; the Peruvians "imagined" that a monstrous
beast was eating the moon and shouted and sounded musical instruments
to frighten him, and even beat their own dogs in order to make them
join in the general uproar. Other similar theories existed in North
America also.[412] It is curious to find such customs existing in both
Asia and America. Some have thought that Fu-sang,[413] the mysterious
land of bliss and immortality, which according to song and legend lay
very far away in the eastern ocean, was a portion of the American
continent;[414] and it has even been held that an ambassador from
Fu-sang (or a Chinese who had visited Fu-sang and had safely returned)
was received at the Chinese Imperial Court, where he gave an account
of the strange land. China's possible knowledge of the existence of
the American continent in prehistoric days is a fascinating subject
that we cannot pursue here, but with reference to the accounts of the
American eclipse-theories one feels inclined to ask whether the peoples
named were as a matter of fact convinced of the truth of the dog or
demon theory while they were beating tom-toms and shouting themselves
hoarse, or whether the practices referred to by Dr. Tylor did not
merely represent the survival in comparatively civilised times of a
custom which in a ruder age had been based on a real belief. This would
not of course mean--either in China or America--that the belief might
not still be vaguely held by ignorant women and children and even in
a thoughtless way by many average men. They would "believe" that some
horrid beast was eating the sun just as a modern child--the Victorian
child, at least, if not the Edwardian--usually "believed" that Santa
Claus was a benevolent old gentleman who entered people's houses by way
of the chimney.
There are always people to be found in every race whose minds are of
the receptive but unanalytic order--people who continue to believe
anything they have been told in childhood simply because it does not
occur to them to ask questions or to think out problems for themselves.
Whether such a mental attitude is worthy of being called an attitude
of "belief" is another matter. What makes it suspiciously probable
that the shouting and uproar among certain American tribes was merely
a ceremonial survival from a primitive age is the fact that entirely
different and much more reasonable theories of the cause of a lunar or
solar eclipse were known and apparently assented to by the very people
who nominally believed in the hungry-dog theory. "Passing on from these
most primitive conceptions," says Dr. Tylor, "it appears that natives
of both South and North America fell upon philosophic myths somewhat
nearer the real facts of the case, insomuch as they admit that the sun
and moon cause eclipses of one another."[415] A further significant
observation is made that the Aztecs, "as part of their remarkable
astronomical knowledge, seem to have had an idea of the real cause of
eclipses," yet "kept up a relic of the old belief by continuing to
speak in mythologic phrase of the sun and moon being eaten."
It is the old story, that to introduce changes into religious
ceremonial is considered impious or sacrilegious, even when the advance
of knowledge renders such ceremonial meaningless. One hears of stone
knives being used by priests for sacrificial purposes long ages after
metal has come into common use, simply because a kind of sanctity is
attached to the form of instrument that was used when the sacrificial
rite itself was young: though it had only been selected originally
because in the stone age nothing better was available. One of the
stone knives of some Western Churches is the so-called Creed of St.
Athanasius. There are many other stone implements in the ecclesiastical
armouries of the West, but some of them are cunningly carved and
regilded from time to time so that as long as no one examines them too
critically they are regarded without disfavour. But the carving and
gilding will not hide their imperfections for ever.
Writing of events at Canton, Dr. Wells Williams says that "an almost
total eclipse of the moon called out the entire population, each one
carrying something with which to make a noise, kettles, pans, sticks,
drums, gongs, guns, crackers and what not to frighten away the dragon
of the sky from his hideous feast ... silence gradually resumed its
sway as the moon recovered her fulness."[416] Dr. Williams does not
say so, but the fact was that the townspeople were simply availing
themselves of a recognised and legitimate opportunity to have what
English schoolboys might call a "rag." If he had scrutinised the
faces of the gong-beaters he would have observed that the prevailing
feelings were those of mirth and good-humour, not of terror at the
occurrence of a distressing celestial calamity. The stereotyped
nature of the official ceremonies (in which every action is carefully
prescribed) that take place during an eclipse, not to mention the fact
that eclipses have for centuries been regularly foretold by the Court
astronomers, ought to be sufficient to show that the noisy ceremonial
is merely a rather interesting survival from an age of complete
scientific ignorance and perhaps barbarism.
