Lost Teachings of the Cathars, page 24
Guilhabert and the others instructed Guirdham on the colours of auras, the mechanism by which evil acts (Guirdham’s dualism was particularly focused on good and evil), and provided an extensive esoteric teaching on the importance of touch and sensation. The revenants described the nature of jewels and semi-precious stones, their formation and use for healing. Crystals were indeed used for various purposes in the Languedoc, as we have seen in the example of Alisson of Mas-Saintes-Puelles.20
The angels of Cathar myth are actually aeons (an equivalent term in Gnosticism), which are fragments of light. The myth of the fall of the angels is actually an allegory and the fall referred to is the straying of these aeons into the zone of matter.21 Guirdham refers to this as ‘theology expressed in terms of physics’. He goes on to give further descriptions of creation, including the elements, vibrations, energy and other terms typical of esoteric cosmology.
As we can see, the teaching that Guirdham received spiritually does not bear much resemblance to the surviving evidence of the beliefs of the medieval Cathars. At best the channelled teaching is ahistorical, neither confirmed nor denied by textual or archaeological evidence. I would prefer to treat it as a neo-Cathar teaching in itself. Guirdham runs through some of its essentials in The Great Heresy but mentions that there is a lot more of it that he has not published. It would be intriguing to know if any more of this channelled teaching survived and what its nature is.
In 1929 Guirdham had worked at Charing Cross Hospital, concurrently with Dr Thomas Penry-Evans, the husband of Violet Firth, better known as Dion Fortune, the occultist and writer. Walter Birks speculated that there may have been some connection between Guirdham and the Penry-Evanses and that Guirdham may have known that they had recorded their own visions of past lives as Cathars.22 Birks charitably suggested that Guirdham may have forgotten what he learned from them only for it to emerge from his unconscious mind decades later. This is of course possible, but Charing Cross was already a large and very busy hospital, and to my knowledge Guirdham never recorded any involvement with the Penry-Evanses.
Unlike many modern Gnostics and neo-Cathars, Guirdham actually did identify himself as a dualist. To him, dualism was the centre of Catharism and the essential nature of the world. At its core, dualism consisted of: ‘... reincarnation, of the existence of two energies of good and evil in the universe and that the world was created by a lower entity.’23
Thus, in many respects, Guirdham’s view, which can be classed as a form of neo-Catharism, has more in common with what the Cathars believed than did the views of Gadal, Roché, Magré, Rahn et al. It is impressive that Guirdham took on board the dualist approach wholeheartedly instead of de-emphasizing it, or claiming that the Cathars weren’t really dualists. On the other hand, Guirdham, in the 1960s and 1970s, had access to considerably more information – and accurate information – than did his neo-Cathar predecessors. Yet Guirdham did to some extent get drawn in to the circle of the Languedoc neo-Cathars. He met Deodat Roché on more than one occasion and corresponded with him. Similarly he had long–term correspondence with scholars René Nelli and Michel Duvernoy.24
Guirdham had not been merely enjoying the company of a vivacious younger woman who could provide him with exciting titbits on his past lives. He often found the experiences with Miss Mills frustrating and emotionally challenging. She could occasionally go into fits, during which she was supposed to have slipped out of time and back into a past life. And his attempts to meet up with the circle were continually thwarted, to Guirdham’s personal inconvenience and metaphysical frustration. On retirement in 1968, after a heart attack, he had moved to Bathford, a village outside Bath, having lived in dedicated houses on hospital grounds for many years. It was during the next decade or so that he wrote his reincarnation books. He died in a Bath nursing home in 1992, having had Parkinson’s Disease for many years.
Guirdham’s experiences have the reputation of being among the most extraordinarily convincing examples of reincarnation. His descriptions are detailed but disordered. His colleagues in the group reincarnation were all pseudonymous and he didn’t meet most of them in person. No one ever had the chance to thoroughly investigate the materials provided by Miss Mills, nor to investigate her or Guirdham’s channelling of medieval Cathars under any sort of controlled conditions. Thus the Guirdham case doesn’t deserve the uncritical praise it has received from some supporters of reincarnation.
