AT what epoch the dawning intellect of man
first accepted the idea of future life, none can tell.
But we know that, from the very first, its roots
struck so deeply, so entwined about human instincts,
that the belief has endured through all generations, and
is imbedded in the consciousness of every nation and tribe,
civilized, semi-civilized or savage. The greatest
minds have speculated upon it; and the rudest savages,
though having no name for the Deity, have yet believed
in the existence of spirits and worshipped them. If,
in Christian Russia, Wallachia, Bulgaria and Greece,
the Oriental Church enjoins that upon All-Saints day offerings
of rice and drink shall be placed upon the graves; and
in "heathen" India, the same propitiatory gifts
of rice are made to the departed; so, likewise,
the poor savage of New Caledonia makes his sacrifice of food to
the skulls of his beloved dead.
According to Herbert Spencer, the worship of souls and
relics is to be attributed to "the primitive idea that any
property characterizing an aggregate, inheres in all parts
of it. . . . The soul, present in the body of the
dead man preserved entire, is also present in the preserved
parts of his body. Hence, the faith in relics."
This definition, though in logic equally applicable to
the gold-enshrined and bejewelled relic of the cultured Roman
Catholic devotee, and to the dusty, time-worn skull
of the fetish worshipper, might yet be excepted to by the
former, since he would say that he does not believe the
soul to be present in either the whole cadaver, skeleton,
or part, nor does he, strictly speaking,
worship it. He but honours the relic as something which,
having belonged to one whom he deems saintly, has by the
contact acquired a sort of miraculous virtue. Mr.
Spencer's definition, therefore, does not seem to
cover the whole ground. So also Professor Max Müller,
in his Science of Religion, after having shown to
us, by citing numerous instances, that the human
mind had, from the beginning, a "vague hope
of a future life," explains no more than Herbert Spencer
whence or how came originally such a hope. But merely points
to an inherent faculty in uncultivated nations of changing
the forces of nature into gods and demons. He closes his
lecture upon the Turanian legends and the universality of this
belief in ghosts and spirits, by simply remarking that
the worship of the spirits of the departed is the most widely
spread form of superstition all over the world.
Thus, whichever way we turn for a philosophical solution
of the mystery; whether we expect an answer from theology
which is itself bound to believe in miracles, and teach
supernaturalism; or ask it from the now dominant schools
of modern thought--the greatest opponents of the miraculous in
nature; or, again, turn for an explanation
to that philosophy of extreme positivism which, from the
days of Epicurus down to the modern school of James Mill,
adopting for its device the glaring sciolism "nihil in
intellectu quod non ante fuerit in sensu," makes
intellect subservient to matter--we receive a satisfactory reply
from none!
If this article were intended merely for a simple collation of
facts, authenticated by travellers on the spot,
and concerning but "superstitions" born in the mind
of the primitive man, and now lingering only among the
savage tribes of humanity, then the combined works of such
philosophers as Herbert Spencer might solve our difficulties.
We might remain content with his explanation that in the absence
of hypothesis "foreign to thought in its earliest stage .
. . primitive ideas, arising out of various
experiences, derived from the inorganic world"--such
as the actions of wind, the echo, and man's own
shadow--proving to the uneducated mind that there was "an
invisible form of existence which manifests power,"
were all sufficient to have created a like "inevitable belief"
(see Spencer's Genesis of Superstition). But
we are now concerned with something nearer to us, and higher
than the primitive man of the stone age; the man who totally
ignored "those conceptions of physical causation which have
arisen only as experiences, and have been slowly organized
during civilization." We are now dealing with the
beliefs of twenty millions of modern Spiritualists; our
own fellow men, living in the full blaze of the enlightened
19th century. These men ignore none of the discoveries
of modern science; nay, many among them are themselves
ranked high among the highest of such scientific discoverers.
Notwithstanding all this, are they any the less addicted
to the same, "form of superstition," if
superstition it be, than the primitive man? At least their
interpretations of the physical phenomena, whenever accompanied
by those coincidences which carry to their minds the conviction
of an intelligence behind the physical Force--are often precisely
the same as those which presented themselves to the apprehension
of the man of the early and undeveloped ages.
What is a shadow? asks Herbert Spencer. By a child and
a savage "a shadow is thought of as an entity."
