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COMMENT 




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THE SPIRITUAL HISTORY OF RELIGIONS 

One of the shallowest generalizations of a shallow age is the com- 
monly received view that religions develop, springing from simple and 
often absurd beginnings ; from totemism, from the vision of the departed 
in dream, from highly decorative descriptions of the weather, and so 
forth. Books are written in elaboration of these themes; and defence- 
less youth is made to commit to memory the fantastical facts and il- 
logical conclusions. 

The stern truth, writ large through many centuries of the world, is, 
that religions do not develop in this way at all; often not in this or any 
way. For the most part, instead of developing, they degenerate, begin- 
ning high among the mountains of spiritual attainment, and with each 
century flowing steadily down hill. Reformers and restorers come, who, 
with burning hearts and ardent wills, check for awhile the downward 
flow, and even form new heights of their own; never, however, rising 
to the level of the original founder. Then they too depart, and the down- 
ward course continues. 

Such is the history of religions, as it is recorded in the authentic 
annals of the world. There is first the coming of the founder, full of 
divine wisdom and power and compassion, rightly esteemed by his people 
to be divine. He passes through periods of trial and probation, and then, 
with a certain evident divinity resting on his brow, brings his message 
to the people ; beginning, for the most part, with the religion of his nation 
as he finds it, and gradually inspiring and enkindling it to a finer glow of 
spiritual life; just as he begins with the language as he finds it, raising it 
and refining it to more spiritual uses. 

When he has made his message known, the founder gathers about 
him, from the multitudes who have heard his words, a few chosen dis- 



2 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

ciples, whom he straightway trains and disciplines, seeking in all ways 
to bring them closer to himself, to make them more and more partakers, 
not so much of his doctrine, as of his very life. 

If all things favor him, the general spiritual culture of the times, 
the character, intelligence, heart and soul, of his disciples, then he is able 
to raise them to a higher degree of development than their fellows, bring- 
ing them closer to himself, making them share, not so much his view of 
life as his life itself, till the same living heart's blood flows through him 
and them; till they become conscious of his life, not outwardly alone, 
with all its purity and compassion, but inwardly in their hearts and 
souls, as a living fountain of love and immortal life. 

Thereafter, the chosen disciples form, with their Master and with 
each other, a single united life, an Order, a unity of spiritual force, which 
becomes the inspiring heart of his religion. The disciples who are thus 
at one with the Master; who have given up the world, themselves and 
all things to follow the Master ; who have stepped forth, as it were, from 
the life of the world to enter the life of the Master, become channels 
for the distribution of that life to others. The Master gives not a doc- 
trine but himself. The disciples carry that life to others, and bring others 
to him. 

The perfectly sacrificial life of the Master and founder, the perfect 
giving of himself to those who will accept the gift, becomes the central 
Q truth of his religion, and is handed down to other generations of his 
I/ disciples, who, if his purpose is to be fully carried out, should enter fully 

into the life and consciousness of the Master, as did the first disciples who 
touched him personally and palpably in their daily life. For the Master, 
though now unseen by the bodily eyes, is not withdrawn or remote. His 
life is there, as a living presence, a splendid conscious being, a full 
spiritual individuality, a shining sea of life and love, for all succeeding 
generations of disciples to enter if they are willing to give up their 
life in the world, exchanging it for a new life in the Master. 

Such a perfectly sacrificial life was the life of Osiris, many thousand 
years ago in most ancient Egypt. He came in divine power and love, 
and gave not so much a religion as himself, a sacrifice, as the symbolic 
narrative recorded, freely offered 'up for the weal of men; his very 
body being cut up and scattered abroad, till its fragments were gathered 
together and made one again in a new and glorious life, by those who 
loved him. In this division of the body of Osiris is symbolized the giving 
of his life to many, the dividing of his life among many, and the forming 
of a new and greater life, wherein Master and disciples were one, with 
a divine flow of spiritual life-blood through them all. 



NOTES AND COMMENTS 3 

Osiris departed from the visible world, it was taught, but did not 
thereby cease to be, nor was his bond with the people of Egypt broken. 
Rather might it be said that his true life then began ; in the hidden divine 
world he ruled as King, guardian of the destinies of souls; and the de- 
parted, who had followed his righteous precepts, were "Osirified." They 
entered into his hidden, divine life, and became one with him. Others 
came forth again, after the rest of death, and began anew the work of 
purification and aspiration and effort, until such time as they should 
put off all dross, and put on holiness, thus fitting themselves to become 
one with the Master. Willingness to enter his life was the supreme 
qualification for that entrance. The different purifications and sacri- 
fices were but expressions of that willingness in one or another region of 
effort and will. And in all this long task and upward struggle, the main 
driving power was that same life of the Master. 

Of the life-history of Krishna, we have many records, hidden in 
symbols and traditions. From these, we can draw certain facts, basing 
on them certain inferences. He came, as a great spiritual being, -some 
five thousand years ago, according to the tradition of India. Entering 
into the life of his time and land, he gradually revealed himself as the 
spiritual Master he was, to those disciples who were fitted to understand 
him. They are personified for us in the one disciple, Arjuna, and the 
teaching given to them is recorded as having been given to him. And 
to Arjuna he gave not so much teaching as himself, raising the life and 
consciousness of Arjuna to such a glow of spiritual fire, that the 
disciple became one with the Master, entering into the very soul and being 
of the Master. 

Since the teaching and tradition of Krishna came down through 
succeeding centuries full of pure spiritual light and life, until it was 
embodied in that most spiritual scripture, the Bhagavad Gita, we may 
safely infer that Arjuna did not stand alone, as a single, isolated disciple, 
without co-disciples, without successors, but rather that the chain was un- 
broken, the links strongly welded and interlinked with each other; the 
Master standing in the background, behind the visible veil, as did Osiris, 
and gathering the new generations of disciples into his life ; making them 
one with him as he had made Arjuna one with him, in the union of a 
single life, with the same heart's blood, the very life of the Master, flow- 
ing into every member, making the true life of each disciple, the life- 
blood of the whole, united. This is the true communion of the body and 
blood, the real presence, in its most spiritual and divine reality. 

The tradition and lore of Krishna authenticates itself when it 
records him as teaching, in the Scripture which we have named: 
"Through love he learns Me truly, how great and what I am; then 



4 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

knowing Me truly, he straightway enters that Supreme. Hear further 
My ultimate word, most secret of all; thou art exceeding dear to Me, 
therefore will I speak what is good for thee. Set thy heart on Me, full 
of love for Me, sacrificing to Me, make obeisance to Me, and thou shalt 
come to Me ; this is truth I promise thee, for thou are dear to Me. Put- 
ting aside all other duties, come for refuge to Me alone; grieve not, for 
I shall free thee from all sins. This is never to be told by thee to him 
who is without fervor, without love, to him who seeks not to hear it, 
or who mocks at Me. Whosoever shall declare this supreme secret in the 
company of those who love Me, showing the highest love for Me, he shall 
surely come to Me." 

We descend through the centuries, until we come to the history of 
Buddha, two and a half milleniums from our day, and divided, the most 
ancient tradition of India tells us, by an equal period from the time of 
Krishna's life as an avatar. Of Buddha, of Siddhartha the Compassion- 
ate, to give him the personal name he bore, before he became the 
Buddha, the Awakened One, we have more authentic, consecutive knowl- 
edge. His life is less symbolic than the far earlier lives of Krishna and 
Osiris, though very much of it, which wears the face of actual happen- 
ing, is without doubt symbol also. Siddhartha began with the religion 
of his land, the culture of his day, and, picking up the thread of his divine 
destiny, gradually prepared himself to turn that religion into something 
more spiritual, more alive. 

Through many purifications and trials, he conformed his outer 
nature to his inner divine being, raising himself till his whole life became 
divine, then after the supreme sacrifice of himself and his separate will, 
to the divine will and life, he came forth to teach the multitudes, speak- 
ing simply and directly to all, embracing all with a heart of compassion, 
seeking to bring all to his own divine being and life. From the multitudes 
who heard him, he chose a few true disciples; chose them chiefly for 
their readiness to give up all, and come to him ; and these, when they had 
turned their backs on the life of the world, he initiated into his own being 
and life. 

The words which, even to-day, are on the lips, and in the hearts, of 
the Buddha's true disciples, strike the key-note of his method and pur- 
pose: "I come to the Buddha as my refuge; I come to the assembly of 
disciples as my refuge; I come to his law as my refuge." Here again 
we have the Master drawing into his life and being the chosen dis- 
ciples, who are disciples in virtue of that oneness of being with him, and 
thereafter share the Master's consciousness and the Master's will ; these, 
in their turn, being manifestations of the universal Divine Consciousness 
and Will, in which the life of the Master rests, as the Son rests in the 



NOTES AND COMMENTS 5 

life of the Father, and in virtue of whose overshadowing and all-penetrat- 
ing power the Master is a Master. For it must never be forgotten that 
it is, in the last analysis, not a question of this Master or of that, but of 
the One Supreme Eternal, wherein all rest, and whence all beings and 
all things draw the virtue of their life. 

It is quite true that this central reality of the Buddha's teaching was 
often discussed by the logic-chopping of the Doctors of Theology; so 
that, more especially, in the Southern Church with its center in Ceylon, 
there lives rather a travesty of the Buddha's religion than a true presen- 
tation of it; and this travesty has been still further travestied by some 
of our own Positivist Doctors of Science, so that a true presentation of 
the Buddha's religion, along the line so superbly laid down in The Creed 
of Buddha, is one of the crying needs of the world to-day. Yet even the 
Southern Buddhists, with all their dryness of thought, repeat the words 
which are the true key-note of their Master's teaching: "I go to the 
Buddha as my refuge: I go to the assembly of disciples as my refuge." 

But among the more northerly Buddhist nations the spirit of the 
Master more truly lives. Some of us know, all of us ought to know, 
the wonderfully luminous and touching record of the spirit of Buddhism 
in Burma, in Fielding Hall's Soul of a People. There breathes the very 
essence of the life of the Master, as it inspires a reverent and happy 
people to-day. In Japan, also, there is much of the true life of Bud- 
dhism; more, perhaps, than in any other land. We are fortunate in 
having at hand for quotation, an eloquent article, in Sunset, by a Japanese 
Buddhist, Yone Noguchi, entitled The Japanese Temple of Silence: 

"I stepped into the desolation of the Temple of Silence, Engakuji of 
famous Kamakura, that completely awakened temple, under the blessing 
of dusk; it is at evening that the temple tragically soars into the mag- 
nificence of loneliness under a chill air stirred up from the mountains 
and glades by the rolls of the evening bell. I had journeyed from Tokyo, 
the hive of noise, here to read a page or two of the whole language of 
silence which, far from mocking you with all sorts of crazy-shaped 
interrogation marks, soothes you with the song of prayer. In truth, I 
came here to confess how little is our human intellect. I slowly climbed 
the steps and passed by many a tatchu temple like Shonei An, Zoroku An 
dear is this name of Tortoise Temple and others which serve as 
vassals to great Engakuji, and finally reached the priest hall to learn 
to my no small delight that the opening ceremony of Dai Setshin, or 
'Great Meeting with Spirit,' was going to be held that night. . . . 

"The chamber, although it was quite dark already, could be seen 
to be wider than fifty mats; and here and there I observed that the 



6 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

Koji's or laymen were taking their own places, doubtless communing in 
their souls with the silence which does not awe you, but to which you 
have to submit yourself without a challenge, with a prayer. Silence is 
not here a weapon as it might happen to be in some other place; it is a 
gospel whose unwritten words can be read through the virtue of self- 
forgetting. . . . 

"All the priests stood and read the dharani of Great Mercy, and 
ended with their vows of consecration : 

" 'We vow to save all unlimited mankind ; 

" 'We vow to cut down all the exhaustless lusts ; 

" 'We vow to learn all the boundless laws ; 

" 'We vow to complete all the peerless understanding. . . .' 

"Here are mountain, river, flower, grass ; the moon is not the same 
thing with the sun. But the law which forced them to appear to their 
existence is the same law; to one who understands its true meaning, 
they are the same thing or the same thing under different shapes. The 
law is eternal; its power covers the whole world; and yet if you are 
blinded with your own self, you cannot see it at all. We call it illness of 
soul to have love fighting with hatred, goodness with badness ; and if 
you do not understand the real state of the law, your silence will be 
foolishly disturbed. To gain the perfect silence is a triumph; it makes 
you soar high above your own self and doubt. And it is the expression 
of the real law of the world and man. By its virtue you can perfectly 
join with great Nature; then you are Eternity itself. And you are 
Buddha." Here is the true spirit of the Buddha's religion; a living 
echo of the sacramental words: "I go to the Buddha as my refuge; 
I go to the assembly of disciples as my refuge; I go to his law as my 
refuge." 

If time and space allowed, we would willingly write of a great 
Indian avatar who came after the Buddha, the Master Shankara, from 
whom came for centuries all that was most living in the Indian Wisdom. 
He, too, like the Masters whose names we have cited, carried his teaching 
through many regions, and then, from the multitudes who heard him, 
chose disciples, whom he initiated into his innermost wisdom, or, to 
speak more truly, into his very life and being. He insisted, as all the 
Masters who preceded him had insisted, that these disciples should come 
forth from the life of the world, that they might enter into his life ; that 
they should put away the perverse personal will and the froward motions 
of the mind, in order that they might enter into the Divine Will and the 
Divine Mind, thenceforth forming a part of the Divine Being. These 
disciples in their turn chose disciples qualified to learn the teaching and 
lead the life ; qualified, most of all, by their willingness to lead the life, 
to pass from the one life to the other, from the life of the world to the 
life of the divine, from self-will to the will of the Master. 



NOTES AND COMMENTS 7 

Somewhat impaired by time, perhaps, yet in unbroken descent from 
the great Shankara, that line of disciples has descended to our own 
day, with the same high ideal of luminous wisdom and high purity, the 
same deep reverence, the same demand for perfect self -sacrifice in the 
disciple. From the followers of Shankara, the disciples of that line, we 
have received all the noblest scriptures of India, among the greatest and 
most inspiring scriptures in the world; receiving, with them, a living 
tradition, handed down from disciple to disciple, concerning the meaning 
and significance of much in them that were else perplexing and obscure. 
And the whole thought of the world, East and West alike, is being 
enkindled and illumined by the light that comes to us from Shankara and 
his disciples, a light which is adding new meaning to the records of all 
religions. 

Come we now to the Master within whose "sphere of influence" most 
of us were born and dwell. He, too, announced himself as an avatar: 
"Verily, verily, I say unto you, I am the door of the sheep. I am the 
door : by me if any man enter in, he shall be saved, and shall go in and 
out, and find pasture. I am come that they might have life, and that 
they might have it more abundantly. My sheep hear my voice, and I 
know them, and they follow me : and I give unto them eternal life." 

The great Western Master used a metaphor of wonderful vividness 
and force for that oneness of being which unites the disciples to the 
Master in a single, undivided life: "I am come down from heaven, not 
to do mine own will, but the will of him that sent me. And this is the 
will of him that sent me, that everyone which seeth the Son, and believeth 
on him, may have everlasting life: and I will raise him up at the last 
day. I am the living bread which came down from heaven : if any man 
eat of this bread, he shall live for ever: and the bread that I will give is 
my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world. Whoso eateth my 
flesh, and drinketh my blood, hath eternal life; and I will raise him 
up at the last day. He that eateth my flesh and drinketh my blood, 
dwelleth in me, and I in him. As the living Father hath sent me, and 
I live by the Father ; so he that eateth me, even he shall live by me." 

One of his disciples uses another image, and a beautiful one, for the 
same oneness of being, which brings the disciple into the life of the 
Master: "Now the Master is that Spirit: and where the Spirit of the 
Master is, there is liberty. But we all, with open face beholding as in 
a glass the glory of the Master, are changed into the same image from 
glory to glory, even as by the Spirit of the Master." And this same 
disciple writes with touching tenderness : "My little children, of whom 
I travail in birth again until Christ be formed in you." 



8 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

Another disciple, he who, of those first chosen, was closest to the 
Master in understanding love, records these words, spoken by the Master, 
when all the first disciples but this one had died, and the beloved disciple 
alone remained; once again, the Master is speaking of the oneness of 
life, wherein the disciple, after he has come forth from the life of the 
world, becomes one with the Master, and enters into the being of the 
Master : "Because thbu sayest, I am rich, and increased with goods, and 
have need of nothing; and knowest not that thou art wretched, and 
miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked : I counsel thee to buy of me 
gold tried in the fire, that thou mayest be rich; and white raiment, that 
thou mayest be clothed, and that the shame of thy nakedness do not 
appear ; and eye salve to anoint thine eyes, that thou mayest see. Behold, 
I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear my voice, and open 
the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me." 

So from the instances of these great Masters we may learn that the 
substance of the world's religions is no difficult and complex matter, but 
is, indeed, supremely simple. It is a question of the life of the Master, 
and of the disciple entering into the life of the Master, and that life 
entering into the disciple, so that the consciousness and will become the 
disciple's consciousness and will ; the divine everlasting life of the Master 
becomes the disciple's true life ; he lives in that, and so in the Father, the 
Eternal. He is a part of the Eternal, Divine Life, and one with all who 
dwell therein. He is with the Master and in the Master, who is in the 
Father, the Eternal. 

All precepts of all religions have but this one aim, supremely simple, 
the only purpose in the world worth following, for it alone makes for 
immortality: the aim, namely, of bringing the disciple to the Master, 
and fitting him to become one with the Master, to enter into the Master's 
very life. Therefore the spiritual history of religions is the history of 
Masters, the history of the Lodge; and the substance of that history, 
in whatever age, in whatever land, is the union of disciples in and with 
the Master's life, in a single being, with a single consciousness and will, 
the same heart's blood and life flowing through all. Churches are, or 
should be, bodies of disciples, living together, not in the tradition of a 
by-gone Preceptor, but in the very life and heart and soul of a living 
Master, and so in the life of the Lodge, wherein all Masters are at one. 
This oneness of life with the Masters is the supreme and all-important 
reality of life; and what was possible in the days of Osiris, or Krishna, 
or Buddha, or Jesus, is possible here and now, for the ages pass but the 
Masters live for ever. 



FRAGMENTS 



When the days are dark and the shadows gather, then, O beloved 
Master, we turn to thee. 



Eternal Radiance! send the beams of thy glory into this darkness, 
and though they show more clearly the towering masses of the storm 
clouds, yet in thy light shall we also see light; turning adoring eyes and 
hearts to thee. 

Out of the weariness and pain of life we grope with faltering steps 
upward along those beams. Then, in thy mercy, grant them to. us, we 
who strive and cry and open mouths of unrelieved complaint, so that 
our wailings fill the piteous world and leave a mournful undertone in 
Heaven. Black is this pit and horrible where we have plunged, seeking 
to find thy will, and serve. O tender Master, hear ! 



Lo ! He comes. His gathering glory lights the eastern sky. There, 
where the crosses stand sharp black against its dawn, we see it glow 
and glow pale lilac, green, a deepening amethyst, effulgent ruby; then, 
O miracle, the dazzling wonder of the Golden Rose! From its deep 
heart the pathway stretches down, rainbowed by angels in vast companies, 
like wake of heavenly suns on heavenly seas, or myriad planets clustered 
in one knot. Dare we, O Radiance, trust these feeble eyes so used to 
darkness ? Yet that light heals blindness, does not cause it. So we look, 
under the arches of those rainbowed wings, straight to the heart of Life ! 

O vision marvelous ! never to be forgotten or gainsaid. For when 
we take again the simple round of human life and care we find reflections 
of it shining back to us, caught in the gold strands of the childrens' 
hair, deep in the tenderness of women's eyes, flaming within the hearts 
of noble men, and spreading wide on all the hills and fields of lovely 
earth. 



And I muse: great is man's power of invocation! He prays, and 
Heaven showers golden radiance on his head, lights the whole world, and 
a new earth is born. 

CAVE. 



PATANJALI'S YOGA SUTRAS 

TRANSLATED WITH A COMMENTARY 

BY 
CHARLES JOHNSTON 



THE Third Book of the Sutras has fairly completed the history of 
the birth and growth of the spiritual man, and the enumeration 
of his powers; at least so far as concerns that first epoch in his 
immortal life, which immediately succeeds, and supersedes, the 
life of the natural man. 

In the Fourth Book, we are to consider what one might call the 
mechanism of Salvation, the ideally simple working of cosmic law 
which brings the spiritual man to birth, growth, and fullness of power, 
and prepares him for the splendid, toilsome further stages of his great 
journey home. 

The Sutras are here brief to obscurity; only a few words, for 
example, are given to the great triune mystery and illusion of Time; 
a phrase or two indicate the sweep of some universal law. Yet it is 
hoped that, by keeping our eyes fixed on the spiritual man, remembering 
that he is the hero of the story, and that all that is written concerns him 
and his adventures, we may be able to find our way through this thicket 
of tangled words, and keep in our hands the clue to the mystery. 

TRANSLATION OF BOOK IV, PART I 

i. Psychic and spiritual powers may be inborn, or they may be 
gained by the use of drugs, or by incantations, or by Meditation. 

Spiritual powers have been enumerated and described in the preced- 
ing sections. They are the normal powers of the spiritual man, the 
antetype, the divine edition, of the powers of the natural man. Through 
these powers, the spiritual man stands, sees, hears, speaks, in the spiritual 
world, as the physical man stands, sees, hears, speaks, in the natural 
world. 

There is a counterfeit presentment of the spiritual man, in the 
world of dreams, a shadow lord of shadows, who has his own dreamy 
powers of vision, of hearing, of movement; he has left the natural 
without reaching the spiritual. He has set forth from the shore, but has 
not gained the further verge of the river. He is borne along by the 
stream, with no foothold on either shore. Leaving the actual, he has 
fallen short of the real, caught in the limbo of vanities and delusions. 

* Copyright, 1909, by Charles Johnston. 



PATANJALFS YOGA SUTRAS n 

The cause of this aberrant phantasm is always the worship of a false, 
vain self, the lord of dreams, within one's own breast. This is the 
psychic man, lord of delusive and bewildering psychic powers. 

Spiritual powers, like intellectual or artistic gifts, may be inborn: 
the fruit, that is, of seeds planted and reared with toil in a former birth. 
So also the powers of the psychic man may be inborn, a delusive harvest 
from seeds of delusion. 

Psychical powers may be gained by drugs, as poverty, shame, 
debasement may be gained by the self-same drugs. In their action, they 
are baneful, cutting the man off from consciousness of the restraining 
power of his divine nature, so that his forces break forth exuberant, 
like the laughter of drunkards, and he sees and hears things delusive. 
While sinking, he believes that he has risen; growing weaker, he thinks 
himself full of strength; beholding illusions, he takes them to be true. 
Such are the powers gained by drugs, psychic wholly, since the real 
powers, the spiritual, can never be so gained. 

Incantations are affirmations of half-truths concerning spirit and 
matter, what is and what is not, which work upon the mind and slowly 
build up a wraith of powers and a delusive well-being. These, too, are 
of the psychic realm of dreams. 

Lastly, there are the true powers of the spiritual man, built up and 
realized in Meditation, through reverent obedience to spiritual law, to 
the pure conditions of being, in the divine realm. 

2. The transfer of powers from one plane to another comes 
through the flow of the natural creative forces. 

Here, if you can perceive it, is the whole secret of spiritual birth, 
growth and life. Spiritual being, like all being, is but an expression of 
the Self, of the inherent power and being of Atma. Inherent in the Self 
are consciousness and will, which have, as their lordly heritage, the 
wide sweep of the universe throughout eternity, for the Self is one with 
the Eternal. And the consciousness of the Self may make itself mani- 
fest as seeing, hearing, touching, tasting, feeling, or whatsoever per- 
ceptive powers there may be, just as the white sunlight may divide into 
many-colored rays. So may the will of the Self manifest itself in the 
uttering of words, or in handling, or in moving, and whatever powers of 
action there are throughout the seven worlds. Where the Self is, there 
will its powers be. It is but a question of the vesture through which 
these powers shall shine forth. And wherever the consciousness and 
desire of the ever-creative Self is fixed, there will a vesture be built up ; 
where the heart is, there will the treasure be also. 

Since through ages the desire of the Self has been toward the natural 
world, wherein the Self sought to mirror himself that he might know 
himself, therefore a vesture of natural elements came into being, through 



12 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

which blossomed forth the Self's powers of perceiving and of will: the 
power to see, to hear, to speak, to walk, to handle; and when the Self, 
thus come to self-consciousness, and, with it, to a knowledge of his 
imprisonment, shall set his desire on the divine and real world, and 
raise his consciousness thereto, the spiritual vesture shall be built up for 
him there, with its expression of his inherent powers. Nor will migra- 
tion thither be difficult for the Self, since the divine is no strange or 
foreign land for him, but the house of his home, where he dwells from 
everlasting. 

3. The apparent, immediate cause is not the true cause of the 
creative nature-powers ; but, like the husbandman in his field, it takes 
obstacles away. 

The husbandman tills his field, breaking up the clods of earth into 
fine mould, penetrable to air and rain ; he sows his seed, carefully cover- 
ing it, for fear of birds and the wind; he waters the seed-laden earth, 
turning the little rills from the irrigation tank now this way and that, 
removing obstacles from the channels, until the even flow of water vital- 
izes the whole field. And so the plants germinate and grow, first the 
blade, then the ear, then the full corn in the ear. But it is not the 
husbandman who makes them grow. It is, first, the miraculous plasmic 
power in the grain of seed, which brings forth after its kind; then the 
alchemy of sunlight which, in presence of the green coloring matter of 
the leaves, gathers hydrogen from the water and carbon from the gases 
in the air, and mingles them in the hydro-carbons of plant-growth; and, 
finally, the wholly Occult vital powers of the plant itself, stored up 
through ages, and flowing down from the primal sources of life. The 
husbandman but removes the obstacles. He plants and waters, but God 
gives the increase. 

So with the finer husbandman of diviner fields. He tills and sows, 
but the growth of the spiritual man comes through the surge and flow 
of divine, creative forces and powers. Here, again, God gives the 
increase. The divine Self puts forth, for the manifestation of its powers, 
a new and finer vesture, the body of the spiritual man. 

4. Vestures of consciousness are built up in conformity with the 
position of the feeling of selfhood. 

The Self, says a great Teacher, in turn attributes itself to three 
vestures : first, to the physical body, then to the finer body, and thirdly 
to the causal body. Finally it stands forth radiant, luminous, joyous, as 
the Self. 

When the Self attributes itself to the physical body, there arise the 
states of bodily consciousness, built up about the physical self. 



PATANJALI'S YOGA SUTRAS 13 

When the Self, breaking through this first illusion, begins to see and 
feel itself in the finer body, to find selfhood there, then the states of 
consciousness of the finer body come into being; or, to speak exactly, the 
finer body and its states of consciousness arise and grow together. 

But the Self must not dwell permanently there. It must learn to 
find itself in the causal body, to build up the wide and luminous fields of 
consciousness that belong to that. 

Nor must it dwell forever there, for there remains the fourth state, 
the divine, with its own splendor and everlastingness. 

It is all a question of the states of consciousness ; all a question of 
raising the sense of selfhood, until it dwells forever in the Eternal. 

5. In the different fields of manifestation, the consciousness, 
though one, is the effective cause of many states of consciousness. 

Here is the splendid teaching of oneness that lies at the heart of the 
Eastern wisdom. Consciousness is ultimately One, everywhere and for- 
ever. The Eternal, the Father, is the One Self of All Beings. And so, 
in each individual who is but a facet of that Self, Consciousness is One. 
Whether it breaks through as the dull fire of physical life, or the murky 
flame of the psychic and passional, or the radiance of the spiritual man, 
or the full glory of the Divine, it is ever the Light, naught but the Light. 
The one Consciousness is the effective cause of all states of conscious- 
ness, on every plane. 

6. Among states of consciousness, that which is born of 
Meditation is free from the seed of future sorrow. 

Where the consciousness breaks forth in the physical body, and the 
full play of bodily life begins, its progression carries with it inevitable 
limitations. Birth involves death. Meetings have their partings. Hun- 
ger alternates with satiety. Age follows on the heels of youth. So do 
the states of consciousness run along the circle of birth and death. 

With the psychic, the alternation between prize and penalty is 
swifter. Hope has its shadow of fear, or it is no hope. Exclusive 
love is tortured by jealousy. Pleasure passes through deadness into pain. 
Pain's surcease brings pleasure back again. So here, too, the states of 
consciousness run their circle. In all psychic states there is egotism, 
which, indeed, is the very essence of the psychic; and where there is 
egotism there is ever the seed of future sorrow. Desire carries bondage 
in its womb. 

But where the pure spiritual consciousness begins, free from self 
and stain, the ancient law of retaliation ceases; the penalty of sorrow 
lapses and is no more imposed. The soul now passes, no longer from 
sorrow to sorrow, but from glory to glory. Its growth and splendor 
have no limit. The good passes to better, best. 



14 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

7. The works of followers after Union make neither for bright 
pleasure nor for dark pain. The works of others make for pleasure 
or pain, or a mingling of these. 

The man of desire wins from his works the reward of pleasure, or 
incurs the penalty of pain; or, as so often happens in life, his guerdon, 
like the passionate mood of the lover, is part pleasure and part pain. 
Works done with self-seeking bear within them the seeds of future 
sorrow; conversely, according to the proverb, present pain is future 
gain. 

But, for him who has gone beyond desire, whose desire is set on 
the Eternal, neither pain to be avoided nor pleasure to be gained inspires 
his work. He fears no hell and desires no heaven. His one desire is, 
to know the will of the Father and finish his work. He comes directly 
in line with the divine Will, and works cleanly and immediately, without 
longing or fear. His heart dwells in the Eternal; all his desires are 
set on the Eternal. 

8. From the force inherent in works comes the manifestation of 
those dynamic mind-images which are conformable to the ripening 
out of each of these works. 

We are now to consider the general mechanism of Karma, in order 
that we may pass on to the consideration of him who is free from Karma. 
Karma, indeed, is the concern of the personal man, of his bondage or 
freedom. It is the succession of the forces which build up the personal 
man, reproducing themselves in one personality after another. 

Now let us take an imaginary case, to see how these forces may 
work out. Let us think of a man, with murderous intent in his heart, 
striking with a dagger at his enemy. He makes a red wound in his 
victim's breast ; at the same instant he paints, in his own mind, a picture 
of that wound : a picture dynamic with all the fierce will-power he has 
put into his murderous blow. In other words he has made a deep wound 
in his own psychic body ; and, when he comes to be born again, that body 
will become his outermost vesture, upon which, with its wound still there, 
bodily tissue will be built up. So the man will be born maimed, or with 
the predisposition to some mortal injury; he is unguarded at that point, 
and any trifling accidental blow will pierce the broken joints of his psychic 
armor. Thus do the dynamic mind-images manifest themselves, coming 
to the surface, so that works done in the past may ripen and come to 
fruition. 

9. Works separated by different births, or place, or time may be 
brought together by uniformity of memory or dynamic impression. 

Just as, in the ripening out of mind-images into bodily conditions, 
the effect is brought about by the ray of creative force sent down by 



PATANJALI'S YOGA SUTRAS 15 

the Self, somewhat as the light of the magic lantern projects the details 
of a picture on the screen, revealing the hidden, and making secret things 
palpable and visible, so does this divine ray exercise a selective power on 
the dynamic mind-images, bringing together into one day of life the 
seeds gathered from many days. The memory constantly exemplifies 
this power ; a passage of poetry will call up in the mind like passages of 
many poets, read at different times. So a prayer may call up many 
prayers. 

In like manner, the same over-ruling selective power, which is a ray 
of the Higher Self, gathers together from different births and times and 
places those mind-images which are conformable, and may be grouped 
in the frame of a single life or a single event. Through this grouping 
are visible bodily conditions or outward circumstances brought about, 
and by these the soul is taught and trained. 

Just as the dynamic mind-images of desire ripen out in bodily con- 
ditions and circumstances, so the far more dynamic powers of aspira- 
tion, wherein the soul reaches toward the Eternal, have their fruition 
in a finer world, building the vesture of the spiritual man. 

10. The series of dynamic mind-images is begin ningless, because 
Desire is everlasting. 

The whole series of dynamic mind-images, which make up the entire 
history of the personal man, is a part of the mechanism which the Self 
employs, to mirror itself in a reflection, to embody its powers in an out- 
ward form, to the end of self-expression, self-realization, self-knowledge. 
Therefore the initial impulse behind these dynamic mind-images comes 
from the Self, and is the descending ray of the Self; so that it cannot 
be said that there is any first member of the series of images, from which 
the rest arose. The impulse is beginningless, since it comes from the 
Self, which is from everlasting. Desire is not to cease; it is to turn to 
the Eternal, and so become aspiration. 

11. Since the dynamic mind-images are held together by 
impulses of desire, by the wish for personal reward, by the substratum 
of mental habit, by the support of outer things desired; therefore, 
when these cease, the self-reproduction of dynamic mind-images 
ceases. 

We are still concerned with the personal life in its bodily vesture, 
and with the process whereby the forces, which have upheld it, are 
gradually transferred to the life of the spiritual man, and build up for 
him his finer vesture in a finer world. 

How is the current to be changed? How is the flow of self-repro- 
ductive mind-images, which have built the conditions of life after life in 
this world of bondage, to be checked, that the time of imprisonment may 
come to an end, the day of liberation dawn? 



i6 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

The answer is given in the sutra just translated. The true driving- 
force is withdrawn and directed to the upbuilding of the spiritual body, 
which shall, in its turn, be transmuted to the finer causal body, and this 
in turn be changed to the vesture of radiance. 

When the building impulses and forces are withdrawn, the tendency 
to manifest a new physical body, a new body of bondage, ceases with 
them. 

12. The difference between that which is past and that which 
is not yet come, according to their natures, depends on the difference 
of phase of their properties. 

Here we come to a high and difficult matter, which has always been 
held to be of great moment in the Eastern wisdom : the thought that the 
division of time into past, present and future is, in great measure, an 
illusion; that past, present, future all dwell together in the eternal 
Now. 

The discernment of this truth has been held to be so necessarily a 
part of wisdom, that one of the names of the Enlightened is: "he who 
has passed beyond the three times : past, present, future." 

So the Western Master said: "Before Abraham was, I am"; and 
again, "I am with you alway, unto the end of the world"; using the 
eternal present for past and future alike. With the same purpose, the 
Master speaks of himself as "the alpha and the omega, the beginning and 
the end, the first and the last." 

And a Master of our own days writes: "I feel even irritated at 
having to use these three clumsy words Past, Present, and Future. 
Miserable concepts of the objective phases of the subjective whole, they 
are about as ill-adapted for the purpose, as an axe for fine carving." 

One feels that there must be something wofully wrong with words 
that can so far disturb that high, urbane serenity. 

In the eternal Now, both past and future are consummated. 

Bjorklund, the Swedish philosopher, has well stated the same truth : 

"Neither past nor future can exist to God; He lives undividedly, 
without limitations, and needs not, as man, plot out his existence in a 
series of moments. Eternity then is not identical with unending time; 
it is a different form of existence, related to time as the perfect to the 
imperfect. . . . Man as an entity for himself must have the natural 
limitations for the part. Conceived by God man is eternal in the divine 
sense, but conceived by himself man's eternal life is clothed in the limita- 
tions we call time. The eternal is a constant present without beginning 
or end, without past or future." 

13. These properties, whether manifest or latent, are of the 
nature of the Three Potencies. 

The Three Potencies are the three manifested modifications of the 



PATANJALFS YOGA SUTRAS 17 

one primal material, which stands opposite to perceiving consciousness. 
These Three Potencies are called Substance, Force, Darkness ; or viewed 
rather for their moral coloring, Goodness, Passion, Inertness. Every 
material manifestation is a projection of substance into the empty space 
of Darkness. Every mental state is either good, or passional, or inert. 
So, whether subjective or objective, latent or manifest, all things that 
present themselves to the perceiving consciousness are compounded of 
these three. 

14. The external manifestation of an object takes place when 
the transformations are in the same phase. 

We should be inclined to express the same law by saying, for ex- 
ample, that a sound is audible, when it consists of vibrations within the 
compass of the auditory nerve; that an object is visible, when either 
directly or by reflection, it sends forth luminiferous vibrations within the 
compass of the retina and the optic nerve. Vibrations below or above 
that compass make no impression at all, and the object remains invisible ; 
as, for example, a kettle of boiling water in a dark room, though the 
kettle is sending forth heat vibrations closely akin to light. 

So, when the vibrations of the object and those of the perceptive 
power are in the same phase, the external manifestation of the object 
takes place. 

There seems to be a further suggestion that the appearance of an 
object in the "present," or its remaining hid in the "past," or "future," 
is likewise a question of phase, and, just as the range of vibrations 
perceived might be increased by the development of finer senses, so the 
perception of things past, and things to come, may be easy from a higher 
point of view. 

15. The paths of material things and of states of consciousness 
are distinct, as is manifest from the fact that the same object may 
produce different impressions in different minds. 

Having shown that our bodily condition and circumstances depend 
on Karma, while Karma depends on perception and will, the sage recog- 
nizes the fact that from this may be drawn the false deduction that 
material things are in no wise different from states of mind. The same 
thought has occurred, and still occurs, to all philosophers ; and, by various 
reasonings, they all come to the same wise conclusion; that the material 
world is not made by the mood of any human mind, but is rather the 
manifestation of the totality of invisible Being, whether we call this 
Mahat, with the ancients, or Ether, with the moderns. 

1 6. Nor do material objects depend upon a single mind, for how 
could they remain objective to others, if that mind ceased to think of 
them? 



i8 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

This is but a further development of the thought of the preceding 
sutra, carrying on the thought that, while the universe is spiritual, yet 
its material expression is ordered, consistent, ruled by law, not subject 
to the whims or affirmations of a single mind, unwelcome material things 
may be escaped by spiritual growth, by rising to a realm above them, 
and not by denying their existence on their own plane. So that our sys- 
tem is neither materialistic, nor idealistic in the extreme sense, but rather 
intuitional and spiritual, holding that matter is the manifestation of spirit 
as a whole, a reflection or externalization of spirit, and, like spirit, every- 
where obedient to law. The path of liberation is not through denial of 
matter but through denial of the wills of self, through obedience, and 
that aspiration which builds the vesture of the spiritual man. 

17. An object is perceived, or not perceived according as the 
mind is, or is not, tinged with the color of the object. 

The simplest manifestation of this is the matter of attention. Our 
minds apprehend what they wish to apprehend ; all else passes unnoticed, 
or, on the other hand, we perceive what we resent, as, for example, the 
noise of a passing train ; while others, used to the sound, do not notice it 
at all. 

But the deeper meaning is, that out of the vast totality of objects 
ever present in the universe, the mind perceives only those which con- 
form to the hue of its Karma. The rest remains unseen, even though 
close at hand. 

This spiritual law has been well expressed by Emerson: 

"Through solidest eternal things the man finds his road as if they 
did not subsist, and does not once suspect their being. As soon as he 
needs a new object, suddenly he beholds it, and no longer attempts to 
pass through it, but takes another way. When he has exhausted for the 
time the nourishment to be drawn from any one person or thing, that 
object is withdrawn from his observation, and though still in his imme- 
diate neighborhood, he does not suspect its presence. Nothing is dead. 
Men feign themselves dead, and endure mock funerals and mournful 
obituaries, and there they stand looking out of the window, sound and 
well, in some new and strange disguise. Jesus is not dead, he is very 
well alive: nor John, nor Paul, nor Mahomet, nor Aristotle; at times 
we believe we have seen them all, and could easily tell the names under 
which they go." 

(To be concluded.) 



GOSSIP ABOUT SAINTS 



SINCE good old Butler's Lives of the Saints was the orthodox 
reading for Sunday afternoons, and was the hair shirt of many 
an active, healthy boy and girl, who longed to be out of doors, a 
whole host of excellent books dealing with this fascinating subject 
has been published. Some of these have received mention in the 
QUARTERLY; very many have not. They will repay reading, not only 
for religious incentive and edification but for their purely human interest 
and instruction. 

What, for instance, could be more delightful than the story of the 
simple-minded Cistercian monk who suffered from a grievous temptation. 
He was overheard threatening the Lord that if He did not remove the 
temptation he would complain of Him to His Blessed Mother ! And the 
pious old chronicler adds that the Lord accepted the intent of the prayer, 
and (overlooking its manner), speedily removed the temptation.* 

Then there is the famous story of the abbot Spiridion, which is 
quoted by Lea in his History of the Inquisition to illustrate certain types 
of religious faith in the middle ages. This good man lived for 104 
years and never grew old. He ruled the abbey, which he had founded, 
with such gentleness, wisdom and love that it became a Mecca for those 
desiring a monastic life. When finally gathered to his fathers and safely 
buried in a shrine in the abbey, his remains began to work miraculous 
cures, and the lame, the halt and the blind came from miles around to 
seek relief. The peace of the abbey was so disturbed by these growing 
crowds of worshippers that the new abbot and his chosen councillors had 
a conference about what they could do to put an end to this interruption 
of their monastic calm. They decided to address a petition to their 
sainted abbot. 

Whereupon, after High Mass on All Saints' Day the religious walked 
in procession to the old man's shrine. There, the abbot struck thrice on 
the stone coffin with his shepherd's staff of rule, and three times he called 
aloud, "Spiridion ! Spiridion ! Spiridion !" and begged him, as he had been 
father and first founder of that monastery, to listen to the grievance which 
had befallen them in consequence of the miracles he had wrought from 
his grave. "Make then, we beseech thee, no further sign from thy 
sepulchre. That is what we ask of thee, expecting it of thy love. But 
if it be that thou deny us, solemnly we declare unto thee, by the obedience 
which once we owed thee, we shall unearth thy bones and cast them 
forth from among us." 

Sad to say the holy Spiridion paid no attention to this appeal. His 



* Cistercian Legends of the Jjf/t Century. R. Washburne, London. 

'9 



20 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

followers supposed that he was too busy with the delights of Heaven. 
Howbeit when they discovered that the miracles continued unabated, they 
opened the coffin, found the body uncorrupted, carried it to the river 
bank, and there, amid tears, lamentations and prayers, they burned the 
remains and scattered the ashes to the four winds of heaven. Naturally 
the miracles ceased. 

This same Spiridion had the gift of inner vision. He knew what 
every one thought and said, and this gave rise to much trouble in the 
abbey, for the brethren grew afraid of him. They were abashed at the 
idea that he knew all their most secret thoughts and that every vain 
fancy was laid bare to his knowledge. The abbot was quick to perceive 
this change and he summoned them all to meet him in chapter. Then 
he addressed them thus: 

"Truly it is a grievous and a terrible thing that any man should 
see with the eyes of the soul more than it is given the eye of flesh to see; 
and I pray you brethren, beseech the Lord, if it be His will, that the 
vision be withdrawn from me. So much for myself; but as for you, 
dear children, why are you grieved? Because it may be that I see you 
when you think no man sees you? Am I then the only one who sees 
you? Is there not at least one other the high God, from whom the 
hidden man of the heart is nowise hidden? If you do not fear His holy 
eyes, little need you fear the eyes of any sinful man." 

Such a man was the abbot Spiridion. His spirit passed from 
among men in the hundred and fifth year of his exile, while he was 
listening to the brothers singing prime. His cheeks suddenly flushed, 
and thinking he might be in pain, his companions asked if there was aught 
they could do to relieve him. He replied in a low voice, "When the 
heart is glad, the face flowers," and a little later he laughed softly to 
himself, and they knew that his end was gladness.* 

But all the tales are not so pleasing to our modern ears. Take 
St. Angela of Foligno, a very famous lady, much revered by the faithful. 
She finds that her mother and husband are in her way, so she prays God 
to take them from her, and quite naively and candidly says: "In that 
time, and by God's will, there died my mother, who was a great hindrance 
to me in following the way of God : my husband died likewise, and in a 
short time there also died all my children. And because I had com- 
menced to follow the aforesaid way, and had prayed God that He would 
rid me of them, I had great consolations of their deaths, albeit I did also 
feel some grief. Wherefore, because that God had shown this grace 
unto me, I did imagine that my heart was in the heart of God and that 
His will and His heart were in my heart." ! ! 

Could candour go further? I am afraid that we must accuse 



* This, and similar stories, are from A Child's Book of Saints, by William Canton, published 
by E. P. Button & Co, New York, and J. W. Dent & Son, London. It is a charming little book, 
written with a grace, delicacy and feeling which go straight to the heart. By all means get and 
read it (J. B.) 



GOSSIP ABOUT SAINTS 21 

St. Angela of suffering from what we may call confusion of mind; or 
perhaps her biographers, pious souls, may have made her do so. The 
quotation may really have been her graceful way of accepting the great 
grief which the loss of her family really was to her. That is what I 
think anyhow. I prefer to think the best about the saints. 

Then there are the stories that are hard to believe for other reasons. 
For instance, one old gentleman was specially famous for levitating when 
in deep prayer. He would go into the garden to pray and when called 
to his dinner, his comrades would find him floating around among the 
trees. They would get the gardener to come with his rake and rake 
the old man down to earth. It is even said that the gardener grumbled 
mightily because of this unprofessional duty which was required of him. 
Now a scientifically trained friend of mine refuses to believe this anec- 
dote. He talks learnedly about the law of gravitation and that if prayer 
could neutralize the weight of the body it would fly off into space at the 
rate of 20,000 miles a second. I do not wonder that a mind filled with 
facts like that finds it difficult to believe in levitation. But I believe in 
it, especially now that we know that there is no such thing as weight; 
that matter is only swirls in the ether ; and I can see no reason why some 
condition of ecstasy should not so change the polarity whatever that 
means (Huxley used to say that whenever he came across that word 
in a book, he shut the book up, for it did not mean anything save 
unscientific thinking!) that the body could float in air. Anyhow I 
believe it does. I believe the old monk levitated; that he had to be 
raked down by the gardener, and I especially believe that the gardener 
grumbled. That is the touch of verisimilitude which makes the entire 
story credible. 

St. Theresa says she levitated, and I believe everything she says. 
She tells of some experiences of her own; how, when going to pray 
before the High Altar, she would make two of her nuns kneel beside 
her to hold her down, because, when absorbed in prayer she had a ten- 
dency to float away and she disliked the notoriety and fuss which that 
created. Even modern people levitate. It is a not uncommon phenom- 
ena among Buddhist monks today. 

The austerities and physical tortures of the saints are not so pleasant 
a side of their histories. Some of these are almost incredible. I have 
already spoken in the QUARTERLY of dear old St. Peter of Alcantara 
who only slept an hour and a half every twenty-four hours, ate once in 
three days, and who, in his later years, "looked like the gnarled roots 
of old trees" ! Henry Suso slept for years on a plank through which he 
had driven many nails. Yes, scoffer, he turned the plank over and slept 
on the points, for he was all bloody when he got up after his rest! He 
did many other similar things, too, until one day an inner voice told him 
to stop all that silliness ; that it was his duty to keep his body strong and 
well so that it would be a fitting instrument for his soul. 