A photograph in Colin Wilson’s Strange Powers shows Guirdham as a bushy eyebrowed, jowly, high-cheekboned, solid Englishman. Wilson felt him to be straightforward and reliable, and got to know him quite well, to the extent that Guirdham became the godfather of his daughter Sally. He even met Miss Mills: ‘I have taken “Clare Mills” out for dinner (with the Guirdhams) and she confirmed everything he said.’ Colin Wilson did not take the opportunity to make a sceptical examination of her, but his approach to parapsychology did not require that.25
Ian Wilson, an investigator of strange phenomena who is no relation of Colin Wilson but whose books overlapped with those of Colin Wilson, addressed Guirdham in a chapter titled ‘Two Unacceptable British Cases’, which gives a reasonable idea of his conclusions.26 Guirdham did not permit Ian Wilson to have contact with either Mrs Smith or Miss Mills, although he was shown some childhood drawings by Mrs Smith and Betty Butler, Miss Mills’ friend who was also part of the reincarnation circle. Ian Wilson objects to the lack of verifiability of Guirdham’s case and sees it as useless for the serious scientific investigation of reincarnation. Peter and Elizabeth Fenwick are also sceptical of the literal value of the case of Arthur Guirdham and dub their section on Guirdham ‘Folie a Trois’ referring to Guirdham, Mrs Smith and Miss Mills.27
Again, I must emphasize that I don’t rule out reincarnation as a possibility. Yet Guirdham’s experiences were obviously very problematic. One does not even have to read below the surface of his own books to realize that. I would distinguish between objective and subjective approaches. Objective approaches are conducted externally and must rely on evidence. This evidence can only be assessed by comparison with historical and archaeological information, and the very nature of this is that if the assessment is done with rigour, it is only really possible to negate evidence or eliminate material. That is, a claim can be rejected as historically incorrect or unfeasible. A claim that is historically correct is obviously already known to history and thus there is the possibility that the subject has found this information, consciously or unconsciously, through normal historical sources – either quite innocently or by means of deception. The more unfair sceptics rely on promissory materialism, the usually unspoken view that even if something isn’t currently explainable within the bounds of contemporary rational science, it eventually will be; therefore, if it is at odds with current knowledge it should be rejected.
The subjective approach acknowledges that the person really does have experiences or beliefs that seem to refer to past lives, regardless of whether there is evidence that can convince a sceptical outsider. Reincarnation experiences, and here I include not only visions and hypnotherapy trances but cases like Guirdham, in which all knowledge comes from third parties may be accompanied by feelings of mystery and awe, and of the reality of a past life. Regardless of the objective truth of any ‘far memories’, reincarnation experiences can be profound. Guirdham’s own involvement with reincarnation was not always pleasant or easy, but it seems that it was nearly always heavy with experiential meaning for him. However, it can hardly be denied that Guirdham allowed the wool to be pulled over his eyes on occasion, and that he did some wool- or leg-pulling of his own.
Modern Cathar reincarnation may arguably have begun with Guirdham, but it certainly didn’t end with him. Along with seemingly spontaneous past-life memories, and the strong feelings people sometimes inexplicably have of resonating with a particular time in the past, we now have the tool of regression therapy. Cathar past lives are some of the most common to be revealed by this method, vying with those of Tibet, ancient Egypt and the Holocaust. The cynical may blame this on romanticism, and that is undoubtedly an aspect of it. Yet, if reincarnation is true – and if it works in any way similar to the popular notions of it, influenced by factors such as karma, intense suffering at death, spiritual development, unfinished business in a previous life, and so on – surely the unjust slaughter during the Albgensian Crusade and the Inquisition of hundreds of thousands of Good Men and Women who believed in reincarnation would be expected to result in souls that would be reincarnated.
In a three-part television programme in 2008, Tony Robinson and the Medieval Reincarnation, Tony Robinson investigated Guirdham and looked at famous historical British paranormal cases. Mirroring the X-Files, Robinson played the more open-minded, willing–to–believe type, while science journalist Becky McCall had the hard-headed, sceptical role. Robinson underwent hypnotic regression and found himself in the 19th century as a soldier on a parade ground in India. He found the experience utterly convincing, but the BBC research team were subsequently unable to find evidence of a soldier with that particular name.
