CHAPTER TWELVE
CONCLUSIONS
Saepe stilum vertas, iterum quae digna legi sint scripturus.
Edward de Bono, the lateral thinking pioneer and great problem solving expert, once said something to the effect that you can reach a solution in an hour, a better one in a day, a better one still in a week: but the best one — never! What he meant, of course, was that you can go on revising, improving, adjusting, modifying and polishing indefinitely: what has to be decided is a purely practical issue — at what point do you call a halt to the refining process and say, “OK. This is it; it may not be the end of the line, but this is where I'm stopping the train”?
What are the possible solutions to the Rennes-le-Château mystery?
It could, of course, be a colossal hoax. We do not for one moment think that it is, but the possibility has to be examined. There have been numerous elaborate and highly successful hoaxes over the years. “Piltdown Man” (1912) was the apparently fossilized fragments of a cranium and jawbone found in a gravel formation at Barkham Manor on Piltdown Common, near Lewes. It happened during the Saunière period. It was not until 1926 that any objections were raised: the gravels were found to be far less ancient than had been previously thought. By 1954 “Piltdown Man” was revealed as a comparatively recent human cranium deposited in the proximity of the jaw of an orangutan; both had been skilfully disguised. Charles Dawson, a lawyer and antiquarian who died in 1916, was given the blame for perpetrating the hoax.
One could add the tragic death of Dr. Paul Kammerer, author of The Inheritance of Acquired Characteristics (1924). Someone injected India ink into the “thumb” of a midwife toad which became the basis of his theories. When Dr. Noble of the American Museum of Natural History in New York published the results of his close examinations of the toad in 1926—the ink had washed out in the water in the dissecting dish — Kammerer committed suicide.
Almost as sad was the decline and accelerated death of johann Beringer (note the near-coincidence of names with Bérenger Saunière! Another example of such a near-coincidence will be found in the Appendices), a Professor at the University of Wurzburg. Beringer's students planted some “fossils” and ridiculously inscribed clay tablets for Beringer to find. One of these even bore what purported to be God's signature, but Beringer was completely taken in. Even when his sheepishly penitent students told him it was all a hoax, he refused to believe them.
The bitter truth finally dawned on him, however: he spent the last of his money buying back all the copies of his book which he could locate. He died heart-broken and practically destitute.
There is also the much more recent controversy over the Archaeopteryx (“ancient wing”) “fossils” of what may, or may not, have been some sort of bird prototype. Von Schlotheim reported finding some in the Upper Jurassic beds near Solnhofen in Bavaria in 1820, but they are now lost. All that currently “survives” of the Archaeopteryx from the Upper Jurassic period is one feather, one fragmentary skeleton and two more or less complete skeletons — scarcely enough for Sunday lunch!
Some recent work by a scientific photographer at Cardiff, however, has led to very grave suspicious that the so-called Archaeopteryx remains were doctored with the same loving care as “Piltdown Man”. Scientific camera work seems to have revealed that every feather impression is identical: did some skilful hoaxer simply use one feather over and over again to produce the appearance of fossilized, feathery wings?
Archaeopteryx macroura—if genuine — is about the size of a small crow with a disproportionately long tail consisting of some twenty vertebrae of a reptilian type. The supposedly fossilised remains had feathery impressions all along this tail. Is it unreasonable to suspect that another Charles Dawson had added these feather impressions to the genuine fossil of some small Upper Jurassic snake?
If the Rennes-le-Château mystery is explicable in terms of a hoax, then the hoaxer must be a twisted genius and his degree of eccentricity must be matched by prodigious wealth. His skills as an artificer, fabricator, historian, archaeologist, linguist and cryptographer must be — or have been — well above average. When did he operate and whom did he set out to deceive? Are we looking for one hoax, or a series? One hoaxer in the distant past, or a whole succession of whimsical, capricious eccentrics with enough time, energy and money — and sufficient talent — to create hoaxes and forgeries of sufficient calibre to deceive serious researchers over 2 long period?
Saunière's income can scarcely have been a hoax. It isn't possible to spend on that scale for over twenty years without paying the craftsmen, builders and suppliers more or less regularly. Whatever else was bogus, however many red herrings swam up and down the Aude, one stubborn contradiction of the hoax theory remains obdurate and immovable: Saunière had real and substantial assets of some sort — and he didn't have them before he came to Rennes.
So what of the secret blood-line theories and the Priory of Sion — beside which a will-o'-the-wisp has the density of lead Christmas pudding?
Apart from the fact that there isn't one shred of real evidence for the “Jesus married Mary Magdalen and their descendants became the Merovingians” theory (while there is a mountain of evidence against it — cemented by the blood of martyrs and reinforced by the testimony of saints)—its greatest and most obvious weakness is that it doesn't explain Saunière's wealth. Purely and simply: it's not an income generator.
Let's examine the angles objectively. The first idea might be that some wealthy vested interest (the Vatican, the Habsburgs as the vestigial traces of the Holy Roman Empire, even the Bishop of Carcassonne?) paid Saunière very handsomely to keep it quiet. It won't hold water. Can you seriously imagine any Pope, Bishop or ethereal remnant of a Holy Roman Emperor quietly and cynically absorbing some so-called “proof” that everything he had believed in was based on an error? Would such a man pay an insignificant country priest a small fortune to keep silent about his “discoveries”? If the hypothetical powerful vested interests who wanted things kept quiet had been as immoral, as cynical and as pragmatic as that, they would have silenced Saunière far more cheaply, efficiently and permanently!
Men who achieve positions of that magnitude are politically shrewd, and wise in the ways of the world. They know from experience that absolute secrecy can rarely be bought, and that only the dead can be trusted not to speak. The whole idea of paying Saunière not to reveal the so-called “secret” about Jesus and Mary Magdalen would strike such a man as unsound and impractical. There was another problem: if Saunière had “discovered a secret” someone must have put it there in the first place. Saunière would not be the only man who knew it. There is no point in putting a golden plug in an unreliable kitchen sink when the bath and washbasin taps are full on.
To a man with the intelligence of Franz Josef Habsburg, or the Pope, another thought would instantly occur: there can be no such “proof” as Saunière claims to have found. The Church has always had many vicious and unscrupulous opponents — pernicious liars as well as savage persecutors. They were around at the time of Christ's resurrection.
“Tell everyone that the disciples came and stole his body while you were asleep,” said the influential priests to the Roman tomb guards. “If you get into trouble for sleeping on duty, we'll square it with the Governor.”