22 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

Simeon Stylites, as we all know, spent forty years on the top of a 
column of a ruined temple, exposed to the icy blasts of winter and the 
no less dreadful summer sun. Once, in the middle of his self-imposed 
martyrdom, he was told that the Bishop wished him to come down. 
Instantly, he let down the cord, used to raise his food, and asked them 
to pass him up a ladder. But he was allowed to stay, and finally to die 
on his lonely perch. He had scores of imitators. Indeed, the "pillar 
hermit" became such a nuisance that finally this form of religious 
penance was forbidden. 

In The Paradise of the Fathers by Palladius, recently translated 
from a very old Coptic manuscript by Prof. Budge of the British Mu- 
seum, we find a series of anecdotes and histories of the early Christian 
cenobites in Egypt. Palladius did not actually meet St. Anthony, for 
the famous saint died before he arrived in Egypt, but he met several 
men who had known Anthony and who could give him first hand 
information. Dear old St. Anthony, made known to us by the countless 
number of pictures of him and his temptations, must have been most 
unattractive, for he entirely eschewed the use of water, externally, and 
only used a very limited quantity to drink. At the height of his fame, 
and when an old man, he was so bothered by disciples and those who 
came to seek his advice, that he had some of his friends lower him into 
a crevice in the rock and fill in the hole with big stones. He stayed there 
for seven years. Once every six months disciples would come, remove 
a stone and lower him a bundle of bread. Curiously enough this kind 
of existence seems to conduce to longevity. He lived to be a hundred 
or thereabouts, 104 I think it was, and one cenobite of the same period 
lived to be 116. As he entered the religious life when only a boy, it 
means that for a hundred years he practiced this kind of asceticism. 

I sometimes wonder whether a little more mortification of the flesh 
and a little less love of comfort, would not be good for us modern saints 
who have such a contempt for the older forms of asceticism. I should 
not like to be thrown to the lions, or sawed in half lengthwise, or broken 
on the wheel; nor do I crave forty years on a column, three feet in 
diameter (poor old Simeon had not the room to lie down at full length), 
or sixty years, without washing, in a hole four feet square in the desert. 
(Anthony had not space to stand upright.) But might there not be a 
happy medium between these two extremes; their extreme abuse of the 
body and our extreme care for it ? 

I often wonder what they did to pass the time away. I wonder 
about this in the case of all religious, who live a secluded, monastic life, 
and the only conclusion I can come to is that after awhile, by means of 
meditation and prayer, their consciousness enters some state where time, 
as we know it, does not exist, and that they can remain in such a condi- 
tion for hours or days together without fatigue either to mind or body. 
There must be something of the kind, otherwise insanity would be the 



GOSSIP ABOUT SAINTS 23 

inevitable result. And it is on record, time out of mind, that these 
heroes of religious devotion not only do not become insane, but get wiser 
and wiser as they grow older. St. Anthony was sought by thousands of 
eager disciples after sixty years of ceaseless mortification. 

One of the curious things about the stories of the saints the stories 
of the saints, mind you, not the saints, which is a very different thing 
is the amount of interest they take in their mortal remains after they 
have gone to Heaven. One would imagine, that, like Spiridion, they 
would be fully occupied with what they would find there. But no. 
There are scores of tales of how they resented indignity to and neglect 
of their bones. Woe betide the careless sacristan if they have a chance 
to get even with him. Death by slow torture is not too great a punish- 
ment for so heinous a crime. 

In the year 1280 a monk named Terlac, went to see his relatives in 
Cologne, and obtained by his prayers the bodies of two holy Virgins 
from the church of St. Ursula. Laden with his great treasure, he was 
beset by a robber from whom he had great difficulty in escaping. That 
night the robber dreamed a dream. He saw two beautiful maidens 
standing by him. One said, speaking to the other, "Who is this ?" Her 
companion answered, "This is the man who was not afraid to threaten 
the monk who was carrying our relics." Then the other replied, "What 
shall we do with him?" The robber saw then a great fire, into which 
he thought he might be thrown on account of his great iniquity, he there- 
fore fell down at their feet and humbly beseeched their pardon, which 
was indulgentl y accorded him. Filled with joy at having escaped 
the fire, he awoke, went at once to the Bishop and confessed his sins. 
The story ends, "Happy are those that love Jesus and venerate His saints, 
for He will not let them be injured." 

Now this is the type of story which I do not believe. The poor 
saints are dead and cannot deny such libels, so I do not hesitate to come 
forward and do it for them. I do not believe that the saints cared 
anything about their cast off bodies, and I am sure that these stories are 
pure, or impure, fabrications. 

You all must have heard of Serapion and his companion monks, 
who ventured forth in a cockle-shell boat nearly a thousand years ago, 
from their abbey of the Holy Face in Ireland, and voyaged for seven 
years in the Western seas. They visited Greenland, Newfoundland, the 
coast of the United States and several of the islands in the great 
Atlantic, burying one of their number on what is probably one of the 
Bermudas. All this is written in the Golden Missal of the abbey, but the 
time had not come for the discovery of America so their tales received 
no credence. Familiar, too, is another legend, but it bears repetition. 

Once upon a time in the very early days there was a huge giant 
of a man, so large and so strong that he vowed he would only serve 
the greatest king in the world. He journeyed forth to find this king, and 



24 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

after many adventures came to a court of a very powerful monarch, 
who said that he himself was the most powerful king in the world 
and that every one feared him. The giant stayed and served, but one 
day seeing the king turn pale, he asked the reason. The king replied 
that he had thought of Death and that he was afraid of Death. Finding 
that there was one of whom his lord was afraid, named Death, the giant 
fared forth again to seek for this still greater monarch. He travelled 
far and wide until one day, in the desert, he came across a troop of 
horsemen, at whose head rode a wonderful being, whose face was full 
of majesty and power. Delighted, he asked the leader for his name, 
and was answered, "Death, of whom all men are afraid." Here, then, 
was the king he sought, so he followed and served him for many weeks. 

But one day, riding along the road, they came to a crucifix, and the 
giant noticed that Death rode round it and seemed perturbed. Inquir- 
ing why, he was told that there was one who had conquered death. 
Sorrowfully the giant took his leave of Death and set forth once more 
upon his wanderings. He journeyed far and wide until one day he came 
across a hermit in the desert. He told his story to the hermit and the 
holy man in turn tried to explain that the only being greater than Death 
was Christ who had died to save us. But the giant did not understand. 
He had never heard of Christ. He asked the Hermit how he could find 
the Great King who had conquered Death, and the Hermit, finding him 
too simple-minded to comprehend, said that if he would go to a river 
near by, where there was a ford, and help wayfarers to cross the river, 
he might, in time, find his great King. 

The giant did so. He built himself a hut upon the shore of the 
river and for many, many years helped travellers across the ford. One 
very stormy night, when the river was in flood, and he was sitting in 
warmth and comfort in his hut, he heard a child's voice calling him by 
name. He paid no attention at first, but the cries became urgent and 
finally he went out and found a young boy who said he must cross that 
night and who begged the giant to help him. At first the giant refused. 
He said the river was too high and the passage would be dangerous. 
But the child pleaded and finally the giant mounted him on his back and 
plunged in. The river was worse than he thought and as he moved 
forward the weight of the child grew unaccountably until the giant felt 
that he had the whole world on his shoulders. He became exhausted 
and almost overwhelmed. Finally, realizing his great need, he cried, 
"Great King, whom I have sought so long, now, if ever, is the time to 
help me." 

Immediately the boy on his shoulder leaned forward, and in a voice 
of surpassing sweetness, said : "I am thy King, whom thou seekest, and 
the burden thou findest so heavy are the sorrows of mankind." But the 
weight disappeared and the giant was able to stagger to the further shore. 
He thrust his staff into the ground and dropped exhausted. When he 



GOSSIP ABOUT SAINTS 25 

awoke, he found that his staff had taken root and blossomed : and this is 
the story of Offero, since then called St. Christopher, he who carries 
Christ, the patron saint of travellers, whose image we put on our automo- 
biles to ward off accidents ; and of all the legends of the saints, it is one 
of those I like best, even if I cannot believe it. 

Very sweet and very human are the stories of the appearance 
of the Christ child to some of the saints. Here is one of the 
quaintest. In the monastery of Ramey there was a nun named Ida of 
Lewes, who had many visions and the gift of miracles. The child Jesus 
used often to appear to her. Once the Virgin appeared to her with her 
Child in her arms. She presented Him to Ida, who received Him and 
rejoiced sweetly in His embrace. It was during a service of Vigils and 
it came to Ida's turn to intone a psalm, which, according to the Cistercian 
Rule, may only be done with the arms hanging down at full length on 
either side. "She thought therefore, in herself, what she might do, for 
if she held the Child in her arms she would break the statutes of the 
Order. She therefore said to our Lord, 'Take care of yourself, now, 
for I must satisfy the rules of the Order.' She accordingly let down 
her arms, full length, standing in ceremony to intone the verse. The 
holy Child meantime threw His arms around her neck, and so clung to 
her till the verse was sung. Ida on her part sang the verse better than 
usual with her, and then, sitting down, took the holy Child on her lap, 
filled with the sweetest consolations." 

Is not that dear? And there are others; but I can only give one 
more, or the Editor will accuse me of undue annexation of his space. 
Let me conclude by saying that we must not think that holiness and 
sweetness are products only of bygone times. There is an old Cure 
alive in France today, whose gentle piety and loving heart compare 
favorably with any of the saints of old. They tell of him that, after 
Mass, while his housekeeper was giving him his dinner, she asked him 
if he had noticed that one of the parishioners had gone to sleep. The 
Cure said that he had done so, and had been very much distressed, and 
had redoubled his prayers so that he might absorb all the attention of 
the good God, and He would not have time to notice the careless Jean. 
I love this story! And I only hope that my readers have had one-half 
the pleasure in reading my little chronicle, that I have had in writing it. 

JOHN BLAKE. 



THE HIDDEN LIFE OF THE SOUL 

"And he worshipped him." St. John ix, 38. 



PROPER LESSONS 
Proverbs i. St. John ix. 

THE blind beggar of Jerusalem is a noteworthy exception to the 
many wretched folk who received benefits from the Master. Often 
His miraculous word or touch awakes no response. Those who 
have suffered poignantly rejoice with selfish exultation at free- 
dom from disease or sorrow. But they are too absorbed in personal life, 
in the small circle of their selfish interests, to spare a thought or inquiry 
about the Stranger. They have gained relief from certain troubles. They 
resume the daily round, the common task. Content with this improve- 
ment in the condition of life here on earth, they altogether lose the great 
gift which He had come to give a new life wholly independent of 
material conditions, eternal, in the heavens. True, His extraordinary 
deeds caused amazement that from time to time brought an impulsive 
declaration to the lips of bystanders. St. John records, however, that of 
the many who thus believed on His name "J esus did not trust Himself 
unto them, for that He knew all men." Impulse is inconstant. The 
Royal Way of the Holy Cross which He should unfold to disciples re- 
quires steadfast perseverance. He would not take unto Himself as dis- 
ciples those whose belief was momentary, excited by surprise. Another 
exception that comes to mind, along with the blind beggar, is the Samari- 
tan leper whose gratitude is mentioned by St. Luke. His nine compan- 
ions went along with no thought of anything due for the unexpected alms. 
They were engrossed in their own designs. The loathsome and isolating 
plague was at an end. They could now return to their daily life of 
ambition and competition. It is noteworthy that the only leper of the ten 
to display the finer human virtues of courtesy and gratitude and to show 
conciousness of the Divine Power that rules and guides the world, was 
an outcast one little better than a heathen, a Samaritan, who would 
have no part in the clannish kingdom which priests and Pharisees awaited 
as reward for ceremonial punctiliousness. 

A wide interval separates the Samaritan leper from the blind beggar 
the interval between gratitude and worship, between what is human 
and divine. The Samaritan did glorify God; but it was a God far off 
and vaguely known. God-in-flesh stood before him unrecognized. The 
leper is shaken with emotion ; he bows his head to the feet of the strange 
Almsgiver ; he has no words to express his indebtedness. He is sincerely, 

* A sermon for the twenty-third Sunday after Trinity. 
26 



THE HIDDEN LIFE OF THE SOUL 27 

profoundly, lastingly grateful. The beggar did more. He recognized 
God with him Emmanuel. "And he worshipped him." 

The incident is one of the rare joyful occurrences in the lonely exile 
of the great Prince. So many efforts of those He had helped and who 
desired to show appreciation of His strange loving power were like 
inarticulate cries of animals or young children ; efforts full of tenderness 
and gratitude, the noblest offering of the heart, yearning. Nevertheless 
these efforts made Him see how very very helpless were these young 
babes of His; they touched again His limitless compassion. Such an 
offering was the vase of perfume an act of devotion that makes the 
woman's memory sweet wherever the Gospel is preached. Compassion, 
pathos, tears (not of sorrow but of beauty) her act of yearning affec- 
tion does not lift beyond these human feelings. She anointed His body 
for the grave. But the blind beggar entered the shrine of the Sacred 
Heart. He had just spoken the great words in the temple: "My teach- 
ing is not mine but his that sent me. If any man willeth to do his will, he, 
shall know of the teaching whether it is of God or whether I speak from 
myself. I am the light of the world ; he that followeth me shall not walk 
in the darkness, but shall have the light of life. If a man keep my word, 
he shall never taste of death. Before Abraham was born, I am." The 
response to His call is stones lifted against Him. Do you think He 
grieved over the harm and insult intended? He was in the world not to 
seek His own glory but His Father's. He departed from the Temple 
not sorrowful on His own account but over men who named His Father 
with their lips while in their heart they hated him knowing only their 
own father, a murderer and liar. In sorrow over His Father's dis- 
honored name, He comes upon the beggar. Do you not see why the 
meeting is one of exalted joy? It was Christ's love for the Father that 
set Him apart from men, though it was the sole purpose of His life to 
make all men joint heirs with Himself of the Father's peace and joy. The 
beggar understood. As he kneeled in silent adoration of the Son of God, 
Christ's sorrow and loneliness ended. His solitary, flaming love for the 
Father is at last shared ; being shared, it is doubled, and leaps in livelier 
flames. His loneliness ends. He becomes one with the beggar in an 
ecstasy of adoration. Christ with veiled eyes and the beggar at His feet 
worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness. The woman with the 
precious perfume, the sisters of Lazarus, Peter, Thomas, most of the 
Twelve were little infants sheltered in the Master's hands. St. John, too, 
felt those hands but not as a speechless babe. His Master's love for him 
was not compassionate love protecting inarticulate weakness; it was the 
manly sympathy of a friend that calls forth answering love and sympathy. 
The fourth Gospel is proof of St. John's understanding love. The beg- 
gar, in a measure, understood, as St. John did, the mystery of Jesus. 
"These are written," the beloved disciple puts in, toward the end of his 
Gospel, "that ye might believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God." 



28 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

Now listen to the narrative of the beggar. "J esus heard that they had 
cast him out ; and when he had found him, he said unto him, Dost thou be- 
lieve on the Son of God? He answered and said, Who is he, Lord, that 
I might believe on Him? And Jesus said unto him, Thou hast both seen 
him, and it is he that talketh with thee. And he said, Lord, I believe. 
And he worshipped him." 

One must surely ask : What is it that makes the blind beggar differ 
from the throngs that were healed and fed? Why were the scribes and 
Pharisees moved to stone Jesus, versed as they were in the prophets, and 
punctilious for the Law; while an ignorant mendicant attained to that 
union in which, Christ said, all true disciples would have part? The 
answer is simple. The multitude, scribes, priests, and people were ab- 
sorbed in the life around them; their attention and consciousness were 
centered upon the external world and their share in its events. The 
beggar's consciousness was not centered in external life but in The Hid- 
den Life of the Soul. The harvest of one is worship of the other, 
hatred that crucifies. It is worth while to consider somewhat those con- 
trasted modes of life. 

The scribes, if one may use that word to include all those opposed 
to Christ, saw only with their bodily eyes. The finer vision which dis- 
cerns "the deep things of God" was not theirs. "The invisible things 
of him from the creation of the world" were not manifest to them only 
the visible. Their desires and hopes were limited to things temporal. 
Of the eternal they had no surmise. They were wretched victims of 
materialism. Their ambitions and satisfactions concerned only the soma 
psychikon; they were ignorant of the being of a soma pneumatikon 
eternal in the heavens. Starting with the premise of materialism their 
minds worked in the mode of rationalists, and arrived at a reasoned out 
synthesis of things. Like all material, rationalist, logical systems, their 
synthesis was a piece of mechanism, devoid of life. In their system, the 
Deity was not a transcendent and immanent Spirit, making "of one 
blood all nations of men," giving "to all life, and breath, and all things," 
and dwelling "not far from every one" in temples not "made with hands." 
They "changed the glory of the incorruptible God into an image made 
like to corruptible man." Their deity was really an idol of power only 
in Jerusalem and its environs, undisposed to moral judgments, but cajoled 
with the most hollow performance of ceremonies, ablutions, and fasts. 
Those who presented these heartless offerings were casuistical jugglers, 
and their motives were mercenary. They desired a certain pay. They 
would render the least possible service that could win the pay. They were 
too ignoble to reach the level of Stoicism, the philosophy of lofty- 
minded rationalists. They demanded compensation for the woes oc- 
casioned them by the capricious course of a godless world. They 
greedily sought full satisfaction for the carnal mind. This satisfaction 
would be theirs under the reign of an invincible prince who should first 



THE HIDDEN LIFE OF THE SOUL 29 

put to the sword threatening enemies, and then sit on the throne 
with endless fanfaronade. One contemplates the whole horde of scribes, 
ancient and modern, and then groans with Isaiah: "To what purpose 
is the multitude of your sacrifices unto me? saith the Lord: I am full 
of the burnt offerings of rams, and the fat of fed beasts ; and I delight 
not in the blood of bullocks, or of lambs, or of he goats. When ye 
come to appear before me, who hath required this at your hand, to 
tread my courts ? Bring no more vain oblations ; incense is an abomina- 
tion unto me; the new moons and sabbaths, the calling of assemblies, 
I cannot away with; it is iniquity, even the solemn meeting. Your new 
moons and your appointed feasts my soul hateth ; they are a trouble unto 
me; I am weary to bear them. And when ye spread forth your hands, 
I will hide mine eyes from you; yea, when ye make many prayers, I 
will not hear; your hands are full of blood." 

The emotions and behavior of this class of men in presence of the 
mysterious God-Man are not strange. He has none of the accoutre- 
ments of the warrior king. Hence His royal claim is madness and 
blasphemy: "Thou art a Samaritan and hast a devil." Yet, let us be 
just to them and say they did Him involuntary homage; they quailed 
before Him. Their eyes saw only the Nazarene whose father and 
mother they knew. But even their mole-eyed vision caught a something 
more which they could not name. Revile or stone Him they might. 
They could not blot from their minds the transcendent majesty that 
shone from the uncrowned face. They felt His placid sovereignty as 
Ruler of the Universe, His high indifference to their petty scheme of 
things ; and this feeling enraged them to fury. An ordinary blasphemer 
making that royal claim would have been treated as one irresponsible in 
frenzy. Christ's word sounded condemnation in their ears. They 
sought to establish their innocence by murdering their judge. 

Turning from the external life of the materialists, shall we say 
that the beggar's blindness was the price of his salvation? A fatal 
answer, that to make CEdipuses of us all. For, then, we might with 
a bare bodkin make one moment of sharp pain end all the lifelong 
struggle after righteousness and peace. A rose-leaved path leading 
to heights celestial, not the stony mountain-side! Let us try to trace 
the path of the beggar's spirit. He had lived through an experience 
like Job's in the years before Christ spoke. The questions, doubts, and 
inner pain of Job were his and in larger measure. For 

'Tis better to have loved and lost 
Than never to have loved at all. 

He had no chance to hang the gallery of his mind with pictures of 
fadeless color. He had never known "the sweet approach of even or 
morn," 



30 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

From the cheerful ways of men 
Cut off, and for the book of knowledge fair 
Presented with a universal blank 
Of nature's works. 

He passed from the sweet dependency of childhood to greater help- 
lessness in no kindly environ. The moral atmosphere in which he 
lived is clearly given in the question of Christ's disciples : "Master, who 
did sin, this man or his parents, that he was bora blind ?" That question 
reflects the ethical teaching of the scribes. This young man sat on the 
Temple steps as a daily lesson for their profit. His blindness and 
beggary were the result of sin, his own or his parents'. He suffers for 
some failure in ceremonial observance. He is outcast, judged of God. 
Instead of Job's three tormentors, this man has a cityful of self- 
righteousness and condescension about him. His reaction upon com- 
placent condescension is bitterness, despair and robust protestation. 
A man, born with men, his right has been filched. Filched! for no act 
had forfeited it. In dreary monotony he murmurs against the injustice 
and cruelty of God, till the suggestion comes: Curse God and die. 
Curses rest upon his lips. 

Why died I not from the womb? 

Why did I not give up the ghost when my mother bore me ? 

Why did the knees receive me? 

Or why the breasts, that I should suck ? 

For now should I have lain down and been quiet; 

I should have slept; then had I been at rest, 

With kings and counsellors of the earth, 

Who built up waste places for themselves; 

Or with princes that had gold, 

Who filled their houses with silver: 

Or as an hidden untimely birth I had not been, 

As infants that never saw light. 

Suicide plays its lure, but he does not grasp it. He is seeking an issue 
out of his troubles suicide is evasion. Poverty twinges him with pri- 
vation, and the dole comes with a commendation to thank God that 
his punishments are not worse. Is it wonder that sarcasm, scorn, de- 
fiance break from his lips: "It is all one; he destroyeth the perfect 
and the wicked." 

Ah God ! could you and I with Him conspire 
To grasp this sorry scheme of things entire, 

Would not we shatter it to bits and then 
Re-mould it nearer to the heart's desire. 



THE HIDDEN LIFE OF THE SOUL 31 

At this point, his physical disabilities cease to torment. For he has 
passed from outer to inner darkness, from bodily to spiritual beggary. 
In the moral and spiritual sphere, his eyes can see no light, his soul 
finds no water for its thirst. Bodily woe cannot symbolize his new 
anguish. It is not a passive suffering of pain and privation. It is a 
contest with fiends who mock, and gibe, and sneer, and trample. In 
that yelping horror of darkness he gropes with lame hands: 

Oh that I knew where I might find him 
That I might come even to his seat 
[But] he is not a man as I am 

Neither is there any daysman betwixt us 
That might lay his hand upon us both. 
My soul is weary of my life. 

In agony of lamentation he falls upon the ever shifting sand. 

and far away 

The phantom circle of a moaning sea. 
A deathlike mist slept over sand and sea. 
And over him the sea wind sang 
Shrill, chill, with flakes of foam. 

But his cry had "shiver' d to the tingling stars." Over the wild welter 
of the waves, there now broods a mysterious Spirit. Through the 
ghastly white darkness there glows a beam. It is not garish day, but 
the kindly light that leads homeward every pilgrim who follows its 
ray the Light that was in the beginning with God and that lighteth 
every man that cometh into the world. 

O isplendor di viva luce eterna. 
Hail, holy Light ! offspring of Heaven first born ! 
Or of the Eternal coeternal beam, 
Bright effluence of bright essence increate! 
Before the sun, before the heaven, THOU ART. 

The daysman is there. Lamentation becomes rejoicing. His conversion 
has begun. He is turned to Godward, and begins to discern the deep 
things of the Spirit. 

I know that my Redeemer liveth, 

And at last he will stand up upon the earth : 

And after my skin, even this body, is destroyed, 

Then without my flesh shall I see God; 

Whom I, even I, shall see on my side, 

And mine eyes shall behold, and not as a stranger. 



32 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

Like Job's, the beggar's whole-hearted search found God. And like 
Job, in dying need, his insight (not foresight) discerned the mediator 
between weakness and Omnipotence. In days past, the beggar had 
been told of some deity in the sky. Now, God is to him Reality, a fact, 
the beginning and end of things. 

I had heard of thee by the hearing of the ear; 
But now mine eye seeth thee. 

Henceforth the daily life is peace and joy. What matters the film 
over his eye, when living Light eternal irradiates his soul? Hew repine 
over scant possessions of earth, when lustrous treasure of rustless gold 
immeasurable is his? Divine Love enfolds him. His mood is blithe. 
He rejoices in tribulation. His sufferings were not meaningless, "but 
that the works of God should be made manifest in him." Through 
blindness and beggary he has found the Living God. Blindness is dear 
to him a sweet sister; poverty, his dear lady and bride. He is mirth- 
ful. He sings with birds. He keeps festival with wind and rain. He 
circles in angelic dance. Hilaritas angelica! 

His festival of joy has a startling interruption. A Stranger stops, 
touches with vibrant hand, and gives a command that compels obedience. 
What amazement for the beggar, and what perplexity! Brought sudden- 
ly to the busy life of men will his vision splendid fade away into the 
light of common day? Is his joy but a dream, the Living God a night 
shadow, and Divine Love a fever-phantom? Is the joy of this world, 
after all, man's highest good? But who is this constraining Stranger? 
Undoubtedly He has wrought a miracle; and He is teaching in the 
Temple, is speaking about God, and is displeasing, even angering the 
priests and scribes who for so many years had passed the beggar's step 
with hollow words of cold comfort that plunged his soul in icy waters. 
Never before in Jerusalem have one's eyes been thus opened. And the 
Stranger is telling of God's love, of righteousness, of a new life. No 
man can speak such words, and do unheard-of deeds of good, and be, 
himself, evil. He must be God's servant as the patriarchs were His 
servants, Moses, Abraham, Jacob. Or, is He not like the holy men of 
later times who rebuked kings, people and priests for flagrant evil, 
and taught of a God other than the idols they cherished. Those prophets 
were wronged, even stoned, by the priests and people whose hypocritical 
lip service their holy lives condemned. Without doubt, this Stranger 
is of their company a new messenger sent by God to His erring people, 
if haply they might turn from their wickedness and live. How fearlessly 
the beggar pulls down the screen of false zeal behind which the Phari- 
sees are sheltered! His own experience of God is scientific fact, "mine 
eye seeth thee." They have no fact empty words, vaguely heard and 
thoughtlessly repeated. How His sincerity pricks their full-puffed ar- 



THE HIDDEN LIFE OF THE SOUL 33 

rogance and conceit, and leaves them mere nothings. He speaks out 
clearly, with Apostolic boldness, and almost in the words of Peter and 
of Paul. "Wherefore would ye hear it again? will ye also be his dis- 
ciples? Then they reviled him, and said, Thou art his disciple; but we 
are Moses' disciples. We know that God spake unto Moses; as for 
this fellow, we know not from whence he is. The man answered and 
said unto them, Why herein is a marvelous thing, that ye know not 
from whence he is, and yet he hath opened mine eyes. Now we know 
that God heareth not sinners; but if any man be a worshipper of God, 
and doeth His will, him he heareth. If this man were not of God, he 
could do nothing." A second time he is outcast from the company of 
the righteous. But, condemned of men, he is accepted of God. Again 
the compelling voice speaks. What is this Stranger? Whence that 
majesty which awes, though so strangely tempered with humility? 
Whence that austere affection, strong to upbuild? Whence that sim- 
plicity as of a friend with his brother? The mystery of Divine Love 
which already had shone through the night upon the beggar's spiritual 
vision, now stands, Incarnate, before his eyes of flesh. "MASTER f" 
"And he worshipped him." 

We boast of a Christian civilization, of a Christian nation, and 
with complacent pride, hold up our virtues as exemplar to the outer 
society of the unredeemed. Yet, practically, actually, we repudiate the 
beggar as openly as did his Jewish neighbors. He travelled the Royal 
Way of the Holy Cross to reach his Saviour. We are content that the 
Saviour bore the Cross ; it is much if we will go to Him in smooth com- 
placency. We call the beggar's obscure life ignominious. His poverty 
is a disgrace, and his unlettered ignorance a crime. Let us for a little 
endeavor to attain to candor in the consideration of our motives and am- 
bitions. With what comes from the lip there is no fault to be found. 
But out of the heart are the issues of life. Our hearts, it may be, are as 
far estranged from the Desire of all nations as were the arrogant 
dwellers' of Jerusalem. 

We worship success visible, tangible success, that calls forth ap- 
plause or envy from our fellows. We care nothing for the judgment 
that takes place behind the veil of things, for the scale of values by which 
Eternity weighs and estimates. We know the standard of those in our 
line or vocation; we desire their notice, and we shape our acts to win 
it. If our interest, for example, chance to be intellectual, we turn from 
other standards than the intellectual. We condescend to pity the sordid 
aims of finance and the crooked way of the politician; we keep white 
plumes on our heads, and laboriously travel the highway toward truth. 
That motive is there, but also another motive; that each may be the 
fortunate discoverer of the coveted item of truth, that each may be ac- 
claimed by his colleagues as the fortunate discoverer. A world of 

3 



34 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

pedants! it conceals under a white front the bickerings and jealousies 
of the footlights. As the wings of the years wax weaker for flight, and 
the scholar surveys his gain, there is the secret loathing of Faust. 

Habe nun, ach! Philosophic, 
Juristerei und Medizin 
Und leider! auch Theologie 
Durchaus studiert, mit heissem Bemuhn. 
Da steh ich nun, ich armer Thor ! 
Und bin so klug, als wie zuvor. 

The hard-won ingots and nuggets are up-piled to feast the eye; they 
prove Tiergeripp und Totenbein. The man is successful, he has won 
a large share of the intellectual world; but he has forfeited his life. 

So in all the businesses and vocations. Fevered toil after fortune 
is too commonplace to be touched upon. We know successful fortune 
builders. The beggar of Jerusalem would change places with none of 
them. "Men bow before them, stare and shout round them, crowd after 
them up and down the streets; build palaces for them, feast with them 
at their tables' heads all the night long; the soul stays long enough 
within to know what they do, and feel the weight of the golden dress 
on its shoulders, and the furrow of the crown-edge on the skull." They 
are successful, they are renowned. They have gained a goodly share of 
the world of money, but they have forfeited their life. 

The Church, too, worships success. There was a period when her 
teachings guided and governed life. Men found her treasure priceless, 
satisfying as no other possession, to be found only within her walls. 
In moments of passion or caprice, they sometimes violated her laws. 
For such trespasses they submitted to most humiliating public penances, 
in order, finally, to regain the treasure they had lost. They separated 
from the steadfast, and kneeled in precincts far from the holy altar; 
or remained for years, for life even, outside the porch, in harsh as well 
as kindly weather, that thus, by manifest contrition, they might once 
more, at death, receive the comfortable food of the Body and Blood. 
Where to-day is her fruitful discipline? Who would heed her stern 
correction? If she is no longer feared, it is because she has lost the 
treasure that made her loved. The Church has forgotten that she is 
in the world to guide men out of the ways of the world. To transform 
the world is difficult; in cowardice, she has conformed. The spiritual 
discipline of her children, the Hidden Life of the Soul, is not her con- 
cern. She has unlearned her Master's method to accept the world's 
success, numbers, concrete material extension to conceal her inner void. 
For her enterprises she accumulates, and wins the world's applause. 
What profit if the Church gain the whole world heathendom, Mars, 
all the planets and forfeit her own life. Shall she be presented in 



THE HIDDEN LIFE OF THE SOUL 35 

rich apparel to her Bridegroom, and be spurned because the life that is 
in her is death? 

Let us all, secular and clerical, free ourselves from the glamor of 
success. Let us turn from the things seen of men (they have their 
reward) to the hidden things known of God. Let us leave success to the 
rulers and Pharisees while with the beggar we quietly and joyfully live 
the Hidden Life. Let us take up a cross and follow our Saviour's path. 

In consequence of aiming at success, contemporary society, and the 
Church along with it, has come to look upon poverty as disgrace. The 
hope is cherished of removing the disgrace by reconstructing society upon 
the principles of socialism. The effort is un-Christian and futile. It is 
contrary to the law which pious investigation has disclosed as the divine 
law, ordained by God, governing all manifested life the law of growth. 
Life, growth, evolution are synonymous. So long as one deals with mech- 
anism, one can devise a whole that is an aggregation of equal parts as 
a ten-inch cubic block is formed of one thousand equal one-inch blocks. 
But with life comes change, growth. An organism is not an aggregate 
of exactly similar and equal parts. It is a unit composed of differentiated 
members. The more abundant the life, the more complex is the organ- 
ism and the greater is the diversity of its members and their functions. 
It was organic unity the rich simplicity that arises out of complexity 
that Hooker opposed to the mechanical unity of the Puritans the sim- 
plicity of impoverishment. In maintaining organic against mechanical 
unity and simplicity Hooker went back to New Testament doctrine. No 
part of the teaching is more familiar than the figure of the body and its 
members. Some are for noble, others for less comely service, but all are 
necessary to one another and to the living whole which feels in every part 
the suffering of any one member. Society is a living organism like the 
human frame or the Church. It is "a permanent body composed of 
transitory parts ; wherein, by the disposition of a stupendous wisdom, 
moulding together the great mysterious incorporation of the human 
race, the whole, at one time, is never old, or middle-aged, or young, but, 
in a condition of unchangeable constancy, moves on through the varied 
tenor of perpetual decay, fall, renovation and progression." Society is 
one of the disciplines graciously given by an all-wise and all-loving 
Father to His precious children. Like every noble organism, it displays 
extremes of divergence in its members. The splendid and the humble 
classes of society are necessary, each to each and to the whole. And, 
as the diverse gifts of the Corinthian converts had one equal source in 
the Spirit and as the bodily organs are unified by the blood, so, under 
the surface inequalities of social classes, which alone the socialist can 
see, Christianity discloses a fine, deep and noble equality. This equality 
already exists. It is not necessary to manufacture it by reconstructing 
society. All that is needful is to recognize and live it. It is "the happiness 
that is to be found by virtue in all conditions; in which consists the true 



36 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

moral equality of mankind, and not in that monstrous fiction which, by 
inspiring false ideas and vain expectations into men destined to travel in 
the obscure walk of laborious life, serves only to aggravate and embitter 
that real inequality which it never can remove; and which the order of 
civil life establishes as much for the benefit of those whom it must leave in 
an humble state as those whom it is able to exalt to a condition more 
splendid but not more happy." Christianity, a spiritual system, will not 
for a moment admit the utterly material conclusions of socialism. Pov- 
erty, yea, beggary is no bar to the highest felicity the highest felicity, 
here in this present life, and in endless life. Christianity can send back 
to his owner, Philemon, a runaway Christian slave. The outward re- 
lation of servitude is no bar, St. Paul feels, to real unity of spirit; 
the inner relation does not prescribe a change of the social and civil 
status. A man's salvation, his happiness, is in no degree dependent upon 
outer things, environment, circumstances. It is altogether inward, of 
the heart. Peace does not arise out of possessions, many or moderate. 
Peace or woe depends upon the attitude of a man's heart toward his 
Maker, whether it is turned to or from God. Poverty is a gracious, 
divine gift altogether wholesome for man. The hard pressure of material 
life pushes man toward the hidden portal of the soul, within which 
smiles the Holy Land of promise. Great wealth is a similar divine gift, 
and leads to the same portal. For, when an individual has made his own 
every delight of earth, and there is no obstacle between a whim and its 
accomplishment, there rises and increases in intensity a sensation more 
painful than gnawing hunger palled satiety, dearth of pleasure through 
fullness of pleasure. In that killing languor comes the realization of the 
emptiness of earthly life. And the man of wealth, seeking real and 
permanent satisfaction, thus reaches the silent portal. The dramatic 
contrast of poverty and wealth, their one goal, are striking and salutary 
lessons for the mass of men. But there is nothing more pernicious than 
the comfortable mediocrity of socialism. It removes pain and pressure, 
and desires to give man through material means that peace which is a 
fruit of the Spirit. The individual cannot sink to the profitable lesson 
of poverty nor rise to the equally beneficial discipline of wealth. He is 
stationary. He stagnates, he dies. 

There is no member of our society to-day who, in view of the 
Jewish beggar, can plead circumstances as cause of unhappiness. No 
outward condition can hinder us from worshipping Christ and, in that 
worship, finding joy. Let us bend all energy to bring men into the de- 
votional way of life. Why delay? Raise them from beggary to com- 
fortable homes; a rain-proof roof does not ensure salvation. Make 
them heads of business counting houses do not shelter peace. Give 
them any amount of earth's treasures; you have not given what satis- 
fies. Why take so long? Give them at once bread of Heaven and water 
of life. 



THE HIDDEN LIFE OF THE SOUL 37 

What has been said of wealth holds also of learning. We are all 
astray in our idolatry of education. We are worshipping machinery. 
Probably at no time have such interest and wealth been lavished upon 
institutions of learning; and probably at no time were there such hordes 
of uneducated as just now fill society. For many years the public desire 
has been to put all classes alike, regardless of natural unfitness, through 
a much vaunted intellectual training that, for most, ends in intellectual 
paralysis. The red Indian in the Arizona desert must master the New 
England primer "O see the trout in the brook!" though brook-trout 
mean less to him than to us ethereal crustaceans that await capture in 
the canals of Mars. But he must learn. His salvation, somehow, de- 
pends upon it. The negro must be made an unmenacing member of 
society by having all arts and sciences thrust into his head. The children 
of peasant immigrants must learn to 

unsphere 

The spirit of Plato to unfold 
What worlds, or what vast regions hold 
The immortal mind that hath forsook 
Her mansion in this fleshly nook. 

It is ludicrous fallacy. The way of salvation is not intellectual but moral. 
Truth is learned, not by speculating about the doctrine, but by doing the 
will. Catherine of Siena could neither read nor write; but through 
practice of His will power came to her that constrained priests and 
potentates. Intellectual prowess is a special gift. When guided by the 
Spirit, a trained intellect is a worthy servant of God. The one 
Spirit, however, makes diverse gifts. Intellectual poverty no more 
hinders the laying up of treasure in heaven than did the beggar's empty 
purse. Without the Spirit's guidance, the intellect makes a Pharisaic 
end; it is endlessly busied with mint and anise and blind to its Creator. 
Again the beggar stands as our teacher. Which shall we approve and 
follow his ignorance or the learning of the scribes ? 

Let us turn from the noisy life of the world with its rewards that 
are seen of men, and give our thought to The Hidden Life of the Soul. 
Let us end our idolatries. Let us leave off the worship of success, of 
wealth, of learning, and let us begin to worship Him. 

CLARENCE C. CLARK, Ph.D. 



WHY I JOINED THE T. S. 



THE reason that I asked to be permitted to join the Theosophical 
Society was not as a result of any solicitation whatsoever, direct 
or indirect, but because, after long years of groping in the dark, 
I suddenly found myself at home. This phrase may sound 
cryptic to those in my former state of mind, but even in view of such 
instruction as I have received and the helpful books I have read it still 
seems to me that this sums up everything. 

My reason may be stated more fully, perhaps, in language at once 
literal and symbolic; because, through Meditation I found Light on the 
Path. These two little books were loaned me. As I had met the author 
I read Professor Mitchell's brochure first. It interested me. The 
English seemed clear really limpid; the thought logical and the thesis 
worked out. But when I turned back to glance the work over, suddenly 
it seemed as if I had understood nothing in the book, which I had but 
a moment before classified as a "pretty little piece of work." 

I began to read it again, or, rather, to try to read it, and found 
that it required the hardest kind of intellectual effort. Word by word, 
sentence by sentence, I struggled on. The significance and possibilities 
of Meditation as a document of authority and of Meditation as a process 
of development began to appeal to me. I soon saw that Professor 
Mitchell's method would give to me a strength I had lacked, would 
supplement and buttress me in every way ; in social relations, in business 
and in my ambitions. I regretted that I had not known it earlier. 
Clearly could I see how it made possible much I had hoped for. It 
illuminated my own mind so that I could see my own errors of the past. 
Not the errors of morals or character, I mean; but those of policy, 
thought and more particularly of expression. I felt as any man might 
feel after listening to conclusive, logical and effective instruction in any 
branch of science in which the student was interested and the instructor 
most able. 

The first spiritual result of my experience with Meditation was 
to confirm the principal effect of Talks on Religion to make me say, 
"Religion is a good thing, I must give more time to its consideration. 
I need its consolation." I also began to try, almost without realizing it, 
Professor Mitchell's method. Cleverly, as I now perceive, but quite 
accidentally, I then thought, he suggests to his readers "Duty" as an 
illustration naturally "Duty" is used as a test of his method. I thought 
of duty as he suggested and was surprised at the experience. 

The novel effort wearied me, however, and I laid down Meditation 
and took up the other little book, which I now rank reverently with the 
Bible and the Book of Common Prayer as one of the most divinely 



WHY I JOINED THE T. S. 39 

inspired instruments in helping man I mean Light on the Path. It is 
hard to write down my experience. To those still groping it will be 
impossible to believe me to those already on the Path there will be 
nothing even novel for me to say. But I am told to write and I will try : 

Having been brought up in the Protestant Episcopal Church I had 
received the customary religious education all my life and was sup- 
posed to have made due and orderly religious progress until after 
Confirmation I became a communicant. I therefore know of "Conver- 
sion" only by study and at second hand. I am tempted to liken my 
experience on first reading Light on the Path, to being "converted," 
yet it was different; was broader, deeper, more permanent. Receiving 
"illumination" more exactly describes it. By that I mean that it was 
something like welcoming an old, dear friend of childhood, after years 
of separation and entire forgetfulness. I suppose now I would call it: 
the sudden development of power self-consciously to recognize and accept 
through intuition the ancient doctrine and teachings, both from Within 
and Without. No rather would I say: I heard the Voice in the 
Silence I was granted a glimpse of the Gates of Gold; I was allowed 
to stand for an instant in the Presence. 

I doubt if I remember in my lower mind the first readings of Light 
on the Path, but I do remember the sensation, the impression, the effect. 
It positively hurt. I was taken hold of by an outside power and buffeted 
and beaten. I gasped for breath as I had gasped once before when 
pulled out, more dead than alive, from the bottom of a lake. It hurt 
me as it had hurt before. Likewise, I was bewildered, troubled, lost 
as to everything, and at first felt adrift and then as if anchored. This 
sounds indistinct and unintelligible, I know, but thereby it more clearly 
brings out how I felt. I read again and again and each and every time 
I found something big that I had missed before (and this experience 
continues daily even now). Then through the loving patience of a friend 
on this mortal plane the countless questions I asked were answered, and 
I began to understand that I had seen almost nothing in Light on the Path 
of that which I now found. 

I knew that Professor Mitchell was an active member and worker 
in the T. S. ; I knew that my clear-headed business associate and patient 
teacher was an equally active member and I was informed that these 
helpful books were typical Theosophical teaching, so, naturally, I thought 
how much I would like to know more and asked if I might join. This 
completes the outline of the outward aspect of my joining the T. S. I 
would like to explain more fully, more intimately, my progress, and what 
it has done for me. In one way I have told all in another way nothing. 

I was brought up religiously by a mother of whom I could write 
also as a teacher, because she devoted tKe best years of her life to the 



40 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

education of her children in formal school fashion, when circumstances 
prevented their going to proper schools. At twelve, sorrow came, 
through my eldest brother's coming down with tuberculosis. For two 
years he was kept alive by the devotion of his mother and another saint 
on earth a member of the family who came to it as a servant and 
who was one of its most cherished members until she died, after forty- 
two years of self-sacrificing, self-obscured, untiring devotion. When 
my brother died I was fourteen and an intellectual rebel. I thought 
then that I had seen prayer fail and God prove faithless to his part of 
the undertaking, so I discarded Him and built up my own concept of 
the Universe and its laws, basing everything on the Laws of Physics, 
more particularly those relating to the correlation and conservation of 
energy and matter, and, especially, Newton's second law, that for every 
action there is an equal and opposite reaction which I still believe but 
with Faith. 

I found Emerson at sixteen and approved of him! At seventeen 
my father died and that year I went permanently to work, beginning on 
a newspaper, after having had two long summers' experience as a rodman 
in a railroad organization and one summer in construction work in a 
chemical mill. Then that splendid old Puritan of an Anglican Catholic, 
the Rev. Walker Gwynne, my Rector, asked me why I had not been 
confirmed. I told him because I could not accept the doctrines of the 
church. I said I would like to talk the matter over with him and argue 
out the question (as I had often enjoyed doing with several of the 
Protestant clergy), and I would gladly be confirmed if he could convince 
me. I did not note the grimness of Mr. Gwynne's manner when he 
made the appointment, but I was no sooner in his study than I knew ! 
I was told I was a conceited small boy and forbidden to set my puny 
understanding and mind against my father (who had been an ardent 
churchman) and Mr. Gwynne. There was no argument that evening, 
only the rigorous "dressing down" of a truly conceited youngster. I was 
told to accept Authority and I did and was confirmed in due time. 
I joined the various church organizations and became an active worker 
and thoroughly enjoyed my religion. I explained away my own doubts 
by calling myself an "Emersonian Episcopalian" and did not think as 
hard as I had been doing, but just enjoyed. Only one great doubt 
persisted: I could not bring back the ideal of individual immortality, 
which, by the way, I did not accept again until I became a Theosophist 
or rather, as I would prefer to put it, a beginner in the study of 
Theosophy. 

When I was twenty-one I lost my joy through a single remark. 
I was dining with a couple whom I loved and respected. The man is 
one of the noblest men I know; of international eminence as a student 
and a producer. I was speaking of the pleasure in religious belief and 
my host answered : "Ah ! yes, if one only can forget one's Reason" it 



WHY I JOINED THE T. S. 41 

was not so much the words as the bitter pain, the infinite regret, in his 
voice. I felt as if my mooring had been cut when I was at anchor in 
a tidal river one moment I had been at rest; the next I was tossing 
about on an angry current, being carried out to a dark and uncharted sea. 

For nearly seventeen years I was adrift. I could always bring back 
the religious joys but I feared them as emotionalism. I found in socio- 
logical and economic work that there is a positive need of religion, 
especially in the present phase of our civilization. I kept up my church 
connection and irregular attendance; partly from habit and partly from 
a weak but undying, unexpressed, blind and faint Faith, which I hardly 
understood. 

Talks on Religion helped me but the help was intellectual not 
spiritual. I would argue the need of religion though I felt it not. A 
chance passage in the school history of my childhood had come back to 
me and had brought comfort : I had recalled that the ancient Egyptian 
worship was in three degrees an inner circle where a beautiful and 
pure philosophy was taught and accepted by the very few; a highly 
ritualistic, highly organized church for the classes; and idolatry for the 
great masses in which the symbol of the philosopher became the object 
of worship by the people. 

It was the acceptance of this principle of organization that saved 
me from feeling a hypocrite when I kept up my church affiliations and 
followed its forms. Also I saw that there always had been religions and 
that all religions agreed absolutely in the fundamentals, but there was no 
note of personal appeal to me. 

Through it all I even wanted to enter the ministry, though my 
acceptance of religion was purely intellectual and not based on faith 
and was not personal to myself, except the craving for service. 

I cannot say when it was that I first began to feel that my life was 
being shaped for a purpose either an early death, as a fulfillment, or 
fruition rather, of wide experience in all forms of sensation ; or else for 
some big purpose of service or power. I believed it even when I jested 
about it. I believed it even when I had no real Faith in anything else 
save this thing I called "my Fate." I believe it still, but limited to service 
only, for with Theosophy has come a truer sense of proportion. 