One of the most intriguing aspects of the documentary was the presence of two Irish women, Kathy and Joni, who felt they were reincarnated Cathars. The Kathy involved, Kathy Gibbons, is now a regression therapist herself. Although the pair made a return visit to Montségur no particularly noteworthy evidence was revealed, but Kathy Gibbons has recently published a full account of her story which should fill in the gaps.28 Her story has aspects in common with Guirdham’s, particularly her discovery of incarnations in 18th-century France and as an Irish monk, in addition to her Cathar incarnation.
A friend of mine had a strong negative response to what she believed was a Cathar cross. She too had a strong conviction that she had been a Cathar in a past life. I was also able to communicate online with a northern European lady who was certain she had been a Catholic in love with a Cathar. Again, there is something circular in the arguments about the validity of the experience. This lady had a similar unhappy love experience in her 21st-century life and she sang for a medieval music group. Was her subconscious mind projecting her current unhappy love affair back into Cathar times, or was her contemporary predicament influenced, as she believed, by what had happened to her in the middle ages, as a kind of re-enactment?
This is not the place for a thorough examination of the evidence for reincarnation. The body of work which provides both the most careful examination of claims of reincarnation and the most suggestive evidence that reincarnation is a genuine phenomenon comes from Professor Ian Stevenson, who ran a unit at the University of Virginia and did extensive field research in Asia. Most of his work examined children who seemed to have past-life memories, sometimes connected with a recently dead member of another existing family seemingly unknown to the child. One of the problems with Stevenson’s work is that most of the cases occurred in environments where reincarnation is part of the religion: families who are Hindus, Sikhs, Buddhists and Druze. But again this would beg the possibility that children whose families are of other religions, or of no religions, might have past-life memories but no context in which to express them.29
Yet what would the Cathars themselves have thought of all this? They believed that Perfects would not be reincarnated when they die but would achieve salvation. Believers would be reincarnated into a life in which they could become Perfect. Would this salvation also be available to someone who reincarnated into Arthur Guirdham’s circle, or who became involved with Gadal or Roché or the Lectorium? Only the good God could possibly know.
Afterword
Beyond (or via) the revisionings and re-imaginings of people such as Gadal, Roché, Rahn and Guirdham, the Cathars have had an impact on modern culture. The glamour of spiritual genocide has exerted a fascination on all sorts of creative people, primarily through novels and music. The Cathars left no notable art and have inspired little visual art. Visual approaches to the Cathars rely on the landscape and ruined castles of the Languedoc. It is to music and literature that we must look for Cathar influence.
Music
The music of the troubadours has been re-created by many musicians as part of the Early Music movement, to the extent that the troubadours have almost become synonymous with medieval music. A particularly notable exponent is Jordi Savill, whose 2009 album title Le Royaume oublié: La croisade contre les Albigeois – La tragédie Cathar (which translates as ‘The Forgotten Kingdom: The Crusade Against the Albigensians - The Cathar Tragedy’) he explains as referring both to the Cathars’ kingdom of heaven and the forgotten land of Occitania. Such a themed selection of authentic music from the period relies on thorough scholarship, from the points of view of both musicology and history. Including Bulgarian medieval music to illustrate the Bogomil selections and texts recited in Occitan, it follows the story of the Cathars from beginning to end. It is highly recommended to anyone interested in the music of the period or who wants to reproduce something of the atmosphere of the time.
Musicians in many genres have been inspired by the Cathars, even though for some of them their interest seems as deep as a puddle. Experimental New York musician John Zorn has instrumentals titled ’Consolamentum’ and ‘Ode to the Cathars’ on his 2013 album The Mysteries, in addition to tracks named after Yaldabaoth, the Naasenes and other Gnostic or ancient religious themes. The tracks are spacious, swirling, luminous pieces played by an instrumental trio of harp, vibraphone and guitar.
