RELIGION AND NEUROLOGY
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Such a result is of course absolutely alien to my intention; and
since such a prejudice on your part would seriously obstruct the due
effect of much of what I have to relate, I will devote a few more
words to the point.
There can be no doubt that as a matter of fact a religious life,
exclusively pursued, does tend to make the person exceptional and
eccentric. I speak not now of your ordinary religious believer, who
follows the conventional observances of his country, whether it be
Buddhist, Christian, or Mohammedan. His religion has been made
for him by others, communicated to him by tradition, determined
to fixed forms by imitation, and retained by habit. It would profit us
little to study this second-hand religious life. We must make search
rather for the original experiences which were the pattern-setters
to all this mass of suggested feeling and imitated conduct. These
experiences we can only find in individuals for whom religion exists
not as a dull habit, but as an acute fever rather. But such individuals
are “geniuses” in the religious line; and like many other geniuses
who have brought forth fruits effective enough for commemoration
in the pages of biography, such religious geniuses have often shown
symptoms of nervous instability. Even more perhaps than other kinds
of genius, religious leaders have been subject to abnormal psychical
visitations. Invariably they have been creatures of exalted emotional
sensibility. Often they have led a discordant inner life, and had
melancholy during a part of their career. They have known no
measure, been liable to obsessions and fixed ideas; and frequently
they have fallen into trances, heard voices, seen visions, and
presented all sorts of peculiarities which are ordinarily classed as
pathological. Often, moreover, these pathological features in their
career have helped to give them their religious authority and
influence.
If you ask for a concrete example, there can be no better one
than is furnished by the person of George Fox. The Quaker religion
which he founded is something which it is impossible to overpraise.
In a day of shams, it was a religion of veracity rooted in spiritual
inwardness, and a return to something more like the original gospel
truth than men had ever known in England. So far as our Christian
sects to-day are evolving into liberality, they are simply reverting
in essence to the position which Fox and the early Quakers so long
ago assumed. No one can pretend for a moment that in point of
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THE VARIETIES OF RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE
spiritual sagacity and capacity, Fox’s mind was unsound. Every one
who confronted him personally, from Oliver Cromwell down to
county magistrates and jailers, seems to have acknowledged his
superior power. Yet from the point of view of his nervous constitu-
tion, Fox was a psychopath or détraqué of the deepest dye. His
Journal abounds in entries of this sort: —
“As I was walking with several friends, I lifted up my head, and saw
three steeple-house spires, and they struck at my life. I asked them what
place that was? They said, Lichfield. Immediately the word of the Lord
came to me, that I must go thither. Being come to the house we were
going to, I wished the friends to walk into the house, saying nothing to
them of whither I was to go. As soon as they were gone I stept away, and
went by my eye over hedge and ditch till I came within a mile of Lichfield;
where, in a great field, shepherds were keeping their sheep. Then was I
commanded by the Lord to pull off my shoes. I stood still, for it was
winter: but the word of the Lord was like a fire in me. So I put off my
shoes, and left them with the shepherds; and the poor shepherds trembled,
and were astonished. Then I walked on about a mile, and as soon as I
was got within the city, the word of the Lord came to me again, saying:
Cry, ‘Wo to the bloody city of Lichfield!’ So I went up and down the
streets, crying with a loud voice, Wo to the bloody city of Lichfield! It
being market day, I went into the market-place, and to and fro in the
several parts of it, and made stands, crying as before, Wo to the bloody
city of Lichfield! And no one laid hands on me. As I went thus crying
through the streets, there seemed to me to be a channel of blood running
down the streets, and the market-place appeared like a pool of blood.
When I had declared what was upon me, and felt myself clear, I went out
of the town in peace; and returning to the shepherds gave them some
money, and took my shoes of them again. But the fire of the Lord was so
on my feet, and all over me, that I did not matter to put on my shoes
again, and was at a stand whether I should or no, till I felt freedom from
the Lord so to do: then, after I had washed my feet, I put on my shoes
again. After this a deep consideration came upon me, for what reason
I should be sent to cry against that city, and call it The bloody city! For
though the parliament had the minister one while, and the king another,
and much blood had been shed in the town during the wars between
them, yet there was no more than had befallen many other places. But
afterwards I came to understand, that in the Emperor Diocletian’s time a
thousand Christians were martyr’d in Lichfield. So I was to go, without
my shoes, through the channel of their blood, and into the pool of their
blood in the market-place, that I might raise up the memorial of the blood