One thing did come to me in these years : A great respect for Jesus' 
wisdom. Each year the Sermon on the Mount grew in my estimation! 
I grew to appreciate and respect the sublime Common Sense I found 
therein, and this was years before I was to know that the Sermon on 
the Mount is the expression of our Lord's Doctrine for his Disciples. 
Like most readers of the Bible I took it for granted that it was the 
teaching to the multitude in spite of the clear reading of the text. I am 
to-day more of a Rationalist than I ever have been, yet I see as an end 
to Rationalism only one thing Faith; faith in the soul within us; 



42 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

faith in its power of growth; faith, absolute Faith in religion, and the 
Power of God through the Masters. 

There was another signboard that I knew not then: I was thrown 
with many men of power and prominence in affairs, in business, in 
science. I found all of them in absolute agreement in certain conclu- 
sions. From wherever they started history, mathematics, chemistry, 
astronomy, astro-physics, engineering, Army and Navy service, both in 
peace and in war, law, medicine, theology each man accepted idealism 
as a philosophic base and each bowed to a First-Cause, an Ultimate, the 
Irreducible, the Over-Soul Whatever one might call Him and each 
approached Him with reverence. I found many, many spokes of thought 
but they all centered on the same Hub. 

My Fate brought me the greatest of happinesses vouchsafed to man, 
but I did not subdue certain tendencies and habits I knew were wrong 
even as I yielded to them. I felt I was inviting disaster. In short I 
sinned knowingly. I had long seen, in my close observance of life, that 
there is no such thing as an accident. I had long seen as a rational man 
that every misfortune may be traced to a mistake. The inevitable hap- 
pened and my happiness turned to sorrow. I was given comfort by 
the help of an older member of the T. S., to whom I shall ever be grateful, 
and by the desire to be worthy of the ideal I had lost. 

But I was only brave, not at peace. When peace was given unto 
me it was after I had taken up Theosophical study and had believed with 
faith and understanding and was open to the real inspiration of the 
soul who had brought to me happiness and to the sweet counsel of those 
whom I now seek to follow. 

One of my friends, a noted Episcopal clergyman, to whom I have lent 
Theosophical books and passed on some of the teaching given to me, 
said recently "but why call it Theosophy? Why isn't it Christianity?" 
it is, it seems to me, for it is the Truth, and Christ's teachings are one 
way of expressing the Truth. I am only a Christian, only a Church- 
man, because I am a Theosophist. I find in Theosophy the Key to 
Christ's teaching which a formal church had lost. To be a true follower 
of Christ I now believe one must consciously be a Theosophist and that 
there is but one Path which many follow, speaking different tongues. 

It would have interested my old observing self to see that the remark 
which once cut me adrift is now my comfort. "Ah, yes, if one only 
can forget one's Reason" was what once unsettled me. To-day I rejoice 
that while I believe, yet my faith is based upon Reason. This I know, 
but "Before the voice can speak in the presence of the Masters it must 
have lost the power to wound." And in this activity, in fact perhaps for 
many activities, I shall be unable adequately to express that which the "I" 
within me knows and understands. The sweet reasonableness of 
Theosophy is what has most appealed to me. After I felt I wanted to 



WHY I JOINED THE T. S. 43 

join the T. S. I asked for more books and before I had expressed my 
desire I was given Fragments by Cave. This brought to me great con- 
solation and proved to be a hand-book for the better understanding of 
Light on the Path. 

The lesson of Death became somewhat comprehensible. With these 
books, oral instruction and attendance at only a few meetings of the 
Theosophical Society has come an understanding of, and a love for the 
New Testament, such as years of church membership never gave me. 
In this materialistic age it may be surprising to admit the guiding of 
what was once called a Personal Providence and the old concept still 
seems to me illogical. But once grasp the idea of the Lodge and all 
becomes simple. It seems to me that if any man will merely study his 
own life he will find proof of the work of the untiring Helpers. With 
the free-will that marks our having been part of the Divine Conscious- 
ness, the Helpers can only help and guide, not mold and make. Con- 
science ceases to be a symbol and becomes a fact, but we should listen 
for the Voice in the night. Not only symbolically, but literally, "Before 
the ear can hear it must have lost its sensitiveness." This I venture to 
interpret in terms of sensation which we must put aside. 

I used to consider myself an "utilitarian idealist" and to deny the 
existence of abstract right and wrong, yet always I knew I lied. Study 
with loving criticism any life, any period of history even, and view it with- 
out envy, hatred and malice or any form thereof, and soon one will 
note evidences of a Divine Plan, and of Absolute Right and of Wrong; 
never utter wrong but ever remediable wrong. 

I have become a child and, alas for my desire to help others as I 
have been helped, I see and speak as a child, so to those not ready I may 
give no proof that what I call reason is reason. I realize this as I strive 
to make clear that which I comprehend but cannot express. 

Take the laws of physics, take the recent work in chemistry, talk 
with the great electricians and see the Truth that is also to be found in 
history, in art, in poetry, in any life. Even before I found peace I noted 
these things. Try to carry any theory of negation to its ultimate reason- 
ing and you reach the same goal arrived at by any profession of faith. 

The trouble is that we linger upon the non-essentials. I might have 
hesitated to break with the Church in which I had been reared, but when 
in the T. S. I found that rarest manifestation of brotherhood, a willing- 
ness to allow me to believe what I pleased and in my own way, my last 
doubt vanished. Just as the Funeral Service, which so recently had 
wrung my heart, was made something of beauty and a source of comfort, 
so I found in the T. S. true Christianity; such Christianity as I had 
doubted but longed for, in an organization I had heretofore regarded with 
an idle interest, a kindly and patronizing amusement. To-day I would 
resent this attitude in others were it not that I am learning tolerance not 
the pitying tolerance that had kept Unitarianism from ever appealing to 



44 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY' 

my mind, but a tolerance that is real and absolute, and only to be found 
in the Theosophical Society. So far as I have noted no religious, 
scientific or political body in any land, that I have ever heard or read of, 
offers to its members such benefits, such tolerance, so little restraint, so 
much true freedom, so much real, personal help. 

So when I came to investigate the T. S. I found first that it is rock- 
rested on Faith; that it is truly scientific and based upon Reason; that 
it is Christlike in its beautiful tolerance and that through it one gets 
a glimpse of that which is only worth while and of all that is worth 
while. I mean it literally and exactly when I venture to say with 
deliberation that I regard its membership as one of the major privileges 
of my life and as I write this I know I write futilely for any effect on 
those whom I long to reach. 

From my friends have come some doubts which I wish I could 
answer better than I do. I find conclusive answers for myself in the 
Society's publications, especially Light on the Path and Fragments and 
in the Bible and the Prayer Book. Everywhere I find them not only 
in the Sacred Books of other lands but in our own great secular liter- 
ature. The most recent case I have noted is in Henry VIII. Wolsey's 
philosophy in his downfall is surprisingly good occultism. 

I have spoken before of my years of regretful suffering in not being 
able to accept the conventional doctrine of immortality. To me it was 
absolutely unscientific, in defiance of the Laws of Nature, the comforting 
solace of minds capable of being afraid of equally illogical bugaboos. I 
then thought that the life spirit, like the energies of the body, changed 
form and was dissipated but never lost. Shakespeare's immortality was 
in his works, my father's in his children. Yet through it all I felt that 
this was somehow wrong there was an element of utter uselessness both 
in this doctrine and in the single life immortality plan. I did not have 
to be taught the doctrine of reincarnation; it unfolded itself to my 
understanding as soon as I turned toward Theosophy. I was prepared 
for it all unknowingly by the Death Watch I had passed. "It is so 
logical" is the comment of one clever young woman and there is its 
strength. 

Death, if reverently watched, proves to the observer the existence 
of the several planes but "Before the eyes can see they must be incapable 
of tears," and the selfish sorrow that animates those who watch where 
they love is blinding. Yet grief is for oneself, and not for the other, when 
analyzed. If we accepted Christ's teachings we could rejoice that our 
dear ones had found peace before taking up work again just as we 
rejoice when one awearied sleeps. But, if we fear Death, study Life for 
signs of reincarnation and for the several planes. But before studying 
seek out and question one who knows, or else read wisely. Otherwise 
one may reject Theosophy as I rejected it in 1898, because it was incor- 
rectly expressed and because I was not ready for it. 



WHY I JOINED THE T. S. 45 

One of the greatest comforts I have found in Theosophy is the ability 
to recognize the delusions of Time and Space, taught in every university 
but ignored by most of us. Why grieve when it is but as if for the night 
your beloved sleeps? There are probably more bacteria, germs, phago- 
cytes, and other microscopic creatures within me than there are people 
on this earth. If any one has consciousness I am as the Universe. On 
the other hand, the count of the stars shows that to that which I call the 
Universe I am less than the phagocyte is to the great earth of ours 
what counts therefore save God and Love. There is no beginning and 
there is no end either in space or in time that I or any other mortal may 
comprehend. Why then not accept that there can only be God and 
Love? 

I used to think that my doctrine of a physical basis for life and living 
was the same as the doctrine of Nirvana, miscalled annihilation. I can 
see dimly now how wrong this is. The T. S. teaches me that there is 
no limit to my possible growth and that in time I may become one with 
the One ; but this does not mean that I shall lose consciousness and indi- 
viduality, but rather that I shall have attained True Consciousness and 
Perfect Individuality. It is true that this implies that I must put aside 
something I now may think I value, but I used to like to suck my rattle 
have I lost anything in outgrowing that liking? 

Ask and ye shall receive, knock and ye may enter, is true through- 
out the universe; in big things and in little. I found in the T. S. a 
microcosm of the Universe and I knocked and it was opened unto me. 
I am a very new member; an humble member in my ignorance, but yet 
I have been enlightened and given peace, the peace that passeth all 
understanding. I see that it is not membership in the Society itself 
that counts, but the recognition of what the Society represents. It is the 
Egyptian cult over again. To the blind masses idolatry is necessary 
and he who offends the Sacred Cat must die, though the cat to-day 
be convention and not of stone, just as in the yesterday of Egypt; but 
to those able to see, the form is not vital. Nevertheless I would that, 
for the sake of my fellow men and women, the membership in the 
Society were at least equal to that in the churches, for great would be the 
peace and comfort therefrom. But the desire must come from within, 
just as it was given to me, and I am not fit to lead, only to serve, so I 
cannot ask or urge my brother to join. 

To sum up my explanation of why I joined the Society: Because 
after long years of groping I found in it not a home, as might be thought 
from what I first said, but a gateway through which I found myself 
at home. And the Path, though it be narrow, has no limit, and all who 
wish may travel thereon. M. 



FAITH AND WORKS 

IN THE UPANISHADS AND THE NEW TESTAMENT 



THERE is a passage of singular charm and vivacity, which one 
may call, I think, the keystone of the Upanishads; the passage 
containing what is traditionally known as the Lore of the Five 
Fires. It is found with almost verbal identity in the two longest 
Upanishads, the Brihad Aranyaka and the Chhandogya, from the former 
of which I shall try to translate it. The not very heroic hero of the story 
is a young Brahman, Shvetaketu by name, whose good father elsewhere 
in the Upanishads describes him as "conceited, vain and proud of his 
learning," and we are further told that he was familiar with the hymns 
of the three great Vedas, the Rig, the Yajur and the Sama Vedas. Of 
this vain young sprig of Brahmanism, we are told that 

Shvetaketu, Aruna's grandson, came to the assembly of the Pan- 
chalas. He came to Pravahana, son of Jivala, who was surrounded by 
his followers. Looking at him, the king addressed him : 

"Youth !" said he. 

"Sir!" he replied. 

"Hast thou received the teaching from thy father?" 

"Yes!" said he. 

"Knowest thou how these beings going forth from this world pro- 
ceed on different paths?" 

"No!" said he. 

"Knowest thou how they come to this world again ?" 

"No !" said he. 

"Knowest thou how that world is not filled up by the many going 
thither again and again ?" 

"No!" said he. 

"Knowest thou at which sacrifice being sacrificed, the waters, rising 
up speak with human voice ?" 

"No!" said he. 

"Knowest thou the approach of the path of the gods, or of the path 
of the fathers, or by doing what they approach the path of the gods, 
or the path of the fathers: as the word of the Seer has been heard 
by us: 
" 'Two ways I have heard of, for mortals, the way of the fathers and the 

way of the gods. 
By them goes all that moves 'twixt father heaven and mother earth.' " 

"No !" said he ; "I do not know even one of them." 

The king invited him to remain as his pupil. But unwilling to re- 
main, he ran away to his father. He said to him : 



FAITH AND WORKS 47 

"Forsooth, Sir, thou didst say that we had received the teaching?" 

"How now, wise one ?" said his father. 

"This Raj any a fellow has asked me five questions, and I do not know 
one of them?" 

"What are they ?" said he. 

"These!" said he, and he enumerated them. 

His father said : 

"Thou knowest us thus, dear, that whatever I know, I told it all to 
thee! But come, let us twain set forth thither, and dwell as pupils with 
the king !" 

"Go yourself, Sir !" said he. 

That descendant of the Gotamas went to where Pravahana, son of 
Jivala, was. To him offering a seat, the king caused water to be brought. 
He made the offering. To him the king said : 

"We give a wish to the worshipful descendant of the Gotamas." 

He said : 

"This wish is promised to me: the saying that thou didst speak in 
the presence of my boy, tell me that !" 

The king said: 

"That, O descendant of the Gotamas, is among the wishes of the 
gods. Say a wish of men !" 

He said: 

"It is well known ! There is store of gold, of cattle and horses, of 
slave-girls and tapestries and robes! May the Master not be niggardly 
toward us in that which is great, infinite, illimitable !" 

The king said : 

"This wish, descendant of the Gotamas, must be sought according 
to rule." 

"I offer myself as thy pupil !" said he. For with this word the men 
of old betook them to a master. He therefore dwelt there, becoming his 
disciple. 

The king said to him : 

"Therefore, O descendant of the Gotamas, be thou without reproach 
toward us, thou and thy forbears ; since this teaching never before dwelt 
in any Brahman, but to thee I shall declare it, for who has the right to 
refuse thee, speaking thus ?" 

The last sentence is even more explicit in the Chhandogya version 
of the story: 

"As this teaching, O descendant of the Gotamas, goes not to any 
Brahman before thee, but among all peoples leadership was of the 
Kshatra," (that is, of the Kshatriyas or Rajanyas, the men of royal or 
princely race). 

We are concerned, therefore, with a teaching regarding the destiny 
of the soul, and this teaching had hitherto never been imparted to the 
priestly caste of Brahmans, but had been kept as a secret esoteric doctrine 



48 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

among the Kshatriyas or Rajanyas. If, as seems probable, the Rajanyas 
and Brahmans represent two different races, then we may call this the 
secret doctrine of the Rajanya race, the ancestors of the Rajput tribes. 

But let us consider the teaching itself. Before descending into 
birth, the Rajanya teaches, the soul dwells in the heavenly world. In it 
adhere certain streams of tendency, which he calls "the waters," the 
currents of moral and mental life. From the spiritual world the soul 
descends to the mid-world, and in the mid-world takes on a "lunar" form ; 
for the things of the mid-world are symbolized by the moon, which 
shines by reflected light; the spiritual world, self-shining, being symbol- 
ized by the sun. 

From the mid-world, the soul enters this world, and this descent 
from the higher to the lower world is in each case called a sacrifice. 
The soul now comes into relation with the father and mother of the child 
that is to be born, and these relations are also called sacrifices. The 
fifth sacrifice is birth, and at this sacrifice the "waters," that is, the 
mental and moral currents which make up the character, "arise, and 
speak with human voice." This is the answer to the last of the questions 
which the Rajanya sage asked the vain Brahman boy. We may now 
return to the text of the Upanishad. 

"Through this sacrifice, the man comes to birth. He lives his life- 
span, and then dies, and they take him to the funeral pyre. ... In 
this fire the bright powers offer the man, and from that sacrifice he is 
born, of the colour of the sun. 

"They who know this thus, and they who, in the forest, follow faith 
and truth, are born into the flame, from the flame they go to the day, 
from the day to the waxing moon, from the waxing moon to the six 
summer months, from these months to the Deva-world, from the Deva- 
world to the sun, from the sun to the lightning ; them, reaching the light- 
ning, a Person, mind-born, coming, leads to the worlds of the Eternal. 
They dwell in those worlds of the Eternal, in the highest realms. For 
them, there is no return. 

"But they who win worlds by sacrifice, gifts, penance, they are born 
into the smoke of the pyre, from the smoke they go to the night, from the 
night to the waning moon, from the waning moon to the six winter 
months, from these months to the world of the Fathers, from the world 
of the Fathers to the moon. Reaching the moon, they become food. The 
gods feast on them as they wax and wane like the lunar lord. Then 
going full circle, they descend to the ether, from the ether to the air, 
from the air to rain, from rain to the earth; reaching the earth, they 
become food. Again they are sacrificed in the fire of man and the fire 
of woman, and are reborn, coming forth again to the world of men." 

The Rajanya teacher speaks, of course, in symbols, describing a 
series of worlds, or planes of consciousness, from the higher of which 
the soul descends into incarnation, entering this world by the gate of 



FAITH AND WORKS 49 

birth. The teacher further suggests that each world or plane has two 
poles, a positive pole of spirituality, and a negative pole of materiality; 
and these poles of the ascending planes he describes by a series of natural 
pairs, the one bright and the other dark; namely, the fire and smoke of 
the pyre, day and night, the moonlit and moonless fortnights, the summer 
and winter months, the sun and moon, the world of the gods and the 
world of the fathers. 

According to the spiritual quality of the soul, when it goes forth 
at death, it follows one or the other of these two paths ; or gravitates, 
if we may use such an expression, to the positive or negative poles of 
each plane in the ascending series. If the soul has followed Faith and 
Truth, then it ascends by the path of the sun, the path of the Gods, to 
the world of the Eternal, and for it there is no return. But if the soul 
has followed after sacrifices and penance, then it takes the path of the 
moon, the path of the Fathers, and enters the lunar world. There it 
waxes and wanes, and, waning, returns again to the earth, and passes once 
more through the gate of birth. In the first case, the soul reaches libera- 
tion. In the second, it falls into the cycle of repeated births and deaths. 

This is, I believe, the first passage in the Upanishads which draws a 
fundamental distinction between the way of Faith and the way of Works, 
and it has the added suggestion that the way of Faith is that taught 
in the secret wisdom of the Rajanyas, while the way of Works is that 
taught by the Brahmans, as a part of the sacrificial system which grew 
up with the Vedic hymns. In this first and oldest passage, therefore, it 
is asserted that only the way of Faith leads to liberation, or true salva- 
tion; while the way of Works leads to a period of paradise, followed 
by rebirth into this world : therefore no true salvation at all. 

The antithesis is brought out even more sharply in a passage near the 
beginning of the Mundaka Upanishad, which runs somewhat as follows : 

"The powers that the Seers perceived in the hymns were divided 
manifold for the triple fire. 'Practice these constantly,' they said, 'ye 
who desire the truth ; this is your path of good work in the world. For 
when the flame curls in the fuel that bears what is to be offered, then 
let him guide the offerings in the space between the two paths of the 
sacrificial fluid. With faith it is offered. He whose fire-invocation fits 
not with the new moon, the full moon, the fourth month, and the autumn, 
where there are no guests, where the offerings to the host of Devas are 
absent, where the ritual is unfulfilled, he loses his seven worlds. . . .' 

"Infirm rafts verily are these rites of the eighteen sharers in the 
sacrifice, on which the lower worship depends. They who exult in this 
as the better way, fools, go again to sickness and death. Turning round 
in unwisdom, sages, thinking themselves wise, fools, they go about, 
staggering in the way, like the blind led by the blind. 

"Turning about manifold in unwisdom, they exult, childish, think- 
ing that thus the work is accomplished. Because these performers 



50 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

of rites are not wise in their longing desire, in their folly they fall, losing 
their worlds. 

"Thinking that oblations and offerings are best, they know not the 
better way, deluded fools. After enjoying this good work of theirs at 
the back of the heavens, they return again to this, or even to a baser 
world. 

"But they who dwell in Faith and fervor in the forest, full of peace, 
wise, free from the lust of possession; by the sun-door they go forth, 
freed from desire, where is the immortal Spirit, the everlasting Atma." 

This is a sufficiently drastic condemnation of the Brahmanical "way 
of Works," with its sacraments, its lunar festivals, its sacrificial fires. 
These rites lead, at best, teaches the Upanishad, to a brief sojourn in 
paradise, followed by a return to this, or perchance, to some baser world. 
But the "way of Faith" leads by the door of the sun to the world of the 
Eternal. We have, therefore, exactly the antithesis already made in the 
Lore of the Five Fires. 

The "way of Works" is the whole sacrificial system, as practiced 
by the Brahmanical priesthood, the system which grew up round the 
Rig Veda hymns to Agni, the Fire-god; Indra, the Sky-god; Vayu, the 
Wind-god, and the rest. To these rites, only the Twice-born Aryas were 
admitted, the second birth being the initiation of the upanayana, the 
girding on of the sacred thread, which one may, perhaps, describe as an 
equivalent of baptism, the sign of spiritual birth, of entry into a com- 
munity with spiritual privileges. Many rites and sacrifices entered into 
this Brahmanical system, and scrupulous compliance with these was the 
condition of good standing and salvation. The system was a costly one, 
and profitable to the Brahmans. 

Contrasted with this was the "way of Faith," or the "way of 
Illumination," which is the main theme of the Upanishads. From the 
marvelous riches of that teaching, I quote only one text, from a famous 
passage in the Brihad Aranyaka Upanishad : 

"Now as to him who is free from desire, who is beyond desire, who 
has gained his desire, for whom Atma is his desire. From him the life- 
powers depart not. Growing one with the Eternal, he enters the Eternal. 
When all desires that were hid in the heart are let go, the mortal becomes 
immortal, and enters the Eternal. And like as the slough of a snake lies 
lifeless, cast upon an ant-hill, so lies his body, when the Spirit of man 
rises up bodiless and immortal, as the Life, as the Eternal, as the Radi- 
ance. The small old path that stretches far away has been found and 
followed by me. By it go the Seers who know the Eternal, rising up 
from this world to the heavenly world." 

The essence of this path of the sun, this path of the gods, which 
leads to perfect liberation, is spiritual consciousness ; beginning with the 
personal consciousness of the ordinary man, there is a gradual widening, 
and, even more, a deepening of the consciousness, until a deep illumina- 



FAITH AND WORKS 51 

tion is reached beyond the realm of dreams, an illumination wherein the 
man enters at once into the spiritual consciousness of others, and into 
the consciousness of the Eternal. Thus the consciousness of man is 
raised, step by step, through Faith, fervor and service of the Eternal, 
until it becomes one with the consciousness of the Eternal, the conscious- 
ness of God. This is the true salvation, the perfect liberation, from 
which there is no return. The Spirit of man becomes immortal, he 
enters the Eternal. 

We find exactly the same contest between the two ways in the 
Bhagavad Gita, which denounces the Brahmanical system of Vedic 
sacrifices in phrases very like those of the Mundaka Upanishad. Thus 
in the second book of the Gita, it is said: 

"This is a flowery word which the unwise declare, who delight in 
the letter of the Vedas, Son of Pritha, and say there is nothing else ; 

"They who are full of desire and eager for heaven; this word 
offering rebirth and the reward of works, abounding in special rites 
making for feasts and lordship ; 

"The thought of those who are set on feasts and lordship, whose 
minds are carried away thereby, has not single-mindedness as its essence, 
nor is it set in soul-vision; 

"The Vedas have the Three Potencies as their subject; be thou 
above the Three Potencies, Arjuna. Be free from duality, ever stand- 
ing in the real, without desire of possessions, full of the Self, full of 
Atma; 

"As much use as there is for a well, when the whole land is under 
water, so much use is there for all the Vedas, for a knower of the Eternal 
who possesses wisdom." 

The Bhagavad Gita sets forth the rival path, the "way of Wisdom," 
in the very sentences of the Upanishads. Thus at the end of the fifth 
chapter it is said : 

"Nirvana, union with the Eternal, comes nigh to those who are rid 
of lust and wrath, who have gained control, who rule their thoughts, 
who have beheld Atma, the supreme Self." 

There are also, in the Gita, many passages of a warmer and more 
personal colour, passages full of the power of devotion to the Supreme, 
manifested in a personal Saviour. For example, these verses, toward 
the beginning of the sixth chapter: 

"With soul at peace, with fear gone, standing firm in the vow of 
service of the Eternal, controlling the mind, with heart set on Me, let him 
dwell in union, intent on Me. 

"The seeker of union ever holding his soul thus in union, with 
emotions well controlled, enters into the supreme peace of Nirvana, 
dwelling in Me." 

Salvation, perfect liberation, is, therefore, a growth in spiritual 
consciousness, whereby the soul of man, expanding and deepening, his 



52 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

consciousness growing more divine, becomes at last one with the con- 
sciousness of the Eternal, the consciousness of God. As this is ' an 
eternal consciousness, he thereby gains immortal and infinite life. He 
has entered into Nirvana, the supreme peace. 

That the teaching of the Buddha was a protest against the ritual 
religion of the Brahmans, is so well known that it hardly needs further 
illustration. I am tempted to quote one passage, however, to show how 
completely it coincides in this with the passages of the Upanishads and 
the Bhagavad Gita already cited. This passage is found in the Tevijja 
Sutta, a sermon held by tradition to have been delivered by the Buddha 
in the mango grove, on the bank of the river Achiravati, to the south of 
the Brahman village of Manasakata, in Kosala. The sermon is delivered 
to two young Brahmans, who come to the Buddha, very much as young 
Shvetaketu came to the Rajanya sage. And here we may note that 
both Krishna, the teacher of the Bhagavad Gita, and the Buddha himself 
were of Rajanya race. The Buddha speaks thus: 

"Again, Vasishtha, if this river Achiravati were full of water even 
to the brim, and overflowing ; and a man with business on the other side, 
bound for the other side, should come up, and want to cross over, and 
he, standing on this bank, should invoke the further bank, and say, 
'come hither, O further bank ! come over to this side !' Now what think 
you, Vasishtha? Would the further bank of the river Achiravati, by 
reason of that man's invoking and praying and hoping and praising, come 
over to this side? 

"Certainly not, Gotama ! 

"In just the same way, Vasishtha, do the Brahmans versed in the 
three Vedas omitting the practice of those qualities which really make 
a man a Brahman (a knower of Brahma), and adopting the practice of 
those qualities which really make men not Brahmans say thus : 'Indra 
we call upon, Soma we call upon, Varuna we call upon, Ishana we call 
upon, Prajapati we call upon, Brahma we call upon !' Verily, Vasishtha, 
that those Brahmans versed in the Three Vedas, but omitting the prac- 
tice of those qualities which really make a man a Brahman, and adopting 
the practice of those qualities which really make men not Brahmans that 
they, by reason of their invoking and praying and hoping and praising, 
should, after death and when the body is dissolved, become united with 
Brahma, verily such a condition of things has no existence." 

With this "way of Works," the Buddha contrasted his own teaching, 
the way of "liberation" : 

"To the Buddha, when asked touching the path which leads to the 
world of Brahma, there can be neither doubt nor difficulty. For Brahma, 
I know, Vasishtha, and the world of Brahma, and the path which leadeth 
unto it. Yea, I know it even as one who has entered the Brahma world, 
and has been born within it !" 

It is well worth noting that the Buddha here describes Nirvana in 



FAITH AND WORKS 53 

the old traditional terms, as an entering into the world of Brahma, a be- 
coming one with Brahma. The continuity of his teaching with that of 
the Upanishads, which ever speak of entering into the world of Brahma, 
and with the Bhagavad Gita, which uses the twofold form, Brahma- 
Nirvana, to express perfect liberation, is complete. Here, as always in 
the ancient Indian wisdom, salvation is a broadening and deepening of 
the consciousness, until at last it becomes one with the Divine Conscious- 
ness, the consciousness of the Eternal, the conciousness of God. 

II. 

Let us turn now from India to Palestine, from the Upanishads to 
the New Testament. Here again, we find the contest between Faith and 
Works, two rival paths of salvation; and the conflict between the ad- 
herents of the two paths of salvation echoes through the greater number 
of the Epistles, just as we found it in the Upanishads, the Bhagavad Gita 
and the Tevijja Sutta. 

The traditional sacrificial system of Palestine was very like the 
Brahmanical system which grew up about the Vedic hymns. Like the 
Indian system, it had its sacred books, held to be verbally inspired, and 
scrupulously preserved word by word. Like the Indian system, it had 
grown up in a sacred land, hallowed by tradition. Like the Indian system, 
it had its sacrifices and burnt offerings, its festivals of the new moon and 
the full moon, its celebrations of holy months. Like the Indian system, 
it was the prized possession of a limited group of tribes, a close religious 
corporation. As in the Indian system, admission to this religious cor- 
poration was marked by a sacramental rite, in the one case circumcision, 
commemorating the promise of Jahveh to Abraham, and in the other, 
the upanayana, or girding on of the sacred thread. 

Born of Jewish parents, growing up among Jews, Jesus in all things 
fulfilled the Jewish law, from the circumcision to the last Passover. His 
disciples, with the exception, perhaps, of Simon the Canaanite, were also 
Jews, who fulfilled the law of the Jews in all particulars, except in cer- 
tain minor matters which were made a subject of attack against them. 
But they held themselves to be pious Jews nevertheless. Further, Jesus 
expressly gave his support to the Jewish law, as when he said : "I came 
not to destroy the law, but to fulfill the law," or when, being asked the 
way of salvation, he answered : "Keep the commandments !" that is, the 
precepts of the Jewish law. 

Up to, and after, the Crucifixion, therefore, the disciples held them- 
selves to be, and in fact were, law-abiding Jews, who fulfilled all the 
precepts of the Jewish system without question, while at the same time 
they sought to carry out the precepts and teaching of their Master. So 
far as any of the disciples understood the matter, the teaching which they 
held would have continued to be the teaching of a small Jewish sect, 



54 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

"the Nazarene heresy," as it was called; and admission into their com- 
munion would of necessity have been preceded by admission into the 
religious community of the Jews, through the rite of circumcision, and 
would have involved the obligation to fulfill all the rites, and to keep all 
the festivals of the Jewish religion. 

What, then, bridged the chasm, and turned the teaching of a small 
Jewish sect into a world-religion? What transformed the "heresy of the 
Nazarenes" into Christianity? It is, perhaps, a commonplace to say that 
the chasm was bridged by Paul ; that the greatness of his heart, and his 
deeper culture compelled him to break down the barriers and open the 
Church, so that salvation should be "to the Jew first, and also to the 
Gentile." 

I think that this view is open to grave question; and that, simply 
stated as I have stated it, it is untrue. To make this intelligible, I may, 
perhaps, be allowed a brief digression. 

The "way of Faith," or the "way of Wisdom," as understood and 
set forth in the Upanishads and the Bhagavad Gita, and also as expound- 
ed by the Buddha, held, as we saw, that salvation meant spiritual growth, 
a broadening and deepening of the consciousness, until at last it became 
one with the Divine consciousness, with the consciousness of the Eternal. 
But this expansion was never held to be a sudden flashing out of in- 
finity, a spiritual cataclysm, but rather an evolution, a gradual growth, 
slowly attained, and consummated after many steps. And certain great 
stages of the way were marked and described, whether in the Upanishads 
or in the teaching of the Buddha ; certain grand degrees, so to speak, in 
the splendid flowering of the Divine consciousness. And in the Upani- 
shads, and in the later teaching of India, it was held that these grand 
degrees of consciousness had each its fitting vesture, beginning with 
that "vesture the colour of the sun," worn by the purified soul immediate- 
ly after death, and developing through purer and finer vestures, psychical 
and spiritual bodies This, indeed, is an integral and necessary part of 
the teaching of the "way of Faith," the "way of Illumination," and is 
everywhere found as a part of it. Further, it is implied in the Upani- 
shads, and explicitly taught in the later systems, that these psychical and 
spiritual bodies had their proper perceptions, their proper organs, their 
proper powers, in ascending degrees of majesty and spirituality. It 
would, therefore, be entirely intelligible to any follower of the Indian 
wisdom, that one who had mastered that wisdom should possess a full- 
grown spiritual body, with marvelous yet entirely natural powers, such 
as are enumerated, for example, in the Yoga Sutras, or in the Akankheya 
Sutta of Buddhism. To such a student of the Indian wisdom, believing 
in the path of the sun, the path of liberation, it would be axiomatic that, 
at a certain stage of spiritual development, such a spiritual body, with 
its high powers, should be evolved ; and that the liberated Master, laying 



FAITH AND WORKS 55 

aside the earthly body, like the slough of a snake cast on an ant-hill, 
should arise immortal, sharing the powers of the Divine. 

In the light of this teaching, the Resurrection is a natural and wholly 
scientific fact, whose laws are clearly indicated, and which follows as 
the inevitable result of the deepening of consciousness, and the develop- 
ment of the finer vesture for that deeper consciousness ; and that it 
would be wholly natural and logical to believe that Jesus, thus clothed in 
the spiritual body of the Resurrection, the "vesture of the colour of the 
sun," could and would carry forward the work which had been interrupted 
by the Crucifixion. 

This, or something very like it, was the belief of Paul; and he 
explicitly says that the opening of the Church to the Gentiles was the 
work, not of Paul, but of Jesus ; and one may add that it was carried out 
in the teeth of Paul's deepest prejudices and convictions, for was he not 
a Hebrew of the Hebrews, a Pharisee and the son of a Pharisee? 

The examination of Paul before Agrippa was, no doubt, carefully 
recorded at the time by Luke, who was with Paul. Paul tells Agrippa 
that Jesus, appearing to him on the road to Damascus, spoke as follows : 

"I am Jesus whom thou persecutest. But rise, and stand upon thy 
feet; for I have appeared unto thee for this purpose, to make thee a 
minister and a witness both of these things which thou hast seen, and 
of those things in the which I will appear unto thee ; delivering thee from 
the people, and from the Gentiles, unto whom now I send thee, to open 
their eyes, and to turn them from darkness to light, and from the power 
of Satan unto God, that they may receive forgiveness of sins, and in- 
heritance among them which are sanctified by faith in me." 

This vision and commission, which opened the way for the greatest 
fact in history, the transformation of the "heresy of the Nazarenes" into 
the world religion, Christianity, is attributed by Paul to the direct and 
personal interposition of the Master himself; and, if we accept the idea 
of the "way of Wisdom," as to the growth of consciousness, and its 
development in ever finer vestures, we can see that Paul may be describ- 
ing a wholly natural and scientific fact; the manifestation of the Master 
in the spiritual body, and his continuation of his life-work in that body. 

To return to the main theme of this essay: Paul's vision, and his 
conviction that the teaching of Jesus should be opened to the Gentiles 
date, if we accept the general chronology of the New Testament as 
based on Luke's synchronisms, from about the year 35 ; some six years 
before the apparition of the sheet let down from heaven, which conveyed 
the same idea to Peter. But while Paul immediately began to preach 
and teach in obedience to his heavenly vision, as he tells us, Peter does 
not seem to have undertaken any very active work as a result of the 
apparition at Joppa, six years later. He remained, for the most part, at 
Jerusalem, and there he continued to live in the Jewish atmosphere which 
threatened to make of the teaching of Jesus nothing more than a "Naz- 



56 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

arene heresy." It would not be true to say that the body of the disciples 
at Jerusalem believed that salvation, as they understood it, could be 
gained by following out the precepts of the Jewish law and by this 
alone ; but it is true that they hardly thought of salvation as being gained 
without the fulfillment of that law. 

The chief upholder of this view was not Peter, but James, the brother 
of Jesus; and here we come to one of the buried histories of the New 
Testament. Gathering our details here and there, from the gospels, the 
Acts, the epistles of Paul, we can recognize the marked figure of James, 
and the less marked figure of Jude, the younger brother of Jesus and 
James. The brothers of Jesus, up to the very hour of his crucifixion, 
were, if not hostile to him, at least in no sense disciples of his teaching. 
But there must have been, in the case of James, an event as remarkable 
and as revolutionary as the vision of Paul on the road to Damascus. 
The Master, says Paul, appeared to James; and, as a result, we find 
James an ardent member of the group of the disciples at Jerusalem. 
Within four or five years after the Crucifixion, we find James ranking 
with Peter, as one whom Paul deemed it essential to meet at Jerusalem ; 
and a little later Paul ranks James with Peter and John as pillars of the 
Jerusalem church. James was more than this; he was the strongest 
upholder of the idea that, to become a Christian, one must first become a 
Jew; or, to put the matter more fairly, perhaps, he held that the Jewish 
system so completely represented the way of righteousness that with- 
out following it, one could not be truly righteous. 

In the meantime, Paul was working among the Greek-speaking 
peoples of the north, in the neighborhood of his own town of Tarsus, 
and also in Cyprus. He seems always to have begun his teaching by 
describing the appearance of Jesus on the Damascus road, with the result- 
ant certainty of the soul's immortality; salvation, as he conceived and 
taught it, consisted, first, in accepting the truth of the Master's risen 
life, and, secondly, in a certain spiritual state, which followed the accept- 
ance of this truth. This spiritual state was, in essence, a development of 
consciousness, which, when it reached its fullness, meant a blending of 
the consciousness with the consciousness of the Master, an entering into 
the Master's consciousness; and, thirdly, Paul, by a bold and beautiful 
figure of speech, depicted the transformation of consciousness from the 
earthly to the spiritual as a kind of dying, a crucifixion and resurrection, 
whereby the disciple became a sharer in the crucifixion of the Master, 
and also in his resurrection. It is evident that we are concerned here 
with a growth of consciousness, a deepening of spiritual life and being, 
and not with the fulfillment of a ritual system of ceremonial observances. 
We are dealing with the "way of Faith," to use the Eastern phrase, and 
not with the "way of Works." 

But the "way of Works" had its ardent adherents at Jerusalem with 
James at their head, and a conflict, for some time inevitable, broke out 



FAITH AND WORKS 57 

between the adherents of the two "ways." The matter was fully debated 
at the Council of Jerusalem, about the year 52, and certain aspects 
of that Council are of high importance, in view of later events. It ap- 
pears that Peter was the first speaker, and that he defended the exten- 
sion of the Church to the Gentiles, on the ground of his vision at Joppa, 
some six years after Paul's vision near Damascus. Then, after the 
question had been fully discussed, the decision of the Council was de- 
clared by James the brother of Jesus, who seems to have spoken for the 
church at Jerusalem, and to have been, in some sense, its most forcible 
member, whose influence over Peter and the other disciples was strong 
and dominant. At any rate, we find James saying: "my judgment 
is ..." and so forth, declaring the sense of the Council ; showing, 
by the way that the disciples by no means recognized in Peter any such 
dominant and infallible authority as the theories of the Vatican would 
demand 

Further, the decision of the Council was reached by a general con- 
sensus of opinion, and thus represented the collective consciousness of 
the Church ; and, if we may use a phrase of later times, the Church voted 
in three orders, "the apostles and the elders, with the whole church." 
It was decided to open the Church to the Gentiles, without requiring them 
to fulfill the rites of the Jews. 

At this point, Paul takes up the story: 

"When James, Cephas, and John, who seemed to be pillars, per- 
ceived the grace that was given unto me, they gave to me and Barnabas 
the right hands of fellowship; that we should go unto the heathen and 
they unto the circumcision. Only that we should remember the poor; 
the same which I also was forward to do. But when Peter was come to 
Antioch, I withstood him to the face, because he was to be blamed. For 
before that certain came from James, he did eat with the Gentiles; but 
when they were come, he withdrew and separated himself, fearing them 
which were of the circumcision. And the other Jews dissembled likewise 
with him ; insomuch that Barnabas also was carried away with their dis- 
simulation. But when I saw that they walked not uprightly according 
to the truth of the gospel, I said unto Peter before them all, If thou, 
being a Jew, livest after the manner of Gentiles, and not as do the Jews, 
why compellest thou the Gentiles to live as do the Jews ? We who are 
Jews by nature, and not sinners of the Gentiles, knowing that a man is 
not justified by the works of the law, but by the faith of Jesus Christ, 
even we have believed in Jesus Christ, that we might be justified by the 
faith of Christ, and not by the works of the law : for by the works of the 
law shall no flesh be justified." 

A little further on in the same letter, Paul writes : "I am crucified 
with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me:" 
declaring that salvation comes through a deepening of consciousness, 
through a blending of the consciousness of the disciple with the con- 



58 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

sciousness of the Master, so that he could say: "Christ liveth in me;" 
just as he says to his pupils in Galatia, that he is "in travail, until Christ 
is formed" in them. 

For this spiritual consciousness, Paul uses the word Faith, just as 
we found it used, many centuries'earlier, in the great Upanishads. Then 
taking faith to mean, among other ideas, a belief in spiritual things, he 
develops an argument against the adherents of the law, which he uses 
again and again in later years. This argument is the singular and re- 
markable one that Abraham himself, the father of the chosen people, 
and the recipient of the covenant and the promise, walked the way 
of Faith, not the way of Works : 

"Even as Abraham believed God, and it was accounted to him for 
righteousness. Know ye therefore that they which are of faith, the 
same are the children of Abraham. And the Scripture forseeing that 
God would justify the heathen through faith, preached before the gospel 
unto Abraham, saying, In thee shall all nations be blessed. So then they 
which be of faith are blessed with faithful Abraham." 

This was very decidedly turning the tables against James and the 
adherents of the law. Of Peter's journey to Antioch, and his later 
movements, we know little. One may, perhaps, conjecture that he spent 
some time in Asia Minor; that this is why Paul, writing from Ephesus 
to Corinth, speaks of Apollos and Cephas together, since Apollos was 
some time at Ephesus. Perhaps it was because of such a journey through 
Asia Minor that we find the first epistle of Peter addressed to the 
disciples in that region. It would seem likely that Peter did not return to 
Jerusalem, for he was evidently not there at the time of Paul's arrest 
probably in the year 59, if we can judge from the fact that Luke records 
that Paul visited James just before his arrest, while no mention is made 
of Peter. Finally, we may surmise that Peter went from Asia Minor 
to Rome; for, while neither Luke nor Paul mentions his presence there, 
Peter himself, in his second epistle, speaks of Paul and his epistles; so 
that we have this evidence that he was close to Paul in Rome. 

It seems likely, therefore, that Peter may have gone from Asia 
Minor to Rome, and was one of those who built up the church there 
from its inception. Perhaps Peter's presence at Rome gave Paul cause 
to apprehend that the "way of Works" would be taught to the new dis- 
ciples at Rome, with dangerous consequences ; and perhaps this was why 
he again set himself to make the whole question clear, when writing to 
Rome from Ephesus, about the year 59 : 

"For he is not a Jew, which is one outwardly; neither is that cir- 
cumcision, which is outward in the flesh; but he is a Jew, which is one 
inwardly; and circumcision is of the heart, in the spirit, and not in the 
letter." 

Here again he outflanks the party of James and the law, and seeks 
to prove the daring paradox that the "way of Works" is really the "way 



FAITH AND WORKS 59 

of Faith;" that salvation is a matter of inward spiritual life, and not 
of outward ritual. And again he uses his bold argument about Abraham : 

"For if Abraham were justified by works, he hath whereof to glory ; 
but not before God . . . for we say that Faith was reckoned to 
Abraham for righteousness . . . and he received the sign of cir- 
cumcision, a seal of the righteousness of the faith which he had yet 
being uncircumcised . . . and being not weak in faith, he considered 
not his own body now dead, when he was about a hundred years old, 
neither yet the deadness of Sarah's womb ; he staggered not at the promise 
of God through unbelief; but was strong in faith, giving glory to God; 
. . . and therefore it was imputed to him for righteousness." 

And Paul then makes the deduction to which he has been leading 
up: 

"Therefore being justified by faith, we have peace with God through 
our Master Jesus Christ;" as always, the teaching that salvation is 
through spiritual consciousness, growing gradually to a oneness with the 
consciousness of the Master, of the Divine. 

The controversy between the two ways, the way of Faith and the 
way of Works, reverberates through the letters which Paul wrote from 
Rome. It finds its chief expression, however, in another document, the 
Epistle to the Hebrews, and especially in the famous chapter which 
begins : 

"Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of 
things not seen. . . ." 

The writer undertakes to show that Faith has been the essential 
element of spiritual life from the beginning; that Abel and Enoch and 
Noah were saved by faith. Then he develops the argument concerning 
Abraham, which we have seen Paul twice use : 

"Through faith also Sarah herself received strength to conceive 
seed, and was delivered of a child when she was past age, because she 
judged him faithful who had promised. Therefore sprang there of one, 
and him as good as dead, so many as the stars of the sky in multi- 
tude. ..." 

It is difficult to believe that this extraordinary image, of Abraham 
becoming a father when he was as good as dead, should have occurred 
to two different writers, as an argument in defense of Faith against the 
Works of the law. However this may be, we found Paul using it, in 
writing to the Romans, and it is now repeated by the author of the 
Epistle to the Hebrews. He further seeks to show that Isaac, Jacob, 
Joseph and Moses were saved by faith; even Moses, the giver of the 
Law. And, most remarkable of all, he cites Rahab of Jericho as one of 
those saved by faith. 

It is difficult not to regard the Epistle of James as an answer to this 
last argument; and, by the way, it is interesting to find the remaining 
epistles arranged in this order: James, Peter, John; the same order in 



60 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

which we found Paul enumerating the "pillars" of the church at Jeru- 
salem, as though, in the view of those who arranged the documents, 
James outweighed Peter. But to return. It is difficult not to believe 
that James is replying to the author of the Epistles to the Hebrews, and 
striking a last blow for the ''way of Works," when we find him writing: 

"But wilt thou know, O vain man, that faith without works is dead ? 
Was not Abraham our father justified by works, when he had offered 
Isaac his son upon the altar? . . . Likewise also was not Rahab the 
harlot justified by works, when she had received the messengers, and 
had sent them out another way? For as the body without the spirit is 
dead, so faith without works is dead also." 

The passages which I have quoted are, it seems to me, evidently the 
records of a long and heated contest between the adherents of Faith 
and the adherents of the Law ; or, more precisely, a controversy between 
Paul and James, which raged from the days before the Council of 
Jerusalem until the last word, so far as our documents go, was spoken 
by James, in the sentences just quoted. This seems to me to add a new 
connecting thread to the relations between these New Testament docu- 
ments, and, in particular, to have an important bearing on the position 
and purpose of the Epistle to the Hebrews, and the reply of James to 
its argument. 

Many other questions arise, of the deepest import and interest. For 
example, Why was it that the Master himself so carefully followed the 
way of the Law? Is there a parallel with the acceptance of the Law, 
as a stepping stone to Wisdom, by the later Vedantins, with Shankara- 
charya at their head? What course did the controversy take in later 
ages of the Church's life? What is its position to-day; what is the 
practical teaching for ourselves, in this age-long controversy between 
Faith and Works ? 

But for the present I must content myself with outlining, however 
imperfectly, the course of the controversy through the Upanishads and 
the documents of the New Testament. 

CHARLES JOHNSTON. 



ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 



WILL AND DESIRE 

THE Wanderer, we call him: a man of the mountains, whose 
home is in many cities. We think of him as a disciple, for in 
his presence time seems to disappear; he speaks of centuries 
as we speak of years, and of ourselves as if he had known us 
always. He joined our party one afternoon, since the last "Screen" was 
written, in a place not far from New York. He saluted us, and then, 
without further preliminaries, said that he wanted to suggest an answer 
to a question which, among ourselves, we had discussed some days 
before. 

"Most people," he said, "who pride themselves on being strong- 
willed, really have no will at all. They have self-will, but not Will. 
For Will is a spiritual power the master of desire, not its slave; and 
the will of the ordinary man follows his desire, as a river flows to the 
sea. The true will, the will of holiness, stands immovable, like a rock, 
in the midst of all desires, in the midst of any temptation. It is that 
which enables us to abstain because it is right to abstain. And fear is 
a form of desire. The virtue of a man whose conduct and whose 
thoughts, even, are unimpeachable, may be a form of self-indulgence. 
Purity is not purity until it has been tried and tested to the uttermost. 
A 'good' man may be one who is half asleep, or a man quite colourless, 
or he may be too cowardly to indulge himself. No such man is really 
good: he is negative, and true virtue, like will, is positive and fiery. 

"Perhaps speech is the best and simplest test. Why do we say 
certain things and abstain from saying others? Is it because we are 
afraid of being disliked? Do we abstain from saying smart and bitter 
things because we do not think of them to say until too late? Are 
we careless and inconsiderate, perhaps unconscious of whether we hurt 
or not, of whether we help or not; or do we use the will of the soul to 
select between good and evil, between things helpful and the reverse? 

"It does not follow that the spiritually enlightened person will please. 
It may be necessary for him to say things which others will misinterpret 
as harsh and unkind. One of the most common and most injurious 
forms of self-indulgence is to refrain from rebuke when a clear under- 
standing of duty either does or should require it of us. The love of the 
Master is like dew from heaven: but it is also a sword. Yet another 
form of self-indulgence is the infliction of our ideas or ideals upon others, 
whose needs and standards may be quite different from our own. We 
must learn so to surrender self that, in the matter of ideals, we prefer 
for another his own, rather than ours; and then, helping him more 

61 



62 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

clearly to formulate his ideals, we should help him also to live in true 
relation with them. At least as much harm is done by injudicious 
mention of Theosophy as by the silence of timidity. The heart not 
the emotions or the mind should guide us in all these matters. Love 
and will, properly understood, are aspects of the same force. It is a 
force which selfishness reflects reversely and perverts; but in itself it is 
eternal and divine. In the terminology of theosophical literature, it is 
a form of Buddhi active." 

"What you have said of self-indulgence," commented the Philos- 
opher, "is so similar in purpose and in feeling to a letter I received a 
few days ago, that perhaps you will allow me to read a brief extract 
from it now. The writer says : 'What we have to do, each of us, is 
to review our relations with our fellows, and to see in what respects we 
are self-indulgent or careless in speech or in manner in what ways we 
fall short, in those relations, of the high ideal of self-restraint, courtesy 
and chivalry which the Master represents. That is not the least urgent 
of his requests of us to-day.' 

"It may seem strange to reduce Occultism to terms of courtesy and 
consideration and it is, of course, but one phase of a vast subject; but 
without doubt an unremitting consideration for others, in thought, word 
and act, of their feelings and peculiarities and needs, would do as much 
as anything to develop in us the high form of will of which you speak." 

PAIN 

The Wanderer agreed. Then he turned to the Student and said: 
"I thought that you were going to tell us something." For a moment 
the Student looked surprised. "I was connecting what you said about 
the spiritual will with the mystery of pain: more specifically, with an 
article by 'Cave' in Fragments. I can see that nothing would so develop 
and sharpen that kind of will as pain cheerfully accepted. There can 
be no room for self-indulgence in the bearing of pain, granting it is 
sufficiently acute. Perhaps the instinct of the saints, who prayed for 
pain, and who desired it with such passion, was not unhealthy, even 
though it marked a transition state. Perhaps they recognized instinc- 
tively that by no other means could the spiritual will, which proceeds 
from or through the Master, be cultivated so quickly." 

"I think you are right," replied the Wanderer ; "and I am glad that 
you connected the two ideas. But pain has another purpose, or, rather, 
the purpose of it suggested by you can be expressed in a way less 
positive, but more in keeping with the experience of the saints. 'The 
heart must bleed, to be purified.' Soon or late, before the impure can 
become pure and it does not follow that everyone travels by this road 
the vision of purity will strike impurity dumb with anguish. The pain 
of it will be almost unendurable, and yet indistinguishable from the 



ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 63 

wildest joy. For, consciously or unconsciously, the person so suffering, 
is being born again, 'from above': his throes are those of birth. And, 
as St. Paul said, death precedes birth: 'that which thou sowest is not 
quickened except it die (I, who die daily, say this unto you). . . . 
So also is the resurrection of the dead. It is sown in corruption; it is 
raised in incorruption. . . . Flesh and blood cannot inherit the 
Kingdom of God.' 

"In Egypt," continued the Wanderer, "one of the rites began with 
a prayer like this : '. . . Give us death, give us death, give us death ; 
that we may rise to Thee ; that they may see Thee only !' St. Francis of 
Assisi echoed it in his prayer: 'May the fire of Thy love consume my 
soul, that I may die to myself and to the world for love of Thee, who 
hast vouchsafed to die on the cross for love of me.' Read your burial 
service as an incomplete but marvelously suggestive relic, and you will 
learn a great deal. Also, do not forget to join in the petition, the exact 
wording of which I have forgotten, though it runs to this effect: 'O 
holy and merciful Saviour, thou most worthy Judge eternal, suffer us 
not, at our last hour, for any pains of death, to fall from thee.' It is 
almost purely Egyptian and vitally necessary, for, remember, where 
we think we are safest, invariably we are weakest. And we must not 
be afraid to die, if truly we desire to live." 

INVOCATION 

The Cynic has no sense of the fitness of things, as I have told him 
often, though the Sage, who loves him, assures me that the Cynic's 
interruption, in this case, was due to reaction from a part of himself 
into or up to which the Wanderer's reality had dragged him. For the 
Cynic now said : 

"This conversation is becoming lugubrious. I thought we claimed 
to be the most consistently cheerful group of people on the American 
continent ; but, at this rate, mourning hat-bands will be in order for every 
one of us !" 

The Wanderer looked at him with a compassion that simply scorched. 
" 'It is hard for thee to kick against the pricks,' " he said. "You cling 
to self with a tenacity worthy of a better cause. But, believe me, you 
will not know the meaning of joy until you have learned to long for 
pain. You have built a shell around yourself which only the Master's 
fire can melt; and that fire, which is his love, will be for you an agony 
unspeakable. Yet, when it comes, when you open your heart to receive 
it, when, in answer to your prayers, you have made yourself fit to receive 
it your gratitude for that pain will be greater than for any happiness 
you have ever known. In the midst of those flames your one cry will 
be for more and still for more : for a more intense anguish for deeper 
draughts of his love. Your heart, now hard (I do not speak in terms 



64 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

of ordinary consciousness), will melt like wax; will turn to water; will 
become fire and flame like the love that consumes it. And you, poor 
thing of earth, will die, so that you, who walk the skies, may live for 
ever." Then, quickly turning his back on us, with some motion of hands 
and of arms that escaped me, the Wanderer prayed aloud: "Heart of 
my King, give them love! In the blaze of thy love, give them life! 
By the splendour and triumph of death, let them live !" Then there was 
silence. The Wanderer had been standing. Now he knelt, upright on 
his knees. The stillness, for a moment, was frightening. "Thy paths 
are peace," he murmured: and the stillness fell like dew. Suddenly, 
with both arms outflung like whips of steel, he cried to us : "The King 
in His glory ! Children the King in His glory !" 

The Cynic, a strong man, bowed his head between his knees and 
trembled, as a tree trembles when struck by some terrible blast of wind. 
(He will never be a Cynic any more. It was, he said afterwards, as if 
the fibre of his body were being drawn from him, leaving nothing but 
the pulp.) Moments passed, vivid, luminous, impossible to speak of. 
Then the Wanderer: "Heart of my King, it is Thy loveliness which 
draws us!" And I heard the Cynic, with both fists clinched above his 
head bowed there, between his knees: "God be merciful to me a 
sinner." 



HELL 

Several days had passed, and the Wanderer had left us. I had 
asked his permission to give in the "Screen" an outline of what he had 
said about the will and about pain his smiling answer having been, 
"I never talk secrets!" So, at the next opportunity, the same group 
being present, I brought up the subject again, and was surprised to find 
how much actual experience some of my friends had had. The Gael 
began : 

"Your Anglo-Saxon pride," he said, "drives you far afield for light. 
Your minds are sizzling with Talas and Patalas with learned disser- 
tations on what some old Egyptian or ancient Hindu wrote about states 
of consciousness. I could tell you more about Hell in five minutes than 
most of them tell in volumes. But you would not believe me, partly 
because the saying that 'a prophet is not without honour, save in his 
own country, and in his own house,' was in itself a direct prophecy 
of the British and of the British-American peoples: you can no more 
believe that your neighbour knows anything, than that it is just as easy to 
show him friendliness as it is to show affection for the German Emperor 
or for some starving Chinaman. If you were to weep for your neigh- 
bour, and it were known of you, you would be covered with shame ; but 
sentiment for someone thousands of miles away you regard as excus- 



ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 65 

able. Your pride is not only your greatest barrier, but is also, without 
exception, the most ridiculous " 

The Sage stopped him. "Your contribution on the subject of Hell 
will be most acceptable when the time comes. If you make it objective 
prematurely, and at our expense, you will spoil the effect later. And 
allow me to remark, incidentally, that when you speak of ancient Egypt 
as 'far afield/ you sin against the very canon you prescribe: you refuse 
to recognize your neighbour. For no other religion is nearer to our 
own you, as a Catholic, re-embody it; and no other period is more 
closely associated with the present. . . . That, however, is not the 
subject of discussion, which, as I see it, resolves itself into this: What 
do we know of the nature and purpose of pain? Perhaps the Philos- 
opher will begin." 

The Philosopher responded readily. "Suppose we consider first," 
he said, "the difference between Hell and Purgatory. In deference to 
the Gael, I will use the terms which he prefers. Hell is a state of 
consciousness in which there is rebellion against the will of God. You 
want something more than you want God ; you know it ; you insist upon 
having it; you get it; you are tortured by it, or by its effect upon you, 
or by further desire for it; yet you will not let go of it. Perhaps you 
will say that people in hell do not get what they desire. But that does 
not actually affect my definition, because the attraction in nearly every 
case is not the thing desired: it is the desire for the thing. People in 
Hell are those who cling to a desire for something less than God, and 
who reject God because of preference for that thing. And although the 
Gael was wrong in all else that he said, there was truth in his remark 
that the lowest depth of Hell is reached by Pride. By that sin fell the 
angels and many men. There is power in it, though; and once pride 
is broken, utterly and beyond recall, it is possible to rise from the depths 
of Hell to the highest of the heavens. God never despairs of Satan. 
On the contrary, Christ was born to redeem him. That is mystical, but 
true. It has not been accomplished yet, any more than any other task 
which Christ set out to do : but it will be, in time." 

"You are right in that," said the Gael. "We celebrate our Easter 
because of Christ. He will celebrate His Easter because of Satan 
when the time comes." 

"I do not in the least understand what you mean," protested the 
Student, "unless you speak of Satan symbolically as representing the 
evil in human nature." 

"That view will be sufficient for your purpose," answered the Gael. 
"But it may be well to remember also that the universe exists in pairs of 
opposites. Granting the existence of light, you admit the existence of 
darkness. It is only that which is above manifestation which is above 
contrast, and which casts no shadow. Logically, you cannot believe in 
a personal Christ without believing in a personal Satan. The one is 

5 



66 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

purity and the other is perversion. Purity remains among men in order 
to -redeem perversion." 

"That is very important," added the Philosopher. "Evil is merely a 
perversion of spiritual power. There is no such thing as evil in and of 
itself. It is not a permanent principle. It begins, perhaps, as a blunder, 
or as a lack of understanding, and, unless corrected, it ends as a deliberate 
choice. As Cave once wrote: 'O miracle of the wickedness of man, 
who creates him a hell out of his heaven, and, from the powers of his 
spiritual life, procures for himself damnation !' " 

"From that point of view," said the Student, "Hell is simply a 
reversal of everything that Heaven contains. All of you have read 
Dante, and though none of you have quoted him directly, I can see that 
the views expressed so far agree perfectly with his. But now, how 
about Purgatory ? Can we summarize Hell, as we leave it, in this way : 
it is a state of consciousness in which many people live while on earth, 
and as many or more after death, the essential characteristic of which is 
pain unrelieved by joy, and the cause of which is non-acceptance of the 
divine will?" 

PURGATORY 

The Gael was now intolerant of delay: he had been silent too long. 
"If," he said, "you could have seen into me while you were talking of 
Hell, there would be no need now for me to speak of Purgatory. But 
the Student did show some glimmer of intelligence when he suggested 
that Hell is 'pain unrelieved by joy.' Purgatory is pain relieved by 
well, in this case, by humour. Seriously, for. now I am serious, Purgatory 
begins as soon as we desire to know and to accept the divine will. The 
more ardent our desire, the more intense its pain, but also the greater its 
joy. The Wanderer spoke of facts. What makes Purgatory is the vision 
of purity by impurity: at first a faint hope, at last a blinding glory. 
Read Dante. It is foolishness to talk of these things when he has saicl 
it all. But a word to those who are in Purgatory (and most people are, 
whether they know it or not : I am : everyone who is trying is in Pur- 
gatory) accept anything and everything that happens as a means of 
purification. If someone or something annoys you, turn your attention 
instantly from the external cause to the cause within yourself. Work 
at removing that: never try to remove the stimulus. Regard circum- 
stances, whether stable or fluctuating, as the expression of the Master's 
will. Realize that the best part of His gift is always that which you 
describe as a limitation or a barrier. Accept the barrier and it becomes 
a door: but accept it, not only with courage, but with joy knowing 
it to be a door. And bring all your faith and trust to bear on this: 
when He takes away, it is always to give more perfectly. Believe, 
believe that He plans and works to give us, in fullness, the best of our 
heart's desire, and that there is no limitation of the present which is not 



ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 67 

designed with that end in view. With desire tloes He still desire to eat 
the Passover with us to enjoy with us the realization of our ideal. To 
withhold anything from Him is Hell; to surrender it to Him is Purga- 
tory; to receive it again from His hands, with His blessing made pure 
by His purity and so to enjoy it in His presence : that is Heaven ! Yet, 
strange as it may seem, there is no longing for Heaven until the last 
vestige of self has been burned out. On the upper levels of Purgatory 
there is no desire except for the wild joy of greater and ever greater 
pain. Because His presence, to the impure, is torture ; and His presence 
becomes the one thing desirable. It is a struggle, at last, even to accept 
the gift of His love: greater still to accept the gift of His peace and 
His joy. Below, the veils are still so many that the call of His love 
for us His need for our love scarcely is heard. Yet He cries through 
the darkness, seeking the love of His heart that lost little sheep which 
wandered; and one of the agonies of those above is that they hear so 
clearly, while the others hear not at all, or call it 'conscience' and some- 
times laugh: while He, the despised and rejected, suffers. 

"Now, as I speak, I feel it, and the pain and the joy of it are almost 
beyond endurance. But to-morrow, perhaps, I shall not feel it, and then 
the longing for that which now I can hardly endure will be worse, for 
the hunger of it, than the pain of the vision itself. . . . You do not 
understand? But you will. For those who walk upon earth, who are 
not in Hell or in Purgatory or in Paradise, are asleep, dreaming. I have 
visited Heaven, but, in my personal consciousness, I do not live there." 

This was too much for the Critic. "What on earth do you mean?" 
he asked. "If the Recorder is going to repeat any of this in the 'Screen/ 
for sheer self-pity explain yourself, or the authorities will be after you 
for lunacy !" 

The Gael was not perturbed. "It is quite simple," he said. "I do 
not live in Heaven because I have not learned to accept the limitations 
of earth. Most people, who rebel against limitations which do not worry 
me at all, would condemn my rebellion against other limitations of which 
they are not conscious. The 'authorities' worry about lunatics : I do 
not. I am more inclined to worry about the authorities. Still, I can 
resist that successfully: I can accept them at their worst. There are 
other things I cannot yet accept: my own imperfections among them." 

Now the Gael, as a rule, is almost extravagantly light-hearted. He 
can be boyish in gaiety and mischief. I found it impossible to reconcile 
the appearance with what he now revealed of the facts. So I asked him, 
point-blank, to explain. He laughed, saying that he had an appoint- 
ment, but that the Sage would explain, "because the Sage knows every- 
thing : there is nothing he will not tell you !" Then he waved us fare- 
well and left. 

Whether the Sage knew what he was talking about or not, is beyond 



68 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

me to decide. But this is what he said, after some joking reference to 
the Gael's equivocal commendation : 

'The effect of that flame, which, as the Wanderer told us, is really 
the breath of the Master's love, is so intense; is so consuming; is so 
terrible with pain and joy, that no human organism could stand it for 
very long, in spite of the desire to suffer it for ever. So the experience 
is intermittent: it comes and it goes. Its purpose is purification, and, 
once purity is fully attained, those same fires are felt, not as that indis- 
tinguishable union of opposites of which the Gael spoke, but as pure 
ecstasy. However, even before the perfection of purity has been 
attained, one effect of the process is to give glimpses of Paradise 
unsought and undesired which, shining from within outwardly, impress 
others with a sense of immortal youth and of radiance. The Gael, as he 
would tell you frankly, is far from being stable. But his unceasing effort 
is to raise his average level. The higher he raises that, the more con- 
stant will be the character both of his inner experience and of his outer 
expression. It will not always be the radiance of joy : but it will always 
be the radiance of love not his own, but of the Great One whose 
shadow he will be. Meanwhile, be sure of one thing : whatever he may 
feel, his duty is to show to others a 'cheerful and pleasant countenance.' 
If he fails at any time to do that, except of deliberate purpose, he will 
have sunk below his average level, and he will be the first to know it." 

PARADISE 

"Please," said the Student, "please say something about Paradise. 
I do not feel that I know the first thing about that: and I want to. 
From my lower levels I have heard all I can stand about the other thing." 

No one spoke. The Student urged again. "I can tell you some- 
thing that the Gael told me," the Sage said at last. "But first let me 
say this as to the difference between the psychic and the spiritual: the 
psychic gives a thrill of pleasure, by anticipation of something real there 
is no satisfaction on that plane. The spiritual, on the other hand, is 
consummation: it is sufficient; it is complete. But now, briefly, for 
the Gael's experience. He received as a gift from Cave the following 
Fragment : 

" 'What havens of peace lie in the depths of divine consciousness ; 
what security from the world's tumult, which beats unheard against its 
doors. Close thy ears and enter in. There, in utter forgetting, find the 
calm of unending union, and that radiance of joy which no outer circum- 
stance can dim.' 

"The Gael at first accepted that as referring to some inner world 
which, because inner, he thought of as being abstract and impersonal. 
(This was some time ago.) So he began by trying for 'utter forgetting.' 
He worked at that steadily, realizing that so long as his mind reflected 



ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 69 

from below, he could get no clear consciousness of what was above. 
After weeks of persistent effort, he was given, perhaps for his encourage- 
ment, a glimpse of what was meant. The result was neither abstract 
nor impersonal. He discovered that Paradise is a real world of real 
people not separate from this world, but within and enveloping this 
world. And he discovered that, when there, he did in fact experience 
'the calm of unending union/ first with the Master, and, because of that, 
with those whom he, as a man, loves; and that joy and love are as 
inseparable from life there, as air is here. The dominant impression, 
he told me, was that of its being unending: that nothing could change it 
or interfere with it. There was not less of personality; there was more 
of it but personal consciousness had become inclusive instead of exclu- 
sive: its center was as much in others as in himself, though existence 
itself radiated from the Master who was center and life of all. 

"Some understanding of this state rather, I should say, some feel- 
ing of it, can be reached by all of us during prayer or meditation. And, 
once experienced, we should never allow ourselves wholly to forget it, 
even when hurried or over-worked. The joy and the pain of Purgatory 
is but an echo of life in Paradise ; and at any moment of any day, know- 
ing it as the home of our soul, we should be able to reach within our- 
selves and to touch at least the hem of our garment of immortality. 

"How to do this? As the Gael said, it is quite simple! You know 
that passage in the Bhagavad Gita: 'Do all thou dost for Me; renounce 
for Me ; sacrifice heart and mind and will to Me ; live in the faith of Me.' 
So, if, instead of feeling pious, you feel irritable, go to Him with that 
irritability, just as you are, and ask Him to do what He wants with it 
ask Him to make it worse or to remove it just as He sees best ; sur- 
render it to Him. Every mood, every feeling, good, bad or indifferent, 
take to Him from minute to minute, and ask Him to purify it to take 
it and to make it His own: surrender it to Him. And because He is 
Paradise, you will, minute by minute, transfer your consciousness from 
earth to heaven, learning at last to live in heaven and to visit earth 
learning at last to be not of the world, though in it, even as He is not 
of the world, though its salvation and only peace. 

T. 



ELEMENTARY PAPER 



THEOSOPHY AND HYPNOTISM 

THE third object of the Theosophical Society is "To investigate 
the unexplained laws of nature and the psychical powers latent 
in man." Some of these unexplained latent powers have been 
brought to light by what is sometimes called mesmerism, animal 
magnetism, or hypnotism, which are but different names for essentially 
the same thing. Sometimes men profess to make a scientific distinction 
between them, but I doubt the accuracy of their definitions. For over 
ten years I investigated mesmerism, reading every book I could find in 
the English and French languages, and making thousands of experi- 
ments in private and public. I began by using the mesmeric passes and 
succeeded as well with them as I did later with other methods, except 
that it took much longer to produce sleep. With mesmeric passes it took 
me from ten to twenty minutes to produce sleep, and by other methods 
from two to five minutes sometimes it was instantaneous. If I took a 
boy by the hand, placing my left thumb at the root of the nose where 
the phrenologist locates individuality and told him to look into my eye 
it was seldom more than two minutes before the eyelids began to droop, 
and the eyeballs to turn up and I told him he was asleep and could not 
get off the seat. In public lectures I used to give a dozen boys, eacn a 
little zinc disk with a bright copper rivet in the center and tell them to 
look steadily at it, while I kept the attention of the audience for five 
minutes. At the end of that time I took the boys one by one, selecting 
first those who seemed most susceptible to the influence, and treated 
them as described above. Generally ten of the twelve (and often the 
whole dozen) made good subjects for a mesmeric entertainment. At 
my suggestion they at once imagined themselves soldiers, sailors, auc- 
tioneers, lecturers, or any other character that I happened to think of. 
By drilling them together for a little time I got complete control of them 
and then selected the best of them for more striking experiments. Any 
of the boys could be made to imagine themselves girls and would take 
most remarkable pains with imaginary babies, or they would climb 
pillars for bird's nests, and tell how many eggs or young birds they found 
in the nest, the number seldom varying from what was in my own mind ; 
thought transference was quite easy. They would imitate all the 
noises of animals on a farm, would be sea-sick, imagine salt was sweet 
and sugar bitter ; and from the same glass of water would taste any kind 



THEOSOPHY AND HYPNOTISM 71 

of liquid suggested. Almost any of them could be made to think cold 
things were hot, and hot things cold, light things heavy and heavy things 
light. 

Many times I have made strong men unable to lift a pound weight, 
and sometimes they got angry because I made small boys lift weights 
that they could not move at all. There were very few subjects whose 
limbs could not be made rigid as iron, or weak and paralyzed, and 
quite a number of those who volunteer for public experiment can be 
made as rigid as a body long dead. For instance, I have made a man 
lie down on three chairs, his head on one, his heels on another, 
while a third supported his back. I then made mesmeric passes over him 
for two or three minutes, after which I have removed the middle chair 
and sat upon his body without its yielding under my weight. I have then 
placed my hands upon his body for a few seconds, and then slowly rais- 
ing them, the center of the body followed my hands without contact, 
until it formed a curve. On my replacing the chair and telling him to 
wake up, he would stand on his feet with every muscle loose and pulse 
normal. It was a not uncommon thing for subjects to develop clair- 
voyance both in private and public experiments. I say clairvoyance 
though perhaps it was not true clairvoyance, but the subjects could see 
and hear without using the physical organs of sight and hearing. For 
instance, with the subject's eyes closed and tightly bandaged, I would 
say to him, "Describe for me the first person on the fourth seat." He 
would do it quite accurately and sometimes humorously. I would then 
ask what the gentleman had in his pockets. This would be told in detail, 
and when he mentioned a watch I would ask him what time it indicated, 
what the number inside the case was, and whether a name or anything 
else was engraved there. This was usually told without an error. If 
there happened to be a letter in one of the pockets, the subject would 
(with the permission of the owner) describe its contents, and sometimes 
the person who wrote it and his surroundings when writing. Some sub- 
jects would describe the homes of people in the audience whom they did 
not know, telling of pictures, furniture, carpets, and people present. On 
one occasion a conversation was reported that we afterward found to 
be correct. They sometimes told of incidents in the lives of people in the 
audience that these persons declared untrue, but which upon inquiry of 
relatives were found to be correct, though the memory of the person had 
not retained them. 

An objection to reincarnation which is commonly advanced is that if 
it were true we would be sure to remember. But if we utterly forget 
events that have occurred in the present life why should we expect to 
remember past lives? Some of the incidents referred to were very im- 
portant and had affected the whole life. But while these experiments 
assured me of the truth of certain statements that I had read as to the 
wonderful latent powers in man I had still a feeling that it was morally 



72 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

wrong for me to be making these experiments. This feeling became 
stronger and stronger, so that I found myself asking these questions, 
"Am I doing an injury to these people? Am I weakening their will 
power their power to resist evil ? Have I any right whatever to control 
and dominate their minds and bodies?" I reached the conclusion that 
I was wronging them, and resolved never to hypnotize another person, 
not even to cure disease. For more than twenty-five years I have kept 
this resolution, and after becoming a student of Theosophy I was glad 
that I had given up hynotism, for I then came to understand what I had 
intuitively felt before. 

There are different theories advocated by different men to explain 
how these phenomena are produced. Some hold to the old mesmeric 
theory that there is a magnetic fluid passing from operator to subject, 
and in proof of this they give the statements of clairvoyants. Some also 
tell us that the fact that some diseases are contagious, and that old people 
are benefited by sleeping with young people confirms this theory. Others 
claim that the thought and will of the operator are propagated by ether 
waves, of even smaller amplitude and greater frequency than those which 
carry the Rontgen rays. Such waves are supposed to pass from one 
brain to another, arousing in the second brain an image similar to the 
one in the first brain. 

But what matters it how the phenomena are produced if the effect 
be bad? Charcot, one of the greatest hypnotists of this generation, 
says, "The more I have examined the facts and the more I have advanced 
in my study, the more I am convinced that hypnotism is a reaction, not 
an action." What does this mean? It can only mean that hypnotism 
is to a certain degree a suspension of the vital force that animates and 
controls the body of man. In other words it is what Theosophy declares 
it to be, namely, a driving of the soul from the body, the paralyzing of 
Manas and the separation of Buddhi from that principle. It is an 
inversion of the truth. No God-given power should ever be used to 
produce a reaction by which the will of man is weakened or suspended, 
and the faculties of the mind controlled by another. No man should 
seek to control another, for by so doing he violates the laws of his being, 
the laws of brotherhood. We have no moral or spiritual right to control 
another or to compel him to do anything, whether we believe it will be 
beneficial to him or not. Hypnotism weakens the will of the subject 
and destroys his independence. It tends to deaden his mental faculties, 
making him negative and susceptible to the influence of others, and liable 
to be controlled by the will of others, and not so competent to control 
his own thinking and actions. This is a sin against our brother. Med- 
ical men are using it for the curing of disease and relief of pain, and 
because of this many people believe it to be an agent for good. We may 
not question the sincerity nor the benevolent impulses of those who use 
it and those who advocate its use, but we may question their wisdom 



THEOSOPHY AND HYPNOTISM 73 

and the value of the results produced. In the first place hypnotism is 
founded on selfishness and cannot therefore be of real service to man- 
To sacrifice our own independence and our own individuality is a far 
greater price to pay than any relief from pain is worth. Perhaps we 
do not think that these results will follow, but that we shall be able to 
resist the will of others in everyday life, and be well able to control 
ourselves. Perhaps we can, but the risk is great. If during the time 
I was experimenting with mesmerism I met a boy on the street going 
to his work with dinner pail in hand, whom I had mesmerized, and 
would say to him, "That pail is hot !" he would instantly drop it and feel 
a sensation of burning in his hand. Now he knew it was not hot, but 
he was unable to hold it, although he enjoyed the joke as much as those 
who saw what he did. Another thing I found, too, and that is, that 
these boys whom I had controlled would go to another mesmeric enter- 
tainment declaring they would not yield themselves to this man as they 
had to me, but found themselves unable to resist. This was one of the 
first things that led me to give up the practice. 

We should try to overcome disease and pain by seeking to under- 
stand and obey the laws that regulate life and produce health and 
strength. We should seek to perfect life by the rightful use and 
strengthening of all our powers of body and mind, for it is every man's 
duty to control himself. Perhaps some will ask if we may not allow 
qualified medical men to use it as we allow them to prescribe poisonous 
drugs for us. They further say that these drugs not only become harm- 
less in their hands but positively beneficial, and in like manner hypnotism 
that is so dangerous in the hands of ignorant persons would be entirely 
changed, and only beneficial results would ensue if used by trained, 
scientific minds of the medical profession. Our medical men have a 
good knowledge of anatomy and physiology but many of them under- 
stand little of the workings of the human mind, and most of them are 
entirely ignorant of occultism. Such a great power as this cannot be 
put into the hands of any class or profession with safety. Power is only 
safe with the unselfish wise, with those whose great desire is to bless 
and not to curse, to quicken and strengthen the minds of our brothers 
and sisters, and not to dull and deaden their faculties; who desire to 
increase and not to lessen the will power of all, so that all may be self- 
controlled and in perfect harmony with the laws of being. Hypnotic 
suggestion is the reversal of certain laws of life and it is immoral to do 
evil that good may result. This much at least is plain, that we should 
never use our wills to force another to do, or refrain from doing even 
when we think that it would be for his good. We should never force 
on another the acceptance of any truth however important we may 
think it is he must have liberty to accept, or reject as he may choose. 
It is ours to help, to bless, to instruct, but never to control and command. 

JOHN SCHOFIELD. 




It has often been noted in the QUARTERLY that the science of to-day is fast push- 
ing beyond the limits of things which can be perceived and tested by the physical 
senses. What will be the definite outcome of this tendency is hard to say, but 
it has always been the rule that nature yields her secrets to the persistent and 
widespread demand of man. "Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall 
find ; knock, and it shall be opened unto you" : is the key to intellectual as well 
as devotional progress. 

Of those who in our day are most persistently seeking to raise the veil which 
hides from humanity the what, the how, and the why of its existence, Sir Oliver 
Lodge stands in the foremost rank. His reputation as 'a physicist and his connec- 
tion with The Society for Psychical Research create a certain predisposition in 
his favor. The combination of sound thinking and imagination which he possesses, 
and which has been characteristic of all great experimenters in the laboratory, 
promises, when turned to the investigation of the subconscious, a new and important 
increase of knowledge. 

The avowed object of Reason and Belief is to assist in the solution of some 
of the problems which the higher criticism has forced upon teachers of the Bible. 
His excuse for writing is that his own researches have led him to perceive a pro- 
found substratum of truth underlying ancient doctrines, "and in so far as the 
progress of science instead of undermining actually illustrates and illumines some 
of them," he conceives it to be his duty as well as his privilege to indicate to the best 
of his ability how matters stand. 

"There is no real end to anything in the Universe, no end to any real existence ; 
nor is there any beginning." This proposition is his starting point. He illustrates 
it by the history of sandstone rock, of a cloud, of a piece of wood. The rock 
was formed of compacted sand, which is the result of an earlier rock ground to 
powder by the waves. The cloud "seems to spring into existence out of the blue, 
and presently evaporates again and ceases to be, as a cloud; but as an invisible 
vapour it continues, and as aqueous vapour it existed before it condensed into mi- 
nute drops of liquid i.e., before it took shape and form and became visible. In 
essence it exists all the time, and the persistent material can form another cloud, or 
rain, or it can flow as a river, or can enter the sea, but only to be evaporated again 
in due time, and go through an eternal cycle of changes." "So also look at a piece of 
wood burning in the fire. It was formed originally from sap elaborated in the leaves 
of the tree, through the chemical influence and energy of sunlight. It was composed 
out of carbonic acid and water, drunk in by the roots, taken up into the laboratory of 
the leaves, and there decomposed by sunlight, the oxygen being separated and liber- 
ated and expelled into the air. And now that the wood is burning, its carbon and 
hydrogen are re-combining with oxygen, thereby becoming gaseous again, and so re- 
storing to the atmosphere the carbonic acid and water out of which the tree was 
formed." Similar is the history of a planet and a Solar System. "They represent 
a present phase or manifestation, in a continuous unending existence." From this 



REVIEWS 75 

point he advances to a consideration of the human race. It is not likely that man, 
any more than anything else, began from nothing. "The complexity of his 
organism, the far-reaching quality of his mind, combined with what we know of 
the leisurely processes of nature, forbid the idea of construction elaborated in such 
fantastic haste. The body has been formed to a given pattern, quickly enough ; so 
may a plant grow with great rapidity; but there must be some entity even though 
it be only a germinal vesicle which collects and arranges the particles to suit 
itself. The specific form of the structure depends on this entity, not on the 
miscellaneous sources of the particles." A little later he says, "At birth we began 
a separate individual existence but not from nothing." 

So we come to the main point of Part I called Incarnation. 

"My message is that there is some great truth in the idea of pre-existence ; 
not an obvious truth, nor one easy to formulate, a truth difficult to express, 
not to be identified with the guesses of re-incarnation and transmigration, which 
may be fanciful. We may not have been individuals before, but we are chips or 
fragments of a great mass of mind, of spirit, and of life, drops, as it were, taken 
out of a germinal reservoir of life, and incubated until incarnate in a material 
body." 

Sir Oliver Lodge's distinction between his own conception of pre-existence 
and the "guesses" of re-incarnation and transmigration need not be taken as 
weighing against the doctrine of re-incarnation. In a later chapter he refers to 
Sir Isaac Newton's first formulation of the law of gravitation as a guess, a flash 
of insight, an hypothesis. Moreover the doctrine may have been presented to him 
in its crude, popular form, and accordingly rejected. The fact that he names it 
with transmigration suggests that this is the case. For Lodge's idea of a sub- 
stratum of being which continuously manifests itself in diverse varying forms 
seems to the writer to be identical with the theory that the Universe in sum as 
in detail is under the law of re-incarnation, and that the repeated appearance of 
man upon this earth merely constitutes one of the details in which the whole is 
partially expressing itself. 

By means of physical evolution "a terrestrial existence was rendered possible 
for beings at a comparatively advanced stage of spiritual evolution." But "the 
doctrine of evolution evolution of capacity for knowledge is profoundly true 
with respect to the spirit of man ; there is nothing artificial about our ignorance ; 
facts are not withheld from us, any more than a picture, a statue, or an oratorio 
is kept from the cognizance of an animal, everything lies before it, ready to be seen 
or heard, only the perception is lacking." 

Applied to the idea of "angels" usually treated as fanciful this conception 
leads to the conviction that "we are not really lonely in our struggle, that our 
destiny is not left haphazard, that there is no such thing as laissez-faire in a 
highly organized universe. Help may be rejected, but help is available; a ministry 
of benevolence surrounds us a cloud of witnesses not witnesses only but helpers, 
agents like ourselves, of the immanent God." 

"And the race also has been helped. A Divine Helper has actually taken flesh 
and dwelt among us, full of grace and truth." "We are all incarnations, all 
sons of God in a sense, but at that epoch a Son of God in the supremest sense 
took pity on the race, laid aside his majesty, made himself of no reputation, took 
upon him the form of a servant, a minister, entered into our flesh and lived on 
the planet as a peasant, a teacher, a reformer, a martyr. This is said to have 
literally happened; and as a student of science I am bound to say that, so far 
as we can understand such an assertion, there is nothing in it contrary to accepted 
knowledge. . . . All that the Churches say about it need not be true is not all 
likely to be true ; but something is true much better than they say something which 
they and we together are gradually rising to understand." What is this but an 



76 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

individual and tentative statement of the doctrine well known in the East that 
Christ was a divine avatar. A little later he refers to Jesus as "the visible 
incarnation of a Being of magnitude far higher than they had ever known." 

Part II, The Old Testament in Education, has for its crux the idea of a 
progressive revelation, a revelation which is "gradual, not for the sake of delay 
or secrecy, but because of the limitation of human faculties." A formulation of 
truth suited to the understanding of Lord Kelvin would have been nonsense to 
a nomad tribe, wandering like Arabs in the desert, and seeking to found a civilized 
race among barbarous nations. Owing to the well-known fact that the child- 
hood of the individual has a correspondence and peculiar sympathies with the 
childhood of the race, the Old Testament can, with special appropriateness, be 
taught to children. 

The question as to how far certain portions of the Old Testament are true 
leads to a discussion of the distinction between the truth of science and the truth 
of poetry, with the emphasis for universality and permanence on the latter. It 
is in the spirit of the poet that the Old Testament has to be interpreted and 
understood. The great parts of it are manifestly inspired "and Inspiration is- 
a reality, though its definition is at present vague." But whatever it means it 
does not mean infallibility. "Absolute truth is always beyond us." The essence 
of all human knowledge is that it is true as far as it goes. "It never goes all 
the way." Aside from its mission as the cradle of the Messiah, the chief value 
to humanity of the race of Israel is that it associated religion and morality for 
all time. 

Part III of this most illuminating book is "of the nature of an apologia 
and anticipatory reply to critics." It is an appeal for a wider understanding of 
science, and a more frank acknowledgment of the value of working hypotheses in 
all departments. As a physicist, and justifying his procedure by the example 
of Newton, Sir Oliver Lodge believes that it is "not inappropriate to reach beyond 
the range of the physical and demonstrable, to a region where experience gained 
in those departments of knowledge may be genuinely serviceable. And although 
strict and positive certainty is as yet unattainable, and possibly may remain un- 
attainable for centuries in the future as it has already been through the ages 
of the past, yet some approximation to the truth may be gradually made by 
utilizing every indication and stretching our human faculties to the utmost." 

L. E. P. 

Lessons in Truth, by H. Emilie Cady, published by the Unity Tract Society of 
Kansas City. Admirable intention is manifest in this and in other publications of 
the same society, the leaders of which must undoubtedly be devout and earnest 
people. But are they interested still in facts? Their publications make statements 
which are not facts. "Our great basic statement," they say, "is, 'All is good, 
because all is God.' " In the first place, good and evil are relative terms. One i* 
unthinkable without the other. You cannot conceive of darkness unless you have 
seen light. The universe is made up of these pairs of opposites. God transcends 
both good and evil. If you deny that, you limit God to your present conception 
of what is good. You also ignore the experience of all mankind which can be 
verified by yourself at any moment, just by facing the facts of your own con- 
sciousness. You quote St. Paul ; but St. Paul did not say that all is good : he 
said that "in Him we live, and move, and have our being." A sponge, floating in 
the sea, remains a sponge. And St. Paul did not say, "of Him all things consist." 
He said, "by Him all things consist." The difference is fundamental. So, too, 
when you say, "I am Spirit, perfect, holy, harmonious. Nothing can hurt me or 
make me sick or afraid, for Spirit is God, and cannot be hurt or made sick or afraid, 
/ manifest my Real Self through this body now" when you assert that, you are as- 



REVIEWS 77 

serting something which is not true. You are confusing your Spirit and your per- 
sonality. If your "Real Self" were to manifest in your body now, your body would 
be reduced to something resembling a cinder. You imagine that you are glorifying 
the Spirit ; actually you are trying to drag it down to serve the wishes of the mind. 
You assert, in other words, that it is always God's will that the body shall be 
healthy. But, unless you deny the most obvious facts and surely there must be 
some limit to plausible negation the truth is that some bodies are very unhealthy 
and that all physical bodies die. It follows that death and ill-health are just as 
much a part of His Will (and Wisdom) as life and physical vigour. Why not? 
Cannot His purposes be served at times, better by sorrow than by joy, better by 
sickness than by health, better by death than by life? When you assert the con- 
trary; when you affirm that a body is healthy when it really is sick, or that God's 
will must necessarily be on the side of health always you are, in the first instance, 
using Hypnotism to bring about a cure, and, in the second instance, a power more 
dangerous than that of ordinary Hypnotism, because more subtle. In both cases 
all that you accomplish is to push the dust underneath the furniture. You defeat 
the efforts of the Soul to get rid of the evils that encumber it. It is worse than 
merely to postpone the day of reckoning. You cause a congestion and inflammation 
within that is infinitely more dangerous than any disease now known to us. T. 

The Burden of Isis. This interesting and attractive little book is one of the 
"Wisdom of the East" series, several of which have been reviewed in previous 
numbers of the QUARTERLY. The present volume gives the old Egyptian legend 
and tells us that Osiris, son of Earth and Heaven, married his sister Isis. His 
brother Set became jealous of him, tricked him into a chest and threw him into 
the Nile. Isis then searched the Nile for the body of her husband, but Set divided 
the body into fourteen pieces before it could be interred, and scattered them 
throughout Egypt. Isis again set out on a search and finally found thirteen, the 
fourteenth having been eaten by fishes. 

This legend was the foundation for one of the great religious cults in Egypt, 
and the chants which are translated in this volume are part of the ritual of this 
worship. They are of immense antiquity, and the lines are full of mystic signifi- 
cance which it is well worth while to try to understand. L. G. 

Stray Thoughts on Character, by Lucy H. M. Soulsby (Longmans, Green & 
Co.), is written primarily for women. But it should appeal equally to men. Mrs. 
Soulsby is a woman of wide reading and unusually deep insight. She has learned 
the importance of little things. Her chapter on Happiness is really remarkable. 
A high idealist, she is none the less intensely practical, while her style is so simple 
that any child of fourteen should be able easily to follow her thought. In her 
essay on Self-Control, which is based upon Herbert Spencer's dictum that "the test 
of being educated is, can you do what you ought, when you ought, whether you 
want to do it or not?" Mrs. Soulsby, though addressing mothers, suggests a method 
of education which cannot fail to interest everyone who comes in contact with 
children (or with the child in themselves!). We strongly recommend this book 
to our readers. T. 



QUESTIONS 

fcfl^snraffli 




QUESTION 128. May I ask through the medium of your publication some 
explanation of what to me seems to be a fundamental principle of theosophy. 

What is the purpose of the Universe, of the descent of the Logos into material 
form? It is understood in so far that it is self-limitation of the Logos, the object 
of which was as defined in Mrs. Annie Besant's "In the Outer Court" "to pour 
forth the bliss which was its own essential nature, so that when the cycle of 
existence should be completed, there should be many individuals, radiant and 
joyous to share with it that perfect bliss which should ever grow as they approach 
to Itself." Does this implied reunion of the many individuals with the original 
source, the Logos, after the cycle of existence, render It any greater, or more 
developed, or more perfect than it was before this manifestation in form was 
brought about. That is was the Logos then but small and limited in comparison 
with what it ultimately is to be. On the other hand, if this is not the case, if the 
Logos has ever been the same unchangeable reality that it ever is or will be, how 
has this self-limitation affected its essential nature? 

Is perfection a fixed state of being or if it is ever progressive and never 
absolute, is it to be concluded that the Logos itself never will be perfect and that 
there is no such thing as perfection? 

ANSWER. There is a tradition that in the Lodge even the higher chelas are 
positively forbidden to speculate upon such questions. They are absolutely 
beyond the range of the mind; cannot be understood; are a waste of time and 
energy; and often lead to doubt or scepticism. Let us therefore turn our atten- 
tion to the living of a higher life, instead of to speculations concerning it, its 
purpose and ultimate goal. C. A. G., JR. 

ANSWER. All these questions are answered constructively in The Secret 
Doctrine, to which the questioner is referred. They are to be solved by moral 
progress, not by word-chopping. C. J. 

ANSWER. I do not feel equal to answering these queries. Of course one 
could say that "perfection" is an absolute condition, and cannot, therefore, be 
more or less; but I do not feel sure what the querent means by the Logos, which 
seems to be confounded with the Absolute. 

I am always sorry for people who are trying to make puzzles for themselves 
out of problems that only Divine Intelligence can solve. Is it not more sane to 
acknowledge that there are some things with which we have at present no con- 
cern? Questions about the ultimate perfection of the Logos seem to come into 
this category. KATHARINE HILLARD. 

ANSWER. Perfection implies limitation finality. The keynote of the Universe 
is development infinity in all senses. There is a phrase "The glory of the im- 
perfect" which may be suggestive to the questioner. I remember once being 
puzzled over the question: Can Infinity progress? If not, I thought, what is the 



QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS 79 

use of all this manifestation. If it can progress how can it be Infinity? The 
answer I received to my query was: Yes, Infinity can progress. Whether this 
is true of the Absolute, it is as impossible for us to say as for a part to contain 
the whole. To pass judgment on the Absolute is impossible for us because we are 
parts of It, and can not set ourselves outside of It: take a sort of birds-eye view 
of the Absolute in Its environment and say "Here is the Absolute; here is that 
which is other than the Absolute." We can reach it by the unity of love and 
aspiration, not by the mind. The mind defines ; to define one must set limits ; 
and to set limits one must be able to see around that which is to be limited. 
Matthew Arnold said that man must never forget his provincial position in the 
Universe. All our knowledge is relative to our spiritual standing. If we would 
know more we must expand our faculties by spiritual growth. 

I have been told that the purpose of the descent into matter was the attain- 
ment of self-consciousness and concreteness. By phenomenal experience these 
qualities are being hammered into what was formerly conscious, but not self-con- 
scious, and abstract. Is it not possible that that applies to the Logos? I da 
not know. I merely throw this out as a suggestion. L. E. P. 

QUESTION 129. Hibbert Journal, Jan., 1911, p. 359. "the crucifixion of Deity 
in and for the creature." What does that mean? 

ANSWER. "Of the mystery of the Incarnation we need not speculate, and 
what he was before the Incarnation we can hardly express. The best attempt that 
has been made to express it conveys the idea in mystical and very beautiful 
language with which we are all familiar: modulating the great creation theme 'In 
the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. And the Spirit of God moved 
upon the face of the waters' into poetic utterance still more magnificent: 

" 'In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the 
Word was God. All things were made by him ; and without him was not anything 
made that was made. . . . 

"'And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us, and we beheld his 
glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the father, full of grace and truth.' 