Bastian says of the Benin negroes, that "they regard
men's shadows as their souls" . . thinking
"that they . . . watch all their actions,
and bear witness against them." According to Crantz,
among the Greenlanders a man's shadow is one of his two souls--the
one which goes away from his body at night." By the
Feejeeans, the shadow is called "the dark spirit,
as distinguished from another which each man possesses."
And the celebrated author of the "Principles of Psychology"
explains that "the community of meaning, hereafter
to be noted more fully, which various unallied languages
betray between shade and spirit, show us the same thing."
What all this shows us the most clearly however, is that,
wrong and contradicting as the conclusions may be, yet
the premises on which they are based are no fictions. A
thing must be, before the human mind can think or conceive
of it. The very capacity to imagine the existence of something
usually invisible and intangible, is itself evidence that
it must have manifested itself at some time. Sketching
in his usual artistic way the gradual development of the soul-idea,
and pointing out at the same time how "mythology not
only pervades the sphere of religion . . .
but, infects more or less the whole realm of thought,"
Professor Müller in his turn tells us that, when men
wished for the first time to express "a distinction between
the body, and something else within him distinct from the
body . . . the name that suggested itself
was breath, chosen to express at first the principle
of life as distinguished from the decaying body, afterwards
the incorporeal . . . immortal part of man--his
soul, his mind, his self . . .
when a person dies, we, too, say that he
has given up the ghost, and ghost, too, meant
originally spirit, and spirit meant breath."
As instances of this, narratives by various missionaries
and travellers are quoted. Questioned by Father R.
de Bobadilla, soon after the Spanish conquest, as
to their ideas concerning death, the Indians of Nicaragua
told him that "when men die, there comes forth from
their mouth something which resembles a person and is called Julio
(in Aztec yuli 'to live'--explains M. Müller).
This being is like a person, but does not die and the corpse
remains here. . . ." In one of his numerous works,
Andrew Jackson Davis, whilom considered the greatest American
clairvoyant and known as the "Poughkeepsie Seer,"
gives us what is a perfect illustration of the belief of the Nicaragua
Indians. This book (Death and the After Life) contains
an engraved frontispiece, representing the death-bed of
an old woman. It is called the "Formation of the Spiritual
Body." Out of the head of the defunct, there
issues a luminous appearance--her own rejuvenated form.1
Among some Hindus the spirit is supposed to remain for ten days
seated on the eaves of the house where it parted from the body.
That it may bathe and drink, two plantain leaf-cups are
placed on the eaves, one full of milk and the other of
water. "On the first day the dead is supposed to get
his head; on the second day his ears, eyes,
and nose; on the third, his hands, breast,
and neck; on the fourth, his middle parts;
on the fifth, his legs and feet; on the sixth,
his vitals; on the seventh, his bones, marrow,
veins and arteries; on the eighth, his nails,
hair, and teeth; on the ninth, all the remaining
limbs, organs, and manly strength; and,
on the tenth, hunger and thirst for the renewed body."
(The Pátáne Prabhus, by Krishnanáth
Raghunathji; in the Government Bombay Gazeteer,
1879.)
Mr. Davis's theory is accepted by all the Spiritualists,
and it is on this model that the clairvoyants now describe the
separation of the "incorruptible from the corruptible."
But here, Spiritualists and the Aztecs branch off into
two paths; for, while the former maintain that the
soul is in every case immortal and preserves its individuality
throughout eternity, the Aztecs say that "when the
deceased has lived well, the julio goes up on high with
our gods; but when he has lived ill, the julio perishes
with the body, and there is an end of it."
Some persons might perchance find the "primitive" Aztecs
more consistent in their logic than our modern Spiritualists.
The Laponians and Finns also maintain that while the body decays,
a new one is given to the dead, which the Shaman
can alone see.
"Though breath, or spirit, or ghost,"
says further on Professor Müller, "are the most
common names . . . we yet speak of the shades
of the departed, which meant originally their shadows.
. . . Those who first introduced this expression--and we find
it in the most distant parts of the world--evidently took the
shadow as the nearest approach to what they wished to express;
something that should be incorporeal, yet closely connected
with the body. The Greek eidolon, too,
is not much more than the shadow . . . but
the curious part is this . . . that people
who speak of the life or soul as the shadow of the body,
have brought themselves to believe that a dead body casts no shadow,
because the shadow has departed from it; that it becomes,
in fact, a kind of Peter Schlemihl." ("The
Science of Religion.")