What could anyone find, or claim to have found, which would provide “incontrovertible proof”? A mummified body in a sarcophagus could be anyone at all, no matter how many false labels describe it as being the body of Jesus. Fanatical anti-Christian plotters who were prepared to bribe Roman guards to lie, would not have been above arranging for the embalmed body of some hapless, unidentified vagrant — or, better still, the body of a crucified felon — to be placed in a suitably labelled sarcophagus and referred to as the body of Jesus.
What other “evidence” could there have been? An ancient parchment purporting to be an eyewitness account of Jesus's death and burial — without any resurrection? Forged by some rabid, anti-Christian propagandist, what does that prove?
The Lincoln team were not the first to suggest that Jesus was married. One of the familiar arguments is that he was often addressed as “Rabbi” and that it was normal practice for a Rabbi to be both a husband and a father. There is little or no evidence, however, to suggest that the term was used other than as a general mark of courtesy and respect when directed towards Jesus. The constant attacks made on his work by the Pharisees and Sadducees indicate that he was not an officially recognized Rabbi. Much New Testament evidence suggests that he was entirely independent. Whereas the scribes made it a point of their scholarship always to quote a scriptural authority or precedent, St. Matthew writes of Jesus: “He taught as one having authority (i.e., within himself) and not as their scribes.” (Matthew 7:29.)
His only recorded public legitimisation by any other religious leader or group was his encounter with John the Baptist, and John was the first to declare that any such process of recognition should have been the other way round. The Baptist regarded himself as unworthy even to unfasten Christ's sandals (John 1:27). On at least one occasion Jesus was directly interrogated about the source of the authority he assumed (Matthew 21 :23).
If then, he was not an “official” Rabbi, some of the pro-marriage arguments break down. If a salesman calls you “sir” because he wants to sell you something, you don't immediately become a recognized and invested knight. Neither do you acquire a suit of armour. Arguing a wife for Christ merely because he was addressed as “Rabbi” is broadly parallel reasoning. As we have already noted, some sort of case can be made for identifying Mary Magdalen with Mary of Bethany, and with the unnamed woman taken in adultery, who was saved from stoning by Christ's intervention. She may also have been the unnamed woman who poured the ointment over his feet. But it is not a strong case, and it is certainly not conclusive.
According to Lincoln's team, the tradition was merely an attempt by the early church leaders to blacken her reputation. They had apparently decided that the secret of her marriage to Jesus had to be suppressed at all costs. However, taken in conjunction with Christ's teaching that those who are forgiven most will tend to express most gratitude (Luke 7:47), the prostitution tradition centred on Mary Magdalen can be defended to some extent.
There is, however, a further pro-marriage argument which the Lincoln team have omitted. Christ was a master of Old Testament scholarship. He would have been sensitively aware of the anguished message of the prophet Hosea, who wrote of the parallel between Israel's spiritual infidelity to Yahweh and the sexual infidelity of his wife, Gomer. Her series of extramarital encounters terminated in the slave market where Hosea eventually found, rescued and forgave her, before reinstating her at home. The compassion and understanding shown by Christ to the unnamed woman taken in adultery becomes infinitely deeper and more significant if it is suggested that it was his own wife whom the hypocritical mob were planning to stone. It would also explain the love and devotion she demonstrated later when anointing his feet (John 12:3); her long, heartbreaking vigil by the cross, and her visit to the tomb even before it was light.
His implacable opponents among the Scribes and Pharisees directed some of their most pointed questions towards marriage and sexual ethics. Could they have been trying to exploit what they mistakenly believed to be a weak spot in Christ's defences — a wife who had not always observed the sanctity of their marriage? For example, Christ's teaching that sexual thoughts are morally equivalent to sexual acts (Matthew 5:28) seems a perfect counter to the hypocrisy underlying the ostentatious puritanism and respectability of his opponents. However, it is not Christ's conjectural marriage to Mary Magdalen, nor even the possibility that they might have had children, which lies at the heart of our disagreement with the Lincoln team.
Christ's divinity and humanity are, if anything, enhanced and endorsed by the thought that he might have been a husband and father. His transcendent spirituality is increased rather than diminished by this possibility of his total involvement in the human experience. The inevitable redemptive suffering of the Son of God, who was also the Son of Man, could only have been made more poignant by his knowledge that those on earth who loved him best were being hurt most by his pain and approaching death — and by their inability to help him. If Christ had decided to remain unmarried it would have been to spare his hypothetical family's feelings at his crucifixion rather than because he felt that marriage and fatherhood were inimical to his unique role.
The clearest indication of his attitude to marriage is probably to be found in Matthew 19:3 – 12, where he pronounces unequivocally against divorce. He goes on to answer the disciples' subsequent surprised comment by indicating that for particular people in specific circumstances marriage may not be appropriate. (The medical missionary working in malarial swamps? Among lepers? In a society where persecution and martyrdom are everyday occurrences? A single man may gladly undertake risks to which he would not expose a wife and family. A dedicated old religious scholar cannot pore single-mindedly over his Aramaic scrolls and Syriac codices when as a parent he urgently needs to discuss his son's money problems.)
Whether Christ considered that his own mission precluded marriage was a matter between Him and his Father, and neither Lincoln's researches nor ours could attempt to reveal that decision conclusively. Lincoln thinks Jesus was married; on balance we think he wasn't. The essence of the debate seems to be that either celibate or married priests can do excellent work in the locations to which God has called them. Christ's marital status is not a major issue, but the Lincoln team's insinuations that someone else died in his place, or that he recovered and retreated, are fundamental, and must be refuted absolutely.
In any philosophical consideration of the nature of human autonomy, certain limits to freedom are axiomatic. We cannot perform two mutually exclusive activities, such as standing and sitting, simultaneously. We are not free to act in ways for which we lack the necessary strength, stamina, skills or physical equipment; we cannot lift buildings on the palms of our hands, run non-stop around the earth, count the visible stars in five minutes using only eyes and brains, nor flap feathered pinions and fly to the sun. Neither can we perform actions which are at variance with our psychological and sociological patterns of behaviour. A seventeenth century Puritan girl would not have been able to participate in the sexual freedom of Polynesian islanders. A vegetarian does not relish rare steak — with or without the added risk of BSE! A loving parent can no more harm her child, nor by inaction allow the child to be harmed, than an Asimovian robot can harm a human being. We cannot retain our identity and integrity — we literally cease to be ourselves — if we begin to act in ways which would contradict our fundamental character patterns.
A once loyal hero who runs and leaves his friends to die thereby automatically ceases to be a loyal hero. His actions re-define him as a coward and a traitor. The hero remains a hero because he does not run. The former coward who suddenly finds the courage to stay and fight to the death ceases at that moment of decision to be a coward and becomes a new and different character. Some of us can, of course, change and perhaps even re-change, throughout our lives. Scrooge moves from meanness to generosity as Christmas Carol progresses. Sydney Carton's character changes from recklessness and superficiality to altruistic heroism in A Tale of Two Cities. But there are some indelible characters whose central and most recognizable characteristic is their innate immutability.
