HPB-SB-8-120

T i

vol. 8, p. 120

H. P. Blavatsky Scrapbooks

from Adyar archives of the International Theosophical Society

vol. 8 (September 1878 - September 1879)

 

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The Religious Aspects of Spiritualism

Sir,—In reading a life of De Quincy (by H. A. Page) lately, I have been exceedingly struck with several passages of it, which seem to point so strongly to his having been medial to a very high degree, that I cannot forbear venturing to encroach upon your valuable space to quote a passage. He describes a vision he had, while a child, on the death of Ills sister. He was about six years old, and he stole secretly to a room where the body of this sister lay. He knelt down by her side, and kissed her in a passion of grief. He then, it seems, fell into a state of trance, only hearing “a solemn wind which began to blow.’’ Then he had a vision, which he records probably from his after memory, for it is needless to say it was utterly beyond a child’s comprehension or description. When he awoke from this trance he says, “I have reason to believe that a very long interval had elapsed during this wandering or suspension of my perfect mind; when I returned to myself there was a foot, or I fancied so, on the stairs. I was alarmed, and slunk away.” He speaks of it in after years as “wandering from his perfect mind;” and it is strange that the utter incongruity of the whole thing never struck him. In the first place, what does he mean by the perfect mind of a child of six years of age? A child of that age of ordinary mental qualifications would scarcely have any mind at all to speak of, but more the animal impressions of love or fear; kissing the fair little corpse, and being more afraid and confused than anything else.

The remarkable vision this child saw, and was enabled afterwards to describe, appears to me to suggest that the spirit of a child is already, as it were, full grown; but the intellect belonging to the body, i. e., the mental power of deciphering the promptings of the spirit of course is still incomplete and immature. Precocious children seem to have a mental power in this direction, however, that is often astonishing, and if accompanied with health and vigour of body, it leads to great results, or should do so. Throughout the life of De Quincy there are the strong indications of his powerful medial and clairvoyant capabilities; but being totally ignorant of the powers of his spirit, they caused him great torture of mind.

The whole story of Iris opium eating, Iris dreaming, and his mental suffering appears to mean exceedingly interesting psychological subject. Throughout his life there are constant references to his spiritual nature and powers; yet both the author of De Quincy’s life, as well as he himself, seem utterly ignorant what they meant. Poor De Quincy appears to me to have possessed a body subject in the highest degree to spiritual influences, and alas, instead of learning to welcome and to be thankful for these strange effects, and to understand them, they only seemed to cause him torture and fear, as if he struggled in vain against an unwelcome visitor, a life-long nightmare. His was a sweet, lovely, pure mind, and had he known how to welcome the rays from heaven, and to open his soul to the light, one cannot say of what value his experience might not have been in a spiritual sense. As it was, it is incomplete.

This subject leads me to venture to say a few words in reply to the interesting letter in this week’s Spiritualist, by Miss Kislingburv, in which she seems doubtful of the real value of Spiritualism for the benefit of mankind. I think it is strange that any one who has taken an interest in this most stupendously interesting subject can possibly for one instant doubt its ultimate value, though well aware of all its shortcomings and drawbacks. It appears to me—though I venture in all modesty and humility to make any assertions whatsoever on matters of spiritual feeling—that Spiritualism answers to the cries of those in the wilderness as nothing else can do. By these I mean the men and women of either powerful or poetical mental capacities, such as De Quincy. To these people church or chapel means husks and dry bones. The spirit is gone out of them; and they are ready to say, “If the spirit ever existed it must be somewhere, for it is not here.” These people find it in Spiritualism, and having found it, it does not much matter what: outward profession of religion they serve—it is all one to them. They have found the spirit; their natures are illuminated: and they, in their turn, find all past religion illuminated.