Do the Amazulu and other tribes of South Africa only thus believe?
By no means; it is a popular idea among Slavonian Christians.
A corpse which is noticed to cast a shadow in the sun is deemed
a sinful soul rejected by heaven itself. It is doomed henceforth
to expiate its sins as an earth-bound spirit, till the
Day of the Resurrection.
Both Lander and Catlin describe the savage Mandans as placing
the skulls of their dead in a circle. Each wife knows the
skull of her former husband or child, and there seldom
passes a day that she does not visit it, with a dish of
the best cooked food. . . . There is scarcely an hour in
a pleasant day but more or less of these women may be seen sitting
or lying by the skulls of their children or husbands--talking
to them in the most endearing language that they can use (as they
were wont to do in former days) "and seemingly getting
an answer back." (Quoted by Herbert Spencer in
Fetishworship. )
What these poor, savage Mandan mothers and wives do,
is performed daily by millions of civilized Spiritualists,
and but the more proves the universality of the conviction that
our dead hear and can answer us. From a theosophical,
magnetic,--hence in a certain sense a scientific--standpoint,
the former have, moreover, far better reasons to
offer than the latter. The skull of the departed person,
so interrogated, has surely closer magnetical affinities
and relations to the defunct, than a table through the
tippings of which the dead ones answer the living; a table,
in most cases, which the spirit while embodied had never
seen nor touched. But the Spiritualists are not the only
ones to vie with the Mandans. In every part of Russia,
whether mourning over the yet fresh corpse or accompanying it
to the burying ground, or during the six weeks following
the death, the peasant women as well as those of the rich
mercantile classes, go on the grave to shout, or
in Biblical phraseology to "lift up their voices."
Once there, they wail in rhythm, addressing the
defunct by name, asking of him questions, pausing
as if for an answer.
Not only the ancient and idolatrous Egyptian and Peruvian had
the curious notion that the ghost or soul of the dead man was
either present in the mummy, or that the corpse was itself
conscious, but there is a similar belief now among the
orthodox Christians of the Greek and Roman churches. We
reproach the Egyptians with placing their embalmed dead at the
table; and the heathen Peruvians with having carried around
the fields the dried-up corpse of a parent, that it might
see and judge of the state of the crops. But what of the
Christian Mexican of today, who under the guidance of his
priest, dresses up his corpses in finery; bedecks
them with flowers, and in case of the defunct happening
to be a female--even paint its cheeks with rouge. Then
seating the body in a chair placed on a large table, from
which the ghastly carrion presides, as it were,
over the mourners seated around the table, who eat and
drink the whole night and play various games of cards and dice,
consult the defunct as to their chances. On the other hand,
in Russia, it is a universal custom to crown the deceased
person's brow with a long slip of gilt and ornamented paper,
called Ventchik (the crown), upon which a prayer
is printed in gaudy letters. This prayer is a kind of a
letter of introduction with which the parish priest furnishes
the corpse to his patron Saint, recommending the defunct
to the Saint's protection.2 The Roman Catholic
Basques write letters to their deceased friends and relatives,
addressing them to either Paradise, Purgatory or-- Hell,
according to the instructions given by the Father confessor of
the late addressees--and, placing them in the coffins of
the newly departed, ask the latter to safely deliver them
in the other world, promising as a fee to the messenger,
more or less masses for the repose of his soul.
At a recent séance, held by a well known
medium in America,--(see Banner of Light, Boston,
June 14th, 1879).
Mercedes, late Queen of Spain, announced herself,
and came forth in full bridal array--a magnificent profusion of
lace and jewels, and spoke- in several different tongues
with a linguist present. Her sister, the Princess
Christina, came also just after in much plainer costume,
and with a timid school-girl air.
Thus, we see that not only can the dead people deliver
letters, but, even returning from their celestial
homes, bring back with them their "lace and jewels."