Such men and women become the granite landmarks by which their friends and acquaintances navigate. Socrates, Confucius and — above all — Jesus, were neither fluid nor plastic men. No matter how gravely Lincoln's team may suspect some of the New Testament records, the picture of Christ emerges clearly as that of a strong, fearless, resolute and charismatic leader.
From the twelve year old boy who debated with priests and rabbis in the Temple to the lonely spiritual wrestler facing temptation in the wilderness, Jesus personifies courage, strength and stability. He is the healer who pours out his energy unstintingly for the sick. He is also the inspired and practically inexhaustible teacher whose unique blend of parables, patience and persistence enables him to communicate effectively with curious crowds on the one hand and his occasionally dull disciples on the other. He touches lepers. He mixes with social outcasts. He goes on fearlessly with his work despite Herod's murder of John the Baptist. Christ confronts Priests, Levites, Scribes, Pharisees, Sadducees, Romans, Zealots and Samaritans — every dangerous and potentially hostile faction in the boiling cauldron of political and religious vitriol which comprised first century Palestine. He antagonises the money changers in the Temple precincts. He dares to proclaim his Messiahship openly by riding into Jerusalem at the head of an excited crowd. With calm resolution he faces the lonely anguish of Gethsemane, the irony of judas's betrayal, the sorrow of Peter's denial and the humiliating agony of scourging and crucifixion. Even on the brink of death he begins reciting the twenty-second psalm, a psalm in which we proceed from lonely agony and derision through prophetic optimism to final triumphant glory. Surely no words could be more appropriate for a man undergoing that kind of torture?
One fundamental and irrefutable argument for the historicity of the crucifixion and the genuine physical death of Christ is his character. He would not have run away from his enemies. He could not have allowed another man to die in his place. In the highly unlikely event that he had somehow managed to survive the scourging, the nails, and the spear thrust in his side, he would have been back preaching, teaching and healing as soon as he could stand. He could not, he would not, have retreated to a hermitage and a life of quiet meditation in Egypt or India. It is just conceivable that he might have sent his hypothetical family to safety across the Mediterranean, but he himself would have continued to work for the coming of his Father's Kingdom just as energetically and relentlessly as he had done before in the face of all danger and all opposition.
But what about Mary Magdalen herself? Suppose all the wildest hypotheses were true and Mary was the wife whom Jesus saved from the mob, the wife who later poured the precious ointment together with her absolute love and gratitude at her husband's feet — could she have left Palestine if he had survived the crucifixion and gone on with his ministry? Could such a truly strong and loving woman have left such a man in those — or in any — circumstances? Never!
The evidence for the resurrection is infinitely stronger than any “evidence” which can be concocted against it. Those who had known, loved and followed Jesus during his earthly ministry testified fearlessly that He had risen from the dead in a genuine, substantial form — that he could walk to Emmaus with them, break bread, eat fish and honeycomb, talk to them and be touched by them. If you know that your faith is a sham because you have seen your dead hero's body lying unresurrected in its tomb, you do not go out of your way to proclaim that he is alive — especially when to do so is to risk incurring a similar agonising death yourself.
Subjective experiences can provide much better evidence than some opponents of Christianity will admit. Every effect has a cause. The countless men and women who turn dramatically from drug addiction, crime, vice, abject cowardice, alcoholism, savage aggression, boasting or compulsive lying to lead a gentle, caring, loving and stable Christian life will say that this behavioural miracle has happened — and continues to happen for them on a renewable daily basis — because of a genuine relationship which they now enjoy with the living Christ. It is not their imagination. It is not wishful thinking. It is not some curious trick of the mind — Christ is real, and his reality is continually demonstrated in the reconstructed lives of those who love and trust him.
So it is reasonable to argue that whatever Saunière found, it was not some weird anti-Christian fabrication or forgery with which to blackmail the ecclesiastical authorities. They would not have paid. Nothing could have provided “proof' of what was so palpably untrue. There was nothing, therefore, with which Saunière could have enforced his demands for money.
Some researchers have accused Saunière of abusing the seal of the confessional. We can't prove that he didn't: but it seems highly unlikely. As with Max Redlich, the gangster hero of the prize-winning Schindler's Ark, there are some things which certain characters just will not do. During the Nazi occupation, Max Redlich, a notorious gangster, was rounded up with other Jews and told to trample over and spit upon the sacred scrolls of the Torah (Law). Refusal meant death. Redlich said, “I've done many dirty things in my time — but I'm not doing that.” The Nazis killed him. There can be no doubt that men of Max's calibre enjoy God's hospitality at a far higher table than we shall aspire to at the Everlasting Feast.
Saunière may have done many things which subsequently he bitterly regretted — but he doesn't have the characteristic stamp of a despicable little blackmailer. The homely temptations of Marie Dénamaud's passionate young body, and the occasional exotic headiness of Emma Calvé's sophisticated, cosmopolitan womanhood might well have appealed to him. Blackmail would not. To have lost that fiery temper of his and battered obstinate and querulous old Gélis to a bloody pulp if the elderly priest had obstructed and irritated him over some failure to return hypothetical coded documents — that might have been a strong possibility for a Saunière-type personality. It would also have fitted the evidence of immediate remorse — the careful and dignified laying out of the man he had just butchered. Saunière's sins seem to have been very human sins: ostentation; flamboyance; colourful extravagance; cavalier independence of spirit; extroverted prodigality; passionate fury and passionate love. Whatever else he was, he was never deliberately and premeditatively cruel, mean, jealous, petty or spiteful. The nibbling rodent sins of minute and restrictive formalistic bureaucrats could never be laid at the door of his presbytery. He might have been King Herod. He could never have been a Pharisee.
He didn't find anything to embarrass the church, or the ghost of the Holy Roman Empire, because there was nothing to find. He didn't entangle wealthy penitents in the slow but terrible coils of a blackmailer's net because he was too big, too passionate, too fiery and too liberal a personality ever to have been a blackmailer. He might have eloped with a parishioner's wife, or fractured a Republican politician's jaw after a heated argument — but he simply wasn't the type to be an extortioner. Blackmail wasn't his mental habitat, any more than giraffes live in underground dens or foxes stretch up to chew leaves on high branches.
Was he just a sordid grave robber? He might have been. Saunière's bellringer and verger, whose descendants still live in Rennes, maintained that there was a small secret compartment hidden within an old pulpit balustrade — the evidence is on display in the village museum. Within this compartment — so the old bellringer averred — was a small glass bottle containing a tiny parchment. The verger gave it to the priest…Shortly afterwards, so this version of the story goes, Saunière located the entrance to an old Visigothic or Merovingian catacomb which lay deep below the floor of the church. Again, according to this variation, Saunière and Marie systematically took the valuables from the royal coffins they found there.