"Yes, that is as near as we can get to the extraordinary truth ! The Great 
Spirit took pity on the human race, which was blundering along, afflicted with a 
terrible burden of sins, with mistaken notions of worship, bloody sacrifices, burnt 
offerings, and all the machinery of priestcraft, even when it did not fall into 
idolatry. Called as it was to something better and higher and purer from time 
to time by the great prophets which arose, it was still terribly mistaken, still con- 
fused by hopelessly wrong ideas of the nature of God, and liable to attribute to 
the Deity all manner of human weaknesses and imperfections. That was the 
condition of unregenerate man. So a Divine Spirit 'the Lord from heaven' 
became incarnate, in order to reveal to us the hidden nature of God, the love, the 
pity, the long-suffering, the kindness all that we had missed or misconceived or 
that priests had defaced. He came to tell us what the Kingdom of Heaven was 
really like. In many parables he tried to make it clear to us. He found it no 
easy task, but it was his central message, his constant endeavour, to convey some 
sense of the reality and meaning of the Kingdom of Heaven, and how it might 
be actually realized on earth. We see now that if the human will could only get 
into harmony with the Divine will, if the will of God could be done on earth as 
it is done in heaven, the Kingdom would have come ; earth and heaven would have 
become one, and the joy of existence would be supreme." (Lodge : Reason and 
Belief.} 

"Even then within the realm of undisputed physical law, and without emerging 
beyond the region of natural history, we meet with promises of reality objective- 



80 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

to God in various degrees, without prejudice to the identification of all power with 
his will. But the full security against the dissolving mists of pantheism is first, 
obtained when we quit the simply natural field in which nothing is possible but in 
linear links of succession, and stand in presence of the supernatural in man, to 
whom an alternative is given, and in whom is a real mind, or miniature of God, 
consciously acting from a selected end in view. Here it is that we first learn the 
solemn difference in ourselves between what is and what might be; and, carrying 
the lesson abroad, discover how faint a symbol is visible nature of its ideal essence 
and Divine Cause. Here it is, that, after long detention in our prison of facts, the 
walls become transparent, and let us see the fields more than elysian beyond. The 
Eternal is more than all that he has done. And if the universe, with all its vast- 
ness, is only the single actuality which shapes itself out of a sea of possibilities ; 
if its laws are but one function of thought in a mind that transcends them every 
way; then in being the indwelling beauty and power of the world, he does not 
cease to be the living God above the world and though the world were gone. Still 
more, if, within the local realm of his administration, there is an enclosure which 
he has chosen to rail off as sacred for a minor divineness like his own, for a free 
and spiritual life, having play enough from the thraldom of natural laws for 
responsible movements of its own ; then, however resistless the sweep of his power 
elsewhere, here, at the threshold of this shrine of conflict and of prayer, he gently 
pauses in his almightiness, and lets only his love and righteousness enter in. 
Here is a holy place, reserved for genuine moral relations and personal affections, 
for infinite pity and finite sacrifice, for tears of compunction and the embrace of 
forgiveness, and all the hidden life by which the soul ascends to God. 

"Here, however, we are carried on to ground which no natural philosopher can 
survey for us. Looking back on the path which has led us thus far, we meet, in 
the three great modern discoveries, respecting the space, the duration, the forces, 
of the cosmos, with nothing to disturb, and with much to elevate and glorify, the 
religious interpretation of nature ; and, through the falling away of puerile con- 
ceptions, at once to justify and to harmonize the impressions of devout minds in 
every age. The outward world, nevertheless, is not the school of the purest and 
deepest. It is not God's characteristic sphere of self-expression. Rather it is 
his eternal act of self -limitation; of abstinence from the movements of free affec- 
tion moment by moment, for the sake of a constancy that shall never falter or 
deceive. The finite universe is thus the stooping of the Infinite will to an ever- 
lasting self-sacrifice ; the assumption of a patient silence by the fountain-head of 
boundless thought. The silence is first broken, the self-expression comes forth, 
in the moral phenomena of our life, where at last spirit speaks with spirit, and the 
passage is made from the measured steps of material usage to the free flight of 
spiritual affection. The world reports the power, reflects the beauty, spreads 
abroad the majesty, of the Supreme Cause; but we cannot speak of higher attrib- 
utes, and apprehend the positive grounds of trust and love, without entering the 
precincts of humanity." (James Martineau : The Seat of Authority in Religion, 
God in Nature.) 

These two passages may be suggestive to the questioner. Both books are 
recommended in their entirety. L. E. P. 



THE ANNUAL CONVENTION OF THE THEOSOPHICAL 

SOCIETY 

The Annual Convention of the Theosophical Society was held at New York on 
April 29, 191 1, at the Brevoort Hotel. 

MORNING SESSION 

The Convention having been called in accordance with the Constitution, was 
declared to be in session and members and friends were greeted by Mr. Charles 
Johnston, Chairman of the Executive Committee. 

TEMPORARY ORGANIZATION 

Nominations for temporary Chairman and for temporary Secretary of the 
Convention were then called for. 

Upon motion Mr. Charles Johnston of New York was unanimously chosen 
temporary Chairman, and Mr. Perkins of New York, temporary Secretary. 

The Chairman cordially welcomed the delegates and members, closing his 
address with an earnest warning against the dangers which always attend upon 
periods of prosperity in the life of the Society. 

Upon motion the Chair appointed a Committee on Credentials, consisting of 
Mrs. Ada Gregg, of Brooklyn, Miss Margaret Hohnstedt, of Dayton, and Mr. H. 
B. Mitchell, of New York; and it was voted to adjourn until this Committee 
should be ready to make its report. 

REPORT OF THE COMMITTEE ON CREDENTIALS 

The Convention having reassembled, the Committee on Credentials reported 
that the credentials submitted had been examined and found satisfactory, the 
following 35 Branches, entitled to cast a total vote of 193 votes, being represented 
by delegates or by proxies : 
Aurora, Oakland, Cal. 
Baltimore, Baltimore, Md. 
Blavatsky, Washington, D. C. 
Boston, Boston, Mass. 
Cincinnati, Cincinnati, O. 
Dayton, Dayton, O. 
Denver, Denver, Colo. 
Detroit, Detroit, Mich. 
Fort Wayne, Fort Wayne, Ind. 
H. P. B., Toledo, O. 
Indianapolis, Indianapolis, Ind. 



Middletown, Middletown, O. 
New York, New York, N. Y. 
Pacific, Los Angeles, Cal. 
Providence, Providence, R. I. 
Queen City, Seattle, Wash. 
Shila, Toledo, O. 
Southern, Greensboro, N. C. 



Stockton, Stockton, Cal. 

Syracuse, Syracuse, N. Y. 

Toronto, Toronto, Canada. 

Unity, Indianapolis, Ind. 

Venezuelan, Caracas, Venezuela. 

London, London, England. 

Newcastle, Newcastle-on-Tyne, England. 

Karma, Christiana, Norway. 

Arvika, Arvika, Sweden. 

Berlin, Berlin, Germany. 

North Berlin, Berlin, Germany. 

Dresden, Dresden, Germany. 

Flensburg, Flensburg, Germany. 

Neusalz, Neusalz, Germany. 

Suhl, Suhl, Germany. 

Munich, Munich, Germany. 

Steglitz, Steglitz, Germany. 



82 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

Upon motion the report was accepted and the Committee on Credentials dis- 
charged with the thanks of the Convention. 

PERMANENT ORGANIZATION 

The Chair then called for nominations for permanent Chairman and Secre- 
tary. 

Upon motion Mr. H. B. Mitchell, of New York, was elected permanent Chair- 
man, and the temporary Secretary was made permanent Secretary. 

Upon motion a vote of thanks was given the temporary Chairman for his 
kindly offices. 

Mr. Mitchell, on taking the Chair, asked for nominations for a Committee on 
Resolutions, and the Chair, by vote, was authorized to appoint a Committee of 
three, the following being named: Mr. E. T. Hargrove, of New York, Mrs. 
Marian F. Gitt, of Washington, and Mr. Guy Manning, of Cincinnati. 

Upon motion the Chair was authorized to appoint a Committee of three as 
a Committee on Nominations, the following being appointed: Mr. C. A. Gris- 
com, Jr., of New York, Mrs. Gordon, of Hamilton, O., and Mr. Benninger, of 
Cincinnati. 

These Committees were instructed to meet and report during the Convention. 

The Chair then called for the reports of the officers of the Society. Mr. 
Charles Johnston responded as follows : 

REPORTS OF OFFICERS 
REPORT OF THE EXECUTIVE COMMITTEE FOR THE YEAR ENDING APRIL 28, 1911. 

Fellow-Members: 

Happy is the country which has no history, says the proverb. In the same 
sense, happy is the year in which the Executive Committee has no report to make. 

In past years, the Executive Committee has had very much to do in the great 
task of rebuilding the international organization of The Theosophical Society. 
That work is now, fortunately, completed. Much work was also involved in the 
revision of our Constitution and By-Laws, and in the restoration of our name, 
The Theosophical Society, without limitation to any nation or any place. That, 
too, is happily consummated. There remains only the quiet, steady growth of the 
Society, the details of which find their proper place rather in the Report of our 
beloved and well trusted Secretary. Yet these details appeal in a special way 
to the Executive Committee, through its Chairman. 

For it is one of the privileges of the Chairman of the Executive Committee, 
and a high one, to sign the diplomas which give new members formal entry to 
The Theosophical Society, and the Chairman always signs these diplomas with a 
sense of the deep responsibility involved, and with high hopes for the Theo- 
sophical life of the new member, who may be the means of bringing signal 
blessings on us all, and on humanity, through the work of our Movement. 

The Chairman holds this high hope, but not less the sense of deep responsi- 
bility, especially where diplomas come so fast as they have, during the past year. 
What of all these new members? What Is the Society doing, what are the older 
members doing, to bring them to a genuine understanding of our ideal and our 
goal, the Theosophical method and spirit, so that they may become truly a part 
of the life of the great Theosophical Movement? 

Truly, a very serious question, the contemplation of which should fill our 
hearts with humility. 

May 29, 1911. CHARLES JOHNSTON, 

Chairman Executive Committee. 



T. S. ACTIVITIES 83 

Upon motion the above report was accepted. The appreciation of the work 
of the Executive Committee and of its Chairman being manifested by a rising 
vote. 

The Secretary's Report being requested, Mrs. Ada Gregg, Secretary T. S., 
responded as follows : 

REPORT OF THE SECRETARY, T. S., FOR THE YEAR ENDING APRIL 28, 1911. 
New Branches and Members. 

The Secretary begs to report that during the preceding year diplomas have 
been issued to 156 new members: as follows: In the United States, 50; in South 
America, 46 ; in Germany, 44 ; in England, 9 ; in Norway, 2 ; in Sweden, 2 ; in Austria, 
2, and in Canada i. Total 156. 

During the same period the Society has lost by resignation 10 and by death 4. 

One charter has been issued to a new Branch the H. P. B. Branch at Toledo, 
Ohio, issued August 14, 1910. 

Correspondence. 

It is again my pleasant duty to refer to the general correspondence in which 
the Secretary finds abundant compensation for the daily routine which a 
Secretary's work involves. 

Every communication is welcomed whether from the tried and true correspond- 
ent of many years or the unfamiliar writing of an applicant for information, which 
thrills the Secretary's heart with the suggestion, that the light which Theosophy 
is presenting to the world has found another responsive soul has awakened a 
desire to learn more of its teachings with the hope that it will point the way to 
usefulness, peace and happiness. 

In this constant interchange of thought fellowship of service oneness in 
purpose and effort to give all possible help to others forming groups for study 
affiliating with societies formed by the steadily growing class of those who have 
outgrown the letter of their creeds, and are endeavoring to bring light to those less 
favored than themselves and the frequent expressions of confidence in the guidance 
and constant assistance given by our elder brothers one cannot fail to sense the 
earnestness, devotion, unity and harmony apparent in the varied correspondence that 
reaches us. 

Many encouraging words also come from our international brothers, recogniz- 
ing our mutual helpfulness and giving expression to the feeling of strong and 
steady growth which our effort has brought. 

The Sale of Books. 

It is encouraging to note that the sale of books especially the Society's publica- 
tions have far exceeded all previous records. The second edition of the Abridg- 
ment of the Secret Doctrine has been issued and it will soon be necessary to issue 
new editions of the Bhagavad Gita, Fragments, Meditation and The Song of 
Life. 

The Secretary's request for the earlier magazines of the Society, The Path, 
The Theosophist, Lucifer, etc., met with prompt response not only furnishing the 
Society with a liberal supply of magazines, but resulting in many applications 
making acquaintances in new fields and much interesting correspondence. The 
students of Berlin were the first to apply and the Secretary has assembled almost 
complete files of The Path, The Theosophist and Lucifer, which will soon be sent 
them. 

It is also gratifying that the demand for books through this department is 
not confined to theosophists and the theosophical literature. The busy Secretary 
is sent into unexplored fields without guide or chart or author's or publisher's 
name or location. Happily, our facilities for securing books are greatly increased 
so that any book not in stock can be promptly supplied. 



8 4 



THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 



The Quarterly. 

The spirit of inquiry is subtle and constant, thus showing that Divine Wisdom 
has come very close to man, even though it be in its incipient stage of recognition. 
Its force is shown in the evidences of appreciation that come to us showing that the 
QUARTERLY is a wanted magazine on the library shelves and tables of universities, 
public libraries and reading rooms ; distributed through the United States from 
ocean to ocean, and from the lakes to the gulf. It also makes its quarterly visits to 
Canada, Cuba, South America, England, India, Norway, Sweden, Germany, Austria, 
Australia, Southern Africa and the latest advance comes from Palestine. 

We hear more frequently from the public libraries than from any other mode of 
distribution. The following extract from a recent correspondent is typical : 
"Yesterday I came across the THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY in the public library, and 
I find much in it that appeals to me kindly forward the necessary instructions 
as to the requirements, obligations, and conditions of membership in the Theosophical 
Society." A member speaking of the teachings of the QUARTERLY and its influence 
said "The QUARTERLY you sent me brought me into the Society I lived upon 
it for weeks." 

A Word Personal. 

It would be very ungrateful indeed if the Secretary failed to express the 
great sense of the help that has so continuously been given by individuals, members, 
branches and co-workers. The Secretary has been much aided in carrying on the 
work by feeling the support which comes from the Society's great bulwark 
Sympathy which helps so magically in enabling us to perform the duties entrusted 
to our care. 

Respectfully submitted, 

ADA GREGG, 

Secretary. 

Upon motion the Report of the Secretary was accepted, a rising vote express- 
ing appreciation of the Secretary's unfailing devotion to the interests of the 
Society. 

The Report of the Treasurer being in order, Mr. Hargrove was called to the 
Chair while Mr. Mitchell, Treasurer of the T. S., presented his Report as follows : 

REPORT OF THE TREASURER, T. S., APRIL 26, 1910 APRIL 28, 1911. 

Receipts. Disbursements. 

Secretary's Office $273 . 89 

Theosophical Quarterly (four 
numbers, July, 1910, to 
April, 1911) i, 108.08 



Contributions 


847.01 


Theosophical Quarterly.... 


292.18 






Balance Aoril 26. IQIO.. 


$1,906.19 
I S7.: 18 



Balance, April 28, 1911 



$1,381.97 
681.60 



$2,063.57 $2,063.57 

Advance to Book Business Repayment of Advance to 

Feb. 9, for publication Book Business for publica- 

Secret Doctrine Abridg- tion 194-69 

ment 194.69 



$2,258.26 



April 28, 1911. 



$2,258.26 
H. B. MITCHELL, 

Treasurer. 



T. S. ACTIVITIES 85 

In presenting this report the Treasurer took occasion to congratulate the 
Society upon the result of the mite-box contributions which had gone far toward 
converting the annual deficit, usually met by a few members, into a creditable 
balance. 

During the discussion which followed the reading of the Treasurer's Report, 
several members expressed approval of the mite-box method of contribution, and 
satisfaction that dues and voluntary contributions had met the expenses of the 
Society for the past year leaving a balance in its Treasury. 

Upon motion the Report of the Treasurer was accepted, and a rising vote 
signified the unanimous wish to express the gratitude of the Society for the 
service of its Treasurer. 

By motion of Mr. Hargrove, the Editor of THE THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 
was given an enthusiastic vote of thanks for the toil and for the skill which made 
possible a publication reflecting so admirably the work and spirit of the Society. 

Responding to this vote, Mr. Griscom accepted the thanks of the Society just 
long enough to bestow them upon Mr. Johnston and others who contribute regu- 
larly to the QUARTERLY; He then gave an interesting outline of the growth of the 
publication, its purposes, and the wide circulation for usefulness which it has 
gradually achieved. 

By vote the Convention then adjourned until 3.15 P. M. 

AFTERNOON SESSION 

On reconvening, the Chair announced the receipt of cablegrams and letters 
addressed to the Convention from Branches abroad not represented by delegates 
in person. These cables and letters were then read by Mr. Griscom and Mr. 
Perkins, with comments on the work being done by many of the foreign Branches. 
Mr. Johnston spoke in detail of the German Branches and of some independent, 
original work done by them in connection with the Wagner Music drama and the 
ancient Scandinavian Eddas. Even more admirable than their literary contribu- 
tion, he considered the well organized and energetic work in establishing Branches 
as offshoots of the parent German Societies. Mr. Johnston said that the American 
Branches may well profit by the example of our German brothers in the excellent 
plan for study classes and in the fine quality of devotion which they bring to the 
task. 

Dr. Clark, of Philadelphia, kindly translated for the Convention messages 
which came in a foreign language. 

LETTERS OF GREETING AND REPORTS FROM FOREIGN BRANCHES 

ARVIKA BRANCH 

Arvika, Sweden. 
Greeting and Report. 

To the Members of The Theosophical Society in Convention Assembled: 

The members of the Arvika Branch in Sweden send cordial greetings and good 
wishes to all. 

Those of our members, who live in this town and in its neighborhood meet 
regularly every Wednesday, Summer and Winter alike, for reading and dis- 
cussion, taking for the most part extracts from the QUARTERLY. 

This Magazine has been a uniting link between Theosophists over all the world ; 
and we take this opportunity to send the Editor of the QUARTERLY and the co- 
workers in it our warmest thanks. 



86 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

All our meetings are open to the public, but we do not advertise them in the 
newspapers. Like a family we gather together, and our little common home is 
frequently visited by outsiders. 

Fraternally yours, 

H. JULIN, President. 

THE KARMA BRANCH 

Eidsvold, Christiana, Norway. 
Greeting. 

To the Members of the Theosophical Society in Convention Assembled: 

When in a body, harmony prevails, trust is a fact, brotherly love rules the 
heart, and the eye is beaming forth joy: then there is that silence which is peace. 
May this silence be yours to-day. 

With brotherly greetings from The Karma Branch, Christiana. 

Yours fraternally, 

T. H. KNOFF. 

UNITED GERMAN BRANCHES 
To the Members of the Theosophical Society in Convention Assembled: 

DEAR COMRADES : 

In the name of your fellow-members and on my behalf, I send you the heartiest 
greetings and good wishes. We are sorry not to be able to send, in person, one 
or more delegates to be present at the Convention, and to take part in all the 
proceedings. But we must be satisfied to be present in thought and in heart ; we are 
sure that we shall get our share of the results of the work done by the Convention 
in New York. 

As you will know from the report of last Convention of the German Branches 
of the T. S. we have accepted the name "United German Branches of the T. S." 
We believe that this means a step forward in the manifestation of Universal 
Brotherhood. We gave up the national name as a result of our feeling, that each 
Branch is a direct and integral part of The Theosophical Society; and also that 
each member is first a member of the "T. S.," before being a member of a Branch. 

We all believe that the cultivation of such feelings helps us enormously towards 
the realization of Universal Brotherhood, which is the highest aim of our "T. S." 
Each one can perceive this for himself by the fact that he gradually learns to 
lose all sense of separateness, all sense of personality. In place of this we get 
the sense of Unity; we learn to forget to work and to think as a "man," so that 
we may learn to think and work as "Humanity." This, it seems to me, is the only 
standpoint for the true and real man. 

We here in Germany are glad that, so far as the organization is considered, 
we have reached this point in the realization of the Unity of the "T. S." This 
is a basis, which gives each member and each Branch the necessary freedom to 
work itself up to the plane of Unity, to the spiritual plane, unhindered by any 
authority. Each member and each Branch learns hereby to stand on his own 
feet, to look for help first to the inner, spiritual world, instead of to other co- 
workers or to some authority. Finding this true basis, we are now better able to 
lift up our minds to the higher, inner world, to aspire to come nearer to the 
Masters; in short, we are then fit to travel the Path, which leads to the "Higher 
Life," without fearing to go astray in sidepaths. 

As the progress of us all and of the "T. S." as a whole, can lie only in this 
direction, I wish heartily that this Convention may be a milestone towards Union, 
"union of heart!" Accordingly as we succeed in this, we shall get doubtless the 



T. S. ACTIVITIES 87 

help and support of all those Beings who have already reached the Goal, and whom 
some of us, if not all, know as the members of the "White Lodge." 

May the blessing of these Beings, our Masters, rest on our present Convention ! 

Fraternally yours, 

PAUL RAATZ, 
Secretary of the "United German Branches of the T. S." 

BERLIN BRANCH 

Report. 

During the last year, the number of our members has increased from 95 to 
113. As usual, we had public meetings on each Wednesday, giving lectures and 
studying Key to Theosophy alternatively. We have succeeded in securing the help 
of a good many lecturers outside the Theosophical Society who addressed our 
meetings. Once a month we studied Voice of the Silence in a class of members 
and also once a month our members assembled for a social meeting where there 
was conversation on matters of general interest and where we heard reports of 
members who had attended meetings of other societies interested in philosophical 
and religious affairs. During the last winter, some very good lectures were given 
in Berlin to the general public, in which much of the theosophical spirit could be 
found; these reports were always very interesting. On these occasions, the letters 
of our American and other foreign friends were read. 

It is in these directions that we are going to continue to work, and we are 
full of hope for the coming year. , 

Fraternally yours, 

E. J. WIEDERHOLD, Secretary. 

NORTH BERLIN BRANCH 
Greeting and Report. 

To the Members of The Theosophical Society in Convention Assembled: 
DEAR COMRADES : 

You may be sure that every earnest member in Germany regrets his inability 
to be with you and to take part in the proceedings of the Convention. It is also 
impossible for our delegates to be in New York. We send you, therefore, our 
heartiest greetings and good wishes ; we hope that your work will meet with success. 

The following is a short report of the activities and life of our Branch. Our 
membership is nineteen. During the past year three members have left the branch 
and two have joined it. Our Branch has rooms of its own; they are located 
however in a part of the city where the population is mostly comprised of social- 
democratic workmen, who show no interest in our movement, in spite of all kinds of 
propaganda. (Politics now occupy the minds of all.) Lectures are held every week. 
The audience numbers between twenty and thirty. The lectures are given by our 
members, a few true friends from the Berlin Branch and several outsiders. In the 
very lively discussions, the guests take a prominent part. Circumstances have com- 
pelled us to discontinue our study-class for a while. Last year we studied alternately 
Light on the Path and Key to Theosophy. 

Sometimes we all have the feeling that our Branch did better work a few 
years ago and that something must occur to bring about an improvement in the 
present condition. We hope that our mistakes and the hindrances to our work 
which are now hidden from our view may make themselves apparent. Our aspira- 
tion and love for the Theosophical work is certainly strong enough to open up 
new paths to the great goal. 

In behalf of all members of North Berlin Branch, 

ERNST JOHN, President. 



88 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

DRESDEN BRANCH 
Greetings and Report. 
To the Members of the Theosophical Society in Convention Assembled: 

Another year has passed a brief yet fertile season that has given us our long 
wished for "home." The influence of a home is powerful, is great, in the daily 
life of every man ; but it is much more significant when the life affected is the 
corporate life of a Branch. A feeling of unity is increasing among our members, 
and makes itself felt among outsiders also. Our "home" is a magnetic centre 
drawing to itself souls eager for truth; we can see its effect in the growth of our 
membership to 34, as against 19 of the preceding year. 

As to our work, we have a public meeting every Monday. The program 
varies; sometimes there is a general discussion, sometimes translations of articles 
in the QUARTERLY are read, sometimes there is an address, followed by questions 
and answers from the members. But whatever the work, we feel that we are 
not doing it alone, that the Masters are giving their help. 

We are anticipating much pleasure and benefit from the Convention of the 
German Branches of The Theosophical Society here in Dresden on May I3th and 
I4th. 

Goethe says "all actual things are types and symbols of real things unseen." 
These words should be in our minds when we cast our eyes over the work of our 
Branches. We should pass from the outer activity to the Reality that those 
activities manifest : The power and love of the Masters. May this power and 
love rest in blessing upon the Convention now assembled in New York. 

With sincere good wishes, 

THE DRESDEN BRANCH. 

MUNICH BRANCH 
Greetings. 

The Munich Branch sends to all the friends and brothers now assembled in New 
York the most sincere and fraternal greetings and good wishes. May they all be 
divinely guided in their deliberations upon the welfare and future of the Theo- 
sophical Society. 

On behalf of the Munich Branch, 

GEORG KOHL. 
STEGLITZ BRANCH 
Greeting and Report. 

To the Members of The Theosophical Society in Convention Assembled: 
DEAR COMRADES : 

The members of the Steglitz Branch of The Theosophical Society beg to send 
you their heartiest greetings and best wishes for the work you are accomplishing 
for the benefit of the whole Society. We are joining with you in thought and 
in heart, since none of us can be present in person. We hope that from all the 
good thoughts and feelings which will find their expression on this occasion and 
from all the good mutual advice which will be given, a great stimulus and help 
for the work in the coming year may result. 

The year which is now closing was for our Branch a very quiet one as far 
as outer, visible results are concerned. Our regular weekly meetings were not 
largely attended and our study class had to be given up for lack of attendance. 
In fact our members are all without exception very busy people. They are generally 
too much fatigued at night to take part in philosophical discussions, especially 
as these are likely to continue late, thus depriving them of their much needed rest. 
This is likewise the case with the visitors who have been attending our meetings. 
We have therefore, for the present, accepted the situation, convinced that surely, 
in time to come, the interest and ability for philosophical discussions will be revived 
in the members as well as in our visitors. 



T. S. ACTIVITIES 89 

Meanwhile we know, that all real success is achieved on the inner planes, and 
in that direction, it seems to me, we have all made good progress during the last 
year. We are persuaded that our duty as members of The Theosophical Society 
is not fulfilled by learning and teaching certain doctrines, called Theosophical 
Philosophy, however good we may have found its influence to be; we have learned 
that everything which comes from the heart of men and everything which leads 
to an improvement of the governing ideas of our race forms a part of Theosophy 
and is to be fostered and cultivated by us. Most of all, we have begun to learn 
that Theosophy is a Life and that consequently our Theosophical work may never 
be considered as confined to our Theosophical Society meetings, but must be 
effective during every moment of daily life and must be carried out while we are 
fulfilling our ordinary tasks. Difficult as this still appears, at least we have learned, 
that it must be done, that it is the only means by which we can fulfill our duties as 
members of the Theosophical Society, and the only way by which we can expect to 
make our work successful. We confidently hope that during the next year we may 
take a decided step forward on this road. 

Trusting that we shall soon feel within us the inspiring effect, which in- 
evitably will be imparted to the whole Society by the work you are now doing 
during the Convention for all of us, we pray that the Blessing of the Masters may 
be upon your work. 

On behalf of the Steglitz Branch, 

Very fraternally yours, 

LEO SCHOCH, President. 

THE BRITISH NATIONAL BRANCH 

London. 

Greetings and Report. 
To the Members of The Theosophical Society in Convention Assembled: 

The British National Branch sends its greetings and heartiest wishes for the 
prosperity of the Society and the success of its deliberations. 

Here, in England, we are very gradually increasing the number of our mem- 
bers, more particularly in the north. No new Branches have been formed but 
several centres which, it is hoped, will soon develop. The activity of the existing 
Branches has increased, both in the number of meetings held and in the attendance. 

In the main, the subjects with which the Branches have dealt have been 
concerned with the second object of the Society, so that each member can gain a 
wider understanding of his own beliefs. It would seem that the Society having 
passed through the period of attention to material phenomena, had entered on a 
cycle of attention to the life of the soul itself. One may, perhaps, compare the 
psychic phenomena to the external life of the body, while the study and vital 
understanding of the various religions are essential steps in the deepening and 
increase of the life of the soul. In a way, such depth of interest means that we 
are concerned, not with a house and its conduct and maintenance, but with the 
life and consciousness of those who reside therein. 

Thus the study connected with our third object may be said to be concerned 
with the collection and observation of isolated facts : the study of the second 
object, in part, with the explanations already given of those facts; in part, also, 
as we begin to realize it, we commence to become conscious of a basis of life 
which unifies those facts, the real life of the soul which is akin to yet differs widely 
from the external life of the phenomena. By these means, we approach the vital, 
life-giving study and realization of the first object of the Society, which has been 
laid out for and accepted by us in order that we may become conscious of that 
primal law under which the soul commences its conscious life as such under 
which it exists as Soul namely Unity Universal Brotherhood. 

With all good wishes to the Convention and its Members, 

ARCHIBALD KEIGHTLEY, 

General Secretary. 



90 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

VENEZUELA BRANCH 

Cumana, Venezuela. 

Greetings and Report. 

I send cordial greetings on the event of the coming Convention of The 
Theosophical Society. It is gratifying to report that since 1910 the Theosophical 
movement in our Republic has progressed and has spread in a manner that gives 
good promise for the future. 

In our race, the basal element of which is Indian, the philosophies and religious 
doctrines of the Orient are readily assimilated, as if there were a spiritual tie 
between the splendid sub-race of the Ganges and the embryonic, incipient ferment 
of the sixth race, now developing in the American zone. 

The two great white brotherhoods, of the Himalayas and the Andes, seem 
to be traveling on the same road to a common destiny two races and two glorious 
civilizations. As Mr. Judge, with his clear and extensive vision, saw in the type 
of the enterprising, fervent, strong and capable North American of to-day, the 
re-appearance of the vigorous and brilliant men of Atlantis perhaps we shall, 
in our turn be the primary factors in shaping the future man, who will enjoy the 
privilege of a new sense with which to study nature and life. 

Theosophy, with us, does not present the revolutionary violence that ordinarily 
characterizes reforms. Notwithstanding the religious prejudices and the European 
conventionalities which have sowed here all the Castillian fanaticism, still the 
splendour of Aryan culture seems to belong to our environment and to our race. 
We shall therefore hope that by sustained propaganda and with books, periodicals 
and conferences, we may eventually succeed in enrolling a large number of our 
compatriots in the ranks of Universal Brotherhood. 

Since April fifty-five members have joined this Branch of the Theosophical 
Society, according to the last report of the Secretary. Each one of these members 
is full of propaganda and is a source of strength and light. As soon as our 
resources permit we propose to have an assembly hall and a popular library; and 
to establish a periodical which shall serve to spread our ideas. 

The Venezuela Branch feels deeply indebted to the disciples of Mr. Judge 
and wishes to express its best wishes for the success and peace of its brothers in 
North America. 

F. DOMINGUEZ ACOSTA, President. 



REPORTS FROM DELEGATES 
CINCINNATI 

Three phases of the work of the Cincinnati Branch were reported by different 
delegates Mr. Benninger speaking of the work as a whole, Miss Hohnstedt re- 
porting the work as seen through the T. S. library activities, and Mr. Manning 
spoke of the syllabus which they use and of the class work. There was also 
read a letter from the Secretary of the Cincinnati Study Class. Between ihe lines 
of these reports could be discerned a gratifying vitality in the Branch and an 
active spirit of unity among the members. 

DAYTON 

Mr. Vermillion of the Dayton Branch made a spirited address, illustrating the 
three-fold individuality which finds expression in the work of a T. S. Branch. 
That a Branch may be very much alive though its participating membership be 
temporarily depleted, was shown in this report. Out of 27 members, 21 were 
reported as absent in other cities or traveling. 



T.. S. ACTIVITIES 91 

INDIANAPOLIS 

Mrs. Faulkner presented the report from Indianapolis, giving details of progress 
in connection with the study class. The Society was specially invited to hold its 
next annual convention at Indianapolis, and Mrs. Faulkner was requested to 
convey the thanks of the Convention for the courtesy thus extended by the 
Indianapolis Branch. 

PROVIDENCE 

Each annual convention of the T. S. seems to strike its individual key-note, and 
a number of the reports from Branches sounded the key-note of the present 
Convention, but perhaps no single report was more perfectly in accord with the 
spirit of the day than Mrs. Sheldon's story of the life and work of the small 
Branch at Providence, R. I. 

With slight accretion to its membership, but keeping up a work that is quiet, 
steady and very sure, the members of this Branch have seen the Theosophic Spirit 
gradually impress itself on the life of their city. It was hardly a surprise to find 
quoted in this report a letter from a Master to H. P. B. saying "Consider yourself 
a centre of force, etc." 

WASHINGTON 

In presenting the report of the Blavatsky Branch, Mrs. Gitt voiced the ex- 
perience of many delegates present when she reported that devotional meetings 
were marked by deeper interest and larger attendance than meetings for the intel- 
lectual discussion of philosophy. Experience has also led this Branch to avoid 
"preaching at" visitors, and to avoid all antagonism, especially toward the various 
churches and their points of dogma. By following this Theosophic method, they 
have seen former communicants of both Protestant and Romish churches come to 
the Branch meetings, become oriented and return to active fellowship in the churches 
of their original allegiance. 

MlDDLETOWN 

It was a joy in listening to Mrs. Gordon's report of the Middletown, Ohio, 
Branch, to find that there also the T. S. members sense an awakening in the 
community. So often in the history of man has apparent loss to the individual 
been transformed into eternal gain, both for himself and for his fellows, that 
it seemed a perfectly natural thing, as Mrs. Gordon related it, that one 
of our T. S. members in Middletown had through the loss of outward vision 
become a very beacon of the inward light a true guide, consulted by many in 
their hour of spiritual darkness. 

NEW YORK 

Speaking for the New York Branch Mrs. Vera Johnston said that one of the 
gains of the Branch since the last Convention, was the positive conviction of a 
high kind of unity a unity with those who have worked in the cause before, and 
a real sense of unity with those who in the future will carry on the work. 

Touching on the gratitude which we ought to feel toward those who in the 
past have tried and failed, Mrs. Johnston went on to speak with affection for the 
members of T. S. who are "resting." They seemed to her in a sense the necessary 
ballast of the Theosophical movement skirmishers in the last battle and at the 
same time a responsibility, for were not some of them resting from weariness 
due not to sustaining the great principles we hold dear, but rather to the 
clash of personalities in any single group of workers. 

For the T. S., said Mrs. Johnston, the day of propaganda has passed. This 
is the era in which errors are to be corrected the era of conciliation and of tact- 
ful explanation of the truth. 



92 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

Mr. Hargrove of the New York Branch said that Heaven, Purgatory and 
Hell are all realities here and now, and all at the same time. No one need remain 
in Hell who learns to accept the divine will and to renounce self-will. That 
is Purgatory. One step beyond, and we accept no more we run to meet the 
gifts offered us; and that is Paradise. 

There is in the world, concluded Mr. Hargrove, no such agency for gaining 
Paradise as the T. S. offers at this time. 

LETTERS OF GREETING AND BRANCH REPORTS 

The Chair then called for the reading of further letters of greeting and 
reports from Branches not represented by delegates. The following letters and 
reports being received and placed before the Convention. 

UNITY BRANCH 

Indianapolis, Indiana. 
Greeting and Report. 
To the Members of the Theosophical Society in Convention Assembled: 

The members of the Unity Branch send their greetings and wish to express 
their unqualified approval of all the acts of the Convention. 

We wish to report that the year just closed has been a prosperous one in that 
it has not only drawn our members in closer union in the Theosophical work, 
but has also drawn others to us. The Branch has doubled its membership in the 
past eighteen months, now having twenty enrolled, of which number ten have 
joined us in the past year. There are several persons who meet with us quite 
frequently, and are engaged in the serious study of Theosophical writings. 

We have public meetings each Wednesday evening at which some interesting 
subject is chosen for discussion, in which all are invited to participate. On the first 
Monday evening of each month we have a "members' meeting," in which the effort 
is towards the devotional side of Theosophy. During the last quarter year our 
average attendance has been : Members, thirteen ; visitors, eight. 

GRACE A. BRADFORD, Secretary. 

CINCINNATI BRANCH 

Cincinnati, Ohio. 

Greetings. 
To All Members of the Theosophical Society in Convention Assembled: 

While the Cincinnati Branch has three good representatives present, Miss 
Margaret Hohnstedt, Mr. Guy Manning and our worthy Secretary, Mr. Fred 
Benninger, I hope one more greeting, from a member who greatly hoped to be 
there but cannot, is not amiss. The Theosophical Society Convention days are 
the big days of the year in my estimation. I will let the members present speak 
for the Branch. I want to say a few words for the Theosophical Society Study^ 
Class that meets every Thursday afternoon for members only. We have been 
meeting regularly since September, 1907. We had a meeting this afternoon and 
all members present sent good wishes for the success of the annual Convention. 
I believe a Study Class where members can meet and study and talk freely to 
one another, is one of the best helps a society can have. We meet and study the 
philosophy thoroughly, each one expresses himself and each tries to help the other. 
We divide the time between intellectual and devotional studies, for we know 
all temperaments are not alike, and we try to be prepared to talk with those we 
meet and not at them. Perfect harmony pervades that hour devoted to our 
studies, and thus we are striving to be worthy to be called "Companions" of our 
Elder Brethren. Fraternally yours, 

CAROLINE WHITNY, 
President Study Class. 



T. S. ACTIVITIES 93 

PACIFIC BRANCH 

Los Angeles, California. 
Greetings. 

To Fellow-members of the Theosophical Society in Convention Assembled: 
Cordial greeting and congratulations from California. 

The Pacific Branch sends hearty sympathy and co-operation in all good 
work for humanity. 

Sincerely and fraternally, 

M. ELLA PATERSON, Secretary. 

QUEEN CITY BRANCH 

Seattle, Washington. 
Greeting and Report. 

To the Members of the Theosophical Society in Convention Assembled: 
DEAR COMRADES : 

The members of Queen City Theosophical Society send hearty greetings, 
and most sincere good wishes for the present Convention. We hope all present 
will gain inspiration and courage for future work. 

Headquarters for our Branch for the present are at 316 35th Avenue, Seattle, 
where students and inquirers are always welcome. Our regular Theosophical 
Society meeting is held on Friday afternoon and evening. 

Our hearts will be with you during the hours of the Convention. 

Fraternally, 
JENNIE S. CLARK, Secretary. CHARLES J. CLARK, President. 

STOCKTON BRANCH 

Stockton, California. 
Greeting. 

Greetings from Stockton Branch and best wishes for the Convention 
Assembled. 

We hold meetings regularly every Sunday morning. 

Fraternally yours, 

ALGIE C. KELSEY. 

BOSTON BRANCH 

Brighton, Massachusetts. 
Greeting. 

A meeting of our new Boston Theosophical Society was called for Saturday 
last. Three souls were present. 

I wish our centre was a more vital one, but we shall "hold fast" while life 
endures. 

Peace to you and all the comrades. 

Faithfully, 

ELLEN MOFFETT. 

TORONTO BRANCH 

Toronto, Canada. 
Report. 

We are doing nothing startling but are just making an effort to keep up a 
center. Our best work is, I think, that with the "QUARTERLY." We have a Branch 
meeting once a month and one of our lady members has an afternoon reading 
circle meeting at her home, weekly. 

One of our weekly newspapers publishes about two columns of Theosophy 
each week, the copy for which is supplied by one of our members. This reaches a 
large number of people. 



94 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

If you are going to publish a list of Branches as in last "QUARTERLY" please 
include ours. I cannot pass on without saying how we like the "QUARTERLY." 
All our members are continually praising it. I don't believe there has been a Theo- 
sophical magazine so well read. Most of the members, if not all, read it from 
cover to cover. 

Fraternally, 

ALBERT J. HARRIS, 
Secretary Toronto Branch. 

REPORT OF THE COMMITTEE ON RESOLUTIONS 

Mr. Hargrove, as Chairman of this Committee, reported that there seemed to 
be no resolutions requiring special debate. The following resolutions were then 
presented to the Convention, each in turn, upon motion, was unanimously adopted, 
and the Committee was discharged with the thanks of the Convention. 

I. Resolved: That the Chairman of the Executive Committee on behalf of 
the Society, be requested to extend our fraternal greetings to the Conventions of 
foreign Branches, shortly to be held. 

II. Resolved: That the Secretary of the Convention be instructed to acknowl- 
edge with cordial thanks the greetings of Branches, of Societies, and of individual 
members. 

III. Resolved: That the Executive Committee be asked to consider the pos- 
sibility of changing the date of the Convention from April to September or Oc- 
tober. 

IV. Resolved: That the Executive Committee be asked to arrange, whenever 
possible, for visits by some of the older members to the different Branches of the 
Society. 

V. Resolved: That the thanks of the Convention and of the Society be 
extended and is hereby extended to the New York Branch for the hospitality 
received. 

VI. Resolved: That the Treasurer be authorized to appoint, in his dis- 
cretion, a deputy to assist in the work of the Treasuryship, and to whom may be 
given power to sign checks in the Treasurer's name, the Treasurer to remain 
responsible to the Society for all matters pertaining to the conduct of his office. 

REPORT OF THE COMMITTEE ON NOMINATIONS 

Mr. Griscom presented the following names in nomination, as selected by the 
Committee : 

To fill the two regular vacancies in the Executive Committee, Dr. Keightley 
and Colonel T. H. Knoff. 

For member of the Executive Committee, to fill the place of Dr. Butler Mr. A. 
J. Harris, of Toronto. 

For Treasurer, T. S. Mr. H. B. Mitchell, of New York. 

For Secretary, T. S. Mrs. Ada Gregg, of Brooklyn. 

Upon motion these several persons were unanimously elected, and the Com- 
mittee on Nominations was discharged, with the thanks of the Convention. 

ADJOURNMENT 

There being no further business to transact, and the regular proceedings of 
the Convention having been concluded, a vote of thanks was unanimously extended 
to the Chairman of the Convention for his services as presiding officer, and upon 
motion it was voted to adjourn. 



T. S. ACTIVITIES 95 

EVENING MEETING 

As the evening of Convention Day was the time of the regular meeting of the 
New York Branch, the delegates were invited to attend and to take part in the 
discussion of the evening. 

The Chairman, Mr. Hargrove, opened the meeting with a short address which 
served to compass the results of the Convention, and to relate the spirit of the 
Convention to the work of the Branch and to the problems of the individual 
member. 

Three questions remaining unanswered at the last meeting of the New York 
Branch provided the material for discussion : 

I. "Does a disciple, in point of fact, follow the dictum of his Master, whether 
it appeals to his reason or not?" 

II. "Is the relation between Master and disciple an accidental relation?" 

III. "Is it better that one should follow his own best judgment even when 
that judgment seems of doubtful wisdom, or is it better to follow the judgment of 
another whose wisdom has proven worthy of confidence?" 

Mr. Johnston said : 

It seems that there are two views of the work of a Theosophist, or perhaps 
I should say of a member of The Theosophical Society. The first, and a very 
natural one, is that we have to bring a doctrine, just as a Church, or a sec- 
tarian religion like Islam, brings a doctrine, which separates the world into 
believers and unbelievers, faithful and infidels. 

The second view is, that we have to bring, not a doctrine, but a living spirit. 
And, as I have been sitting listening to this debate, and at the same time looking 
at the beautiful flowers on the Chairman's table, it has come into my mind that 
we have here, ready to hand, a pretty illustration of the difference between these 
two views of our work and opportunity. 

You see that the white electric light, which has almost the quality of pure 
sunlight, pours down equally on the lovely red of these roses, on the greenness 
of their leaves and of the ferns, on the golden yellow of the daffodils, and on 
the pale blue of the irises. And each of these flowers, bathing in the pure and 
even light, draws from it just those rays which it needs, to express and make 
manifest its own peculiar beauty. The rose takes the red rays, the daffodil the 
yellow, the iris the blue, the ferns the green. So the fair and even sunlight, or this 
light here, which is but sunlight compressed and revived, but the resurrection of that 
sunlight which fell on geologic forests, brings to all flowers, and to all things, just 
what they need to express and make manifest the beauty that is in them. 

But if our light were one-colored, red alone, or blue alone, or yellow alone, or 
green alone, then it would bring forth and make manifest only that hue and 
quality which answers to its own. If it were red, only the roses would show true, 
while daffodil and iris would be marred and travestied ; if it were yellow, then the 
daffodils would have their gold, but the roses would be blackened, and the iris 
would be defaced. 

Try the experiment. Dissolve salt in alcohol. Soak a piece of cotton wool in 
it, light it in a dark room, and into that pure yellow light bring a bouquet of 
many-colored flowers. Do this, and you will have a silent parable far more eloquent 
than any words of mine. 

Therefore, I am a devotee of sunlight. I think we should bring, to those 
about us, not a doctrine, not yellow light, or red, or blue, but the white light of 
everlasting day. Then will each gather from that light just those rays that are 
needed for his own spirit, which will show forth true in that even radiance. 

We are told that the light of a Master is like the sunshine ; that his disciples 
embody and reflect the different rays, one red, another blue, and so on. Take 



96 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

this as a parable, and understand that no one disciple, reflecting one ray alone, 
can truly express the life of the Master. He can express one aspect, one side of 
it. Only a united group of disciples, each with his own ray can truly express all 
aspects of the Master's spirit. 

So with the religions of the world. If there be an exclusive religion, a 
sectarian Church, its view of life will be exactly like the yellow sodium ray falling 
on the many-colored flowers. Its one color will come out conspicuously true, 
even if without shading. All other colors will be given back defaced, blackened, 
warped. This is a true and lively picture of the working of a sectarian mind. 
And it is well said: Who becomes a sectarian, ceases to be a Theosophist. Only 
by taking the truth as it comes from all religions, and all races, do we get the 
true radiance of the spiritual sun. 

Therefore let us bring no colored ray, but pure sunlight ; not a doctrine, 
but the very spirit of life. 

Mrs. Griscom, being asked to deal with the question of an accidental relation 
between Master and disciple, repeated a passage from Mr. Judge's Letters That 
Have Helped Me, and continuing made it quite luminously clear that however 
accidental may or may not be the trifling associations of daily life, the relation 
between Master and disciple is on the causal plane, in the world of realities where 
no event is accidental. 

Mr. Benninger, Mr. Mitchell, Mr. Manning, Mr. Griscom and others, contrib- 
uted to the discussion, which, as it continued, seemed to make it more and more 
evident that the difficulties which gave rise to the three questions are difficulties 
of the limited rational mind. 

As Mr. Johnston reminded us, the very difficult and puzzling problems are 
always those that try to deal with the future or with the past, the two times 
which the disciple has least to consider, while the duty of the moment is always 
clear if one in that moment wishes heartily to obey. 

The matter of authority was very happily phrased by Mrs. Griscom : "As 
between Master and disciple, all the authority belongs to the disciple; the Master 
can have only that authority which his disciple gives him." 

As Mr. Mitchell gave a final synthesis of the evening's discussion it became 
clearer that the question was not as to how much authority one should yield to 
the Master, but rather, how much of one's life may be so purified through love 
and sacrifice and obedience as to render it possible to live in the presence of the 
Master, to walk with Him in the small, old Path. 

THE SUNDAY ADDRESS 

On the Sunday afternoon following, Mr. Charles Johnston gave a public ad- 
dress on "Theosophy and the Great Religions." 