It seems very possible, indeed, that the eclipse-theory supposed to be
generally held in China is not a traditional inheritance of the Chinese
race but came to them in comparatively recent times from some less
civilised neighbour, possibly an Indian or a central Asiatic race. It
is hardly likely to have come from America; for even if the Fu-sang
stories are not mere fairy-tales it is not probable that China can
have borrowed her superstitions from so distant a source. If China was
foolish enough to borrow the beast-theory from India, she may at least
retort that it was borrowed by Europe too: for the same theory, with
or without variations, has existed even on the Continent and in the
British Isles.[417]
It is noteworthy that the oldest books extant in the Chinese language
mention eclipses but give no hint of the beast-theory, and the
philosopher Wang Ch'ung (first century A.D.), whose delight it was to
demolish foolish superstitions, mentions several explanations (wise
and foolish) of eclipses without directly or indirectly referring to
that which we have been considering. He would certainly have referred
to it if it had been known to him. Whatever may have been the date of
their first observance, the official eclipse-rites (which are said to
have been recently abolished by order of the Prince-Regent) continued
to exist through the centuries simply because, partly from political
motives, Chinese Governments have always been very reluctant to
interfere with established customs. Much of the imperial ritual carried
on at the present day in connection with the worship of Heaven and
Earth is a pure matter of form so far as religious belief goes. If the
Emperor gave up the grand ceremonials conducted annually at the Altar
of Heaven it would doubtless be interpreted to mean that he had lost
faith in his own divine right to rule and that the Manchu dynasty was
about to abdicate the throne.
On the whole, then, we may conclude that in spite of appearances
the Chinese do not, as a nation, hold that when the moon is passing
through the earth's shadow it means that the moon is being devoured
by a hungry dragon. That very many Chinese will profess belief in the
dragon, if suddenly asked about the cause of an eclipse, is perfectly
true. Somewhat similarly, many an Englishman, if suddenly asked what
became of Red Riding Hood's grandmother, would probably reply without
hesitation that the wretched old lady was eaten by a wicked wolf.
A missionary writer already quoted states that though the Chinese
are gifted with a keen sense of humour, "when they come to deal with
the question of spirits and ghosts and ogres they seem to lose their
reasoning faculties, and to believe in the most outrageous things
that a mind with an ordinary power of the perception of the ludicrous
would shrink from admitting."[418] That the Chinese (like multitudes
of Europeans) do believe in some outrageous and ridiculous things I
am quite ready to admit, but it is necessary again to emphasise the
undoubted fact that many Chinese (like multitudes of Europeans) seem to
believe in a great deal more than they really do, and that what seems
like active belief is often nothing more than a passive acquiescence in
tradition. Let us remember that in China, as in our own Western lands,
relics of early barbarism hold their own through ages of civilisation
"by virtue of the traditional sanctity which belongs to survival
from remote antiquity."[419] As time goes on and knowledge grows
(especially among the mothers of the race) many of the unreasonable
forms of traditional belief and many of the crude ideas which are
accepted in China because traditional, though not really believed in,
will gradually decay and disappear; arms and heads will fall off clay
images and will not be replaced; temple-roofs will fall in and will
not be repaired; annual processions and festivals will be kept up
because they provide holidays for hard-working adults and are a source
of delight to the children, but will gradually become more and more
secular in character; while ghosts and devils will be relegated to the
care of lovers of folk-lore or (perhaps with truer wisdom) submitted
as subjects of serious study to a future Chinese society for psychical
research.
It often happens that a writer on matters connected with religion in
a "heathen" land will tell little stories intended to illustrate the
unsatisfying nature of the "heathen" rites, thus leaving the inference
to be drawn that what the unhappy "pagans" are unconsciously in want
of is Christianity with its crystallised statements of truth. Such a
little story is the following, told by a writer upon whose pages I have
drawn more than once.[420] "'What have you gained to-day in your appeal
to the goddess?' I asked of a man that I had seen very devout in his
prayers. He looked at me with a quick and searching glance. 'You ask me
what answer I have got to my petition to the goddess?' he said. 'Yes,'
I replied, 'that is what I want to know from you.' 'Well, you have
asked me more than I can tell you. The whole question of the idols is
a profoundly mysterious one that no one can fathom. Whether they do or
can help people is something I cannot tell. I worship them because my
fathers did so before me, and if they were satisfied, so must I be. The
whole thing is a mystery,' and he passed on with the look of a man who
was puzzled with a problem that he could not solve, and that look is a
permanent one on the face of the nation to-day."
