Spiritualism, on the other hand, is a new sort of theosophy, ostensibly founded and supported wholly by thaumaturgy; its disciples have induced themselves to believe, against their original ideas, that we are not only surrounded by the spirits of the departed, but that these can be brought into connection with us by means of certain individuals, called mediators or mediums—that these have such power, over the invisible beings hovering in the air, that the souls of the dead may be made to shake the tables of the living, and lift up their sofas to the ceiling. The miracles are believed in by many, but Spiritualism lags far behind the Mormon theology, and probably always will do.
We may regard this part of our subject in yet another light. Let us, for example, suppose that the Buddhists and the Christians succeed in persuading each other of the incorrectness of the miraculous element in their respective books, does it therefore follow, that any essential part of the creed of either one or other must be altered? The doctrines of Siddartha would not be valueless even if his followers disbelieved in his power to fly as a bird, or cross a river on the surface of the water—nor would those of Mary's son be proved to be worthless if it were certain that he never marched over a billowy sea, and that he was not really killed by crucifixion. The disciples of Sakya Muni believed in a resurrection of the dead, without having had the advantage of a real or imaginary reappearance of their master after his supposed decease. The Etruscans, Greeks, and Romans, had all an Elysium to which the good folk went. The Red Indian believes in a future life and happy hunting grounds (so we are told), although he has never heard of Judea. The rude Northmen and Danes had also their Valhalla to go to after death, long ere they were Christians. Still farther, it is to be noticed, by the close observer, that the Jews at the time of Jesus, and some of the Greeks about the same period, were divided in their opinions respecting the existence of men in a future state. The Sadducees, holding fast to the books of Moses and the Prophets, denied the existence of a resurrection, of angels or of spirits. The Pharisees, on the other hand, influenced apparently by Babylonian and Persian theology, had faith in all three. That this belief in a future life was not commonly held by the poor folk in Judea, we infer from Mark ix. 10, wherein we are told that Peter, James, and John were "questioning with one another what the rising from the dead should mean." That the Athenians were equally careless about what is now called "heaven and hell," we judge from Acts xvii. 18, wherein we are told that Paul's preaching about "Jesus and the resurrection" was a strange affair, and from the thirty-second verse of the same chapter, wherein it is said that the doctrine of the resurrection of Jesus was received with derision.
I am quite aware that it may be objected to these remarks that the doubt about the rising from the dead does not point to a general resurrection, but simply to the return to life of one particular individual. This, however, only removes the difficulty to a short distance, for Greek story tells us of the annual return of Proserpine from the realms of Pluto to the light of day, and Adonis was yearly resuscitated, in mythical narrative. For the Hebrew, the rising from the dead ought not to be a wonderful matter. Was it not told in their Scriptures how, when certain persons were burying a man, the bearers in a fright threw the corpse into the sepulchre of Elijah, whose bones had such efficacy that they revived the dead man, who stood on his feet (2 Kings xiii. 21). We find also, from Mark vi. 16, Luke ix. 9, that Herod had a full belief in the power of John to rise again from the death to which that monarch had consigned him. The sceptic may doubt the ability of the two evangelists to read what was passing through the royal mind when Jesus and his works were brought before its notice, but he cannot doubt that the writer was aware that in Herod's time there was a belief in the resurrection of individuals. Indeed, we find in the verse following that which tells of the Apostle's bewilderment, Mark ix. 11, a question, "why say the scribes that Elias must first come?" To which the reply is that the prophet has come. We are constrained, therefore, to believe that Jesus was not the first who rose from the dead; nay, even he himself commissioned his disciples to "cleanse the lepers, and raise the dead" (Matth. x. 8). What, then, is the value of the arguments that Paul builds upon the assertion that Christ is "the first fruits of them that slept."