As the ancient pagan Greek peopled his Olympian heaven with feasting
and flirting deities; and the American red Indian has his
happy hunting-grounds where the spirits of brave chiefs bestride
their ghostly steeds, and chase their phantom game;
and the Hindu his many superior lokas, where their numerous
gods live in golden palaces, surrounded with all manner
of sensual delights; and the Christian his New Jerusalem
with streets of "pure gold, as it were transparent
glass," and the foundations of the wall of the city
"garnished . . . with precious stones";
where bodiless chirping cherubs and the elect, with golden
harps, sing praises to Jehovah; so the modern Spiritualist
has his "Summer Land Zone within the milky way,"3
though somewhat higher than the celestial territories of other
people.4 There, amid cities and villages
abounding in palaces, museums, villas, colleges
and temples, an eternity is passed. The young are
nurtured and taught, the undeveloped of the earth matured,
the old rejuvenated, and every individual taste and desire
gratified; spirits flirt, get married, and
have families of children.5
Verily, verily we can exclaim with Paul, "O
death where is thy sting; O grave, where is- thy
victory!" Belief in the survival of the ancestors is the
oldest and most time honoured of all beliefs.
Travellers tell us all the Mongolian, Tartar, Finnish,
and Tungusic tribes, besides the spirits of nature,
deify also their ancestral spirits. The Chinese historians,
treating of the Turanians, the Huns and the Tukui--the
forefathers of the modern Turks--show them as worshipping "the
spirits of the sky, of the earth, and the spirits
of the departed." Medhurst enumerates the various
classes of the Chinese spirits thus: The principal are
the celestial spirits (tien shin); the terrestrial
(ti-ki); and the ancestral or wandering spirits
(jin kwei). Among these, the spirits of the
late Emperors, great philosophers, and sages,
are revered the most. They are the public property of the
whole nation, and are a part of the state religion,
"while each family has, besides this, its own
manes, which are treated with great regard;
incense is burned before their relics, and many superstitious
rites performed."
But if all nations equally believe in, and many worship,
their dead, their views as to the desirability of a direct
intercourse with these late citizens differ widely. In
fact, among the educated, only the modern Spiritualists
seek to communicate constantly with them. We will take
a few instances from the most widely separated peoples.
The Hindus, as a rule, hold that no pure spirit,
of a man who died reconciled to his fate, will ever come
back bodily to trouble mortals. They maintain that it is
only the bhutas--the souls of those who depart this life,
unsatisfied, and having their terrestrial desires unquenched,
in short, bad, sinful men and women--who become
"earth-bound." Unable to ascend at once to Moksha,
they have to linger upon earth until either their next transmigration
or complete annihilation; and thus take every opportunity
to obsess people, especially weak women. So undesirable
is to them the return or apparition of such ghosts, that
they use every means to prevent it. Even in the case of
the most holy feeling--the mother's love for her infant--they
adopt measures to prevent her return to it. There is a
belief among some of them that whenever a woman dies in childbirth,
she will return to see and watch over her child. Therefore,
on their way back from the ghaut, after the burning of
the body,--the mourners thickly strew mustard seeds all
along the road leading from the funeral pile to the defunct's
home. For some unconceivable reasons they think that the
ghost will feel obliged to pick up, on its way back,
every one of these seeds. And, as the labor is slow
and tedious, the poor mother can never reach her home before
the cock crows, when she is obliged--in accordance with
the ghostly laws--to vanish, till the following night,
dropping back all her harvest. Among the Tchuvashes,
a tribe inhabiting Russian domains (Castren's "Finaische
Mythologie," p. 122), a son,
whenever, offering sacrifice to the spirit of his father,
uses the following exorcism: "We honour thee with
a feast; look, here is bread for thee, and
various kinds of food; thou hast all thou canst desire:
but do not . trouble us, do not come back near us."
Among the Lapps and Finns, those departed spirits,
which make their presence visible and tangible, are supposed
to be very mischievous and "the most mischievous are the
spirits of the priests." Everything is done to keep
them away from the living. The agreement we find between
this blind popular instinct and the wise conclusions of some of
the great philosophers, and even modern specialists,
is very remarkable. "Respect the spirits and--keep
them at a distance" said Confucius, six centuries
B.C. Nine centuries later,
Porphyry, the famous anti-theurgist, writing upon
the nature of various spirits, expressed his opinion upon
the spirits of the departed by saying that he knew of no evil
which these pestilent demons would not be ready to do.
And, in our own century, a kabalist, the
greatest magnetizer living, Baron Dupotet, in his
"Magie Devoileè," warns the spiritists
not to trouble the rest of the dead. For "the evoked
shadow can fasten itself upon, follow, and
for ever afterwards influence you; and we can appease it
but through a pact which will bind us to it--till death!"