It must be understood that when I say a Spiritualist, I do not mean only a “wonder seeker,” or one who forsakes worship. I mean one who does, however, seek wonders, but not always at seances; and one who does not forsake worship, though worship may not mean to him a public place of worship on Sundays or any other day. I mean a Spiritualist—one whose body is the temple of the Holy Ghost; whose whole mind is attuned to the marvels and wonders of creation and science; and one who seeks wonders for the enlargement of his own mind and those of others: one who prays for wisdom, and one who finds it; one who worships God in spirit and in truth, and one who respects all religion in others, when held in all sincerity and reverence. I think, however, such a Spiritualist must and will find the ordinary forms of religions existing in Christendom at this period very insufficient for his wants, and would grieve to go back to believe that the Church catechism, beliefs, church services, sermons, &c., of the present day, belonging to any Church—Roman Catholic or Protestant—supplied sufficient food either for his spiritual or intellectual nature. Religion of this kind appears to me a dead silence; the only voices which one hears are those of the clergy; and what do they tell us? “Tales of the past?” “True,” we some of us feel and know, but still all gone and passed away. We are living still, and each century takes us farther from that time; and as each year rolls by man’s soul feels it must learn more, and that the Divine Voice is neither dead nor sleeping; and to be eternally going back cannot be, and is not good for the souls of men, which are governed always by the law of progress. We must go forwards in our religion as well as in everything else. Reverence for the past, but to live for the future, should be our motto. And I believe that Spiritualism may have its vulgar and its sordid side from unspiritual natures in the midst of it, who for the time have put wedding garments on, and that it may lead people to what are called unorthodox views in so-called religious questions, that it may have and has a dark side on which the spiritual sun has not yet shone. It may have all this, but yet I cannot but feel and believe the spiritual sun will shine on the world as it never has shone before, and through the medium of Spiritualism man’s nature will be influenced as it never was before. Religion will not be wrapt up in the Bible, clergymen, and priests, who can only now tell us of the past. “We all know it.” There is nothing further to be learnt about it. The rule of life is what we want to know, and who has now authority to teach us? Faith has died out from among us, because our prophets are dead! That is no reason, though, that none shall be born again. New cycles require new spiritual dispensations, and it appears to me that clinging to old dispensations, and to the forms of religious worship proceeding from them, would place us much I as the Jews of old were placed, inasmuch as they could not receive, or did not, the gospel of the new dispensation, as preached by the man with the divine nature—Christ. Not that I mean to say or infer that I know anything about a new dispensation—such things are too far and beyond me. All I do Bay is this, that the old dispensation is dying out, or why would real faith be so dead among us? We are now a nation of atheists (if there be such beings), sordid and grovelling in the earthliness of our natures, hypocrites and sensualists, living for this world only, having the outward form of godliness, and none of it inwardly. Just, however, because we are sinking so very low, the still small voice is beginning to be heard that we must rise and gird our loins, that we must turn our eyes to the divine light of spiritual progress; that this light, once shed upon our souls, will forbid the possibility of atheism or sensuality, the two deadly sins belonging to man; we shall feel it in ourselves as a law, not because we have been told so, but because we know it to be so. Even now what an influence for good among the poor and uneducated, Spiritualism ought to have if properly taught. That is, if the spiritual side of man’s nature is awakened, as it may be now by Spiritualism, and as it rarely can be in other ways.

The working classes have lost their belief and reverence for church and chapel, because they are given dry bones to eat when they want spiritual food. Bart of their natures are for ever being unsatisfied, and so they crave for bodily excitement, strong drinks, and animal passions, something to fill the horrible vacuum. A century or so ago the element of fear was the strongest feature in their religion; fear of the devil caused them, they thought, to love God and obey the Church. That element is disappearing, and with it all obedience, reverence, and moral discipline, which at all events they derived through the teaching of their instructors. That is all passing away. Everything seems passing away; and what is taking its place, or what should take its place? Not Spiritualism as described by Miss Kislingbury—that is nothing but the writhing of uneasy souls, or the flutterings of the flighty ones—but Spiritualism as it should be, ought to be, and may be, and by following which we shall all seek to be better, not because we shall better ourselves thereby, but because all other courses would be repugnant to us. Materialism and sensualism will be impossible to us. The search after wisdom and the knowledge of God will then be the real aim of our lives, to prepare ourselves for the real life of which this is only a type and foreshadowing. The great ones of the earth ought to be the wise and good ones, and the serving ones those still struggling with the sins of their natures. Seances, trance addresses, may yet be composed of many inferior elements, and there is much in the investigation of Spiritualism that is disheartening to the mind of the earnest seeker; but that is chiefly because the spiritual part of it is as yet so tainted by us. We are to blame, not Spiritualism. If we purify and strengthen our souls, the atmosphere will float us; and Spiritualism cannot teach us to put spirits in the place of God, neither will it seek to abrogate any Divine rule if it emanated from God, but it will serve to make that rule easy to us: it will teach us to overcome the world and the flesh—if that means to teach us the real use of our bodies as temples for our souls—and it will teach us to take heed to our ways, because there will be no other ways but those towards God possible to us. It will, in short, I venture to hope and believe, take us out of the cloud of darkness under which we are now wandering, and show us by the finger of science and the eye of faith what we are, whence we come, and where we go. Those timorous spirits, however, who shrink from coming out of the shelter of the past, should remain where they are. To them it is not given to know the things of the spirit; the time will come for them; but the brave, fearless ones should boldly come out, and not shrink from the noble duty of carrying the standard of truth, but in all gentleness and courtesy, as the strong protecting the weak, and waging <... continues on page 8-125 >

Editor's notes

Sources

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  London Spiritualist, v. 4, No. 202, July 7, 1876, p. 324