It was also suggested that the tiny parchment had held clues which led to an old burial register and plans showing the hidden tombs of other wealthy nobles interred in and around Rennes in bygone centuries. Saunière's long trips into the countryside “to gather stones for his grotto” were, according to this version, simply a cover for his rural tomb raiding activities.
Was this the disclosure which so shocked Rivière when he took Saunière's final confession — that this man of God whose duty was to bless the dead, lay them to rest and pray for their souls, was instead disturbing ancient graves and robbing those who rested there?
It's not entirely out of character. Saunière was a pragmatist, as far as can be judged from the evidence available in this day and age. It might have seemed reasonable to him that as the dead Visigothic and Merovingian nobles had no further use for their earthly wealth, there was no moral or logical reason why he shouldn't enjoy it.
The invincible Doctor Occam — one of the sharpest minds of the fourteenth century — put forward the intellectual principle still known and valued today as “Occam's Razor”: entities must not be unnecessarily multiplied. Or, if a simple solution fits the facts, don't invent complications.
Was there ever anything more at Rennes than a simple case of grave robbery? Were all the other apparently amazing facts no more than an accretion of rumours, legends, coincidences and exaggerations? We are, of course, still left with scope for historical conjecture about the precise nature of the treasure: was it gold bullion, silver ingots, ancient coins, plate or precious stones? Did it contain one or more priceless special pieces from Sion or Rome?
“Mere” treasure seems to be something of an anticlimax after all the tantalising question marks which have been raised in other areas. Like Dorothy in the Land of Oz, the researcher feels as if he, or she, had looked behind a forbidden screen only to find something disappointingly mundane and simple.
It does seem probable that Saunière discovered an ancient treasure of some sort and cashed in at least part of it, but that by no means ends, or solves, the rest of the mystery. There have been several good comedy thrillers in which the villain — to avoid capture — empties a satchel or two of stolen notes among his pursuers and escapes in the ensuing confusion while everyone scrambles to pick them up.
There is more than one dark rumour circulating among contemporary Rennes researchers to the effect that the physical, or monetary, treasure was itself something of a distraction or decoy. Perhaps it had the same effect on Saunière as the satchel of high denomination notes has on the posse in the typical comedy thriller: it occupied his attention so that something of infinitely greater value could be kept safely concealed from him.
Aladdin's wicked uncle, Shalmanazar, in the story of the genie in the lamp, told the boy that he could help himself to as many jewels and as much gold as he wanted…as long as he brought the lamp — the infinitely greater treasure — to Shalmanazar. In the tale of the magic tinder box which had powers only marginally inferior to those of Aladdin's lamp, the witch sent the itinerant soldier of fortune into the sinister cave guarded by the gigantic dogs (an echo of Cerberus). Here he was able to fill his pockets first with copper, then silver and finally gold. One form of money was, in a sense, acting as a shield, or as camouflage, for something very much more valuable. Finally, the magic tinderbox itself — the true treasure — was “protected” by the distraction afforded by the gold.
Suppose that the coded parchments which Saunière allegedly found in, or near, the altar (and was said to have taken to the expert palaeographers at St. Sulpice to be decoded) actually existed and really referred to some great lost secret — the Philosopher's Stone; the Elixir of Life; the Emerald Tablets of Hermes Trismegistus; the Key to a Fourth Dimensional Doorway; the secret of operating the Urim and Thummim; the Ark of the Covenant; even the Holy Grail itself…
What better way to safeguard this one priceless treasure than by diverting and distracting the searchers with gold, silver and jewels? The discovery of a precious “lid” may mean that what it covers is infinitely more precious; or the discoverer — especially if he's greedy and impatient — may mistake that rich and ornate “cover” for the treasure itself and go away clutching baubles while leaving the real treasure safely concealed.
Politico-religious pressure? No. Blackmail? No. Grave robbery? Possibly. Ancient treasure from Jerusalem, Rome, the Cathars, or the Hospitallers of St. John? Probably…but with a lot more lying behind the mystery than “mere” treasure.
One possibility often discussed is that Saunière found something of great importance in terms of an ancient imperial treasure that also served as a dynastic emblem, something that would be of inestimable value to the Habsburgs. Clutching his priceless symbol of ancient rights and powers — whatever it was — Saunière visited the powerful Austro-Hungarian ruling house and was referred to Prince Rudolf and Prince Johann (or Jean)—but their every move was closely and suspiciously monitored by Count Taafe's Secret Police.
Saunière, much stronger than the unhappy Rudolf and much wilier and better able to defend himself than Johann, takes numerous wise precautions. Sheets of vital confidential information are given to several trusted friends and accomplices: Marie Dénamaud; Emma Calvé; Abbé Gélis (was it, perhaps, Taafe's secret police who murdered him?); Abbé Boudet; Monseigneur Billard of Carcassonne…and others. “If anything happens to me inform the press, the French Government, the Vatican…that those responsible are Count Taafe's men…” Documents in safe places were not enough: a watchtower with a steel door is built. It has commanding views. It is so designed that if the attack is from above, the steel door shuts off access to the ground floor. If the attack comes at ground level, the steel door can be slammed in the enemies' faces as the occupant of the tower vaults over the parapet and escapes.
Saunière and Boudet were known to be close collaborators. The link between Johann Salvator and the Boudet family in Axat was also close. Were those frequent Habsburg visits connected with a vast payment being made to Saunière and Boudet in instalments? Was Johann a financial courier? Accounts vary, but there is evidence that Saunière's fortune might have faltered during the period before his death. During World War I it must have been very difficult to transfer funds from Austria to France. The major question concerning the identity of the priceless object which may have been transferred to the Habsburgs remains unanswered and tantalising.
One fascinating legend tells how the Centurion, Gaius Longinus, pierced Christ's side with a lance. The historical fact of the piercing is recorded in St. John: 33 – 37, but the soldier is not named in the gospel account. Supposedly retrieved by Joseph of Arimathea along with the Grail and other sacred relics, the Lance of Longinus underwent a long and chequered history, passing through good hands and bad, but always exerting massive supernatural power. Like all legends it is fragmentary and confused — the Lance accompanies the Grail during the ceremonies in the mysterious castle of Anfortas, the wounded Fisher King. One Holy Lance came to Paris with St. Louis after he returned from the Crusades; another was kept in the Vatican; a third was in Cracow in Poland; the fourth — probably the oldest and the one with the strongest claim to authenticity — was in the hands of the Habsburgs until Hitler annexed Austria and took the Lance to Nuremberg. A consistent feature of the legend is that the Lance confers power on its holder, but death follows swiftly if he loses it. Charlemagne carried it through more than forty victories, but died soon after dropping it accidentally. Frederick Barbarossa survived sixty-seven years of successful medieval warfare, with its accompanying savagery and carnage; but died shortly after letting go of the Lance while fording a Sicilian river.