Perhaps there are a good many Englishmen and Americans who on reading
this instructive little dialogue may be tempted to sympathise not
a little with the idol-worshipper. A profound mystery that no one
can fathom! I worship them because my fathers did so before me! Are
there not thousands and thousands of Western people who might in all
sincerity use those very words? For in spite of everything that all
the Churches and all the prophets and all the philosophers have done
for us, in spite of all we have learned from dogmas and revelations
and sacred books, we are still groping in darkness. _The whole thing
is a mystery_, and the man who can solve it is wiser than any man who
has yet lived. Yes, inevitably replies the Protestant missionary, but
God can solve it: and he has done so, for to us He has revealed the
Truth. Not to you, but to Me! cries the Holy Catholic Church. Not to
you, but to us! cry the Anglican and the Baptist and the Unitarian and
the Quaker and the Theist and the Swedenborgian and the Mormon and the
Seventh Day Adventist and the Christian Scientist and the Plymouth
Brother and the Theosophist. Not to you, but to us! cry the Jew and
the Mohammedan and the Brahman and the Sikh and the Bábist and the
Zoroastrian.
What is Truth?
The Castle of Religion is guarded by an ever-watchful band of armoured
giants called Creeds and Dogmas. When a lonely knight-errant rides
up to the castle gate eager to liberate the lady Truth who he knows
lies somewhere within, he is met by the giant warders, who repel him
with menaces and blows. "You seek Truth?" they exclaim. "You need go
no further. We are Truth." Some think that if the giants were slain
the lordly castle itself would fade like a dream. Why should it fade?
More likely is it that nothing but their defeat and death can save
the time-battered walls from crumbling to utter decay; that only then
the drawbridge will fall and the darkened windows blaze into lines
of festal light; that only by stepping across those huge prostrate
forms shall we ever come face to face with the Lady of the Castle--no
more a manacled captive, but free and ready to step forth, gloriously
apparelled and radiant with beauty, to receive for the first time a
world's homage. From the lips of Truth herself will the question of the
jesting Pilate at last be answered.
FOOTNOTES:
[401] See pp. 183-4.
[402] Tylor's _Primitive Culture_ (4th ed.), vol. ii. p. 122.
[403] For other examples of the "extraordinary survival of pagan
fancies amidst Christian worship" see Gomme's _Folk-lore Relics of
Early Village Life_, pp. 138-44; and the works of Tylor, Frazer and
other anthropologists _passim_.
[404] See Max Müller's _Lectures on the Origin of Religion_ (1901 ed.),
p. 312.
[405] The Rev. T. Macgowan, _Sidelights on Chinese Life_, p. 83.
[406] See above, pp. 335 _seq._
[407] 1 _Corinthians_, chap. xiv. 34-5.
[408] _Lectures on the Origin of Religion_ (1901 ed.), p. 106 Cf. also
Farnell's _Evolution of Religion_, pp. 41-8.
[409] _Lectures on the Origin of Religion_ (1901 ed.), p. 106.
[410] _Religion in China_ (1893 ed.), p. 169.
[411] _Op. cit._ p. 14.
[412] Tylor's _Primitive Culture_ (4th ed.), vol. i. pp. 328 _seq._
[413] See pp. 21, 24-5. To the Japanese Fu-sang is known as _Fusō_.
[414] See _Mémoire sur Fou-sang_, by M. le Marquis d'Hervey de
Saint-Denys. (Paris, 1876.)
[415] _Op. cit._ p. 329.
[416] _The Middle Kingdom_ (1883 ed.), vol. i. p. 819.
[417] Tylor, _op. cit._ vol. i. pp. 333-4. The superstition exists
throughout Indo-China and the Malay Peninsula. See, for instance,
Skeat's _Malay Magic_, pp. 11-13.
[418] Rev. J. Macgowan, _op. cit._ p. 67.
[419] Tylor, _op. cit._ vol. ii. p. 167.
[420] Rev. J. Macgowan, _op. cit._ pp. 92-3.