With this very able address the activities of the Convention came to an end. 

KARL D. PERKINS, 
Secretary of the Convention. 



COMMENT 




The Theosophical Society, as such, is not responsible for any opinion 
or declaration in this magazine, by whomsoever expressed, unless con- 
tained in an official document. 

"WHAT is AND WHAT MIGHT BE." 

ONE of the privileges and delights of this, our age, with its early 
rays of the new spiritual dawn, is to find the inspiration of the 
coming Creator breaking through the darkness, and shining, now 
here, now there, in some well tried and responsive human heart. 
Such we always look for, seeking to note the least glimmer in the dark- 
ness, and, when we find them, we welcome them with joy. And a part 
of our delight and inspiration is, that we can never foretell in what region 
or in what guise the light may shine forth ; it takes ever unexpected and 
unprecedented forms, breaking forth in unanticipated beauty, like the 
spring flowers which succeed each other, each one different, yet all equally 
lovely and all breathing joy. 

We are all so deeply indebted to the Author of The Creed of Christ 
and The Creed of Buddha, for the fine inspiration, lucidity and cogency 
of those two wonderful books, which we at once recognized as authentic, 
clear rays of the coming dawn, that the coming of a new book of his is 
necessarily an event. The new book, which we greet with confident 
hope, bears the title which has been used as the general heading for the 
present notes : What is and What Might Be; and to this the sub-title is 
added: "A study of education in general and elementary education in 
particular." The book is made more than commonly interesting, because 
it gives us the name, hitherto withheld, of the Author of the two Creeds, 
Edmond G. A. Holmes, to whom are accredited also two volumes of 
verse: The Silence of Love and The Triumph of Love. That the 
Author of the Creeds should write a book on elementary education, is 
further explained by the fact, set forth on the cover, that Mr. Holmes 
was, until lately, the Chief Inspector of Elementary Schools in England ; a 
post, if we mistake not, very similar to that held for several years by 
Matthew Arnold. 

97 



98 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

When a writer, accredited with two wonderful books on Christianity 
and Buddhism, two volumes of verse, full of inspiration, fineness of 
spirit, and beautiful workmanship, and further critical works of high 
distinction, undertakes to write of elementary education, we prepare our- 
selves for a work of technical accuracy, it is true, but also for a work 
which shall be very much more than a monograph of pedagogy. We look 
forward to finding the simplest facts treated in relation to the deepest 
principles, we prepare ourselves to see the teaching of children, not 
dryly and narrowly discussed, but rather viewed, in the fine phrase of the 
French critic, "under the aspect of Eternity." 

With some such expectation we opened Mr. Edmond Holmes' new 
book. And we were in no wise disappointed. On every page, we found, 
side by side with the technical mastery of the Chief Inspector of Elemen- 
tary Schools, the piercing wisdom of the Author of the Creeds, touched 
with the poet's inspiration and feeling for beauty. So true, indeed, is 
this, that our one misgiving, while reading the book, was, whether the 
British reader, never very hospitable to wide philosophical ideas, may 
regard with distrust a work on education which is so evidently inspired. 
Were Saint Paul to write on politics, or Saint John on art, they would, 
we fear, be regarded by the British public with something of apprehension 
and dismay. 

Our misgiving, above adverted to, is sensibly strengthened, when, 
in the Preface, we find our Author declaring that his aim, in writing this 
book, is "to show that the externalism of the West, the prevalent tend- 
ency to pay undue regard to outward and visible 'results,' and to neglect 
what is inward and vital, is the source of most of the defects that irritate 
Education in this country, and therefore that the only remedy for those 
defects is the drastic one of changing our standard of reality and our 
conception of the meaning and value of life." We think that we can 
realize the blank misgivings of the British paterfamilias with a citizen's 
proper interest in elementary education, when he is asked, as a condition 
precedent to certain practical reforms, to "change his standard of reality, 
and his conception of the meaning and value of life." And we cannot 
imagine his misgivings abated, when, a few lines farther down, he meets 
the suggestion that not only the elementary school teacher, but he himself, 
even he, the British paterfamilias, is "deeply tainted with the virus of 
'Occidentalism' " ; when he finds an Author laying the blame of the 
failures of our educators to which he draws our attention "on the hostile 
forces which have been too strong for many of them, on the false 
assumptions of Western philosophy, on the false standards and false 
ideals of Western civilization, on various 'old, unhappy, far-off things,' 
the effects of which are still with us, foremost among them being that 
deadly system of 'payment by results' which seems to have been devised 



NOTES AND COMMENTS 99 

for the express purpose of arresting growth and strangling life, which 
bound us all, myself included, with links of iron, and which has many 
zealous agents, of whom I, alas ! was one." 

Now the British paterfamilias is deeply convinced that "payment by 
results" is the foundation stone of all respectable life, on which he, too, 
is based; for is not he himself paid by results, according to the measure 
of his excellent virtues of honesty, energy and plodding persistency? 
Who hits at "payment by results" hits at the stout figure of the British 
paterfamilias, who, we can conceive, will be at least tempted to hit stoutly 
back. Nor will his confidence, thus roughly shaken, be more likely to 
recover balance, when, in remedy for the many ills wrought in education 
by "the virus of Occidentalism," he is invited to behold, admire and emu- 
late the ideal system of a certain village which our Author calls Utopia, 
even though in the same breath we are informed that "it is not an 
imaginary village a village of Nowhere but a very real village, which 
can be reached, as all other villages can, by rail and road. It nestles at 
the foot of a long range of hills ; and if you will climb the slope that rises 
at the back of the village, and look over the level country that you have 
left behind, you will see in the distance the gleaming waters of one of 
the many seas that wash our shores. The village is fairly large, as 
villages go in these days of rural depopulation ; and the school is attended 
by about 120 children. The head teacher whose genius has revolutionized 
the life, not of the school only, but of the whole village, is a woman. I 
will call her Egeria." 

In imagination, we can hear the British paterfamilias snorting like a 
surprised rhinoceros who scents an enemy behind the reeds : "Utopia ! 
Egeria!" and then (recalling that, on the title page, our Author con- 
fesses himself a writer of sonnets), throwing up his stout hands in dis- 
may, thereby letting this treatise fall upon the floor, where he leaves it, 
distrustingly, fearing to go further in such subversive doctrine. We hold, 
therefore, that this book, with its condemnations of "the virus of Occi- 
dentalism," its nymph Egeria, its Utopian villages, is indeed no book for 
the British paterfamilias; unless, indeed, he shall happen to have been 
indoctrinated with the Bhagavad Gita, with its reprehension of those 
who work for "results." 

Being ourselves admirers of that old Indian book, we find much for 
our hearts and spirits in this newer treatise ; and, since it cannot evidently 
be treated as a simple monograph on Education, elementary or otherwise, 
we venture to put that view of it for the present aside, and to take the 
book along the line of what we like ; returning, perchance, to its educa- 
tional side later on. 



ioo THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

If we let ourselves fall a-dreaming about the book, our dream would 
be somewhat thus: Ages ago, there was, in the holy land of Bharata, 
a certain one, who, after many earth-lives spent in the search for wisdom, 
was born in the Ganges valley, and came to be a disciple of Siddhartha 
the Compassionate. Soaking the very fibres of his spirit in the teaching 
of the Buddha, he deeply felt its beauty and clear light, and the splendor 
of the promise that Master of Masters held out for the soul in its 
perplexed, wonderful quest: thereafter, true to the light and law of 
the Buddha, that wandering soul found its way to Palestine, and heark- 
ened to the teachings of the younger Master, who was even then pouring 
forth the heart of his love for mankind, and searing with his fine irony 
the hard hearts of Pharisee and Sadducee. 

Then, in fulness of time, that same soul came to birth in England, 
and through the inscrutable working of Karma's law came in due time 
to be a visitor of establishments of learning, one commissioned by Higher 
Powers to supervise, to command, to report, to make generalizations:. in 
a word, a Chief Inspector of Elementary Schools. Then, after a time, 
such a one, having borne the burden of toilsome years, came once more 
upon the lore of Siddhartha, thrilled to the echo of the holy Law, and, 
growing indignant at the Law's travesty, set himself to write The Creed 
of Buddha. Thereafter, in the light of the Eastern Wisdom, re-reading 
the teaching of the Galilean Master, and bringing his thoughts thereon 
to a focus in The Creed of Christ. Finally, as his school work neared its 
end, gathering together his thoughts on life and man, and, with the 
unconquerable original bent which his mind had received from the great 
Siddhartha, recording his conclusions in some such book as this : What 
is and What Might Be. 

This may indeed be the genesis of the work; and, taking it to be 
such, we are led inevitably to consider in it first the things which show 
the Author's world-view, that Far-Eastern outlook upon life which must 
come from far-off tribes in ancient lands. Most perfectly, perhaps, is our 
Author's ideal summed up in such a passage as this : "At the end of the 
last section I asked myself what was the ethical ideal of the life of self- 
realization, the positive ideal as distinguished from the more negative 
ideal of emancipating from egoism and sensuality. I will now try to 
answer this question. Emancipation from egoism and sensuality is 
effected by the outgrowth of a larger and truer self. This larger and 
truer self, as it unfolds itself, directs our eyes towards the ideal self 
the goal of the whole purpose of growth which is to the ordinary self 
what the full-grown oak-tree embodying in itself the perfection of oak- 
hood, is to the sapling oak ; or what the ripe peach, embodying in itself 
the perfection of peachhood, is to the green, unripened fruit. The ideal 
self is, in brief, perfect Manhood. What perfect Manhood may be, we 



NOTES AND COMMENTS 101 

need not pause to imagine. Whatever it may be, it is the true self of 
each of us. It follows that the nearer each of us gets to it, the nearer 
he is to the true self of each of his fellow-men; that the more closely he 
is able to identify himself with it, the more closely he is able to identify 
himself with each of his fellow-men; that in realising it he is realising, 
he is entering into, he is becoming one with, the real life of each of 
his fellow-men. And not of each of his fellow-men only. He is also 
entering into the life of the whole community of men (for it is the 
presence of the ideal self in each of us which makes the communal life 
possible) and, through this, of each of the lesser communities to which 
he may happen to belong. In other words, he is losing himself in the 
lives of others, and is finding his well-being, and therefore his happiness, 
in doing so. But self-loss, with joy in the loss of self, is, in a word, love." 

This is the very inspiration, the very speech, almost, of the greater 
Upanishads. Atma is the ideal self, of thee and me and of these; as we 
find Atma within ourselves, and enter deeper into Atma, we find our 
immortal being, and the immortal being of all, of me and of thee, and of 
these. Thereafter finding Atma in all, and all in Atma, we banish fear 
and enter into joy. By a strange contradiction, such words as those of 
our Author concerning the communal life, the life of the whole com- 
munity of men, are often used to bolster up the fallacies of Socialism. 
It is well, then, to make quite clear what our Author thinks of these same 
fallacies: "With their social ideal, regarded as an ideal, one has of 
course the deepest sympathy. Their motto is, I believe, 'Each for all, 
and all for each' ; and if this ideal could be realised, the social millenium 
would indeed have begun. But in trying to compass their ends by legis- 
lation, before the standard of reality has been changed, they are making 
a disastrous mistake. For, to go no further, our schools are hot-beds 
of individualism, the spirit of 'competitive selfishness' being actively and 
systematically fostered in all of them, with a few exceptions ; and so long 
as this is so, so long as our highly individualised society is recruited, 
year by year, by a large contingent of individualists of all ranks, drawn 
from schools of all grades, for so long will the Socialistic ideal remain 
an impracticable dream. An impracticable and a mischievous dream; 
for in the attempt to realise it, the community will almost inevitably be 
brought to the verge of civil war. When the seeds of Socialistic legisla- 
tion, or even of socialistic agitation, are sown in a soil which is highly 
charged with the poison of individualism, the resulting crop will be class 
hatred and social strife. 

"No, we must change our standard of reality before we can hope 
to reform society. Where the outward standard prevails, where material 
possessions are regarded as 'the good things of life,' the basis of society 
must needs be competitive rather than communal, for there will never 



102 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

be enough of those 'good things' to satisfy the desires of all the members 
of any community. And even if the socialistic dream of state-owner- 
ship could be universally realised, the change so long as the outward 
standard of reality prevailed would not necessarily be for the better, 
and might well be for the worse. Competition for 'the good things of 
life' would probably go on as fiercely as ever ; but it would be a scramble 
among nations rather than individuals, and it might conceivably take the 
form of open warfare waged on a titanic scale. Even now there are 
indications that such a struggle, or series of struggles, if not actually 
approaching, is at any rate not beyond the bounds of possibility. And 
on the way to the realisation of the collectivist ideal, we should probably 
have in each community a similar struggle for wealth and power among 
political parties, a struggle which would generate many social evils, of 
which civil war might not be the most malignant." Which strongly 
supports the contention, so often made in these pages, that, whatever 
be the spirit of Socialist theory, that of common Socialist practice and 
propaganda is the spirit of envy, hatred and all uncharitableness. The 
brotherhood which it effectively forwards, is a brotherhood of Cain 
and Abel. 

But to return from this thorny by-path to the main highway of our 
Author's work. Writing of the religious aspect of the realisation of the 
Self, he says: "The oak-tree is present in embryo in the acorn. What 
is it that is present in embryo in the new-born child? To achieve salva- 
tion is to realise one's true self. But what is one's true self? The 
perfection of manhood is an obvious answer to this question; but it 
explains so little that we cannot accept it as final. We may, however, 
accept it as a resting-place in our search for the final answer. 

"It is on the religious aspect of self-realisation that I now propose 
to dwell. The function of Religion is to bring a central aim into man's 
life, to direct his eyes towards the true end of his being and to help him 
to reach it. The true end of Man's being is the perfection of his nature; 
and the way to this end is the process which we call growth. When 
I speak of Man's nature I am thinking of his universal nature, of the 
nature which is common to all men, the nature of Man as Man. Each 
of us has his own particular nature, his individuality, as it is sometimes 
called. The nature of Man as Man is no mere common measure of 
these particular natures, but is rather what I may call their organised 
totality, the many-sided nature which includes, explains, and even justifies 
them all. 

"What perfection may mean when we predicate the term of our 
common nature, we cannot even imagine. The potentialities of our 
nature seem to be infinite, and our knowledge of them is limited and 



NOTES AND COMMENTS 103 

shallow. When we compare an untutored savage or a brutal, ignorant 
European with a Christ or a Buddha, or again with a Shakespeare or a 
Goethe, we realise how vast is the range the lineal even more than the 
lateral range of Man's nature, and we find it easy to believe that in any 
ordinary man there are whole tracts, whole aspects of human nature, in 
which his consciousness has not yet been awakened, and which therefore 
seem to be non-existent in him, though in reality they are only dormant 
or inert. These, however, are matters with which we need not at present 
concern ourselves. Let the potentialities of our common nature be what 
they may. Our business is to realise them as, little by little, they present 
themselves to us for realisation. Let the end of the process of growth 
be what it may. Our business is to grow. 

"In the effort to grow we are not left without guidance. The stim- 
ulus to grow, the forces and the tendencies that make for growth, all 
come from within ourselves. Yet it is only to a limited extent that they 
come under our direct control. So, too, the goal of growth, the ideal 
perfection of our nature, is our own ; and yet on the way to it we must 
needs outgrow ourselves. What part do we play in this mighty drama? 
The mystery of selfhood is unfathomable. The word self changes its 
meaning the moment we begin to think about it. So does the word 
nature. The range of meaning is in each case unlimited. Yet there are 
limits beyond which we cannot use either word without risk of being 
misunderstood. When we are meditating on our origin and our destiny, 
some other word seems to be needed to enable us to complete the span 
of our thoughts. 

"Is not that word God? The source of our life, the ideal end of 
our being, how shall we think about these if we may not speak of them 
as divine? And in using the word 'divine/ do we not set ourselves free 
to stretch the respective meanings of the words 'self and 'nature' beyond 
what would otherwise have been the breaking point of each? The true 
self is worthier of the name of 'self than the apparent self. The true 
nature is worthier of the name of 'nature' than the lower nature. But 
the true self is the Divine Self; and the highest nature is the Nature of 
God. If this is so, we serve God best and obey God best by trying to 
perfect our nature in response to a stimulus, a pressure, and a guidance 
which is at once natural and divine. 



"In other words, we serve God best by following the path of self- 
realisation. And the better we serve God, the more truly and fully do 
we learn to know him. If to know him, and to live up to our knowledge 
of him, is to be truly religious, then the life of self-realisation is, in the 



104 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

truest and deepest sense of the word, a religious life. Or rather, it is 
the only religious life, for in no other way can knowledge of God be 
won. . . . 

. . . "The highest of all senses is the religious sense, the sense 
which gives us knowledge of God. But the religious sense is not, as 
we are apt to imagine, one of many senses. No one individual sense, 
however 'massive' or subtle it might be, could enable its possessor to get 
on terms, so to speak, with the totality of things, with the all-vitalising 
Life, with the all-embracing Whole. The religious sense is the well- 
being of the soul. For the soul as such grows in and through the growth 
of its various senses, its own growth being reinforced by the growth 
of each of these when Nature's balance is kept, and retarded by the 
growth of one or more of them when Nature's balance is lost, and in 
proportion as its own vital, central growth is vigorous and healthy, its 
power of apprehending reality unfolds itself little by little. That power 
is of its inmost essence. When reality, in the full sense of the word, is 
its object, it sees with the whole of its being; it is itself, when it is at 
the centre of its universe, its own supreme perceptive faculty, its own 
religious sense. . . . 

. . . "Knowledge of God, being a state or attitude of the soul 
as such, must show itself in the right bearing and the right action of the 
soul as such, in other words, of Man as Man. . . . Now Man as 
Man has to bear himself aright towards the world in which he finds 
himself, and in particular towards the world which touches him most 
closely and envelopes him most completely, the world of human life. 
Therefore, knowledge of God will show itself, principally and chiefly, 
though by no means wholly, in dealing aright with one's fellow-men, in 
being rightly disposed towards them, and in doing the right things to 
them. I have found it convenient to disconnect the moral from the 
religious aspect of self-realisation. We can now see that in the last 
resort the two aspects are one. 

"From every point of view, then, and above all from that of Religion, 
the path of self-realisation is seen to be the path of salvation. For it is 
the only scheme of life which enables him who follows it to attain to 
knowledge of God ; and a knowledge of God has, as its necessary coun- 
terpart, a right attitude, in general, towards the world which surrounds 
him, and in particular towards his fellow-men. 

"But is it possible, within the limits of one earth-life, to follow the 
path of self-realisation to its appointed goal? And if not, will the path 
be continued beyond that abrupt turn in it which we call death? . . . 
Those who walk in the path of self-realisation, and whose answering 



NOTES AND COMMENTS 105 

loyalty to Nature is rewarded by some measure of insight into her deeper 
laws, know that the goal of the path is far away. . . . And the 
higher they ascend, the more vividly do they realise how unimaginably 
high above them is the summit of the mountain which the path is ascend- 
ing in spiral coils. . . . 

. . . "The inference to be drawn from these significant facts is 
that the apparent limits of Man's life are not the real limits ; that the one 
earth-life of which each of us is conscious, far from being the whole of 
one's life, is but a tiny fragment of it, one term of its ascending 'series/ 
one day in its cycle of years. In other words, the spiritual fertility of 
the average Utopian child, taken in conjunction with the spiritual sterility 
of the average non-Utopian child (and man), points to the conclusion 
w r hich the thinkers of the Far East reached thousands of years ago, 
that for the full development of human nature, a plurality of lives is 
needed. . . . 

"This is one lesson which Utopia has taught me. There is another 
which had also been anticipated by the thinkers of the Far East. If 
under exceptionally favorable conditions certain spiritual and mental 
qualities are able to blossom freely in the space of a few years, which 
under normal conditions would remain undeveloped during a life-time 
of seventy or eighty years, may we not infer that there is a directer path 
to spiritual maturity than that which is ordinarily followed ? May we not 
infer that there are ways of living, ways into which parents and teachers 
can lead the young, which, if faithfully followed, will allow the potencies 
of Man's higher nature to evolve themselves with what we, with our 
limited experience, must regard as abnormal celerity, and which will 
therefore shorten appreciably Man's journey to his goal. (This was the 
idea which inspired the Founder of Buddhism, and led him to formulate 
a scheme of life, in virtue of which he takes rank, as it seems to me, as 
the greatest educationalist, as well as the greatest moralist, that the world 
has ever known.) And if there is a directer path to spiritual maturity 
than that which is ordinarily followed, is not the name for it Self- 
realisation? 

"I will not pursue these speculations further. But, speaking for 
myself, I will say that the vista which the idea of self-realisation opens 
up to me goes far beyond the limits of any one earth-life or sequence of 
earth-lives, and far, immeasurably far, beyond the limits of the sham 
eternity of the conventional Heaven and Hell. 

"But even if there is the fullest provision in Nature (whether by 
a spiral ascent through a long chain of lives, or by some directer path) 
for the final development in each individual man of the potencies of 
perfect manhood, for the final realisation of the divine or true self, 



io6 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

what then? What does it all mean? Why are we to follow the path 
of self-realisation? What is the purpose of the cycle of existence? 
There is an answer to this obstinate question, an answer which explains 
nothing, and yet is final, in that it leaves nothing to be explained. The 
expansive energies and desires, to yield to which is our wisdom and our 
happiness, are ever transforming themselves, as we yield to them, into 
the might and ardour of Love. And for love there is no final resting- 
place but the sea of Divine Love from which it came. 'Amor ex Deo 
natur est, nee potest nisi in Deo requiescere.' " Love was born of God, 
nor can it find rest unless in God. 

These pages we take to be the essence of the book. They set forth 
the Author's ideal, no longer in relation to the criticism of Buddhism 
or Christianity, but directly, immediately, wholly in terms of his own. 
The application of these ideals to education, as it is, and as it might be, 
we must leave our readers to make for themselves. 



The better is one thing, the dearer is another thing; these two bind 
a man in opposite ways. Of these two, it is well for him who takes the 
better; he fails of his object, who chooses the dearer. 

The better and the dearer approach a man; going round them, the 
sage discerns between them. The sage chooses the better rather than 
the dearer; the fool chooses the dearer, through lust of possession. 

Thou, indeed, pondering on dear and dearly-loved desires, O Nachi- 
ketas, hast passed them by. Not this way of wealth hast thou chosen, 
in which many men sink. 

Far apart are these two ways, unwisdom and what is known as 
wisdom. I esteem Nachiketas as one seeking wisdom, nor do manifold 
desires allure thee. 

Others, turning about in unwisdom, self-wise and thinking they are 
learned, fools, stagger, lagging in the way, like the blind led by the blind. 

The great Beyond gleams not for the child, led away by the delusion 
of possessions. "This is the world, there is no other," he thinks. 

From the Katha Upanishad. 



FRAGMENTS 



"Believe more in your own power and your own strength. Keep 
that belief steadily before you. Do not let inner things ever seem cold 
or abstract. That is a lower view indeed: go up higher and look from 
there. All that is sweet and true and vital in life the very essence of 
these you have here but symbols of. The reality, in its glory, you 
cannot now conceive, but you can believe in it, and take comfort and 
strength from your faith. 

"Your whole life is an exemplification of the necessity for seeing 
and leaning upon the inner realities ; and having found in some measure 
the clue, you should use it always. Your powers of endurance are 
greatly taxed, also your faith; but you are not of those who fail in the 
dark hour of trial ; for the flame of the soul leaps higher when fed .by 
the heart's own blood. 

"Let the purpose be clear, then, the will firm. Tune your instrument 
constantly by the tuning-fork of your ideal, and never let it drop a 
key. The light of the soul is a light to light the world: tell yourself 
that, and live it." 

"Do not mistake your present lower condition, nor think it aught it is 
not. Such periods of exhaustion come after great expenditures of effort, 
and should be understood and calmly accepted. A piece of work was ac- 
complished, a time of difficulty and darkness bravely lived through. May 
not the two be connected ? May not the power to aid have been earned ? 

"The initiations of daily life are constant and manifold: You are 
beginning to understand this. Persevere, and you will see all things 
maturing as you desire. The real wishes of our hearts must always 
be fulfilled. Do not doubt your own powers ; they have only been tem- 
porarily exhausted. But greater powers yet will arise from patient 
acceptance of this another initiation perhaps and so you may go forward 
with a more steadfast faith. Meditate deeply on these phases of your 
consciousness, and insist always on your own courage and powers of 
endurance; they never can fail you if you do; and though you seem 
sometimes to be reaching the limit of your strength, you never will. 

"Bye and bye you will grow accustomed to living always on the edge 
of defeat (the chela's habitual position, since he treads a hair line). 
Your head will no longer be made dizzy by gazing down a precipice (you 
know the old stories of initiation) ; and that conquered, a definite progress 
will have been made. Consider attentively these matters, for they are 
worthy consideration, and most vital points may be gained from them. 

"It is necessary only that the Lodge sees you, that you please it. 
What matter the idle thoughts or still more idle words of others ? Seek 
the satisfaction of your own heart and conscience, and where these do not 



107 



io8 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

acquit you, study out your mistake, all involved in it, all that led to it, 
make all possible amends; and the experience will be worth more to 
you than not to have failed. 

"Keep up a stout heart. The way is hard and long, but you are 
treading it bravely; and there is always work for a lonely heart, with 
meditation; and love for a tired one: for each act of giving brings a 
wondrous peace. Learn from the dark hours behind, what can be lived 
through, and take courage for the future. . . . And now take the 
tired brain and body to bed." 



Standing as you do for inner things, realize at the same time that 
your work must not interfere with that of others of a different kind. 
Each plays his part, and while steadfastly adhering to yours, condemn no 
other. It is a hair line, not easy, but important to observe. Without it 
your labour will be fruitless; for this larger tolerance is a proof of 
insight, insight intellectual, as sympathy is insight of the heart. In 
other words, you must never lose your sense of proportion. This has 
been a cardinal lack in many religious teachers as well as in ordinary 
religious men and women; and its absence has sterilized what would 
else have been superb achievement. 

Remember that the inner world and life are not set over against the 
outer. The poor, tired earth, that has struggled for long ages in vain 
to reconcile these two, needs to learn the great truth at last ! The inner 
world is within the outer ; and like a lamp in a darkened house, illuminates 
its chambers, shows its stairways and passages, the uses of its furniture ; 
and turns the soul from an uneasy ghost, wandering helplessly through 
its gloom and mystery, into a happy tenant who finds cheer and warmth. 
To reach our home is not so truly a matter of going somewhere, as of 
bringing this light into those places where we now abide. Perchance, 
when we see them thus illumined, we shall recognize them as mansions 
in the Father's house, and since those mansions are many, we may be 
sure that all temperaments, all characters, are provided for with loving 
care. So there is room for all, and place for all, and no necessity that 
our rules or views should prevail, save in that narrow domain which 
we call self, where the Great Powers themselves bow to our laws, with 
infinite understanding and courtesy, demanding of us always the stature 
of our own ideals, and the fixity of the stars in those courses our higher 
moments have prescribed. 

Rigid with self ; indulgent with all others ; cultivating balance, wide 
vision, sense of distances and depths and heights; keen to detect the 
fleck of wrong within, beholding as from a mountain top the molehill 
of another's sin; breathing the air of lofty altitudes, and bringing it with 
us as a breath of the vast pureness of the snows ; founded on principles 
such as these your work shall endure, and, though you may never realize 
the extent of your accomplishment (better so!), future ages shall see 
it, and will light their fires at the torch you hold today. CAVE. 



LETTERS TO FRIENDS 



DEAR FRIEND: 

I HAVE your letter and thank you for its frank directness. You 
ask that I be equally direct in my reply, and indeed I would answer 
in no other way what you have written. Frankly, then, you are 

seeking for the soul in the only place where it does not exist in 
negations. 

You say that for years you have mortified yourself; that you have 
steadily fought against all the passions and desires of your personality, 
striving to fulfil in literal exactitude the maxim of "never doing anything 
which the personality desires for itself alone." You feel that, either of 
your own will, or under the compulsion of circumstances, you have 
surrendered all that made life dear to you. And yet, you say, you have 
not found the goal you seek; your heart is dark and cold, and only at 
rare moments of your meditation do you feel the Master's nearness 
and his love and sympathy. 

I know how splendidly, and with what indomitable persistence, you 
have fought. I know how hard some of your sacrifice has been. Yet 
you have done only half of what is asked of us, and that half you have 
not done rightly. Throughout, your effort has been negative. It should 
have been and must be positive. You have given everything but 
yourself; and yourself is the one positive thing you have to give. I can 
hear you say that this is not so; that you have given all you had. 
Yes ; but separating it from yourself. You gave up this, you surrendered 
that, and felt yourself naked and stripped. Had you given yourself 
with your possessions, with your faults and virtues, with all you were 
and just as you were, into the Master's hands, to do with as he would, 
you could not now feel loss. But you have sought to give these and 
yet hold yourself back; retaining to the last your own will, your own 
pride, your own separate life. And so in truth you have given little 
to the Master, though much to your own desire for righteousness and 
personal stature. You have given up much, but you have given him 
little. For until we give ourselves to him we can give him nothing else. 

The Master does not rob us. He has no part in our robbery of 
self. He asks us for our hearts, that his joy may be fulfilled in us. 
And if, and when, we give him our hearts, he asks for all else, that all 
may be made ours in him ; the good made better and the evil made good. 
Of ourselves we can hold and keep nothing. Fortune, health, human 
love, our friends and our strength and our virtues, all slip from our 
hands and fall as dust. Who and what are we that we can hold anything 
at all? But what we give to him, he holds for us forever, if it so be 
that he holds us also. But till we give ourselves he can take nothing 
that is ours. 



109 



no THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

Let us face the facts. Yours has been till now the false asceticism. 
You have sought the Master and the soul through denial of all that was 
personal. You have thrown the personal from you. You have neither 
given nor used it. Learn now to use it and to give it by giving yourself. 
Learn, as Light on the Path tells us, that "the whole nature of man 
must be used wisely by the one who desires to enter the way"; that 
"all steps are necessary to make up the ladder" ; that virtues are useless 
if they stand alone; and that we need to mount also upon the steps of 
our vices, one by one, as they are overcome, and as we learn to use the 
power they confined. We need to use this power, not throw it from us. 

Do you remember one evening when we were in M.'s rooms together, 
you made him tell us of the modern mathematical conception of the 
infinite? It seemed to me that in it was the secret of the religious life. 
The old view of the infinite was wholly negative. It was not finite, 
not this, not that. Whatever was named, whatever was expressed, it 
was not. Greater than all, it could, men thought, only be conceived by 
the denial of all. So, too, the middle ages thought of the infinite soul 
It was not this ; it was not that. The road lay in denial of all that was 
visible, natural, personal and human. But in so viewing the infinite, 
whether of number or of soul, nothingness was viewed as well. There 
was no difference in terms ; small difference in thought ; and, too often, 
small difference in result. Men made solitude and called it peace; 
emasculated evil and called it good. How different were the lives of 
the true saints. And how different the modern mathematics. The 
infinite is that which can be wholly portrayed in a part of itself, which 
part is then in direct correspondence with the whole, point by point, 
and element by element, reproducing the whole, and as rich as it, because 
at one with it. You remember the illustrations of this in lines and in 
numbers but its truest illustration is in ourselves. If we indeed seek 
the infinite soul, if we would live with its life and its consciousness, 
then our way is not in the denial and rejection of the personality, but in 
making of it a complete image of the infinite whole in which it is a 
part. This is possible for us precisely because the whole is infinite, and 
because the personality is whole. Our task is not to kill the personality, 
but to order and to attune it. 

You have tried to kill it. Do so no longer. You have tried to 
hold it from acting in accordance with its own will. Try now to make 
it act in accordance with the Master's will; with the will and in the 
likeness of the infinite soul. 

Let me be just as explicit upon this point as I can. I have said 
you have given up much but have as yet given little. Here is an illus- 
tration of what I mean. You give up your own way. In some small 
matter you accept another's way instead of your own. But it is accept- 
ance and surrender with you. You are thinking of what you are giving 
up, not what he is gaining. You do not throw yourself whole heartedly 



LETTERS TO FRIENDS in 

into his desire. You give no gladness, nothing of yourself to him. 
Your act is negative, not positive. You have given up your own way, 
but you have not given yourself to his way. You hold yourself back, 
and your gift is useless. Worse than useless, for it spreads the chill 
atmosphere of negation over both you and him. He can only wish you 
had had your way rather than given him his in this dead, reluctant 
fashion. You are both the poorer, not the richer, for your act. 

This evil of doing things by halves is the most common fact of 
experience. The other day I went with a friend to purchase some 
knick-knacks he wished to take home as presents. He was long in making 
his selection and I grew tired and restless in waiting. Why? Because 
I held myself back from my friend's interest. Because I thought of 
myself waiting, and of what I wished to do next, rather than of what 
he was doing then, and of how I could help him. I gave my time, but 
not myself ; and from it only fatigue and loss resulted. I was negative, 
not positive. I was living in myself and the future, not in the spirit 
of friendship and the present. I was more tired by that one hour of 
negative, self-indulgent restlessness of thought, and the effort to conceal 
it with an outer veneer of courtesy, than by a full day of hard work; 
and my friend must have wished me anywhere except on the chair beside 
him. Yet had I given myself whole heartedly to him and his interest, 
taking the one opportunity of service which the moment offered, I could 
have made that afternoon a time of pleasure and of rest, as had been 
many others like it. 

That which is true of such little things is true also of great. We 
make our great sacrifices and the pain of them goes deep. There is, 
perhaps, no way of avoiding that pain. But there is a way of flooding 
it with joy. It is the way of ^//-sacrifice; of bringing ourselves with 
our gift to the altar, and laying both in the Master's hands. Then do 
we keep that which we give. 

Again let me try to be perfectly explicit. I give up my own pleasure 
for the pleasure of another. My pleasure is surrendered. But if, in this 
gift, I give myself as well, I can enter into and share my friend's pleasure 
as keenly more keenly than I could have enjoyed my own. This is 
the test of the gift of self, when we find our joy in the joy of the one 
to whom we give ourselves. Joy is and must be at the heart of self- 
sacrifice. If we find no joy we may know that we have given some- 
thing other than ourselves. The gift given without ourselves, the gift 
we do not flood with joy, is better not given at all. 

We come back then to this: what you have to do, what each one 
of us has to do, is to give ourselves to the Master, just as we are and 
with all we are; and to make this gift positive, not negative. We have 
to do more than "place ourselves before God like prepared canvas before 
a painter," though this is much. We have also to place in his hands, 
as his palette, the totality of our human qualities, holding none back, 



ii2 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

throwing none away, regarding none as common or unclean when in his 
hands and cleansed by him. These are the colours with which the paint- 
ing must be made, the living colours of the new life born from above and 
built upon the model of the Master's plan for us. 

You tell me you have striven daily to acquire concentration, to keep 
your mind fixed and one-pointed upon a single theme. Indispensable as 
this practice is, it is still but the negative half of concentration as we 
have to learn it. Strive now to learn the positive half; to bring to all 
you do all you are; to concentrate upon and in each act of service all 
the power, all the sweetness, all the gladness of your nature. 

There are times when we are tempted to think this impossible, 
when the burden of our sacrifice seems too heavy for our strength, and 
we feel we have no power left to give. When all our nerves are raw 
and quivering with pain, we ask ourselves how we can give sweetness. 
And we almost laugh when we think that, from our sodden misery, 
gladness must be given and expressed. Yet it is here, at the brink of 
personal failure and exhaustion, when we have neither power, nor 
sweetness, nor gladness to use for ourselves, that we have most of them 
to give to another. And if we then give ourselves to that other, the 
power and the sweetness and the gladness become again our own. The 
secret of it all is in the gift of self, and the secret of self-giving is love. 

You say, and say rightly, that you do not love enough, for this 
is true of all of us. But you add, that to say this does not help to better 
it, for you cannot make yourself love more than you do. True; but 
you can enter more completely into the love you have. And, as you 
do this, you will find it far greater than you had thought, and you will 
see it grow steadily and luminously before your vision. 

Again let me try to make concrete and little, what is too often left 
as mere abstraction, because so great. I say you can enter more com- 
pletely into the love you have, and by so doing you will find your love 
adequate to your need, sufficient to give power, sweetness and gladness 
to your sacrifice. Take anyone you please a mere chance acquaintance 
for whom you have a kindly sympathy. This sympathy alone is sufficient 
love to bring gladness from sacrifice if you will, in actual fact, throw 
yourself into it. Suppose you sacrifice something for this man's pleasure. 
Once the sacrifice is made there are two courses open to you. The first 
is to think of yourself and what you have surrendered. From this 
standpoint all is hard, cheerless and barren. The second is to think 
of him, to keep your eyes fixed on the object for which you sacrificed, on 
his pleasure, and deliberately, by act of will and imagination, to enter 
into his enjoyment, putting yourself in his place, feeling what he feels, 
glad with his gladness, and augmenting his gladness with your own. 
Even the smallest love suffices for this purpose, if we add to it a resolute 
effort of will and sustained imagination. It is not love which is lacking. 



LETTERS TO FRIENDS 113 

It is the will to give ourselves to love, and to use every power of the 
personality to make that gift complete. 

What is this wonderful, complex personality of ours, if it be not 
all we have or know of the soul ? Why do we insist on separation when 
in life itself none exists? What are will, desire, passion, gladness and 
sympathy and imagination, but rays of divine life and divine power? 
Cut them off from their source, gather them for themselves alone, and 
they must wither and die, as a flower cut from its stem. But as living 
and blooming on the plant itself, drawing the sap to the air and giving 
from the air to the sap, in ordered harmony with the whole of which 
they are a part, they are the carriers of seed for its renewing life. 
Because the personality of itself is lifeless, does not mean that it is 
lifeless or useless to and in the soul. We cannot cut it, or any part of 
it, away from us, without cutting it away from the soul. Our task is 
to order and use it wisely, in every portion and detail, till it becomes, in 
literal truth, the perfect picture of the wholeness of the soul of which 
it is a part. Then, and then only, when there is no more difference 
between inner and outer, between soul and personality, when there is no 
bar or wall "where man the effect ceases and God the cause begins," 
when the walls are taken away and the consciousness stretches unbroken 
to its source, then, if we do so choose, the personality can drop from 
us and be laid down. But till that time comes "the whole nature of 
man must be used wisely by the one who desires to enter the way." 

I do not know whether what I have written will seem to you an 
answer to your letter or will help you to see, as I have hoped, the positive 
pathway of love, imaginative sympathy, and glad self -giving which is 
open to your feet and which will lead you to all you seek. Above all it 
will lead you to a realization of how much you already have; how close, 
through all these years, has been the Master whom you thought far 
off; how great and deep, beyond your thinking, is the love you bear to 
him, and which is but the reflection of his love for you; how close to 
joy has been the sacrifice you have till now seen only with self-pity. 

You have done much. And though you have, heretofore, by holding 
back yourself, held back the fruit of your efforts, none of them is wasted. 
No effort is wasted, however misdirected, which has been made for 
motives, such as yours, of obedience to your highest vision. The force 
of every sacrifice, of every surrender of your own way, of every ounce 
of pressure you have put upon yourself, and which has been, or seemed, 
so barren, is stored in your will as power to give gladness when at last 
you give yourself. You, who have persevered in sacrifice, when it gave 
no other joy than a grim pride in your own obedience and strength, will 
find that power of sacrifice intensified a hundredfold when you share 
its happiness. So will these heavy years have wrought for you an 
instrument for joy, and you yourself will know that joy, and be its 
carrier to others. 
8 



ii 4 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

There is your destiny and your goal, the Master's plan for you as 
for us all, to be the recipients and the carriers of his joy. Let us no 
longer wait till sacrifice is forced upon us, and then try to make the best 
of it and give ourselves with that which we can no longer refuse. At 
most this is but the effort to make positive, in its end, what was negative 
in its beginning. Let us rather go out to seek occasions; not with the 
thought of sacrifice of self, but with the thought that through us the 
Master's joy may be fulfilled within the hearts of others. Let us delib- 
erately, hour by hour, whenever we hear a clock strike, or in the pauses 
of our day, think what, in that hour, or that moment, we can do for the 
happiness of those we know, or for the world at large. Let us make it 
as definite and concrete as we can, thinking of those about us, one by 
one, and deliberately, by act of will and imagination, strive to put our- 
selves in their place, to look out upon life with their eyes, to feel their 
feeling and to know their need and then, feeling with them, let us do 
the thing which it is in our power to do to make them happy. 

This is the positive path, the yoga of love and of joy. By follow- 
ing it we give ourselves and make our sacrifices, moment by moment, 
without even knowing it is sacrifice or self surrender. Does it seem to 
you too small a thing to meet your need? Here, as so often, it is the 
little which contains the great. You seek the Master. You would 
follow in his footsteps and train yourself for his service. You long to 
know him, face to face, and to share his consciousness. Does it seem 
that you are asked to give yourself to others, not to him ? To seek their 
happiness, not his ? I know you cannot so misunderstand ; for to do that 
would be to fail wholly in understanding him you seek. What else is 
his whole life than such an endless giving of himself, in order that in us 
and in the world his joy may be fulfilled? How else can we serve him, 
than in the work which is himself? How else can we share his con- 
sciousness, than by making ours more like to his? The service of man 
may have little in it of the service of God. But the service of God must 
have much in it of the service of man. We cannot serve the Master 
without serving where and what he serves, nor love him without loving 
what he loves. "Children love one another. For love of me, love one 
another." 

This yoga will teach you much. But of all its lessons, I believe 
the greatest is the revelation which it brings of the depth and over- 
powering intensity of the Master's passionate yearning that those who 
seek to give themselves to him, and to follow in his footsteps, may find 
happiness in the life to which he leads. Those who have told of the 
radiance of his face have spoken also of his anguished eyes. It is 
your anguish and mine, the anguish of the world that will not hear him, 
which lies there ever before his vision. But, in truth, his yoga is the 
yoga of joy. Here there can be no difference in the teaching of the 
Lodge. Method and emphasis may vary with different teachers and 



LETTERS TO FRIENDS 115 

in different times. But the heart of things is ever the same; and "we 
are closest to the heart of things when we are happy, when in spite 
of trials and adversities a fountain of joy and gladness springs within 
us." Misunderstood and travestied throughout the ages, Christ has been 
called the Man of Sorrows. Yet he came that we might have life, and 
have it more abundantly, that his joy might be ours. For these 
nineteen hundred years how few of those who sought to follow him 
have looked beyond the initial self-surrender. How few have shared 
his warrior spirit, which the Lodge demands of all who would draw 
near its portals, and which, taking pain, can find, within it, joy. Such 
a spirit is yours, if you will but liberate it. And by it you will come 
to him you seek who calls to you today as Jesus called in Galilee: 
"Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give 
you rest. Take my yoke (yoga) upon you and learn of me: for I am 
meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For 
my yoke is easy and my burden is light." 

May you learn of him, from this day forth. 

Faithfully yours, 

JOHN GERARD. 



Finish every day and be done with it; you have done what you could. 
Some blunders and absurdities, no doubt, crept in; forget them as soon 
as you can. Tomorrow is a new day; begin it well and serenely, and 
with too high a spirit to be cumbered with your old nonsense. Today 
all is good and fair. It is too dear, with its hopes and invitations, to 
waste a moment on the yesterday. 

EMERSON. 



THE HEART OF THE MYSTERY 



". . . Beheld the immortals sweatless, steady-eyed, their 
garlands fresh, and touching not the ground; but he, doubled 
by his shadow, standing there upon the earth, was stained with 
dust and sweat, his garland faded." 

WHAT heart but at times grows weary of this our human life, 
with its births, its marriages, its deaths ; with its pathways of 
small ambition and sordid struggle leading forward in 
monotonous deadly certainty to the green mound beneath the 
cypresses ? Who has not cried out in spirit against it all, longing to turn 
back from the beaten road where mankind runs, with a dazed eagerness 
like that haunted herd of Gadara, swept by demoniac presences down the 
steep to the blue Genesaret waves? There is pathos in it, too, and 
pitifulness; even for the most infatuate, life soon wears so threadbare, 
so seamed with dullest commonness, that the hurrying troop of doomed 
men and women would presently cast away their burden, were it not 
snatched from their shoulders by the old man with the hour-glass, who 
ushers them into the silence. 

Who has not felt in moments of clear sight, in hours of inspiration, 
that these good people are ridden with dreams, and we along with them ; 
that we have elsewhere a quite other history not made of epitaphs but 
written in letters of gold, with words of fire, in the serene halls of immor- 
tals? Man dreams that he moves forward; he only moves from dream 
to dream. He is demon-ridden, dwelling altogether among shadows, and 
that most of all when he is most confidently sensual and material. But 
there are times when he outgrows the form and color of his dream, and 
must have change. The sleeper restlessly moves and murmurs in his 
sleep ; then for one startled moment he opens his eyes to the everlasting 
sunshine. 

Then comes a new dream, a new epoch, a new era. So it was two 
thousand years ago, when the Roman world of beneficent callous force 
was wearing itself out, when the dream of Olympian Jove was fading. 
Then were spoken words among the Galilean hills that let in the light 
of the Eternal, and for a moment the eyes of mortal man gazed into the 
shining eyes of his brother the immortal. Then mankind sank back again 
to dream. There remained only broken fragments of the message, like 
words set echoing among the rocks, to bear evidence of the revelation. 
The old Roman dream of dominion flowed back again, staining the ray 
of celestial light. What belonged to Caesar was rendered to God. 

The new era enthroned a heavenly monarch in the purple, darkening 

* Reprinted from the Theosophical Forum, May- July, 1900. 
116 



THE HEART OF THE MYSTERY 117 

altogether the true vision of the divine, the vision of man the immortal. 
Our kingdoms and empires with their claims of election and grace, their 
mandate from on high, were but copies of imperial Rome touched with 
the ray of Galilee; our divinity, but an image of these earthly potentates 
exalted to the heavens, an autocrat exacting homage, gathering tribute, 
and entering into treaties with mankind. A few enjoyed the suffrage 
of salvation; the rest were doomed to servitude in hell. 

Centuries have passed, and this dream, too, has faded. The power 
of the celestial Caesar has declined. His jewelled throne is crumbling. 
The nether fires are out. The golden city is deserted; grass is growing 
in its streets. The songs of cherubim and seraphim are stilled, and 
silence reigns through the high halls of heaven. With the passing of the 
divine Caesar's throne, fades, too, the materialism which undermined it, 
hardly outliving his fall. Materialism is already out of date, grown 
grotesque and antiquated. We are offered instead a physical proof of 
our immortality, material evidence of the enduring soul. 

So that dream within a dream has faded, and there comes a lull, 
when the light from beyond the heavens once more sends forth its ray 
to challenge the darkness. As of old, it brings the message of our 
present immortality, not in a dim future paradise, but here and now; 
of salvation not by faith or works, but by creative will; of immediate 
and intimate touch with the eternal heart of being. Even here and now, 
we are in the midst of the everlasting; we catch the immortal whisper, 
feel the immortal fire in our hearts, the touch of an immortal finger 
summoning us forth into light. 