This being so, we may fairly ask, whence did Mary's son derive the ideas which he promulgated of a resurrection, and of salvation, and why had a sophistical writer like Paul to adopt the clumsy contrivance of asserting that Jesus not only had risen, but that he was the first individual who had done so, to demonstrate that the dead really did return again to life? Paul's argument, indeed, shows how little he knew or had thought upon the subject, for he distinctly preaches a resurrection of the body, not of the soul, a belief adopted into the Apostles' creed. Yet, at the very period when the minds of Christians were thus unformed, the disciples of Buddha, to a man, believed in a future "Nirvana," in which "there should be no more sorrow nor crying, neither should there be any more pain, and where all earthly things should have passed away" (see Rev. xxi. 4). We are not yet in the position to prove that Mary's son and certain of his followers received their inspiration from disciples of Siddartha, but there is certainly a strong presumption in favour of the possibility, much evidence of its probability, and nothing whatever to disprove it. To this, however, we will return by and by.
Ere we proceed to examine into the nature of the doctrines of Sakya Muni and of Jesus, we may cast a glance over the condition of the men whom they converted. In both instances, it is not too much to say that they all were "priest-ridden" in the fullest meaning of the term. The residents in Modern India and Papal Rome, until a short time ago, well understood what the term signifies; day by day, and almost hour by hour, there is, or was in these places, some ceremony to be attended, some prayer to be uttered, some confession to be made, some contribution to be given to monastery, church, or priest. Penances are, and were inflicted of the most painful, sometimes of the most disgusting kind. The last I heard of was in Wales, where a man was ordered to lie down at the church door as a mat, upon which the faithful were to wipe their feet. Both in India and Italy, men, women, and children alike are, or were, taught to regard themselves as the servants, and even slaves of the hierarchy, and their money is, or was, alienated from wives and children to swell the coffers of spiritual tyrants. Perpetual terrors of hell are sounded, until those hearers, whose hearts are impressionable, are habitually haunted by imaginary horrors, each one of which has to be bought off by a sort of hush-money paid to the priest, who has invented, adopted, or described them.
Such was the condition of England and France prior to the Reformation and the Revolution.
So long as men are debased by their guides, and allow themselves, with the docility of a well-trained dog, to be ruled, and so long as tyrannical flamens can wring an ever increasing tax from the people, there is probably nothing more in the breast of each than a vague feeling of dislike, or regret, at the existence of such things, which rarely receives utterance for fear of punishment. But as soon as a man, more bold than his neighbours, raises a standard of revolt, whose success appears to be secure, the bulk of the oppressed first sympathize with, yet fear to join him, then, after watching eagerly the course of events, and admiring the boldness of men more resolute than themselves, they timidly make common cause with the reformer, and, if circumstances favour them, they become enthusiastic. As the news of the mental revolt swells, the people, tired of oppression, rise in their might and sweep away the hierarchy, or compel it to abandon its pretensions. Buddha and Christ were such leaders as we here describe, and such was the course gone through by their followers. The timid Peter denying Jesus, and yet afterwards boldly preaching him up, is an example almost too well known to be quoted.
We are now in a position to inquire into the nature of Siddartha's teaching.
Premising that his doctrines were collected at least 200 years B. C., the first which we notice is one that he not only inculcated by language but enforced by his abiding example. He taught that the comforts and pleasures of this life act as fetters, to chain man's spirit to earth; that day by day they necessitate the cultivation of propensities and passions more or less bestial in their nature; and that as these strengthen, so the individual who possessed them would be born again, after his death, to some form of misery and woe in which he would have to atone for the human infirmities which he had not conquered. To escape from the possibility of such an event, Sakya counselled his disciples to wean themselves, as far as possible, from every sensual passion; to mortify the body by fasting, so as to make it more readily separable from the inner man; to renounce all comfort except that of doing good; and believing in a state of perfect future salvation.
A man, he taught, must abandon everything as valueless compared with the attainment of salvation or nirvana; he must be wholly dependent upon others for food and raiment; he must take no thought for the morrow, and live like a bird or lily, laying up no store; for certainly a disciple of Sakya ought not to undertake any trade or other means of gaining a livelihood, lest it should ensnare his spirit and tie it down to the grovelling things of earth.