For some moments a deep silence reigned. The Emperor sought for an answer, but shook his head and said nothing.
“My brother,” at last said Abú-l Fazl to Faizi, “your reasoning is perfectly logical, yet it contents me as little as it does our venerated Emperor. What have you, and what have we, to do with this conception of soul and matter? What can it give us?”
“Well,” answered Faizi, smiling, “it need give you nothing if it is true; and if it is true, you should own it, though it may neither content nor please you. I mean to show that my idea gives or possesses a value in life only in so far as it awakens in us devotion to all that we regard as good and true; and what can you ask for more than this?”
“You are right,” answered Abú-l Fazl; “but I spoke not so much for myself and for us, as for those of less cultivation and enlightenment, who cannot comprehend all this, and yet seek for something more and higher than daily experience brings them. Would it not be possible so to dress up these abstract ideas as to make them more acceptable to the multitude?”
“Our friend Faizi,” said Akbar, “now says what I myself have often thought. If it is not possible to discover new images or emblems for these conceptions or notions proclaimed by Faizi, can we not receive those of ancient days which were not peculiar to solitary and independent religious systems, but which sprang from the religious and poetical spirit of the people themselves?”
“I understand your meaning,” replied Faizi, as Akbar was silent; “you allude, if I am not mistaken, to the new doctrine or teaching which the Emperor wishes to introduce, and with which some of his trusted friends are already acquainted. Is it not so?”
“In truth,” answered Akbar, “you are not mistaken. But allow me to make use of this opportunity to say something further about it. To you Faizi, and you Kulluka, I am indebted for much elucidation, and the turn that our conversation has taken, which gives me the chance of expressing my meaning, is indeed welcome to me. Listen, then. For a long time I have sought for some form in which a rational religion might be expressed, and which would at the same time content philosophical thinkers and those of less enlightenment. At last in some measure I found what I sought in making acquaintance with the images of the ancient Persians, but above all, Kulluka, of those of your philosophical poets of old days. I mean those so well known to you—Sun and Fire. The contemplation of the most striking manifestations of light and warmth may at first appear empty and worthless; but more carefully regarded, they contain an exalted truth, which perchance the knowledge of coming centuries may, through its results, exalt to the highest place. See,” continued Akbar, as he turned to the open gallery of the apartment, and pointed to the slowly-sinking sun, “there the glorious representation of all light and life in this world leaves us, to return to-morrow in sparkling glory. Earlier races regarded him as a god, and addressed prayers and adoration to him; while to the wise of old he was the exalted image of the principles of life, and the all-pervading force that is shown in endless manifestations. For are not light and warmth the givers of life, without which nothing could exist? In the light of the sun, moon, and stars, the flash of lightning, and the fire that we ourselves kindle on the hearth, we see the most common manifestations of this force—now beneficent, and now fearful and destructive. Everywhere is this force present—in the earth and planets, in man and animals, in light and water—though we may not always remark it. And if it is really thus, would it be considered as a mere poetical fancy if we chose this force as the emblem of the unity and the life of which, Faizi, you have just spoken? Our friend Abú-l Fazl is not only one with me in this, but is anxious that I should try my new teaching, or, if you will, the teaching I have borrowed from those of old days, among the people, and see if they would not accept it instead of the many superstitions that are now so general. A name was necessary to distinguish this teaching from others; and though a name cannot express the full meaning, that of Tauhid-i-Ilahi, ‘the unity of the Deity,’ did not appear inappropriate. Ceremonies and public services are entirely excluded, unless you can call public service a simple symbolical adoration of the sun during the day and in the morning, and of light during the night, by means of appropriate hymns. Touching this,” concluded the Emperor, “I have already imparted to you somewhat, but I have never before fully declared it to you. The time has now arrived: tell me frankly, what is your opinion?”
Neither of the friends appeared willing to comply with this request at once. At last Kulluka broke the silence.
“Wise Prince, pardon us if we are not at once ready with our answer; your important communication requires a moment’s thought. In the plan declared by you there is much that is tempting, and also, according to my humble opinion, much that is serious. The justness and grandeur of your images, borrowed for the greater part from our old poets and philosophers, I shall be the first to admit; but, may I ask, is there not great danger? These symbols once introduced amongst the people and accepted by them, would soon lose their original meaning, and in the end would sink to nothing but an outward and mechanical religious service. We must well consider that this same teaching, which you wish to proclaim, once actually belonged in truth to the faith of more than one people; and what did it become? Not only in these later days, but in ancient times, to which you refer, doubt arose respecting the object of worship, and then, as now, many a pious mind asked: ‘He who gives life, He who gives strength; Whose command all the bright gods revere; Whose shadow is immortality, Whose shadow is death; who is the God to whom we shall offer our sacrifice?’[5] Even then, Surya, the sun, and Agni, the fire, did not satisfy men as emblems of the representation of life and force; and shall a happier future await the Tauhid-i-Ilahi than that of the sun and fire worship of old days?”
Akbar gave no reply. “And you, Faizi,” he asked, “what is your opinion?”