Dr. Walter Johannes Stein, who knew Hitler before the First World War, said that Hitler was fascinated by the Lance legends and was determined to gain possession of it. Eventually he did — only to lose it again. On April 30th, 1945, U.S. Army Lieutenant William Horn broke through the steel doors of the Nuremberg vault where the Lance lay and formally took possession of it on behalf of the United States Government. That night Hitler shot himself Mere superstition? Only coincidence? Perhaps it was, but it suggests the kind of power which a politico-dynastic talisman may be able to exert over the minds of those who credit it with supernatural powers.
Tolkien said very much the same thing about the One Great Ring in his Middle Earth saga. It gave vast power to the man or woman who could wield it, but it also exacted a high price: death usually followed its loss.1
Baring Gould tells how he excavated a Gallo-Roman palace at Pont d'Oli (Pons Aulae) near Pau in southwestern France, and discovered an amazing mosaic pavement there. “The most northerly chamber,” he wrote, “measured twenty-six feet by twenty-two feet…the pavement was…most elaborate and beautiful. It was bordered by an exquisite running pattern of vines and grape bunches…The pattern within this border was of circles, containing…roses alternately folded and expanded. This design was…interrupted by a…cross measuring nineteen feet eight inches by thirteen feet, with its head towards the south…” Baring Gould goes on to describe a figure within this cross carrying a trident — very probably Neptune, but just possibly Longinus carrying his lance. The devout Catholic labourers who uncovered the mosaic under Baring Gould's direction thought that the figure represented Christ himself.
Another theory which some researchers have considered is that the treasure of Rennes included the famous emerald tablets of Hermes Trismegistus. It is a fascinating idea, but it begs the question of whether Hermes Trismegistus himself existed — let alone whether his famous emerald tablets did! Often identified with Thoth, the Egyptian scribe of the gods, Hermes may or may not have been a real person. Like Merlin in the Arthurian legends, Hermes seems to fade into and out of history. In that special sense in which Michell and Rickard use the word, Thoth (or Hermes) is a typical phenomenon.
If for the sake of progressing the argument a little further we assume that he might have had some basis in historical reality, where did he come from and where did his supernormal power and knowledge come from? Was he an extra-terrestrial? Did he have the same time-defying powers as the Flamels and the Comte de St. Germain were alleged to have had? (That is, of course, if they ever existed!) Following the faint and elusive scent of Hermes Trismegistus absorbs the full concentration of that eager quartet of blood hounds: Conjecture, Speculation, Hypothesis and Assumption!
Whatever other secrets might have been engraved on the mythical emeralds, it has been thought that they were ingeniously cut or carved into the form of a tesseract, which is a three-dimensional “shadow” of a four-dimensional hypercube — a figure having yet another dimension at right-angles to the three with which we are familiar. (See Appendix I for a discussion of the mathematics of the tesseract, together with illustrations). Members of some ancient mystic cults have been said to meditate for hours upon the tesseract until they experienced a shift of perception — a sort of gateway to the fourth dimension perhaps? In an altered state of consciousness following their lengthy meditation on the tesseract were they able to establish contact with someone — or something — elsè? The great question arises: is the so-called “hallucination” which occurs in an altered state of consciousness simply a malfunction of the observer, or is the observer in that state able to experience an alternative reality? Did the amazing mind of Nikola Tesla just imagine his electrical machines in an exceptionally vivid way? Did he “make” them in some strange manner from a sort of “phenomenalist material” (what Victorian spiritualists might have called ectoplasm) which most people cannot manipulate? Or did he have access to another dimension, an alternative reality, where he didn't so much have to imagine or create new machines as to observe and analyse machines which already existed there?
More than one serious and well-informed Rennes researcher has suggested that the real secret is “a doorway to the Invisible” — if that nerve-tingling hypothesis comes anywhere near the truth, then the key which opens that doorway could just be the emerald tesseract of Hermes Trismegistus.
If the mysterious Rennes treasure had some precious Jewish object as its centre piece, something which had been brought from Sion in Jerusalem, it might have been the Urim and Thummim. When the Jewish exiles returned from their Babylonian captivity and came up against a question which they found difficult to answer, a question for which they could find no relevant data, they agreed to postpone the problem “until there should rise up a Priest with Urim and Thummim.” (Nehemiah 7 : 65) There is wide disagreement and wild conjecture about what the true and original Urim and Thummim really were. The Hebrew root of Urim means lights or fires. The root of Thummim means “perfection” or “completeness”. It is not clear whether the two words should be taken together to mean “perfect or complete illumination” or whether each stands for a number of separate things. The word Urim occurs by itself once or twice (Numbers 27: 21; 1 Samuel 28 : 6) but Thummim never occurs by itself.
The words appear for the first time as part of the description of the High Priest's robes and equipment. Over the ephod he is to wear a “breastplate of judgement” made of fine linen folded square and doubled, a “span” wide and a “span” long. Its colours are to be gold, scarlet and purple. In this “breastplate” are to be set twelve jewels, in four rows of three, and each jewel is to be inscribed with the name of one of the twelve tribes of Israel. The Urim and Thummim are to be placed inside this sacred “breastplate” in much the same way that the Tables of the Covenant are placed inside the Ark. The Urim and Thummim might have been given to Moses at the same time as the great tablets containing the Law. There is no account of Urim and Thummim being made by Moses or Aaron. There are no special sacred instructions for their manufacture. Ben Nachman and Hottinger have suggested that they were of supernatural origin and unlike anything else on earth.
Other scholars and historians have suggested that Urim and Thummim gave their answers as light fell on certain letters carved on them and so spelled out the answers. Josephus thinks that they were identical with the sardonyxes on the shoulders of the ephod, that they gleamed brightly before a victory or an acceptable sacrifice, but were dark before a disaster. Epiphanius thought of them as a single diamond: bright in times of peace; red during a war; dull as a sign of imminent death.
Another theory identifies them as a golden plate, or a large precious stone, on which was engraved the sacred and mystical name of Yahweh, the Shem-hammephorash of the Jewish cabbalists. According to this theory, the Priest would fix his gaze on the Sacred Name and stand by the Holy of Holies listening for the voice of God. Levi ben Gershon believed that the main function of Urim and Thummim was to enable the Priest to reach an altered state of consciousness, an ecstasy, in which he could clearly receive messages from God. The old cabbalistic book Zohar goes so far as to say that there were forty-two letters engraved on the Urim.