Then the dreams of our desires come. upon us again, and imaginings 
of terror; the cynical unfaith of sensuality, and that very human cry 
for yet a little slumbering and sleep. We are once more entangled 
among shadows, and hurry forth dazed to the lake-edge of Gadara. 
Yet there is a golden clue to guide us forth from this labyrinth of dreams ; 
there is a path that leads us back from the abyss of death, easy to find, 
yet hard to follow, and calling for the valor and vision of immortals in 
those who would tread its ways. 

The shadows may be met and overcome. And first of all, the 
shadow of our sensuality. Our error here is easy to indicate, and well 
worth mending ; for its fruit is inevitable death. We sin by meeting the 
natural world in a wrong and vicious way ; with a demand for sensations, 
instead of an offer of work. We desire keenness of feelings, keenness 
of life ; and we have a right to it, but we take the wrong way to gain it, 
and nature herself ceaselessly admonishes us of our mistake. 

Nature intends sensation only as a guide to work, a guide for the 
will; but we make sensation an end in itself, and thus incur inevitable 
doom. For sensation which is not turned to the purposes of the will 
must bear one of two fruits : either at every repetition the stir of feeling 
will grow less, rendered callous by use until there comes the dullness 



ii8 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

of total insensibility; or, if the outward stimulus be constantly increased, 
as it must be to give even the same excitement, it will grow at last to 
such a pitch that the natural body is worn out and torn to pieces. These 
alternatives are but differing forms of death. 

Perfecting his creature throughout ages, God at last gave him reason 
and called him man. This was the fruit of that gift of freedom: for 
every power committed to his will, the new-enfranchised creature devised 
an abuse, to the end of sensuality. The power to choose and reason upon 
his food lies wholly within his will ; with the result that he grows blurred 
and bloated with excess, or lean-eyed and cavernous with hungry long- 
ing. The faculty to reproduce his kind, also entrusted to him, he has 
transformed from a pure instinct to an absorbing passion; after a brief 
pairing season, animals are sexless throughout the year, but man is ever 
insatiate with hungry longings. Of the bodily powers, God kept to 
himself the heart and the life-breath, holding them back from his 
creature's interference. Were it otherwise, man in his perverseness 
seeking sensuality even in these, would have broken the vital casket in 
fragments, abolishing himself long ago from the earth. 

It is well that the animals are dumb. They might mock their lord. 
Sensuality is as foreign to them as the fear of death. These are the 
sign-manuals of our humanity. Yet the instinct which leads so far 
astray is a pure one, destined to an infinitely better reward, a far higher 
fulfilment than any dreamed by man. For the lust of life is at heart 
the desire of immortality, the longing for infinite being. But we err in 
meeting nature through our appetites, not through our wills; in coming 
into the world with a demand, when we should come with an offer of 
creative work, work carried out through the insight and inspiration of 
our immortal part. Even bodily health comes always through exertion, 
and never through sensation; so direct is the admonition of our natural 
life. Strength comes only through energy well applied, and in the work 
of the will is our peace. 

The true intention of our life is, that the senses should serve the 
will, not that will should serve the senses. In right living, each percep- 
tion leading the will to work is strengthened by that work, and by this 
a better way is ready for a higher perception; thus the interposition of 
the will annuls the law of deadening and destruction which hangs over 
sensation, and leads each sense on a steadily upward path. We can watch 
this law in two fields. First, in the primal world of instinct, we see 
that every sense was thus led to perfection, by work and will; by the 
inherent energy of the will toward life bursting outwards through the 
living world. Again, under inspiration every sense grows finer. The 
musician and the painter, while they are faithful to the inner light, may 
develope their sense of hearing and color to a degree that is magical, 
through the divine alchemy of the will ; following sensation never for 
sensation's sake, but always as the guide and material of the will. 



THE HEART OF THE MYSTERY 119 

Yet in face of this simple truth, the ideal of whole nations esteemed 
the foremost in the modern world is not will but sensation. For the 
desire of wealth is the lust of sensation, of command over sensual things. 
Therefore at the very outset we violate the law, reading life's riddle 
upside down. This universal and corrupt lust, not for one sensation 
but for all, this craving for a ceaseless ministry of excitement, brings out 
the greed and graspingness in man, causing endless misery of struggle, 
and putting vultures and jackals to shame, for the weakness of their 
claws. 

Nine-tenths of human power is used in mere strife, force neutraliz- 
ing force, as in a tug of war. Yet the remaining tenth suffices for our 
bodily needs. Imagine then what splendid excess of power, what uni- 
versal wealth of will is before us, once we learn the law. 

Our sensual tragedy is not untouched with grim humor and palpable 
retribution. Of the formative sex, a part finds its whole purpose in 
ministering to sensation, and for this good gift demands luxurious living 
and immunity from work. The vassals go forth in the chill dawn, return- 
ing only in the twilight ; dwarfing their powers in hireling tasks of mere 
repetition, they grow daily duller and more akin to earth, till even the 
senses they worship can give them no more joy. Their enthroned sover- 
eigns pay penalty also in the infinite futility of their lives, which even 
conceit cannot gild to any brightness; they are punished, too, in the 
growing dullness of their mates. Then, for both, that mound beneath the 
cypresses, and infinitely merciful death. 

Happily for us, much of our lives is still within the realm of pure 
animal instinct, like the love of family, and the ideal of bodily strength 
and beauty. For instinct is the voice of revelation to the natural world. 
It is more; it is our sole evidence of outward reality. Reason can never 
give this sense of reality; for reason, the natural world is but a web of 
dreams. But instinct expressed through muscular effort gives us our 
true hold on natural life. We are held in place among the stars and 
worlds by a web of natural forces co-ordinated with our wills, with our 
instinctive powers. Reason can only generalize on these. Reason can 
never explain or guide. 

All of our work is blest which flows from instinct, carried on with- 
out reasoning or calculated motive, but arising from an inward enthu- 
siasm and necessity. Such is the work of all true artists, inventors, 
builders in every realm; they draw their instant inspiration from the 
ideal world, and work joyfully, resting in creative will. But so stringent 
is the law, that the moment men or nations fall below the inspiration of 
the will, and fix their eyes upon wealth and possessions, their power ebbs ; 
all access to new regions of nature, all new command of force is impos- 
sible for them, and they are presently outstripped in the race by some 
other man or nation whose vision is still in the ideal world. Even of 



120 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

organized murder is this true ; victory belongs to the men of ideas, never 
to the materialists. So wholly does power flow from inspiration. 

Thus far the natural history of man, most discreditable of animals. 
But our interest begins only where that chapter ends, and we enter 
human life. And human life is a history of ideas altogether, of thoughts 
and passions, of longings and desires, even of visions and dreams; but 
never a history of material facts. When we leave animal instinct and 
muscular effort, we leave matter also, and enter the psychic world. No 
bodily eye has ever beheld the things of man, whether it be power or 
wealth or pleasure, sorrow or ambition or love. 

Yet it cannot be pretended that the tale is all brightness. We are 
hardly less wrong-hearted in the psychic than in the natural world. We 
manage to defeat our destiny also here. We are sent forth into this 
human world to live through intuition, the clear sense of each other's 
souls. As instinct, the revelation of the divine in animal life, impels 
us to master the natural world, to replenish the earth and subdue it; 
so intuition, which is the divine revelation in man, compels us to enter 
into the being of each other, that thereby we may infinitely enlarge our 
own. Nothing is needed for perfect moral health but a clear sense of 
each other's souls. All our human life, debased and draggled in the 
dust as it too often is, has yet this golden thread running through it 
everywhere. It is to the human soul in each other that we appeal, even 
in sin and crime, the black shadows of our humanity. We do not lust 
after trees and stones; nor do we hate and envy rocks. We do not 
seek food for vanity from cloud and ocean. Only human souls will 
serve our turn. 

If we are true to this one intuition, we hold the key to boundless 
life. For the soul is everywhere in all men; it is everywhere different 
and divine. And our clear intuition, our sense of the gleaming soul in 
others, makes us freeholders of all their powers. All they have and know 
and do belongs to us, if we have the strength to take possession. The 
instinct is in us all; we only need to make it effective. It is the 
inherent quality of souls to share each other's being; to add each to its 
own life the life of all others, until every individual is heir to the 
consciousness and power of all mankind. 

But having the intuition of the soul, we straightway fall from our 
revelation into corrupt imaginings. Instead of aiding the soul to do its 
perfect work in all, to bring forth such fruits as befit our immortality, 
we instantly try to wrest the law awry to the ends of our lust. We 
would have all these souls bow down before us, ministering to our 
vanity ; we fix our eyes on that longed for tribute instead of fixing it on 
the other soul; therefore instead of strength, we bring forth weakness, 
and presently our intuition of the soul is overcast and dimmed. Thus 
we fall into solitude and desolation. 

We forget that all our real strength comes through union, and 



THE HEART OF THE MYSTERY 121 

aspire to be separate and supreme. We set up within our hearts a 
crowned Caesar in the purple, inviting all mankind to do him homage. 
But they are doing the like within themselves; there are too many 
Caesars; the tribute will not go round. Therefore much sorrow and 
many heart-burnings are the only revenue of our kingdoms. Through- 
out all high heaven and the wide fields of stellar space there is no law 
declaring that we are to be worshipped ; that homage is due to us. Yet 
we are miserable for want of it, and go down sorrowing to our graves. 
The longing to be envied is an even stronger incentive of wealth than 
the mere desire of sensations; but here also we defeat our end, for the 
riches are coveted, but their owner inherits only hate and fear. 

Every one of us is born with a different nature, different fancy, 
different desires. Yet it has always been the insanity of men to try to 
compel each other into a common path, and to suffer the agony of thwarted 
ambition that inevitable failure brings. Hardly one of us but is cursed 
with this malady even now, and suffers from its fruitful crop of sorrows. 
Instead of demanding that others should obey me, should find their 
purpose in my mind, should follow a pathway traced out for them by 
my thought and vanity and desire, let me at least learn to take the better 
way, and admit that each must live for himself, must live from his own 
genius, following his law, not mine. If I do this, trusting his life to 
the soul I feel within him, I am instantly conscious of a release of force 
within myself, an inheritance of power, an inward luminousness, making 
me certain I have taken the true way. I have inherited the soul I 
recognized in him. 

If we begin by so small a thing as mere forbearance, tolerating each 
other's souls, admitting that they also may have a light and life-impulse 
of their own, we shall soon grow interested and involved in their creative 
work, finding it a revelation of something new, something beyond our- 
selves, yet akin to us ; before long, instead of hindering the soul in each 
other, we shall learn to help it, and each will grow rich and rejoice in the 
gain of every other; for all real gain is for us all. The sense of each 
others' souls is the first revelation of peace. It was this that the 
Galilean came to teach, this and no other was the light shining in dark- 
ness, but the darkness comprehended it not. 

We may come to understand the matter in this way: the greatest 
of all poets has created and put on record for us a thousand men and 
women, great and gifted, wise or witty, sorrowful or sublime. We can 
each of us read ourselves into the life of all of them, understanding every 
thought and emotion of them all, entering perfectly into their inmost 
hearts until we become one with them. We grow and add new powers 
to our souls with each added understanding; yet after we have assimilated 
all, all remains quite unimpaired for all that shall come after us; and, 
finally, we do not try to dictate to Hamlet, to lay down the law for 



122 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

Lear, to reason with Romeo or Macbeth ; we are satisfied that each should 
be himself, and follow his own genius. 

Something like this we should do in life, but with the immense 
advantage that we are dealing with living souls, touching them direct, 
entering into them by intuition. Only tolerance and good-will are 
needed to make us infinitely rich in immediate spiritual power, gained 
thus from the exhaustless treasurehouse of man. Thus we learn that 
intuition, the impulse of the will which leads us to each others' souls, 
is the real guide of human life, an immediate divine revelation. Reason 
is as powerless to teach us human truth as it was to teach us the reality 
of the world. We are in the hands of a wiser power than reason, if 
we would only follow its leading. We are in the hands of the creative 
will. 

Thus we learn wisdom's first lessons, and set up two milestones 
on the path of our immortality. We need only substitute our inherent 
energy for the lust of sensation, to inherit all the primal power of the 
natural world, and all its beauty. We may knit our wills into the powers 
that hold the world in place, and share the freshness of the forests, the 
freedom of the human world; instead of living for vanity and bitter 
pride, we may cast all barriers down, opening our souls to the souls of 
men, and instantly inherit the treasure of endless life which gleams and 
glows in every heart of man. 

Nor is our work then ended. Say rather that it now begins. 
Having reached this double liberation, we have won the power to pierce 
the secret of all secrets, the splendid and majestic mystery which rests 
at the heart of all life. Learning to stand upright and to feel our 
strength, we are soon touched with a dawning inspiration that there is 
vastly more of us than we dreamed; that we are far greater than even 
in golden moments we dared to hope; that the personal part of us we 
know and live in is but the antechamber, the outer court of the temple, 
while the true lord dwells within. 

The divine web of instincts which holds us in the bosom of the 
natural world, gives no account of itself, nor can assign to itself any 
purpose ; nor even does our human intuition show a definite end in view, 
a final purpose whereto all union and illumination tend. We must look 
elsewhere for the final goal, for the everlasting purposes which have 
had so great preparation, which hold such magical powers of creative 
instinct and unveiled intuition in their sway. The instinct in us urges 
us forth into the outer world by a revelation of life outside ourselves in 
every natural realm. The intuition of our heart urges us beyond our- 
selves in another and more divine direction, impelling us to go forth 
from ourselves into the hearts of others like ourselves, to knock and 
enter every human door, till all be realized and possessed. There is 
something higher than instinct or intuition: there is inspiration, urging 
us to go forth from our personal selves, to rise above them to our 



THE HEART OF THE MYSTERY 123 

immortal life; to inherit here and now celestial potencies; to make true 
for man the dreams we have dreamed of God. 

It is for this that man has lived and toiled so many weary ages; 
it is for this that human hearts have struggled through milleniums of 
sorrow and hate: that they might learn the law. If we have greatly 
gone astray, this proves at least that we are free even to err; that our 
wills are masters over destiny, even to our own destruction. If we have 
hated and deceived and lied, tyrannized and lusted and defamed, it proves 
at least that we are heirs of liberty in dealing with human souls, even to 
their infinite sorrow and to ours. If we have the right of wantonness, 
we have the right of strength; if we are free to injure, we are free to 
heal; and setting ourselves right at last with nature and with man, we 
hold in our hands the key to open the door whence our freedom came, 
to enter the deathless shrine where was woven the web of our stormy 
destiny. 

Let us consider that the will in us, manifest as instinct and energy 
in our bodily selves, is akin to every force in the natural world, and can 
at the last bring every natural force within the hollow of our hands ; let 
us also consider that the will in our human hearts is akin to every will 
of man, that the same divinity runs through all, impelling us all to one- 
ness, to enter each others' lives, to raze all barriers between our own 
and others' souls ; if we understand these two truths, we shall fully under- 
stand that our life is not contained and confined within this limited 
casket of our personal selves ; that we are but the open doorways to the 
infinite divine ; that for each mortal there is an immortal brother, strong 
and serene above the cloudland of our life, bending this life to everlasting 
purposes, leading our outcast pilgrim souls through rough and devious 
ways to the halls of peace, the dwelling-places of everlasting power. 

This much is easily understood of every simplest mind : that he who 
would inherit bodily well-being, the young joy of the morning in his 
natural self, needs only to follow the revelation of instinct, to turn back 
from sensation and sensuality, to find cleanness and health in energy and 
power, and not in desire. It is a transformation of the whole animal life, 
through the will, easily understood and bringing instant evidence of right- 
ness in the release of power within our natural selves. 

This, too, is not hard to understand: that we do ourselves much 
human wrong when we try to live through vanity and bitter pride ; when 
we find each others' souls only to tyrannize and overreach them; when 
we try to thwart the free life and genius in each other, instead of helping 
it to the flower of its perfect life. Here again, it needs only a conver- 
sion of the will to bring us infinite peace, to set us right with all human 
souls ; and this conversion of the will, so readily appealing to our under- 
standing, will instantly justify itself by its first fruits of love, joy, peace, 
and, even more than these traditional blessings, by an immense access of 
human power and light. 



124 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

Grasping this, we shall more readily understand the greater matter, 
for which these two steps are but the preparation and first outline: the 
tremendous truth that we are to go through one more conversion of the 
will, changing from mortal to immortal purposes, to inherit our real 
selves. We have through the desert of our human history a few examples 
of what may be done by those who are true to their immortal part: in 
creative genius, divine valor, heroic sacrifice. Not the basest human 
heart that beats, but throbs in harmony with these better deeds, testifying 
its own inmost certainty that here our true destiny lies. Every pulse 
that exults with the hero slain in battle, bears witness of the soul's im- 
morality; every glow of wonder and delight at the beauty and wisdom 
recorded of the seers is a foreshadowing of our own omniscience; our 
joy in all heroic deeds is the first gleam of our infinite power. 

There stands above us, therefore, for each one of us, a present im- 
mortal ; easily the equal of the highest life and power our human history 
records ; and it is our destiny, through the inspiration of the will, to enter 
into the life of this immortal, to draw the everlasting power into our- 
selves, that even here and now we may inherit divinity. Nor does this 
mighty task depend solely on our personal selves; nor are we wholly 
responsible for its success, as we are not answerable for the shining of 
the sun. Yet we of ourselves must come forth into the sunlight. 

There will come a time when the immortal brother shall interpose on 
our behalf, and we shall be drawn forth from the mortal world and rapt 
into paradise, hearing words not lawful for mortal lips to utter, for only 
those lips can speak of them that are already divine. No longer dimly 
overshadowed by the Soul, we enter through the silence to the very being 
of the Soul itself. We know that we have found our treasure and in- 
herited our immortality. With undimmed, boundless vision we behold 
the shining ocean of life. We enter the radiance and the realm. We 
are filled with infinite power, infinite peace. No longer heirs to the 
Power, we are the Power itself, in all its immeasurable divinity: the 
Power which was from the beginning, which shall outlive all ends. 

As we rise to the vision of the immortal, there is silence, yet a silence 
full of song. There is darkness, yet darkness more radiant than light. 
There is loneliness, yet loneliness full of living souls. The souls of the 
young-eyed immortals are there, who have passed over, and the souls of 
mortals yet unseeing, who shall follow after. We have entered the All, 
the sea of life whose foam and bubbles are the world. 

Then the gloom closes upon us and we return from our illumination, 
descending again to the waking world. As we draw nearer, the whole 
landscape of life opens before us in scenery of shadow and sunshine. 
Sky meets earth on the horizon where we entered. Earth draws up again 
to sky before us, where we shall depart. We see spread forth the country 
where we shall traverse, with hills and valleys levelled, as we view them 
from above. All the road is clear, nor do any formidable dangers 



THE HEART OF THE MYSTERY 125 

threaten to overwhelm us, ere we enter into rest. For one long moment 
of our return, nought is hidden from us of all things that are to come. 

When we unseal the inner fountain, its waters will never more cease 
to flow into our hearts, bringing life and light and everlasting youth. 
Many old well-guarded secrets will come to us and reveal themselves 
in the twilight stillness. Gradually the mists will lift from the infinite 
army of years we have lived of old, and from the long days that are 
to come. This one life of our mortality will take its true place in the 
undivided life, ranged with days vanished, yet still here, with days that 
are not, yet already are. We shall unravel our tangled skein of fate, 
clearly seeing where and why we failed. The sins and sorrows of our 
life will take their true color, in the awful light of the all-seeing soul. 

What each man's genius is, will be whispered to him in the silence, 
when he has found his way back to the immortal life. Thenceforward 
the genius will work in him, handling all the material of life in a new 
and masterly way. The perfect poet and artist, the hero, saint and 
sage differ in this only from other men: that they obey the genius of 
valor and beauty who stands above them, yielding up the reins to their 
divinity, and offering their wills as workers for the light. As there is 
something creative and unprecedented in the life of every hero, in the 
work of every master of beauty and power, so should it be with us all. 
Our lives should be every moment creative, bearing always the power 
and light that are the sign-manual of our divinity. 

To discover by subtlest intuition the word of the genius to our other 
selves, and in all dealings with them to second the will of the immortal 
even against their mortal selves, is our second task; and we need no 
longer go abroad to find our other selves. They come to us, pressing 
closely round our souls in vision or in blindness, in sadness or mirth, in 
love or hate, as doves and 'hawks tap at lighthouse windows, to be ad- 
mitted from the winter's storms. But above love or hate or sorrow is 
the immemorial essence of our common soul, the holy presence of the 
everlasting life. We must bow to it in all things, dealing with the im- 
mortal in mortals, answering the needs of souls alone. Mortals are at 
strife, but the immortals in them never. All move in the one Life. 

Yet when the last word is said, we are finally concerned, not with 
the works of our wills, nor with our other selves, but with the immortal 
Life that gives them life. Our loves and other selves concern us because 
they are of the Soul. But there is somewhat greater and more august 
than the Soul's sunbeams, however radiant and full of beauty. There 
is the infinite Soul itself, the perfect undivided Life. Thither at last 
shall all our footsteps tend. Thither when our works are ended, when 
we have reached oneness with our other selves, shall we come to rest, 
losing ourselves and them and all things to find them again in the im- 
mortal Life. 

CHARLES JOHNSTON. 



THEOSOPHY AND SECULAR 
LITERATURE 

VI 

WORDSWORTH'S PRELUDE 

Of joy in widest commonalty spread; 
Of the individual Mind that keeps her own 
Inviolate retirement, subject there 
To Conscience only, and the law supreme 
Of that Intelligence which governs all 
/ sing ; "fit audience let me find though few!" 
****** 

Descend, prophetic Spirit! that inspir'st 

The human Soul of universal earth, 

Dreaming on things to come; and dost possess 

A metropolitan temple in the hearts 

Of mighty Poets: upon me bestow 

A gift of genuine insight; that my Song 

With star-like virtue in its place may shine, 

Shedding benignant influence, and secure, 

Itself, from all malevolent effect 

Of those mutations that extend their sway 

Throughout the nether sphere! 

THE wise author of The Creed of Buddha laments that the West- 
ern world "by its instinctive disbelief in the soul is constrained 
to identify Nature with the world without." It is through this 
disbelief that Wordsworth's verse, more than any English poet's 
has missed a just appreciation. To the casual admirer, Wordsworth is 
merely the poet of out-of-doors; he proffers balm and unguents to hurt 
souls infected with the maladie du siecle. His poetic structure is the sani- 
torium of poetic neurasthenics. The harassed mind, irritated and depressed 
by the unlovableness of human nature, journeys to Wordsworth's verse as 
"the world's sweet inn from pain and troublesome turmoil." In his lyrics, 
one can revel in the loveliness of inanimate things a violet by a mossy 
stone, the daffodils in sprightly dance, the cuckoo's twofold shout are 
a Lethean bath for the weary, tear-stained groper in life's cul-de-sac; he 
straitway forgets the real world and the cruel spectacle that man has 
made of man. 

He found us when the age had bound 

Our souls in its benumbing round; 

He spoke, and loosed our hearts in tears. 

He laid us as we lay at birth 

On the cool flowery lap of earth, 

The hills were round us, and the breeze 

Went o'er the sun-lit fields again ; 

Our foreheads felt the wind and rain. 

it6 



THEOSOPHY AND SECULAR LITERATURE 127 

Wordsworth is not the singer of the visible, tangible, audible loveli- 
ness of outer things. He is the Seer of the Soul. He is the most spiritual 
of England's pinnacled poets. His light is not dazzling like Shelley's 
"flush of rose on peaks divine" ; it burns with an unflickering flame, diffus- 
ing mild radiance. In his writing he carefully discriminates between the 
immortal world of "Nature" and nature which is only a lovely veil 
suffused with the color of the Light glowing behind it. The wonder is 
that those who swiftly or slowly run through his verse do not read the 
plain statements plainly written there. For Wordsworth was as conscious 
of his mission as was Dante. He knew that he was "a renovated spirit 
singled out for holy services," and, to that end, robed in the priestly 
vestments of verse. 

Nel ciel che piu della sua luce prende 
Fu' io, 

the Florentine wrote, and prayed fervently to holy Apollo for aid in 
setting forth the wonders of the Celestial land. So, Wordsworth entering 
the "main region of his song," beseeches Divine Guidance along the path. 

Urania, I shall need 

Thy guidance, or a greater Muse, if such 
Descend to earth or dwell in highest heaven! 
For I must tread on shadowy ground, must sink 
Deep and, aloft ascending, breathe in worlds 
To which the heaven of heavens is but a veil. 

The aim of Dante's poem is "to bring those who are living in this life 
out of the state of misery, and to guide them to the state of happiness." 
Wordsworth's aim is the same . . . 

By words 

Which speak of nothing more than what we are, 
I would arouse the sensual from their sleep 
Of Death, and win the vacant and the vain 
To noble raptures. 

Like Dante, too, Wordsworth reached the heaven of heavens through the 
wilderness of the world. 

If I oft 

Must turn elsewhere to travel near the tribes 
And fellowships of men, and see ill sights 
Of madding passions mutually inflamed ; 
Must hear Humanity in fields and groves 
Pipe solitary anguish ; or must hang 
Brooding above the fierce confederate storm 
Of sorrow, barricadoed evermore 
Within the walls of cities may these sounds 
Have their authentic comment ; that even these 
Hearing, I be not downcast or forlorn! 

When Wordsworth reached his thirtieth year, he felt that his Lehr 
and Wanderj'dhre had ended. He had lived through his revolutionary 



128 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

ardor for France, and had become a supporter of the good old cause. He 
had returned from Germany to quiet domesticity at Grasmere, where his 
friend Calvert's legacy would insure freedom from vocational anxiety. 
His priestly function must now begin. Wordsworth, accordingly, made 
preparation for a monumental poem that should have for theme the 
being and destiny of "Man, Nature and Society." Before beginning that 
ambitious work Wordsworth set about a review of his own life a retro- 
spect of the path already trod for the purpose of gaining assurance that 
his experience fitted him for the philosophical poem contemplated. This 
review of his life became a long autobiographical poem, and was finished 
in 1805 ; but, as a personal record, it was not published until after his 
death in 1850. As subsidiary to the magnum opus he entitled it The 
Prelude, or Growth of a Poet's Mind; and he thought it would bear the 
relation to the great work that the ante-chapel bears to a cathedral. He 
thought also that the magnum opus would integrate all his lyrics and 
minor pieces, and that they would be to the cathedral as "cells, oratories, 
and sepulchral recesses." Wordsworth's cathedral was never built. We 
must worship in the ante-chapel and oratories. 

Just in the period when Wordsworth was putting his biography into 
verse, he wrote also the familiar ode which it is customary to print at the 
end of his minor poems as their summation and consummation "On the 
Intimations of Immortality." This ode is a very brief, impersonal form 
of the Prelude. It is the Prelude with all personalities, facts, and local- 
ities eliminated it is the biography generalised. The ode indicates very 
briefly the cycle of humanity, "aus der Ewigkeit zu der Ewigkeit hin," 
the descent out of God, the inevitable yoke of earth, 

Heavy as frost and deep almost as life, 

the final return to the enchanted hills of Heaven. The subject of the ode 
is the child's intuitive knowledge of reality, and Wordsworth was able 
to write vividly upon this theme out of his personal experience. "Nothing 
was more difficult for me in childhood," he wrote, and repeated it often 
in conversation, "than to admit the notion of death as a state applicable 
to my own being. I have said elsewhere 

A simple child, 
That lightly draws its breath, 
And feels its life in every limb, 
What should it know of death ! 

But it was not so much from feelings of animal vivacity that my difficulty 
came as from a sense of the indomitableness of the Spirit within me. 
I used to brood over the stories of Enoch and Elijah, and almost to 
persuade myself that, whatever might become of others, I should be trans- 
lated, in something of the same way, to heaven. With a feeling congenial 
to this, I was often unable to think of external things as having external 
existence, and I communed with all that I saw as something not apart 



THEOSOPHY AND SECULAR LITERATURE 129 

from, but inherent in, my own immaterial nature. Many times while 
going to school have I grasped at a wall or tree to recall myself from this 
abyss of idealism to the reality." 

The Prelude treats the same subject as the ode, more expansively, 
with meandering and bending back upon itself like a meadow-brook 
every winding and turn serving as a covert for choice blossoms, cowslips, 
lilies, and ferns. The Prelude tells in detail what influences fostered 
Wordsworth's intuitive faculties, what tended to dull them, how the eye 
of his spirit went fast asleep during the revolutionary period in France, 
leaving only his rational mind at work, until his higher nature rose again 
to power. 

Wordsworth's idyllic life by the northern waters, his companions, 
the Boy of Winander, are all old tales. What a wonderful picture this 
is of a youth of seventeen? 

How shall I seek the origin? where find 
Faith in the marvellous things which then I felt? 
Oft in these moments such a holy calm 
Would overspread my soul, that bodily eyes 
Were utterly forgotten, and what I saw 
Appeared like something in myself, a dream, 
A prospect in the mind. 

'Twere long to tell 

What spring and autumn, what the winter snows, 
And what the summer shade, what day and night, 
Evening and morning, sleep and waking, thought 
From sources inexhaustible, poured forth 
To feed the spirit of religious love 
In which I walked with Nature. 

How refreshing in view of all the nonsense written about his failure 
justly to appreciate rhythm and metre, books and poetry, is Words- 
worth's account of his early delight in rhythmic sound 

Twice five years 

Or less I might have seen, when first my mind 
With conscious pleasure opened to the charm 
Of words in tuneful order, found them sweet 
For their own sakes, a passion, and a power ; 
And phrases pleased me chosen for delight, 
For pomp, or love. 

The last extract I shall make from The Prelude is taken out of the 
concluding portion of the poem. Wordsworth is telling of the final 
restoration of his spiritual vision after a period of rationalistic fever. 
The context describes a moonlight ascent of Mt. Snowdon in Wales. 
That night is memorable to Wordsworth because, like Teufelsdroechk on 
the mountain summit, he is once more able to see in the objects around 
him types and symbols of Eternity. "Of first, and last, and midst, and 
without end." 



130 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

Lo! as I looked up, 
The Moon hung naked in a firmament 
Of azure without cloud, and at my feet 
Rested a silent sea of hoary mist. 
A hundred hills their dusky backs upheaved 
All over this still ocean; and beyond, 
Far, far beyond, the solid vapors stretched, 
In headlands, tongues, and promontory shapes, 
Into the main Atlantic, that appeared 
To dwindle, and give up his majesty, 
Usurped upon far as the sight could reach. 
Not so the ethereal vault; encroachment none 
Was there, nor loss ; only the inferior stars 
Had disappeared, or shed a fainter light 
In the clear presence of the full-orbed Moon, 
Who, from her soverign elevation, gazed 
Upon the billowy ocean, as it lay 
All meek and silent, save that through a rift 
Not distant from the shore whereon we stood, 
A fixed, abysmal, gloomy, breathing-place 
Mounted the roar of waters, torrents, streams 
Innumerable, roaring with one voice! 
Heard over earth and sea, and, in that hour, 
For so it seemed, felt by the starry heavens. 

When into air had partially dissolved 
That vision, given to spirits of the night 
And three chance human wanderers, in calm thought 
Reflected, it appeared to me the type 
Of a majestic intellect, its acts 
And its possessions, what it has and craves, 
What in itself it is, and would become. 
There I beheld the emblem of a mind 
That feeds upon infinity, that broods 
Over the dark abyss, intent to hear 
Its voices issuing forth to silent light 
In one continuous stream ; a mind sustained 
By recognitions of transcendent power, 
In sense conducting to ideal form, 
In soul of more than mortal privilege. 

This last extract points the way to a true understanding of Words- 
worth's relation to the external world of nature. The outer world was 
to him the transparent veil through which Nature shines. Wordsworth 
lived in a world of life, by sensible impressions not enthralled, but 
quickened by their impulse. The daffodil the daisy, the skylark, the 
linnet offered him opportunities for drawing close to the Source. They 
make his heart dance with rapture because they flash upon his "inward 
eye." They are sweet silent creatures that breathe with him in sun and 
air. They share with him partnership in the great mystery. 

C. 



FIRST STEPS 



THERE are many ways of doing a thing. Life is a series of 
different attempts to reach one goal discipleship. Many do this 
consciously most, unconsciously. To those who are earnestly 
seeking to see the Light, to serve humanity, and who for these 
reasons long to become disciples, there are given certain fixed laws and 
principles, a right understanding of which is the first task. Our western 
minds find some of these ideas very difficult to hold because of their 
strange flavor, and, what we call, peculiarly eastern turn. Chelaship to 
me used to mean something almost unnatural and foreign to the work 
of a real man. I wanted to be a disciple ; yes, but not exactly that kind. 
I knew in my heart I could be one though not, I thought, in that way 
so there must be some other. Then I read the first volume of Letters 
That Have Helped Me where much is said about chelaship, and an 
account given of a self -constituted disciple that to me was most helpful 
and inspiring. In this Z says " Any person can constitute himself a 
lay chela," and again, "We become chelas." I think that in this lies the 
crux of the question. It is not a matter of going to India, or meeting 
one's Guru, it is a matter of becoming a disciple. We have to do it our- 
selves; we have to do it sooner or later; and until we have reached a 
certain point, we have no power or right to expect direct help. Maybe 
we have read Theosophy, maybe we do believe in the Lodge and the 
Masters, maybe we are weary of waiting, knowing we are not perfect, 
and wishing that "Time, the great deluder, were not so over-masterful ;" 
but does that give us the right to expect a miracle, a sudden transforma- 
tion ; or the right to call on the great forces for good to give of themselves 
to us ? Did merely wishing ever accomplish anything ? And are we going 
to wait supinely for some change in us or in our lives? 

We become chelas. We do not have to go to some Hall of Learning 
in the far East; but on the contrary, we must learn to act as chelas in 
our own homes before we can ever hope to go to such a place. True, 
we are not able to mediate all day with some beautiful mountain scenery 
just outside the window to inspire us but if we were there now, would 
or could we mediate every day and all day? That is not yet our way. 
Our own homes can be our Halls of Learning, and once so constituted by 
ourselves, with oneself a chela within that Hall, the result will follow. 
For in very truth when we have done this we are lay chelas and the first 
step is taken. This vow being made with oneself, the next task is to 
find the best means of so ordering and conducting our lives as best to 
realize the ideal we may have formed of chelaship (however imaginary) 
because we shall most easily obey that. In any Lodge or even in any 
Monastic order there is strict discipline, enforced with military rigor. 



i 3 2 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

But how is that discipline maintained? Surely not by any police system, 
where some servants of a Master spy on the chelas to see if they keep to 
their hours and do not eat too much. The chela on the contrary is left 
to himself, and when the time comes that he has completed the task set 
him, the Master knows it and so does the chela. 

The duty we have before us is the discipline of the lower nature, so 
called; and to bring it under the complete control of the higher will. 
Whatever else we may do with ourselves, whether we "form an ideal" 
which Cave says is the first step; whether we strive for obedience; 
whether we endeavor to reach the Master through meditation all of 
these can only be maintained steadfastly, and finally accomplished suc- 
cessfully, by a constant pressure on our lower natures by self -discipline. 
T,he average man disciplines himself very little. If he finds some fault 
preventing a promotion, he may strive to root it out, but he is not so rigid 
about faults in the home life; and as far as his inner thoughts are 
concerned, he is self-indulgence personified. A man usually gets his 
discipline from life a chela must learn in addition to discipline himself. 
This does not imply asceticism, does not mean that a man should grind 
himself against a self-imposed mill-stone. Is it not reasonable that if 
he wishes to assume the responsibility to Nature for his acts, and wishes 
to perform those in the best way possible he should now follow Nature's 
law in all its branches. Nature punishes mistakes. Nature teaches her 
greatest lessons through failure. So we should punish our mistakes, 
and teach ourselves by our punishments. Many people think they can 
learn a lesson even from a failure and escape the punishment. Often it 
seems so, and human nature has an unfortunate cleverness in avoiding 
for a time the consequences of its acts; but a day of retribution is sure 
to follow, when, because we suffer, we are grieved and feel ourselves 
unfairly treated. The chela strives to avoid this delay and he wishes to 
get a clearer insight into his faults by seeing more closely the effect of 
a given cause. 

There are many ways of self -discipline. One of the first methods is 
to have a rule of life and to follow that. Chelas in the Lodge are required 
to make their own rules. If you wish to be a chela some day, try in your 
position as a lay chela to imitate that which they do. Make your own 
rule of life, and punish yourself when you break it. Teach yourself 
obedience by your self-imposed rule. You are coming closer to the 
Master every time you do this. How do you think you could obey some 
difficult and perhaps disagreeable order of the Master, if you could not 
exact at least partial obedience from your lower nature, could not make 
it do what it was told? 

You may well say that a rule of conduct a rule that would apply 
to all days and all circumstances, would be very difficult to draw up. 
It is; but in the Lodge, chelas have to do this; the Master does not at 
first give the chela a rule, he simply tells the chela to make one and obey 



FIRST STEPS 133 

it. So sooner or later you will have to do it, and now is always the best 
time. This can be your next step if you make it so. 

A rule should not be too complicated, or go too much into detail, 
because every day may bring unforseen accidents or changes. But certain 
fixed laws you can make for yourself and these you should hold to with 
all your might. Every rule I ever heard of requires at least one-half 
hour in the day for meditation or reading, preferably the morning, 
because you are refreshed by a night's sleep; and during sleep, we are 
told, the Higher Self receives instruction and strength. This half hour is 
difficult for a busy man to make, but it can be done. I know of one case 
where a young business man, who had to be at the office at seven-thirty, 
woke himself up every morning a half hour earlier than usual and sacri- 
ficed sleep to the call of duty. That was little enough to do, and yet how 
many would wake themselves at six every morning no matter when they 
went to bed or how tired they were? During that half-hour, read, pray, 
or meditate as best suits your temperament; but remember always that 
the time you chose should be thereafter strictly kept, and no change made 
without sufficient cause. Try to act as if that time were an engagement 
with the Master, try to realize his presence and think of him as near 
you and watching your every thought and effort with special closeness, 
because of that effort itself. Soon you would not miss your appoint- 
ment with him for anything; and the benefit that you would get from a 
steady continuance of this rule would alter the whole atmosphere of your 
life. Try it and see. 

In addition to this half-hour, many people find it a help and a 
reminder to appoint other times in the day such as may fit in with their 
personal schedule. At twelve, for instance, when all the clocks are 
striking and whistles blowing, you might agree with yourself to pause a 
moment and to recollect, to say a prayer, or to read some short paragraph 
in a religious book. Whatever leisure time you have should be carefully 
and systematically mapped out, every half hour having its appointed 
duty. That duty may be the reading of a novel or some other form of 
recreation, but once you decide to read from 9.30 to 10 read, and at ten 
stop, if so appointed, no matter what the hero is doing. Such discipline 
is the finest training, and is in the reach and possibility of any man no 
matter what his walk of life. Think out your duties carefully, and do 
not make your life a burden; but remember that what you are doing 
is being watched with the keenest interest and the greatest love, however 
unconscious you may be of it. Such a rule is the kind of a rule that 
exists in the Lodge, and the more earnest a seeker you are, the more truly 
you desire to learn, to know, to become so much the more will you 
regulate your time and adhere to that which you have commenced. Until 
you have done this for a considerable time at least, until you have proved 
that you can be relied upon, you may not expect any special help. If 
you do follow such a course of action earnestly, steadfastly, rising above 



i 3 4 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

disappointment and failure, you will most surely attract the attention 
you desire. Such efforts are too precious ever to be overlooked, though 
you can be no judge of the length of time that it should take before your 
reward may come. 

As to your daily tasks that constitute your life's work at the time, 
whatever they are, home duties, business, teaching these can only be 
governed by the motive and spirit you put into them. The "quality of 
work done makes no difference" says one of the Masters on this theme. 
Provided we have done our best, the result should not concern us. Learn 
to separate yourself from your work, in the sense that you do not let 
the work or its results have any hold on you. "So the student comes to 
see that he is not to do either 'Good' or 'Evil' (in the accepted sense), 
but to do any certain number of acts set before him, and meanwhile not 
ever to regard much his line of conduct, but rather his line of motive; 
for his conduct follows necessarily from his motive." That is the kind 
of task that is set a real chela, and you, if you desire, are just as capable 
of doing it as anyone. 

As to punishments, do not make them merely disagreeable, but try 
to devise those that will help you to learn your lesson. Follow the old 
rule of cultivating the opposite virtue. If you are late getting up (and 
you should have a fixed hour for rising for many obvious reasons), then 
what was the fault ? Sloth or laziness perhaps. Very well, punish your- 
self by being energetic, working a little overtime, being early for the 
other engagements during the day. By doing this you form good habits 
both of thought and deed, and presently you will almost spring out of 
bed when the time comes. 

Such a rule could and should be made interesting. It should also 
be a matter of growth, because as you come to know yourself better you 
will learn how best to treat your lower nature. But be slow to make 
changes, and do not deceive yourself the tempter always circumvents 
and takes us from behind. A straight frontal attack is rarely possible, 
because he is not there. In your higher moments use your cunning to 
devise ways of heading off defeat and failure, because all our faculties 
not merely sheer will power must be used in order to win this fight. 
We must make our minds help us when we can, because usually they 
are our worst enemy. The whole problem, for a beginner, lies in his 
mental attitude, and by the observance of a rule, the habits of the mind 
become regulated and trained to think in the right channels. Any man 
can impose this training on himself, and every man must, some day. This 
is discipleship. 

This middle stage must eventually be recognized as the connecting 
link. There are, so to speak, three stages. There is the lonely seeker 
after truth, unaided save by the light of his conscience (which becomes 
the Master's voice as he progresses and learns to "hear" in the occult 
sense). There is the accepted chela, who is in conscious communion 



FIRST STEPS 135 

with the Master. What lies between? Nothing but the conscious and 
prolonged effort to reach the higher by obtaining absolute control over 
the lower self. Otherwise we are left to the slow and painful grinding 
of the wheel of Time. Do not think that you have as yet to make a 
mighty effort, to strain every inner nerve to the bursting point in order 
to prove your right to become it is the summation of little efforts that 
makes such a crisis possible. This is the law. And the Masters, the 
holy, patient, long suffering and tireless Masters themselves are the true 
and faithful servants of the law. Learn the law, learn to obey the law 
as it is expressed in your own sense of right and wrong, and you will 
be serving them. Never was service rendered them that was not rewarded 
in most generous measure; so that those who can dimly realize it, are 
filled with awe at such splendidly divine compassion. Every seeker, 
every worker, however humble, helps to carry the great burden; and 
the Masters wait wait through the ages pleadingly, hopefully, asking 
us just to listen, to accept, and to try a little. How many try, even a 
Tittle? 

CASPAR KALTOFF. 



// you want knowledge you must toil for it; if food, you must toil 
for it; and if pleasure, you must toil for it. Toil is the law. Pleasure 
comes by toil and not by self-indulgence and indolence. When one gets 
to love work, his life is a happy one. RUSKIN. 



BROTHERHOOD 



THE principal object of the Theosophical Society has often been 
considered and often misunderstood. Its very simplicity renders 
it perplexing to the complex human mind, that marvelous de- 
ceiver. The simple sentence whose frequent misrepresentation 
has caused so much trouble in the history of the Theosophical Society, 
runs as follows: "To form the nucleus of a Universal Brotherhood of 
Humanity without distinction of race, creed, sex, caste, or color." In 
this sentence the chief word is Brotherhood. If the meaning and claim 
of "Brotherhood" were rightly understood by all members of the Theo- 
sophical Society, then even the possibility of betraying our first and 
principle object would be eliminated from our ranks. It is, therefore, 
worth while to give this matter sincere consideration and continual medi- 
tation. By "continual meditation" I mean that at every moment of our 
lives we should try to live up to our highest ideal of Brotherhood, physi- 
cally, mentally and morally. As real knowledge comes from experience 
through living the life and not from hearsay, study or memory, so know- 
ledge about Brotherhood comes to him who lives the life of Brotherhood. 
But beware of the preconceptions and the intricacies of the lower 
psychic self. Live the life in humble fear of making mistakes; for the 
pitfalls are many, and the unwary will sooner or later find himself caught 
so cunningly that to him it seems as if he only were free, and those who 
do not share his views were the ones entrapped. 

A Master gave us this advice: "Whatsoever ye would that men 
should do to you, do ye even so to them." Another said : "The mind is 
the great Slayer of the Real. Let the Disciple slay the Slayer." But 
these are mere words unless their inner meaning is understood and 
practiced. 

He who has not entirely subdued the personality, the oppressor of 
the mind, is still under the enticing influence of lust and self-gratification 
be it only in their subtler forms. He is still a denizen in the realm 
of illusion and error. Therefore, the disciple must be on his guard 
continually, watching attentively, fighting his lower self relentlessly, or 
else "like a bird caught in the wily fowler's lime, he will be stayed from 
further progress." 

Much is written about Brotherhood in Philosophy, Theosophy, the 
Holy Scriptures and elsewhere. Seven of the Commandments are dis- 
tinct behests of Brotherhood. So is the corresponding second great 
Commandment of the Lord Jesus: "Thou shalt love thy neighbour as 
thyself." The Gospels are filled with directions as to the right practise 
of Brotherhood, and the matter has frequently been commented on in 
theosophical literature. These things we can study for ourselves, and 

136 



BROTHERHOOD 137 

most of us have done so, probably. We may even have, as we think, 
a clear conception of the nature and claim of Brotherhood upon us. 
Meanwhile, the question is a fundamental one for our work, and we can 
gain much by reviewing it from time to time. 

Our object is to form the nucleus of Brotherhood. But a "nucleus" 
is something very powerful. It contains concentrated life. Every 
member of the Theosophical Society is supposed to add a little to the 
power of this life, and every member who tries to work faithfully, accord- 
ing to the principles of true Brotherhood, does so. But any member of 
the Theosophical Society who misrepresents these principles, brings a 
wrong force into the life of the Nucleus. He is directly counteracting 
the efforts of the others. And if in any Branch of the Society the wrong 
force is allowed to grow very powerful, the unavoidable result is the 
failure of that Branch. Thus, to have a clear conception of the nature 
of true Brotherhood, and how it ought to influence our lives, is of vital 
importance to the welfare of the Theosophical Society and of us all. 

The tree is known by its fruits. What, then, are the fruits of the 
life-tree of Brotherhood? 

Among people at large brotherliness is judged according to speech 
and action. Brotherly action and brotherly speech are, however, outer 
effects of inner causes, the resultant of our thoughts, desires, ambitions, 
vanities, and fears, or of the forces that oppress mind and heart. These 
powers constitute our inner or real life, whose expression in the outer 
world is largely determined by the will of the oppressors. And among 
the oppressors fear, ambition and self-love generally take the lead. 
They do not allow other forces to express themselves to such degree 
that their own special interests should suffer thereby. They are the 
clever computers that calculate results, the originators of our motives. 
They are the polishers of speech and action among people at large. Thus, 
just as delicious-looking fruit may have a bitter taste, so sweet speech 
and tender actions may be displayed by one whose heart is full of 
bitterness. There are unworthy imitations in all fields, and much of 
customary charitableness and philanthropic activity may be classed among 
the imitations. 