But all this is a matter of individual opinion; what we
are concerned with now is merely to learn how the basic fact of
belief in soul-survival could have so engrafted itself upon every
succeeding age,--despite the extravagances woven into it--if
it be but a shadowy and unreal intellectual conception originating
with "primitive man." Of all modern men of science,
although he does his best in the body of the work to present the
belief alluded to as a mere "superstition"--the only
satisfactory answer is given by Prof. Max Müller,
in his "Introduction to the Science of Religion."
And by his solution, we have to abide for want of a better
one. He can only do it, however, by overstepping
the boundaries of comparative philology, and boldly invading
the domain of pure metaphysics; by following, in
short, a path forbidden by exact science. At one
blow he cuts the Gordian knot which Herbert Spencer and his school
have tied under the chariot of the "Unknowable."
He shows us that: "there is a philosophical discipline
which examines into the conditions of sensuous or intuitional
knowledge," and "another philosophical discipline
which examines into the conditions of rational or conceptual knowledge";
and then defines for us a third faculty. . . . "The
faculty of apprehending the Infinite, not only in religion
but in all things; a power independent of sense and reason,
a power in a certain sense contradicted by sense and reason,
but yet a very real power, which has held its own from
the beginning of the world, neither sense nor reason being
able to overcome it, while it alone is able to overcome
both reason and sense."
The faculty of Intuition--that which lies entirely beyond
the scope of our modern biologists--could hardly be better defined.
And yet, when closing his lecture upon the superstitious
rites of the Chinese, and their temples devoted to the
worship of the departed ancestors, our great philologist
remarks: "All this takes place by slow degrees;
it begins with placing a flower on the tomb; it ends--with
worshipping the Spirits. . . ."
Theosophist, December, 1879
1 "Suppose a person is dying," says
the Poughkeepsie Seer: "The clairvoyant sees right
over the head what may be called a magnetic halo--an ethereal
emanation, in appearance golden and throbbing as though
conscious. . . . The person has ceased to breathe,
the pulse is still, and the emanation is elongated and
fashioned in the outline of the human form! Beneath it,
is connected the brain. . . . owing to the brain's momentum.
I have seen a dying person, even at the last feeble pulse-beat,
rouse impulsively and rise up in bed to converse, but the
next instant he was gone--his brain being the last to yield up
the life-principles. The golden emanation . .
. is connected with the brain by a very fine life-thread,
When it ascends, there appears something white and
shining like a human head; next, a faint
outline of the face divine; then the fair neck
and beautiful shoulders; then, in rapid succession
come all parts of the new body, down to the feet--a bright
shining image, a little smaller than the physical body,
but a perfect prototype . . . in all except
its disfigurements. The fine life-thread continues attached
to the old brain. The next thing is the withdrawal of the
electric principle. When this thread snaps, the
spiritual body is free (!) and prepared to accompany its guardian
to the Summer Land." back to text
2 It runs in this wise: "St. Nicholas,
(or Sr. Mary So-and-so) holy patron of--(follow defunct's
full name and title) receive the soul of God's servant,
and intercede for remission of his (or her) sins." back to
text
3 See "Stellar key to the Summer Land" by
Andrew Jackson Davis. back to text
4 In the same author's work--"The Spiritual
Congress,"
Galen says through the clairvoyant seer: "Between
the Spirit Home and the earth, there are, strewn
along the intervening distance . . . more
than four hundred thousand planets, and fifteen
thousand solar bodies of lesser magnitude." back to
text
5 The latest intelligence from America is that of the
marriage of a spirit daughter of Colonel Eaton, of Leavenworth,
Kansas, a prominent member of the National Democratic Committee.
This daughter, who died at the age of three weeks,
grew in some twenty odd years in the Summer-Land, to be
a fine young lady and now is wedded to the spirit son of Franklin
Pierce, late President of the U.S. The wedding,
witnessed by a famous clairvoyant of New York, was gorgeous.
The "spirit bride" was "arrayed in a dress of mild
green." A wedding supper was spread by the spirit's
order, with lights and bouquets, and plates placed
for the happy couple. The guests assembled, and
the wedded ghosts fully "materialized" themselves and
sat at table with them. (New York Times,
June 29th, 1879.) back to text
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