It's an odd coincidence that Douglas Adams' famous science fiction comedy The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy contains the statement that the answer to the riddle of the universe is forty-two, but, unfortunately no-one knows the question!
Spencer argued etymologically that the Urim were the same things as the Teraphim — miniature anthropomorphic idols, rather like dolls2—which is both reasonable and possible. He went on to speculate, however, that there was some strange supernatural means by which these images were made to speak to the Priest, which seems infinitely less likely!
Zullig and Winer both thought that the Urim were bright, cut and polished precious stones — possibly diamonds — while Thummim were round, uncut and thus still “complete”. Both kinds were engraved with words or letters. Zullig and Winer suggested that the Priest (who alone knew the meanings of the resulting configurations) threw the stones on a sacred table, or even on the Ark, and gave his answers according to the pattern in which they fell.
Yet another idea is that they originated in Egypt, where the priestly judges (with whose appearance, robes, accessories and function Moses would certainly have been familiar) wore an image of Alatheia (“Perfect Truth”) hanging around their necks. These Egyptian images were usually carved from sapphire. Egyptian Priests also wore over their hearts the sacred scarab emblem signifying light and life, the sun and the universe, creation and resurrection. Depending upon the wealth and rank of the wearer, these pectoral symbols could be made from blue porcelain, jasper, cornelian, lapis lazuli or amethyst.
Did the Jewish priesthood modify and extract all that was highest and best in Egyptian thought — the principles of Complete Truth and Perfect Light — and encapsulate them in the symbolism of their own Urim and Thummim?
Dean Trench adds another interesting idea about the nature of the Urim and Thummim: he refers to the “white stone” of Revelation 2 : 17 as indicative of the nature of the Old Testament oracular stones. A stone representing light must by its nature be as pure, clear and white as possible—; a diamond? A crystal? When the redeemed soul is given his, or her, white stone in Heaven, Dean Trench sees it as a symbol of the priesthood of all believers: that which was once the special privilege and prerogative of the High Priest alone is now given to all.
If the Urim and Thummim were precious stones derived from the Egyptian prototypes, how were they used? The consensus seems to be that they acted in some way as a focus for the priest's mind — inducing an almost trance-like state in which he was able to prophesy.
How closely do they tie in with older Egyptian ideas? From the time of Joseph the Dreamer until the Exodus led by Moses the Law Bringer, the Jews were exposed to Egyptian culture at first hand. When Moses led his people out of Egypt they took a great many Egyptian valuables with them. Pharaoh, who appears to have been a very stubborn and determined man — but not previously a stupid one — sent the flower of the Egyptian army with the best of its chariots and horses over an extremely dangerous sea bed in order to recapture the Israelites. Fully aware of the fatal risk they were running the Egyptian charioteers went unquestioningly to their doom…Had Pharaoh discovered that some sacred and priceless Egyptian treasure had disappeared with the Israelites? Were the forerunners of Urim and Thummim missing from their jewelled caskets in the inner sanctum of an Egyptian temple? Were the emerald tablets, the mystic tesseract of Hermes Trismegistus, missing as well? Or were those two sacred and mysterious treasures one and the same thing? Were Urim and Thummim simply the later Hebrew names for the emerald tablets?
There is an even older legend which might link the two artefacts, and provide a further nexus between Israel and Egypt. According to this account while Abraham and Sarah (his wife and step-sister) were travelling from Ur of the Chaldees, they came to a strange cave in the wilderness. Sarah, full of curiosity, went in. According to the legend she discovered the recumbent form of Hermes Trismegistus in some form of suspended animation: his emerald tablets lay beside him. Greatly daring, she touched one of the magical stones and immediately Hermes started to wake up. Sarah fled from the cave. What if some shred of truth lies within the legend? Suppose Sarah told Abraham — a man of immense wisdom, faith and courage. Suppose that Abraham went back to the cave and actually recovered the emerald tablets? Were they then passed down from father to son until they went back to Egypt with Jacob the aged patriarch at the time of Joseph's ascendancy? During the later years of persecution and forced labour in Goshen, did the Egyptians take them from Joseph's descendants — only to lose them again when Moses led the Israelites out of Egypt and over the Red Sea to safety?
Another school of thought has suggested that the priceless heart of the Rennes treasure is the Ark of the Covenant. Did it make its way to Babylon at the time of the captivity? Or is the account in 2 Maccabees 2:4, the correct one? According to this Maccabean record, which is normally historically reliable, the prophet Jeremiah received a divine command to conceal the Ark in a cave high on the slopes of Mount Pisgah and then to seal and cover the entrance. Certain priests followed the prophet to try to ascertain the location of the hiding place but were unable to find it. Jeremiah told the inquisitive priests in no uncertain terms that it was no concern of theirs — God Himself would arrange for it to be revealed in his own good time in accordance with the divine plan.
It requires no very great stretch of the imagination to envisage a group of adventurous Templars or Knights of St. John finding the Ark and bringing it in secret to a safe hiding place in Château Blanchefort, or Bézu…to be transferred at some later date to the labyrinth of Merovingian tombs below the Church at Rennes, or even to the deepest and safest dungeon of the ancient Château Hautpoul. Was that the secret of secrets which the Cathars would rather die than reveal? Did the Albigensians know where the Ark was hidden?
Going off on a completely different tack, we sail towards the reefs and shoals guarding the treacherous marshes and quagmires that mark the boundaries of “von Daniken Land”. The problem with von Däniken's theories, as set out in Chariots of the Gods and his other sensational volumes, is that a perfectly sound and feasible basic idea — the possibility that at some remote period in prehistory Planet Earth was visited by aliens from another planet — is excitably and unreliably embroidered, then buried under a mass of unsupported conjectures and very dubious data.
Because an over-enthusiastic pioneer gets carried away by his own zeal and impatience now and again, we ought not to dismiss all his ideas as fabrications, errors and exaggerations. Von Daniken wrote carelessly about vast and amazing subterranean tunnels in South America: Jean Robin's elegant and stylish Operation Orth makes mysterious tunnels under South America sound much more plausible. So let's suppose just for one wild, irresponsible moment that underneath von Däniken's ramshackle mountain of loosely cobbled myths, legends, pseudo-facts and misunderstandings there is some real evidence for an extra-terrestrial visit in the remote past. If only ten percent of his data can be proved correct, it presents a serious case for his basic theory.
