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  • Published on: 1691
  • Binding: Hardcover

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5“...under the mask of erudition”
By Jeffrey John Dixon
The first volume of the Autobiography of Mircea Eliade (1907–1986), the Romanian-born historian of religions, covers the first thirty years of his life (see my Review), including his fabled Journey to the East; it ends, tantalisingly, on the cusp of his near-disastrous entanglement with the mystical but paramilitary Legion of the Archangel Michael, a movement for spiritual renewal which would degenerate into the blood-soaked and anti-Semitic Iron Guard. Near-disastrous, that is, both because of the physical danger it would put him in, in the short term, but also because, in the long term, it would damage his reputation as a champion of a new Humanism. Fortunately, the first three chapters of the second volume cover the controversies of his last years in his native country, before he became a permanent exile; and are of great interest to admirers of Eliade’s scholarly work who are aware of his scandalous associations with extremist politics and want to hear how he justified it. Eliade’s version is that his teacher and mentor, the philosopher Nae Ionescu (“I considered him my ‘master,’ the guide who had been given me to enable me to fulfil my destiny”), was fascinated by the “mystery of History” which led him to engage in journalism and become embroiled in politics. Eliade, who claims he wanted only to be a “creator in the realm of culture,” had supported Ionescu’s “political concepts and opinions” out of a sense of solidarity with the Master; and it was only when his Maestru died, leaving him spiritually orphaned, that Eliade felt liberated “from the ideas, hopes, and decisions of the professor in the last few years, with which, out of devotion, I had made common cause.” Before then, however, as “the ideologist of the Legionary movement,” Ionescu was arrested when the king imposed a dictatorship; and Eliade soon joined his Master in prison. Meanwhile, the leader of the Legion, Corneliu Codreanu, was executed, leading Eliade to write this obituary: “For him, the Legionary movement did not constitute a political phenomenon but was, in its essence, ethical and religious. He repeated time and again that he was not interested in the acquisition of power but in the creation of a ‘new man’ ... and he believed, furthermore, in his own destiny and in the protection of the Archangel Michael.” Eliade, who insists that he did not believe that his generation had a political destiny, only a cultural one, was lucky to have the protection of more earthly powers, who arranged for him to be transferred to a sanatorium when he became ill and thence home. Shortly thereafter he was offered a post as cultural attaché in first London, then Lisbon, which meant he was out of the country when the Legionaries took their vengeance in a campaign of terror which included anti-Jewish pogroms. Eliade considers that by doing so they had “nullified the religious meaning” of Codreanu’s sacrifice and that, through their “excesses and crimes”, they had “irreparably discredited the Iron Guard, considered from then on as a terrorist and pro-Nazi movement.” With regard to this account, the reader will have to provide his own answer to the question Eliade himself would later ask: “At bottom, the problem is this: how to recognize the real camouflaged in appearances?” The loss of Eliade’s pre-war journals, which he had to leave behind in Romania, may have been a convenient disaster; but it was not only his politics but also his personal philosophy which it was said he was camouflaging “under the mask of erudition.” For a similar ambiguity surrounds the extent of the influence on his thinking of the Traditionalist school of metaphysics represented primarily by the brahminical René Guénon and the intellectual kshatriya Julius Evola (whose relationship with the Italian Fascists was never “camouflaged”): the idea that the religious beliefs of all peoples are the expression, however degraded over time, of primordial Truth; and that those cultures which still provide a valid initiation can show us the Way to spiritual Life. In his Portugal Journal, written during WWII, Eliade admits that he has only confessed to a few friends his Traditionalist views; but in his Autobiography, discussing a post-war meeting with Evola, he claims to be “suspicious” of the “artificial, ahistorical character” of the Primordial Tradition. Further, while agreeing with Evola about the decadence of contemporary Western culture, Eliade refuses to despair because he believes in “the creativity of the human spirit” which he considers to be our greatest defence against the Terror of History. And is it not this creativity, rather than his personal flaws, which remains his legacy? In a series of books published in the Fifties, Eliade’s thought matured beyond dogmatic Traditionalism, developing the proposition that the sacred is a category of human consciousness. He championed a phenomenological approach to what he called the trans-conscious, insisting on treating religious beliefs on their own terms rather than submitting them to the reductionism of sociology or historicism. And although this approach is now academically suspect, he found like minds at the Eranos conferences in Switzerland, at which he lectured throughout the decade. The Autobiography gives us fascinating – but all too brief – snapshots of the luminaries with whom he mingled – notably Carl Jung, Henry Corbin and Gershom Scholem. I would love to have heard more about the methodological differences which nearly made him lose his temper with the Hungarian scholar Karl Kerényi, for example; or about his fear that his “passion for erudition” might get in the way of his own experience of the sacred; or about the attacks of melancholy which were alone “capable of disturbing and shaking the imperialistic security of theology”. We do see the man behind the mask of erudition, grieving for his lost homeland and losing his first wife to cancer; trying to write in cramped flats with noisy neighbours; courting his second wife, who encourages him to continue his literary work despite its poor reception in France (difficult for a man who had been an acclaimed novelist in his native country); surviving his own brush with cancer; and struggling against time to complete the scholarly works on which his reputation now stands...but that struggle came to an end when his Autobiography had only reached 1960, so readers who wish to follow his life to the end must turn to the published Journals.

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