Heavy metal band Iron Maiden had a song ‘Montségur’ on their 2003 album Dance of the Dead, ‘I stand alone in this desolate space / In death they are truly alive’. Other tracks included songs about the Battle of Paschendale, the Iraq War, and a song by their born-again-Christian drummer expressing opposition to human cloning. The Wounded Kings, a UK doom metal band, released a 2014 album Consolamentum, which included the title track and ‘Gnosis’.1
These two titles, ‘Montségur’ and ‘Consolamentum’, are repeated again and again when musicians adopt Cathar themes. For instance, a search for ‘Montségur’ on Amazon Digital shows that artists such as Antonius Rex, Pierre Bensusan, Altiplanos Dévayani, Daniele Garella, New Slovak Wind Quintet, Hekate, Horns of Hattin De Veritate, Euphrasia, and so on, have recorded tracks of that name. There is a similarly diverse list for ‘Consolamentum’, which also proves popular as an album title. Many of these are easy listening or ambient albums, one of which consists of echoey flute recorded in a southern French cavern, presumably in the Lombrives; another album, Les Cathares, is in the sinisterly titled ‘Music de relaxation series’. Heavy metal bands, as we have seen, have a particular attraction to the Cathars, with Megafortress, Valkyre and drone metal band Sodium/Sulfur adding themselves to the list. Jazz group Solar Quintet demonstrates that all genres are vulnerable to the Albigensian heresy.
Most of the above are sincere if superficial in their evocation of the Cathars. Perhaps the most bizarre modern musical reference is the group the Knights of the New Crusade, who issued a single ‘Christmas At Montségur’, released by Double Crown Records. The San Francisco-based band, who dress as crusader knights, play Christian-themed garage rock. Another song, the anti-Darwinian ‘Ain’t No Monkeys in My Family Tree’, would seem to indicate that we are indeed in the realm of satire here. It’s available on 7-inch green vinyl.
Fictional writing
The Cathars have featured in a steady stream of novels. Maurice Magre had set the trend in motion with his novels in the 1920s, and Zoé Oldenbourg, a Russian émigré who moved to Paris with her family in the 1920s, author of the influential non-fiction Massacre at Montségur (1961), also wrote a number of novels in French (translated into English from the 1950s onwards), set in the Middle Ages. Many of these referred to the Cathars, and included romantic elements.
Lawrence Durrell believed that Cathar traditions had survived in the folklore of southern France. In his preface to Jacques Lacarriére’s The Gnostics (1989) Durrell coined the term ‘that Thermopylae of the Gnostic soul’ when commenting on Montségur – one that has remained popular with authors such as myself. Durrell claimed to have met a Gnostic group in Alexandria and even wrote to Arthur Guirdham before Guirdham had written his books on the Cathars. As the title suggests, Durrell’s Avignon Quintet (1974–1985) is set mainly in Provence. Other Cathar-themed novels of that era include Robert Shea’s All Things Are Lights (1986).
The trickle of such works has become a flood in recent times. Chaz Brenchley’s Outremer series, beginning with Tower of the King’s Daughter (1998), uses elements of the European Middle Ages, including the Cathars, but relocates them into a fantasy setting. Sophie Burnham’s bestselling The Treasure of Montségur (2003) is a love story but is unusually sympathetic to the internal aspect of the Cathars and descriptive of spiritual states.
Kate Mosse’s Labyrinth (2005) is probably the best-known of these novels, a timeslip thriller involving a young English volunteer archaeologist who finds herself experiencing the drama of a noblewoman in 13th-century Carcassonne, while getting caught up in the machinations of a centuries-old secret society. Not undeserving of the accolade of the intelligent woman’s Da Vinci Code, it was made into an adequate television mini-series starring John Hurt.
There is even Sláine: the Grail War (2013), in which the time–travelling Irish Bronze Age barbarian from the 2000AD comic series finds himself in 13th-century Languedoc in the midst of the Albigensian Crusade.
The success of the Da Vinci Code and the ease of publication on Kindle and print-on-demand have resulted in an inundation of homemade tales of ancient manuscripts, bloodlines, Cathar–Catholic romances and valiant last stands ‘set against the backdrop of the Albigensian Crusades’, as the blurbs like to express it.