Now let's take that supposition further: if an extra-terrestrial did reach Earth millennia ago, and left some sort of amazing artefact behind when he either died or left, might not some élite group have found it and tried to use it? Anything ancient, alien and only imperfectly understood is unlikely to function reliably. If it works at all it will work spasmodically and unpredictably. Let's tack on another hypothesis: suppose our dying alien is befriended by some reasonably pleasant and caring human beings to whom he entrusts as best he can (in view of their limited intelligence and almost non-existent technological background) the secrets of operating the marvellous machine he is bequeathing to them. If the first group of “guardians” who had the benefit of their alien “master's” direct personal tuition can't operate it perfectly, how will the next generation manage? And the next? And the thirty-fifth? The modus operandi may well have evolved into something like a religious liturgy, or ritual, by that time: something like the alleged Secret Rule of the Templars? The codes of the Alchemists? The mystic writings of the Rosicrucians? The hidden ciphers of the Freemasons?
An unreliable old miracle machine holding out the tantalising promise of wealth and fame, power and longevity, time travel, access to the fourth dimension — and who knows what else — is all too likely to let the user down at a crucial moment. That much fits in with what can be conjectured about some of the people who might have used it with sporadic success in the past. The Cathars led a charmed life for centuries in a world full of dangerous enemies — then their protection crumbled and failed. The Templars enjoyed military and economic success for many years — they were defeated by the odious Philip IV. Fouquet was in contact with Poussin, and Fouquet lived in more regal state than the King for a time. Had Poussin passed Fouquet the secret of the alien X-machine? Did Fouquet overreach himself and end his days in the Bastille as the Man in the Iron Mask? Did the two tragic young Habsburg Princes try to use it against Franz Josef and his “minder”, Count Taafe? Was it the failure of the machine which brought them down? Saunière himself flourished mightily for a while — but the end of his life seems to have been sadly clouded. Was there a mysterious “artefact-from-beyond-the-stars” and did it inevitably fail all its owners sooner or later?
There are those who say that the secret of Rennes-le-Château is the secret of alchemy, of real transmutation of base metals into gold. Modem chemists and physicists say that it can be done only at such enormous cost in a nuclear laboratory that it's much cheaper to dig your gold out with a pick and shovel.
But one tower of the ancient Château Hautpoul was known as The Tower of Alchemy, and the strange group of statues inside the door of Saunière's church could symbolise the alchemical elements: earth, air, fire and water.
It seems highly improbable that anything available to medieval alchemists could have effected a transmutation which modem science can perform only by recourse to prohibitively expensive nuclear forces, but there was the inexplicable case of Price and old Dr. Irish…not to mention the strange wanderer who brought the Philosopher's Stone to Irish in the first place.
The alchemical transmutation of metal seems a very improbable solution, but it's not totally impossible. The same might well be said of the other alchemical dream — the elixir of life: highly unlikely but not totally out of the question.
There are apparent discrepancies and wide variations in human life spans: external physical circumstances such as chronic malnutrition and exhaustion can shorten life dramatically as it did for the workers in the Industrial Revolution. The right food, clean air and water, peace of mind and the right amount of exercise can extend life significantly. Many Hunzas live for well over a century enjoying their apricot rich diet in a pollutionfree environment. If such simple, common sense factors can double or treble a “normal” human life span, might there not be some secret, rejuvenating elixir which would be even more effective in promoting longevity?
Semi-miraculous drugs and new prophylactic techniques seem to appear quite suddenly and regularly in medical history: penicillin from mould; smallpox vaccinations from cowpox; interferon; vitamin C to prevent scurvy on board ship; pasteurisation; antiseptic and aseptic surgery; the identification of blood groups and the ensuing transfusion techniques; insulin to control diabetes; organ transplants…each in its own way an elixir of life to many who would otherwise have died.
Did some ancient Chaldean magician, an Egyptian healer-priest, or even a wise Macedonian physician like St. Luke discover a blend of rare herbs and spices which could significantly prolong human life? Did the Comte de St. Germain have that formula? Did the Flamels have it? Is there even the remotest chance that those three very enigmatic characters are still with us?
Some serious attention must be paid to Bremna Agostini's theory of the Convocation of Venus being performed at Rennes-le-Château. Her knowledge of esoteric matters is considerable and she has friends and acquaintances who know even more. In outline the Convocation of Venus theory states that Saunière with the regular cooperation of Marie — and probably the occasional cooperation of Emma as well — performed the ritual continually and obtain from it enough more or less accurate predictions to sell to wealthy enquirers. (The proprietors of the Delphic Oracle grew prosperous in much the same way!)
The arguments in favour of the Convocation of Venus theory include the so-called “natural pentagons” on the ground near Rennes, which allegedly augment the Venusian planetary pentagon, and the supposed shock which Rivière is alleged to have received when Saunière made his final confession. “Father…I confess that my wealth came from regular black magic rituals of a sexual nature, which I used to predict the future for the rich and credulous…”
The theory is of academic interest but scarcely more than that. Admittedly, the Delphic confidence trick produced enormous wealth in its day, but the nineteenth century was a more rational period. To go for the Convocation of Venus theory means taking on board all sorts of highly volatile theological and philosophical explosives. If the future can be predicted accurately it must already exist. If it already exists we can do nothing about it. If we can do nothing about it we have no free will. If we have no free will we cannot choose good or evil…. The implications are massive.
We cannot prove that we have free will, of course. What we confidently believe to be our own autonomous decisions may be induced from elsewhere. In the last resort we are thrown back on good old gut reaction: all our instincts tell us that when we think we are making a decision we really are making a decision. It's one of those situations where you survive by throwing the elaborate sophistications and refinements of logic and philosophy overboard and keeping afloat with the pumps of instinct and the bailer of old-fashioned common sense!
Another idea which cannot be ignored is M. Fatin's theory about the layout of Rennes itself, the giant outline of a sleeping warrior and the idea of a ship of the dead. Several other serious researchers, both in the Rennes area and in other mysterious sites like Glastonbury, have claimed to see the resemblance of zodiac type configurations in the topography of the land as well as in the distant stellar constellations.
If M. Fatin is right, the question arises as to who this dead – or sleeping – warrior might be? Some have suggested King Arthur; others have argued a case for Hermes Trismegistus; he could be a Roman general; he might be a Celtic Warlord, a Visigothic Prince or even a Merovingian King. A Rosicrucian? An alchemist? A significant saint? Whoever he is, it is quite probable that his treasure went into his tomb with him, and it is equally probable that Saunière ferreted some of it out again!
In our earlier volume we looked carefully at the theory of a mysterious artefact accompanied by wealth in some form — or the means of creating wealth – and tended by an ancient and mystenous group of “Guardians”. We considered that such an object might have passed through the hands of the Cathars and the Templars (or, as later research may now be indicating the Knights of St. John) before being hidden away securely in Château Blanchefort, or below the church of St. Mary Magdalen at Rennes. We looked at the serious possibility that Saunière could then have transferred it to the Habsburgs and that it might well have ended up at the bottom of the Atlantic locked in the hold of the ill-starred Lady Margaret It also seemed possible that Count Taafe acquired it before Johann (or Jean) Salvator left Europe: in which case it may now be in the hands of one of his descendants, or back in the custody of the Habsburgs.
This still seems to us to be a strong possibility, but our current research has led us to another hypothesis which we believe to be even more likely. It goes like this.
Earlier on we laid particular emphasis on the persistent and recurring symbolism of the mother/virgin/harlot goddess theme surrounding Rennes: since the beginning there have been strange paradoxes in these seemingly contradictory “goddess” legends. This has led us to wonder whether Something — or Someone — of immense size and power was making “contact” with those who were sensitive enough to be aware of “her”.
Poets and singers have their “muses”; artists and sculptors their “inspirations”; contemplative saints and sages their “insights” and “illuminations”. Sensitive, creative minds often seem to feel that the best of what they do is coming to them from outside. Are they right? If so what might that mysterious source – or those mysterious sources – really be?
The Star Wars film trilogy, as well as being highly entertaining, posed an interesting metaphysical question: what was the strange Force which the Jedi Knights were able to use, and which had a dark aspect as well as a benign one? Is there any truth behind James Lovelock's Gaia hypothesis, and, if so, is it the same truth that underlies both the mystery of Rennes and the idea of the Force in Star Wars?
Lovelock's work began with his studies of the possibility that life might exist on Mars, and this led him to question the nature of life on earth. The Gaia hypothesis suggests that all life on earth ought to be viewed as one vast living being – perhaps a huge single organism, perhaps a massive Gestalt life form. This being, according to the Gaia hypothesis, has the power to alter the planetary environment in order to survive. Very important aspects of this immense unified organism are the feedback systems which “maintain” and “control” the environmental conditions essential for life. One clear example of what Lovelock means can be seen in the atmospheric balance. The composition of the earth's atmosphere – approximately 79% nitrogen, 20% oxygen, with argon, carbon dioxide and minute traces of other gases making up the rest – seems to have been stable and constant throughout the planet's history. That stability in tum has made life possible. The Gaia hypothesis seems to be suggesting recip-rocality: life creates and maintains the biosphere in which it exists by the use of its own biological feedback systems.
From this fundamental idea which originated with Lovelock, it is by no means a quantum leap to hypothesize that Gaia has a mind as well as a colossal “body”.
It is difficult enough for two human minds from the same period and the same culture to communicate with each other effectively. It is harder to understand men and women of other times and other cultures. To try to communicate with another species – a cetacean or an anthropoid ape – is even more challenging. How hard might it be to try to make contact with the much larger and very different mind of Gaia – if “she” exists, and if “she” has awareness and intelligence?
What might the preconditions for such hypothetical “contact” be? Firsdy, the human mind may need to be of a particular type: receptive, finely tuned, sensitive – what some people might describe as “psychic”. Secondly, that human mind may also need to be in a particular state of consciousness: the famous “trance” of the medium or the mystic; a light hypnosis; a dreamy reverie; an open, empty, quiet, tranquil and receptive state. Roy Norvill, writing in Hermes Unveiled (Ashgrove Press, Bath, 1986) says that the secret of acquiring knowledge is to concentrate the mind absolutely in a single direction. He quotes the examples of Sir Isaac Newton who said that he discovered the principle of gravitation “by thinking on it continually”, and of Paracelsus who said, “…the activity of the Universal Mind can only come to the consciousness of those whose spheres of mind are capable of receiving its impressions…”
Are these ideas so very far removed from Jung's semi-mystical theories about the collective unconscious? What was it that Tesla was in touch with? Where did Napier's ideas for his mysterious weapons come from?
In order to make contact with another human being we either have to be close enough to hear what she's saying, or to see what he's writing or signalling, or we have to use long distance technical methods of some sort: telephone, radio or television. What if the secret of Rennes-le-Château — in addition to its ancient treasure cache — is that the centre of one of its mysterious pentagons is the ideal place to be in order to communicate with Gaia?
Part of what we see and hear when we communicate with another human being is govemed — at least in part — by what we want to see and hear and what we expect to see and hear. May it not also be so with Gaia? If the lonely and the lost are subconsciously seeking a mother figure to sustain them, it is the protective and matemal aspect of her that they locate: the bird bringing food to her fledglings; the ewe caring for her lamb. If the saintly, contemplative and spiritual seeker longs subconsciously for holiness, beauty and purity it is the virgin aspect of Gaia which he finds: the opening bud, the first falling snowflake, crystal clear water springing from clean rocks. It is the prodigal who finds the harlot Gaia: in seeking to exploit and dominate her, he is himself ultimately exploited and defeated. In tearing away her foliage veil and brutally ravaging her tropical forests, he eventually destroys himself as well. The pleasure is tawdry; the rewards are ephemeral; the damage to both harlot and patron can be massive and enduring.
Is the secret of Rennes an artefact which enables human beings to contact Gaia? Is it simply the place, the Rennes area, the “doorway to the invisible”?
What is of the very greatest importance is that Gaia should not be confused with, nor mistaken for, her Creator. Huge as “she” is — if she really exists as a conscious personality — she is only another of God's creatures, a being like ourselves, but of a different order and on a larger scale. Her wisdom, experience and knowledge compared to ours may well be ás those of a mature woman compared to a young child's. Gaia may frequently have been mistaken for a goddess in the past, but — if she exists — she is only on a slightly higher rung on that same ladder of God's creation on which we all stand. We may learn much from her. We may benefit enormously from loving and respecting her and cooperating with her, but she is as dependent upon God the Father, Christ and the Holy Spirit as the rest of us are.
1Interestingly in this context, at the Council of Elrond in Book II of “The Fellowship of the Ring”, the dwarfGlóin reports how the dwarf-king Dáin was visited by an emissary from Mordor who promised the return of the surviving Rings from the Seven Rings of the Dwarves, if the One Ring were returned. The request was phrased thus: “As a small token only of your friendship Sauron asks this: that you should find this thief [Bilbo], and get from him, willing or no, a little ring, the least of rings, that once he stole. It is but a trifle that Sauron fancies…” This ties in with the “misdirection” idea – the Ruling Ring is described as the “least of rings” – a “trifle”. PVST
2Some at least must have been life-sized, for Michal (David's first wife – and the daughter of King Saul) to use one for the “dummy in bed” trick to conceal David's escape from Saul (I Samuel 19 : 11-17). PVST