If one has shown kindness in such a way that another is "uplifted" 
by it; i. e., if the act has, be it only for a moment, roused in the heart 
a sensation of love and thankfulness, then he has indeed acted as a brother 
towards that other man. If, on the other hand, the kindness is shown, 
or the gift is handed in a manner that leaves the receiver cold and hard, 
or perhaps offends him, or causes an unpleasant feeling of indebtedness, 
then the draught offered our thirsty Brother was mixed with gall. We 
failed to give heed to our motives and to the real need of our Brother 
as well. Even if the selfishness of our motives be concealed to the outer 
sense the receiver will instinctively feel its presence, and it will poison 
his inner life. 



138 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

The possibility of being misunderstood is of course always at hand. 
We may conscientiously try to act from correct principles and may 
earnestly wish to do what is right; but the subtler discernment which 
should help us to uplift instead of offending may be lacking. Out- 
benevolence and sympathy are not strong and unselfish enough to induce 
the corresponding feelings in our Brother's heart. We can only gain 
these divine powers of discrimination and sympathy by long and attentive 
practice of charity according to our highest conception of the principles 
of Brotherhood. 

And it must be remembered that principles are not outer appearances, 
but inner realities. They are impersonal, and, when applied to Brother- 
hood they call for justice in our dealings with individuals as well as with 
nations. They are opposed to doing injustice to any single human being, 
or even to ourselves, though it were for the alleged purpose of benefitting 
the whole race. And as inner realities they claim growth from within. 
A philanthropy that works for the benefit of man by trying to enforce 
laws and rules tending to improve the outer conditions of physical life, 
without due regard to individual rights and personal free will, may seem 
wise to the mind, but to the Soul, the Real Man, it is the opposite of 
wisdom. To work for the race on such lines is to try to bring about 
fair outer effects, while the corresponding inner conditions are as yet 
lacking. It is like making an artificial oak which always remains dead 
and therefore soon rots when exposed to the changes of the weather, 
instead of planting the healthy acorn, from which, by natural growth 
from within, a mighty tree may develop, powerful enough to resist 
climatic change. 

Those who call themselves Theosophists, who wish to label philan- 
thropic work on material lines as theosophical, and claim sympathetic 
interest in the name of Brotherhood, ought to remember that the inner 
conditions will unavoidably call forth the corresponding outer circum- 
stances, just as the rate of vibration of a string decides the pitch of the 
audible tone produced. And they ought also to take into consideration 
the fact that the improvement of outer conditions may have just the 
opposite effect on the inner life, and make it more difficult for the race 
to give up earthly enjoyments and turn mind and heart from the mortal 
to the immortal. Charity must of course be practised within the Theo- 
Sophical Society as well as in the outer world, and as citizens we may 
join in any philanthropic activity that attracts us; but it is advisable, 
before we spend time and energy in it, to analyze closely the nature 
and motives for such work and its effects on those we wish to benefit. 

In the Bhagavad Gita, Chapter 17, we find a description of that 
speech and of those gifts that spring from the three qualities of nature. 
It may be worth while to study this chapter in order to find out which 
quality is predominating in our own speech and gifts. 

It is said that if only a glass of water be offered to a thirsty Brother 



BROTHERHOOD 139 

with love and sympathy, this act of kindness will produce a feeling of 
warmth and thankfulness in that Brother's heart, thus touching the life 
of the soul which is to be found beyond the outer life of every human 
being. Perhaps, till then, the life of this soul in its present incarnation 
had had little, if any, conscious contact with the soul-life of others. 
Perhaps in this incarnation it had never had a conscious feeling of 
relationship to other souls or an idea of its oneness with all souls in the 
Over-Soul. Perhaps it had been like a closed-up underground sea. And 
perhaps, by our seemingly insignificant brotherly action, we have given to 
this sea an outlet and have caused its waters to flow more or less abun- 
dantly, thus making a Brother's life richer and more fruitful. This is 
the uplifting of a Brother; this is the practise of true Brotherhood. 

Therefore, charity must be practised in due time and place and on 
the right principles, and our gift, be it only a glass of water, must Be 
followed by that strong sympathy which flows from the feeling in our 
hearts that every fellowman, even the meanest and most degraded among 
us, is a human soul and as such our equal, nay, even more than that, 
a part of ourselves through our unity in the One Soul. Every human 
soul is a Brother whose fate is not independent of ours, a Brother 
whose keeper each one of us is in a very real sense. 

Gentleness of speech is one of the most prevalent injunctions of all 
founders of religion. The perfection of this virtue is, in Light on the 
Path, described in this way : "Before the voice can speak in the presence 
of the Masters it must have lost its power to wound." This saying is 
hardly understood by many, and it is hardly possible to explain it intel- 
ligibly in words. Everyone has to find out for himself what it means to 
him. To some it might seem synonymous with silence or as an encour- 
agement to hypocrisy. We know better; but we are, nevertheless, 
puzzled when trying to determine the true meaning of this highly spiritual 
exhortation. We are not told to deal loosely with truth, but to be sym- 
pathetic. The truth can be told in many ways, and the best way is that 
which does not wound. 

Meanwhile, experience testifies constantly that people are disposed 
to resent words that stir their consciences, even if spoken in the abstract. 
In this case, however, the real cause of offence is not in the speaker, but 
in the listener's alarmed conscience. 

It is said: "Judge not," and "Why beholdest thou the mote that is 
in thy brother's eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own 
eye? . . . Thou hypocrite, first cast out the beam out of thine own 
eye, and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy 
brother's eye." If we live up to this injunction we shall never run the 
risk of needlessly offending anyone, because there will be left us no 
opportunity to reproach others, until there is nothing more to blame in 
ourselves. And for most of us this condition will be found to be very 
far off, if our own self-examination be unfeigned and thorough. 



140 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

The above quoted injunction does not forbid us, when discussing 
theosophical and other questions, to point out wherein we think another 
is wrong. This is a matter of opinion, and his views may after all be 
better than our own. We have only to discuss the question in a brotherly 
spirit and to show tolerance. It is, as we know, one of the purposes of 
the Theosophical Society to form a platform for free and tolerant 
discussion. 

This does not mean that we are never to correct faults. It may 
be our duty to do so in many cases in domestic and social life. Thus 
it is the duty of parents towards their children, and of teachers 
towards their pupils. And we are often in the position of teachers, e.g., 
when we are superiors or when a fellowman of his own free will is asking 
our advice and guidance. Our instruction must, however, under all 
circumstances, be given with kindness and sympathy. Then if the pupil 
objects openly or secretly to instruction, it is his fault. He does not 
understand, perhaps, because no one has told him, that there exists a 
sacred relationship between him and his natural or chosen teacher. And 
even if the judgment of the present teacher does not help to solve our 
difficulties, and even if his instruction seems to be lacking in the spirit 
of love and sympathy, still we ought to listen to him attentively and with 
thankfulness, because he is our temporary teacher, natural or chosen, in 
that special case, and he gives what he can, according to his inner 
disposition. And though the love and sympathy should be mutual 
between teacher and pupil, the absence of these qualities in one of them 
is no proper excuse for their absence in the other. This applies especially 
to those who wish to live the life according to the doctrine of the Heart. 

If, on the other hand, we are not in the position of a teacher, then 
we have no right whatever to correct the real or supposed deficiencies of 
others; when we make that attempt, experience shows, if we only have 
the power to look deeply enough into the inner life, that we have 
aggravated the condition of the friend, who is the object of our improper 
instruction. 

Besides, when inclined to correct faults in another without being in 
the position of his teacher, we ought to remember, that our views are 
not infallible, and that as a rule it is better and more instructive for 
our Brother to act upon his own conviction instead of blindly following 
the views of another. It is also wise to examine into our motives in 
order to see whether our kind intention to improve him may not be a 
secret prompting of the personality to self-assertion. 

The principles of true Brotherhood demand readiness to give and 
to receive personal help and advice, when it is our duty to do so, but 
not otherwise. And, as pointed out above, it is our duty, only when 
we are in the position of teacher or pupil. In all other cases the best 
way to help is by example. 

If we do not judge anyone, nor have aught against anyone, but 



BROTHERHOOD 141 

always think of our fellowmen with love and sympathy, then we can 
never feel inclined to tell them of their faults, nor to backbite or to give 
hints about any of their real or supposed failings. To expose deficiencies 
in a man's character is even more unbecoming than to point at some bodily 
disfigurement. The personal human Psyche must be treated with more 
consideration than its earthly apparition, the body. 

When we are aware of faults in another, then we have only to try 
to look for our own. This will give much insight into human nature. 
And instead of telling our comrades their faults we should warn them 
in the abstract against the vices and deficiencies predominent in ourselves 
and in the world. But there is no occasion to confess our own faults, 
nor to expose others. We owe respect to ourselves as well as to our 
fellowmen. 

Then we have to make right the inner attitude towards others. 
This aspect of brotherliness has already been mentioned, because the 
right inner attitude is inseparable from right action and right speech, 
unless action and speech are base hypocrisy only. People of good breed- 
ing are supposed to behave gently towards others, whether they like or 
dislike them. But the disciple must overcome that sensation of dislike, 
and the remedy is to look to the soul of the person who causes this 
unbrotherly feeling. Dislike must be replaced by sympathetic compre- 
hension. 

The twin-brother of dislike is suspicion, and this is perhaps the 
most fatal of all our moral defects because of its proneness to cause 
misunderstanding, to misinterpret, to multiply, to color and even to make 
evidence out of nothing. If suspicion is not throttled, it will kill our 
sympathy towards that person whom we distrust. We must replace 
suspicion with confidence. Then if we are deceived sometimes, we 
should again look to the soul of the deceiver, and our disappointment will 
be stripped of its bitterness, because we shall feel the sufferings of that 
soul, and compassion and warm sympathy for it will fill our hearts, just 
as the mother's heart is filled with love and compassion for her suffering 
child. 

There are many more defects in our inner attitude towards our 
fellowmen, but as they can all be abolished by the universal remedy, 
warm sympathy towards all, we need not go into further details. Be- 
sides, the two dislike and suspicion cover the whole range. And if 
suspicion and dislike are replaced by trust and sympathy, then the inner 
attitude of true Brotherhood is already established. 

So in all our relations to our fellowmen the all-important aim is 
to be guided by that uniting power which flows from warm sympathy. 
It is just here that so many fail, even some of those who strive for 
perfection in true Brotherhood. Meanwhile, to exercise self-control is 
very difficult, since a fault, when its grosser aspects are conquered, always 
tries to assert itself afresh in a subtler way. We can, therefore, never 



142 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

be too particular in our self-examination. We must dig deeper and 
deeper into our innermost recesses, and we must at the same time 
remember that human nature is one with the whole of Nature and there- 
fore as extensive. Then we shall understand how necessary it is to 
be on guard, and that our keeping watch must be continued throughout 
the whole range of the incarnations of the soul, or till it has once more 
become one with the Father in Heaven. 

To recapitulate: Brotherhood demands of us that we should never 
judge anyone, never have aught against anyone, never find fault or feel 
inclined to expose the deficiencies of others. And the principal reason 
is, that every fellowman without exception is a soul, our equal in being 
and dignity and one with our soul through our common origin in the 
Universal Soul. This oneness of the soul is the rationale and the funda- 
mental principle of Universal Brotherhood, the nature and the demands 
of which I have tried to sketch as they present themselves to me. If we 
accept these principles and make them the standard of our lives, i.e., if 
we try to draw men to us with love and sympathy, then we shall come 
in touch with their souls and set into activity corresponding powers in 
their lives. We are then true workers in the divine vineyard and 
co-workers with Nature which exists for the purposes of the soul only. 

But while we are trying to live the life of Brotherhood we shall 
find that when the fire of ungoverned passion has been quenched, and 
the life of the personality is flowing smoother, there is still self-love in 
its subtler aspects parting us from our fellowmen. There is the fear of 
being dwarfed by others, the craving for self-assertion is yet powerful, 
sensitiveness in our daily intercourse with others, inclination to feel hurt 
if our opinions are not esteemed as much as we desire, some small 
suspicions as to the uprightness of others in all these ways the per- 
sonality tries to keep up its separate existence, and all are evidences of 
the fact that we still love ourselves more than our neighbours. And if 
there arise, be it only as a flash in our inner life, a sensation towards 
even the meanest of our fellowmen, which cannot be classed as warm 
sympathy, then we may be sure that there is still something for us to 
overcome. 

The demands of Brotherhood are very exacting, few are able to 
live the life of true Brotherhood to perfection if only for a single day, 
or for a single hour. But we are all able to try to live that life, and by so 
doing we are adding a little to the power and life of the nucleus of 
Universal Brotherhood, which it is the purpose of our Society to create. 
By endeavouring to make the principles of true Brotherhood a living 
power in our lives, we are gradually advancing nearer to that sublime 
goal of being, which it is our hope and aspiration one day to reach. By 
our warm sympathy for others we shall draw them to us, thus helping 
them and making it easier for them to overcome the obstacles that are 



BROTHERHOOD 143 

yet to be removed in their long and weary journey to the mansions of 
Truth. 

To be allowed to partake in this uplifting work is a great trust, 
a great privilege, and we ought not to fail in doing our duty to the best 
of our ability. Our duties and our work seem to be laid before us more 
clearly and more intelligibly than ever before. We have only to work 
on. We are, no doubt, all of us willing to carry out our part of the 
work, but the flesh is frail and the possibility of failure is not far off. 
Meanwhile, the Master who is watching every one of us, is far more 
anxious to help us than we are to receive help. We may call this Master 
the Spirit of Truth. It remains only for us to make our hearts and 
inner lives susceptible of his guidance. In order to do this we must 
be attentive listeners to that inaudible voice which speaks to us when we 
have silenced the clamor of body and mind, the voice of the Con- 
science. It is the Genius of man that is ever trying to break through 
the clouds surrounding the personality and to manifest in the outer world. 
It is the promised guide to Truth who shall lead us from darkness to 
that wonderful light that illumines the world of righteousness and of 
true Brotherhood. 

T. H. KNOFF. 



Wisdom is only knowing what is best to do next. Virtue is 
doing it. DAVID STARR JORDAN. 



PATANJALI'S YOGA SUTRAS * 

TRANSLATED WITH A COMMENTARY 

BY 
CHARLES JOHNSTON 



THE last part of the last book needs little introduction. In a 
sense, it is the most important part of the whole treatise, since 
it unmasks the nature of the personality, that psychical "mind," 
which is the wakeful enemy of all who seek to tread the path. 
Even now, you can hear it whispering the doubt whether that can be 
a good path, which thus sets "mind" at defiance. 

If this, then, be the most vital and fundamental part of the teaching, 
should it not stand first at the very beginning? Reader, it may seem 
so; but had it stood there, you would not have comprehended it. The 
riddle of personality cannot be so lightly read. If you have faithfully 
followed what has gone before, and wrought it, as you would be wise 
to do, into the fabric of your life, then you have already come to grips 
with personality, and gained, let us hope, some preliminary victories. 

If you have done this, you are now in a position to understand the 
broad outlines of the teaching now set before you. If not, go back 
over it, for the record of the teaching is extant, and ready to your hand ; 
and the task and the foe are also ready to your hand; likely, indeed, 
so to remain for some time yet. Therefore you can set about your 
lesson, and wage your fight. And thus you will truly learn. For he who 
would know the doctrine must lead the life, doing the will of his Father 
which is in Heaven. 

TRANSLATION OF BOOK IV, PART II 

1 8. The movements of the psychic nature are perpetually objects 
of perception, since the Spiritual Man, who is the lord of them, 
remains unchanging. 

Here is teaching of the utmost import, both for understanding and 
for practice. 

To the psychic nature belongs all the ebb and flow of emotion, all 
hoping and fearing, desire and hate: the things that make the multitude 
of men and women deem themselves happy or miserable. To it also 
belong the measuring and comparing, the doubt and questioning, which, 
for the same multitude, make up mental life. So that there results the 
emotion-soaked personality, with its dark and narrow view of life: the 



* Copyright, 1909, by Charles Johnston. 



PATANJALI'S YOGA SUTRAS 145 

shivering, terror-driven personality that is life itself for all but all 
of mankind. 

Yet the personality is not the true man, not the living soul at all, 
but only a spectacle which the true man observes. Understand this, 
therefore, and draw yourself up inwardly to the height of the Spiritual 
Man, who, standing in the quiet light of the Eternal, looks down serene 
upon this turmoil of the outer life. 

One first masters the personality, the "mind," by thus looking down 
on it from above, from within; by steadily watching its ebb and flow, as 
objective, outward, and therefore not the real Self. This standing back 
is the first step, detachment. The second, to maintain the vantage- 
ground thus gained, is recollection. 

19. The Mind is not self-luminous, since it can be seen as an 
object. 

This is a further step toward overthrowing the tyranny of the 
"mind" : the psychic nature of emotion and mental measuring. This 
psychic self, the personality, claims to be absolute, asserting that life is 
for it and through it; it seeks to impose on the whole being of man its 
narrow, materialistic, faithless view of life and the universe; it would 
fain clip the wings of the soaring Soul. But the Soul dethrones the 
tyrant, by perceiving and steadily affirming that the psychic self is no 
true self at all, not self-luminous, but only an object of observation, 
watched by the serene eyes of the Spiritual Man. 

20. Nor could the Mind at the same time know itself and things 
external to it. 

The truth is that the "mind" knows neither external things nor itself. 
Its measuring and analysing, its hoping and fearing, hating and desiring, 
never give it a true measure of life, nor any sense of real values. Cease- 
lessly active, it never really attains to knowledge; or, if we admit its 
knowledge, it ever falls short of wisdom, which comes only through 
intuition, the vision of the Spiritual Man. 

Life cannot be known by the "mind," its secrets cannot be learned 
through the "mind." The proof is, the ceaseless strife and contradiction 
of opinion among, those who trust in the mind. Much less can the "mind" 
know itself, the more so, because it is pervaded by the illusion that it 
truly knows, truly is. 

True knowledge of the "mind" comes, first, when the Spiritual 
Man, arising, stands detached, regarding the "mind" from above, with 
quiet eyes, and seeing it for the tangled web of psychic forces that it truly 
is. But the truth is divined long before it is clearly seen, and then 
begins the long battle of the "mind" against the Real, the "mind" fight- 
ing furiously, craftily, for its supremacy. Its honor rooted in dishonor 
stands, and faith unfaithful makes it falsely true. 

10 



i 4 6 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

21. If the Mind be thought of as seen by another more inward 
Mind, then there would be an endless series of perceiving Minds, and 
a confusion of memories. 

One of the expedients by which the "mind" seeks to deny and thwart 
the Soul, when it feels that it is beginning to be circumvented and seen 
through, is to assert that this seeing is the work of a part of itself, one 
part observing the other, and thus leaving no need nor place for the 
Spiritual Man. 

To this strategy the argument is opposed by our philosopher, that 
this would be no true solution, but only a postponement of the solution. 
For we should have to find yet another part of the Mind to view the 
first observing part, and then another to observe this, and so on, endlessly. 

The true solution is, that the Spiritual Man looks down upon the 
psychic nature, and observes it ; when it views the psychic picture-gallery, 
this is "memory," which would be a hopeless, inextricable confusion, if 
we thought of one part of the "mind," with its memories, viewing another 
part, with memories of its own. 

The solution of the mystery lies not in the "mind" but beyond it, in 
the luminous life of the risen Lord, the Spiritual Man. 

22. When the pure Spiritual Consciousness, which is free from 
all succession or change, takes form in the Spiritual Man, then does 
Consciousness realize its own luminous being. 

True individuality is never reached in the "mind," the psychic being, 
with its ceaseless ebb and flow, its hating and desiring, fearing and hoping, 
mapping and measuring. That fluctuating being is no real self. The 
man is not yet born. 

But when the Spiritual Man wins his long battle against the 
"mind," and the mind's world-view, and, rising, stands firm in his own 
might, then true life and individuality begin. Abstract spiritual Con- 
sciousness comes to a focus, as it were, in a real being, a true individuality, 
who neither fears nor hopes, but knows himself immortal, one of the 
Children of Light. 

23. The psychic nature, universally adaptive, takes on the color 
either of things seen, or of the Seer. 

In the unregenerate man, the psychic nature is saturated with 
images of material things, of things seen, or heard, or tasted, or felt ; and 
this web of dynamic images forms the ordinary material and driving 
power of life. The sensation of sweet things tasted clamors to be 
renewed, and drives the man into effort to obtain its renewal ; so he adds 
image to image, each dynamic and importunate, piling up sin's intolerable 
burden. 

Then comes regeneration, and the washing away of sin, through the 
fiery, creative power of the Soul, which burns out the stains of the 



PATANJALI'S YOGA SUTRAS 147 

psychic vesture, purifying it as gold is refined in the furnace. The suffer- 
ing of regeneration springs from this indispensable purifying. 

Then the psychic vesture begins to take on the color of the Soul, 
no longer stained, but suffused with golden light ; and the man regenerate 
gleams with the radiance of eternity. Thus the Spiritual Man puts on 
fair raiment; for of this cleansing it is said: Though your sins be as 
scarlet, they shall be white as snow; though they be as crimson, they 
shall be as wool. 

24. The psychic nature, which has been, printed with mind- 
images of innumerable material things, exists now for the Spiritual 
Man, subordinate to him. 

The "mind," once the tyrant, is now the slave, recognized as out- 
ward, separate, not-Self, a well-trained instrument of the Spiritual Man. 

For it is not ordained for the Spiritual Man that, finding his high 
realm, he shall enter altogether there, and pass out of the vision of 
mankind. It is true that he dwells in heaven, but he also dwells on 
earth. He has angels and archangels, the hosts of the just made perfect, 
for his familiar friends, but he has at the same time found a new kinship 
with the prone children of men, who stumble and sin in the dark. 
Finding sinlessness, he finds also that the world's sin and shame are his, 
not to share, but to atone ; finding kinship with angels, he likewise finds 
his part in the toil of angels, the toil for the redemption of the world. 

For this work, he, who now stands in the heavenly realm, needs his 
instrument on earth ; and this instrument he finds, ready to his hand, and 
fitted and perfected by the very struggles he has waged against it, in 
the personality, the "mind" of the personal man. This once tyrant is 
now his servant and perfect ambassador, bearing witness, before men, 
of heavenly things, and even in this present world doing the will and 
working the works of the Father. 

25. For him who discerns between the Mind and the Spiritual 
Man, there comes perfect fruition of the longing after the real being 
of the Self. 

How many times in the long struggle have the Soul's aspirations 
seemed but a hopeless, impossible dream, a madman's counsel of per- 
fection. Yet every finest, most impossible aspiration shall be realized, 
and ten times more than realized, once the long, arduous fight against 
the "mind," and the mind's world-view is won. And then it will be 
seen that unfaith and despair were but weapons of the "mind," to daunt 
the Soul, and put off the day when the neck of the "mind" shall be put 
under the foot of the Soul. 

Have you aspired, well-nigh hopeless, after immortality ? You shall 
be paid by entering the immortality of God. 

Have you aspired, in misery and pain, after consoling, healing love? 



i 4 8 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

You shall be made a dispenser of the divine love of God Himself to 
weary souls. 

Have you sought ardently, in your day of feebleness, after power? 
You shall wield power immortal, infinite, with God working the works 
of God. 

Have you, in lonely darkness, longed for companionship and con- 
solation? You shall have angels and archangels for your friends, and 
all the immortal hosts of the Dawn. 

These are the fruits of victory. Therefore overcome. These are 
the prizes of regeneration. Therefore die to self, that you may rise 
again to God. 

26. Thereafter, the whole personal being bends toward illu- 
mination, full of the spirit of Eternal Life. 

This is part of the secret of the Soul, that salvation means, not 
merely that a soul shall be cleansed and raised to heaven, but that the 
whole realm of the natural powers shall be redeemed, building up, even 
in this present world, the kingly figure of the Spiritual Man. 

The traditions of the ages are full of his footsteps; majestic, uncom- 
prehended shadows, myths, demi-gods, fill the memories of all the nobler 
peoples. But the Time cometh, when he shall be known, no longer demi- 
god, nor myth, nor shadow, but the ever-present Redeemer, working amid 
men for the life and cleansing of all souls. 

27. In the intervals of the battle, other thoughts will arise, 
through the impressions of the dynamic mind-images. 

The battle is long and arduous. Let there be no mistake as to that. 
Go not forth to this battle without counting the cost. Ages have gone 
to the strengthening of the foe. Ages of conflict must be spent, ere the 
foe, wholly conquered, becomes the servant, the Soul's minister to 
mankind. 

And from these long past ages, in hours when the contest flags, 
will come new foes, mind-born children springing up to fight for mind, 
reinforcements coming from forgotten years, forgotten lives. For once 
this conflict is begun, it can be ended only by sweeping victory, and 
unconditional, unreserved surrender of the vanquished. 

28. These are to be overcome as it was taught that sorrows 
should be overcome. 

These new enemies and fears are to be overcome by ceaselessly 
renewing the fight, by a steadfast, dogged persistence, whether in victory 
or defeat, which shall put the stubbornness of the rocks to shame. For 
the Soul is older, more invincible than all things ; it is of the very nature 
of the Soul to be unconquerable. 

Therefore fight on, undaunted ; knowing that the spiritual will, once 



PATANJALI'S YOGA SUTRAS 149 

awakened, will, through the effort of the contest, come to its full strength ; 
that ground gained can be held permanently; that great as is the dead- 
weight of the adversary, it is yet measurable, while he who fights for 
you, he for whom you fight, is in might immeasurable, invincible, ever- 
lasting. 

29. He who, after he has attained, is wholly free from self, 
is set in a cloud of holiness which is called illumination. This is 
the true spiritual consciousness. 

It has been said that, at the beginning of the way, we must kill out 
ambition, the great curse, the giant weed which grows as strongly in the 
heart of the devoted disciple as in the man of desire. The remedy is 
sacrifice of self, obedience, humility ; that purity of heart which gives the 
vision of God. Thereafter, he who has attained is wrapt about with 
holiness, as with a cloud; he has that perfect illumination which is the 
true spiritual consciousness. Through obedience to the will of God, he 
comes into oneness of being with God ; he is initiated into God's view of 
the universe, seeing all life as God sees it. 

30. Thereon comes surcease from sorrow and the burden of toil. 

Such a one, it is said, is free from the bond of Karma, from the 
burden of toil, from that debt to works which comes from works done in 
self-love and desire. Free from self-will, he is free from sorrow, too, 
for sorrow comes from the fight of self-will against the divine will, 
through the correcting stress of the divine will, which seeks to counteract 
the evil wrought by disobedience. When the conflict with the divine will 
ceases, then sorrow ceases, and he who has grown into obedience, thereby 
enters into joy. 

31. When all veils are rent, all stains washed away, his knowl- 
edge becomes infinite; little remains for him to know. 

The first veil is the delusion that thy soul is in some permanent 
way separate from the great Soul, the divine Eternal. When that veil 
is rent, thou shalt discern thy oneness with everlasting Life. The second 
veil is the delusion of enduring separateness from thy other selves, 
whereas in truth the soul that is in them is one with the soul that is in 
thee. The world's sin and shame are thy sin and shame: its joy also. 

These veils rent, thou shalt enter into knowledge of divine things 
and human things. Little will remain unknown to thee. 

32. Thereafter comes the completion of the series of transforma- 
tions of the three nature-potencies, since their purpose is attained. 

It is a part of the beauty and wisdom of the great Indian teachings, 
the Vedanta and the Yoga alike, to hold that all life exists for the pur- 
poses of Soul, for the making of the Spiritual Man. They do not teach 



150 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

a salvation which is preternatural, a seeming violation of the course of 
nature, nor a salvation which comes through a divine decree, almost a 
divine whim. They teach rather that all nature is an orderly process of 
evolution, leading up to this, designed for this end, existing only for this : 
to bring forth and perfect the Spiritual Man. He is the crown of 
evolution ; at his coming, the goal of all development is attained. 

33. The series of transformations is divided into moments, and 
is to be regarded as the culmination of nature. 

This is, perhaps, a philosophical subtlety, later inserted in the 
teaching, in fuller expansion of the words "series of transformations" in 
the last sutra. The idea, however, is clear, and is wholly in harmony 
with the rest of the teaching. There are two kinds of eternity, says 
the commentary: the eternity of immortal life, which belongs to the 
Spirit, and the eternity of change, which inheres in Nature; in all that is 
not Spirit. While we are content to live in and for Nature, in the Circle 
of Necessity, Sansara, we doom ourselves to perpetual change. That 
which is born must die, and that which dies must be reborn. It is change 
evermore, a ceaseless series of transformations. 

But the Spiritual Man enters a new order; for him, there is no 
longer eternal change, but eternal Being. He has entered into the joy 
of his Lord. This spiritual birth, which makes him the heir of the Ever- 
lasting, sets a term to change; it is the culmination, the crowning trans- 
formation, of the whole realm of change. 

34. Pure spiritual life is, therefore, the inverse resolution of the 
potencies of Nature, which have emptied themselves of their value 
for the Spiritual Man; or it is the return of the power of pure Con- 
sciousness to its essential form. 

Here we have a splendid generalization, in which our wise philos- 
opher finally reconciles the naturalists and the idealists, expressing the 
crown and end of his teaching first in the terms of the naturalist, and 
then in the terms of the idealist. 

The birth and growth of the Spiritual Man, and his entering into 
his immortal heritage, may be regarded, says our philosopher, either as 
the culmination of the whole process of natural evolution and involution, 
where "that which flowed from out the boundless deep, turns again 
home"; or it may be looked at, as the Vedantins look at it, as the 
restoration of pure spiritual Consciousness to its pristine and essential 
form. There is no discrepancy or conflict between these two views, 
which are but two accounts of the same thing. Therefore those who 
study the wise philosopher, be they naturalist or idealist, have no excuse 
to linger over dialectic subtleties or disputes. These things are lifted 
from their path, lest they should be tempted to delay over them, and 



PATANJALI'S YOGA SUTRAS 151 

they are left facing the path itself, stretching upward and outward from 
their feet to the everlasting hills, radiant with infinite Light. 

You, too, reader, who have followed the thoughts of the wise philos- 
opher, be persuaded to take to your heart a like counsel and admonition. 
The path is for you. The Spiritual Man waits to be revealed in you, 
to initiate you into immortality, setting you amid the Children of Light. 
Be persuaded, then, since the truth is before you, the holy message has 
come to your ears. Hear the message, know that through it alone is life, 
leave the shadows of yourself behind, enter the Light, and hear the 
ringing Welcome that awaits you. 

THE END 



Must we always be warned, and can we only fall on our knees when 
some one is there to tell us that God is passing by? If you have loved 
profoundly you have needed no one to tell you that your soul was a 
thing as great in itself as the world; that the stars, the flowers, the waves 
of night and sea were not solitary; that it was on the threshold of 
appearances that everything began, but nothing ended; and that the very 
lips you kissed belonged to a creature who was loftier, much purer and 
much more beautiful than the one whom your arms enfolded. You 
have beheld that which in life cannot be seen without ecstasy. But 
can not we live as though we always loved? It was this that the saints 
and heroes did, this and nothing more. 

MAURICE MAETERLINCK. 



ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 



A TALK ON OCCULTISM 

^^TT^ O make us happy: that is the Master's aim," said the Sage; 
"and He wants us to be happy for the very simple reason 
A_ that He loves us. It would help, at times, if we were to dis- 
card all these big and formidable words such as Duty, Disci- 
pline, Saintliness, Adeptship, Self-sacrifice, and were to understand that 
it is a problem of Love. On the one side, a very loving and wise Father 
and Friend, who longs for the happiness of his children. We, on the 
other side, who are his children, should not find it difficult to credit him 
with greater love and wisdom than our own ; so that we ought to be able 
to submit our wills to his, not as if it were some terrifying sacrifice, but 
with deep and abiding gratitude that he cares enough for us to accept 
the burden of our weakness." 

The Objector interrupted. "You cannot deny," he said, "that much 
of what we have to do, either directly or indirectly, at some Master's 
request, has the imprint and feeling of sacrifice; and, if it feels like 
sacrifice, it is useless, so far as I can see, to call it by another name." 

"Suppose you have a child," replied the Sage, "whom you love 
devotedly. A stranger says of him that he hasn't enough sense to come 
in out of the rain. You say that your child is Very young,' Well, it 
rains. Your child plays on wetting his feet and enjoying the wetting. 
You call to him to come indoors. He wants to stay where he is. But 
if he loves you, he will come gladly for love of you. If he loves his 
moment's pleasure better than he loves you, he will grumble and feel 
that you are 'hard'; and, if he knows so big a word, he will describe his 
obedience as 'self-sacrifice' in which case the stranger will label him 
'an odious little prig' ! If your child were old enough, in actual under- 
standing, he might think of earlier experiences and tell himself that you, 
his father, are wise and right, and might even be grateful for your 
reminder: because his understanding, at that age, might be on the side 
of his love and his will. But the point is that, even without under- 
standing, sufficient love and trust would eliminate the word 'sacrifice' 
from our vocabulary. You can see it in the case of the child. Why 
not in your own case?" 

"Listen" and the Sage leaned forward eagerly: "the Master, who 
loves us, knows that selfishness means misery. He wants us to be 
happy. He wants us to surrender self as a necessary preliminary to our 
happiness. We cling to misery and think it terrible when he begs us to 
surrender it. You may say that a man is entitled to his misery if he 
prefers it. He is. But love and wisdom see more deeply as a father 



ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 153 

sees beneath and beyond his child's immediate fancy. Love does not 
recognize another's right to misery. Yet the Master cannot and will not 
use force. That would interfere with a man's free will. To some 
extent, help must be asked before it can be given. So the Master pleads 
with us begging us to ask him for his help." 

"I have known cases," said the Philosopher, "in which a man's own 
prayers were too feeble or too spasmodic to make sufficient help possible ; 
of his own accord he could not generate enough desire, enough energy, 
to give the Master the leverage he needed. And then the prayers of a 
friend have done for him what the man alone, as man, was only partly 
desirous of doing (you remember St. Augustine and his mother St. 
Monica). Such prayers of love, which are most potent energy, have 
enabled the Master to force a man, almost against the will of his lower 
personal consciousness, out of one environment into a better, or, more 
often, have enabled the Master to reach and to melt a heart which had 
nearly turned to stone. . . . It is well to remember this, because 
the extent to which we can help one another by prayer is almost unbe- 
lievable. I have to remind myself of it constantly so as to keep myself 
up to the mark, both in practice and in gratitude to others." 

"Testimony," remarked the Student, rather shyly, after a pause, 
"good old-fashioned testimony, is out of date. But I am not going to 
be happy in my conscience unless I say something, from actual experi- 
ence, of the Master's love. The very fact of being a Master must imply 
a quality and intensity of love, beyond our power to imagine. Conse- 
quently, what is true of one of them must in some way be true of all 
widely as the expression of their love is known to differ. But the Master 
of whom I speak has a tenderness of consideration, a delicacy of feeling, 
a passion of human interest in the details of his disciples' lives, that are 
like the peace which passeth understanding. The sense of such love 
should fill one with an ecstacy of adoration far greater than that of an 
artist for marvellous physical beauty. I could give many illustrations 
of what I mean, out of my own experience just as most of you could 
give similar illustrations out of your own. But for the very reason that 
his method is so intensely personal, the instances of it are too personal 
to relate. There is no department of life with which he is not concerned ; 
no aspirant for discipleship in whose welfare he does not take an interest 
more loving than any mother ever felt for her dearest child. In court- 
liness and charm of manner, he eclipses the most polished diplomat, for 
he is never artificial; is never anything less than the ultimate perfection 
of considerateness. Yet, because his love is boundless, he can withhold 
as well as give; can be stern as well as gentle; can cut as surely as he 
can heal. His voice, for instance, which is music itself, can tell of age- 
long yearning, of uttermost compassion: yet it can be terrible in com- 
mand; awe-compelling in its majesty. Always the embodiment of love, 
there is no human need with which he does not sympathize. Kings 



154 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

would do well to pray for his King's heart; lovers, for his adoration of 
all that is lovely; statesmen for his insight; but the child of the slums 
might envy and pray for his capacity to find joy in simple things and for 
his interest in the insignificant." 

The Gael is a natural rhetorician. The slightest suggestion of 
"studied periods" grates on his nerves. The Student had allowed himself 
to declaim the faith that is in him. So the Gael: 

"What you have been saying is too abstract. If there is the slightest 
danger of the Recorder using this talk of ours in the Screen (I never 
read it, but some people may), the first question to decide is: What is 
the purpose of our talk? We have been drifting from the point of the 
Sage's original remark, which we have a perfect right to do : but is that 
what we want?" 

"Surely," said the Student, rather in self-defense, "Surely everyone 
would love the Master if they knew how marvellously lovable he is. To 
speak of his qualities cannot fail to inspire others with love for him 
and that, as I see it, was the point of the Sage's remark." 

"But you are mistaken in your premise," persisted th'e Gael. "You 
know what idiots most people are. If they had heard what you have 
been saying about the Master, many of them would feel, 'No one like 
that could love me!' And they would turn away in despair. Others 
would not feel anything: there would be no point of contact. You have 
made your picture a shade more human than the ordinary portrayal of 
a Master, say, for instance, of Christ but it would impress most 
people as unreal. We ought to be able, between us, to hit upon some- 
thing which will help the average reader to feel, as he has never felt 
before, that his Master (whether Christ or Buddha or another) loves 
him personally; and by that means or some other, we ought to be able 
to evoke in him a greater love for that Master than he has thought of 
before as possible. Children love because they are loved. They do not 
love abstractions. They do not say, This is my father and therefore I 
love him.' They say, 'Dear father, who loves me what a dear father 
he is.' You must begin, then, in my opinion, by persuading people to 
believe that they are loved. They will admit, perhaps, that they would 
like to be loved by so wonderful a being as you have described many 
would admit that. They would like to know him as their friend, to be 
able to turn to him as guide, to rely upon his ability and wish to help 
them always, and particularly they would like to feel themselves truly 
and unselfishly and passionately loved. Why not tell them the fact? 
that their wish, which they regard as their own, is merely their response 
to what already is : that it is merely the reflection, within themselves, of 
what their Master for so long has given them! In other words, their 
desire is proof of possession. . . . Some of them will remain incredu- 
lous. They will say That is all right as an argument; but I know 
what I am ; I know my faults ; I know how unworthy I am of such love : 



ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 155 

you cannot persuade me!' And they will plant their two front feet 
with a sense of immovable humility. It would be useless to beat them, 
or to break their heads: so try this ask them whether a mother, who 
finds infinite delight in music, cares less for her baby because he (if 
it is a he) is unable all at once to read a Beethoven sonata. If the 
suggestion be regarded as absurd, why not see also the absurdity of 
supposing that a Master loves us less, because we are so wretchedly 
immature?" 

"I am not disputing the validity of your argument," commented the 
Philosopher; "but I doubt whether argument ever convinced anyone of 
anything. You may retort that the barrier, in the case of these people, 
is a mental barrier a preconceived prejudice which, by mental means, 
must be removed. And I know there is truth in that view. Ultimately, 
however, the belief or disbelief of others is in our own hands is in the 
hands of all those who claim to know something about the wonder of a 
Master's love, and who venture to speak of it. For a tree is judged by 
its fruits : if we believe ourselves to be loved, how does that belief affect 
our conduct? Are we happier, less selfish, more considerate, more cour- 
ageous, than those are who do not believe as we do? Are we wiser and 
better; more sane and more loving? It is the life that convinces, not 
the argument." 

"Dear man," replied the Gael; "of course you are right. But we 
were speaking for the benefit of the Recorder: we were pandering to 
his abominable habit of lying down on us at the last minute with a howl 
to Heaven for 'copy' for the Screen. And he cannot convince others of 
the truth by describing himself as a man of unblemished virtue, nor even 
by using so striking an example as myself: there is a limit to human 
credence, and the trouble is that these unfortunate people may never 
have the advantage of meeting the Recorder, or of seeing him as he sees 
himself. Just imagine the difficulties ! We are compelled to argue about 
it ; and really it is the Recorder's fault, not mine." 

They smiled. And the Gael's jokes are so obvious that I doubt if 
they do him any harm. Besides, the Sage did not leave time for reply. 
"There is one point," he remarked, "which the Gael suggested, but which 
he did not cover sufficiently. It is true, as he said, that some people are 
repelled rather than attracted by the presentation of an ideal beyond 
their grasp or their hope of realization. The Christian ideal has been 
nullified often in this way: Jesus has been portrayed as so far removed 
from humanity that he might as well be an inhabitant of Mars. His 
worshippers, by excess of zeal, and by insisting only upon his divinity, 
have reduced him to the position of 'a woman's god' an outrage that 
makes me furious : that Man of men ! Perfection there is ; but the man- 
ner of the perfection has been misunderstood. Why not use that mis- 
understanding so as to create the point of contact between perfection 
and imperfection which imperfection needs for its contentment? The 



156 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

real point of contact, naturally, lies in the soul; but, until the soul has 
gained considerable footing until there is some true life in the heart 
the barriers of the mind count for much. Show, as existing in perfec- 
tion, that which imperfection would regard as weakness, and you may 
arouse that sort of pity which should lead to love, when the object of 
it is worthy. (Be it understood, though, in parenthesis, that the last 
vestige of pity must be eliminated before true love can live. Pity looks 
down. Love looks up. Finally, and in its perfection, it looks on the 
same level. Pity, at a lower stage of development, serves as a step in the 
direction of sympathy; and sympathy of the right kind is one of the 
elements of love.) 

"Perhaps Christ had that in view when speaking to a nun of the 
Visitation, in the seventeenth century (I am supposing that the pub- 
lished records are correct). You may remember that over and over again 
he told her how bitterly he suffers because of the ingratitude of men; 
that, if only they would love him, he would feel rewarded for all he had 
ever endured for love of them ; that he finds such joy in being loved that 
if, in answer to his entreaties, he arouses the least desire for his love, 
he is drawn irresistibly to the heart from which that response has come : 
'Will none have pity on me, none sympathise and share my sorrow in 
the pitiful conditions in which sinners have brought me, especially at 
this moment?' It is the plea of almost intolerable loneliness a plea 
for love from the heart of a father who has lived and suffered for his 
children, and to whom his children will not give so much as recognition 
in return. He lived and died and lives again for sinners, not for saints ; 
and surely the worst of sinners might at least be grateful for such 
efforts, might at least feel pity for such suffering! And if the sinner 
sees in the need for love some evidence of weakness, why care, so long 
as imperfect understanding can be used to bring that soul to love at last ?" 

The Gael groaned. "It is frightful," he said. "Properly under- 
stood, it is more tragic than any tragedy ever written. No wonder that 
the saints wept over it continuously, and they, for centuries, thought 
of it as only of the past. . . . But let us remember that it is within 
the power of each of us to comfort him that Christ of whom you have 
been speaking. For he told that little nun as he has told men and 
women of all creeds, in every century just how it may be done: 
'Daughter, wilt thou give me thy heart, that my suffering heart may 
therein find repose?' Simply to love him; simply to trust him with our 
happiness : that is all ! And to think that we so cling to our own opinion 
of where happiness lies, that, time after time, we take back our offering, 
take back our hearts, and leave him comfortless! Well I know what 
will be said: 'there are plenty of others/ But, when one child goes 
astray, is a father satisfied because others remain ? Is it not true, rather, 
that, in the whole world's wilderness, there is no other child but that one ?" 

"I am not a Christian" it was the Old Member who spoke "and 



ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 157 

I do not see why anyone should feel called upon to serve one Master 
rather than another. Do what is right, and you will serve them all." 

The Gael did not hesitate. "I am not a Christian either," he said. 
"I am a Catholic at least, when I am talking with Protestants. And I 
have to be a Catholic, for otherwise there would be no excuse for my 
detestation of the Vatican and of Rome. I should be compelled to make 
it a family feud, even if it were not mine by birth-right. . . . Besides, 
you people are so grossly ignorant of what Catholicism represents, and 
of what it contains potentially, that, for your sakes, I would persevere. 
Also, I like it. ... And as to serving one Master rather than 
another, how can you, until you know them apart, or, in any case, until 
you find within you a feeling for one of them which you do not have 
for others. All comparisons are odious (I used as a boy to write that 
remark in my copy-book) ; but to compare the merits of different Masters 
is an impertinence. It is sillier than it would be for two small children 
to discuss the respective merits, say of Fra Angelico and of Fra Bar- 
tolemeo. I am not advocating especial devotion to one; and I never do, 
unless I find the possibility of such devotion already existing, and that 
that line of approach is the line of least resistance. If I were in Burma, 
I should unquestionably, except in rare cases, advocate a special devo- 
tion to Buddha. But your attitude" (turning to the Old Member) 
"impresses me as illogical. Theoretically, you insist that all Masters 
are working for the same end for the enlightenment of humanity. 
Practically, you deny this by standing aside from the movement known 
as Christian, in spite of the fact that it is at least nominally the 
religion of the country in which you were born. And if I, for instance, 
show any special feeling for Christ, it arouses your prejudice to the 
point of nervous irritation. If an orthodox Churchman were to show 
similar prejudice against Buddha or Krishna, you would think of him as 
'narrow' and would pity him. I grant you that the Protestant churches 
are a public scandal" (he said this, more grieved than angry, looking 
into space just over the level of our heads) "but you cannot reform 
people by telling them they are irreclaimable: you must hold out some 
ray of hope ; you must look for and find what is best ; you must encour- 
age good tendencies constantly. And if that is true of individuals, why 
not of churches and of religions ? I have seen goats sacrificed to Shiva in 
Hindu temples : but I do not on that account condemn the religious life of 
India, or refuse to recognize its saints as saints, or study the Bhagavad 
Gita merely to find fault with its doctrine. Let us be theosophical in 
more than name. . . . Do I not forgive these Protestants their 
schism" (waving a friendly hand towards the rest of us), "and say a 
good word, sometimes, for their very excellent intentions? Let us be 
reasonable about these things, and admit the entire propriety of having 
special friends, even among the Masters. They are not 'desiccated pan- 
sies,' as one of them once wrote; and I shrewdly suspect that they, too, 



158 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

have human preferences. Would it lower your ideal of them if one were 
to admit that he found the temperament, perhaps of the people of France, 
a trifle more congenial than that of Laplanders or of Zulus ? . . . So, 
with your permission, while I keep my mind unprejudiced, I shall give 
my heart wide freedom to follow the call of one who for ages has 
laboured with love to draw it into his own. . . . But" (the Gael has 
a maddening habit of proving the other man wrong and of leaving him 
no chance to deny it) "but I have again been guilty of diverting the 
conversation from the Sage's most sage beginning. Perhaps he will be 
good enough to advise us how to act in this dilemma: granting that we 
believe in the love of some Master for us ; granting that we should like 
to love him in return but feel that we do not as yet love him adequately 
what can we do about it?" 

"Your question," laughed the Sage, "really covers the whole field 
of spiritual progress, and I have my limits very decidedly as to knowl- 
edge, and with almost equal definiteness when it comes to time and 
energy. But there are two or three points which I can suggest. First, 
to explain my own statement, a Master is one who has made our 
highest ideal a living reality: he has done that and has passed far 
beyond it. Consequently, to love him, to obey him, is to love and to obey 
our own ideal. And, just as we need a teacher for the proper study of 
any art or science, whose experience will spare us unnecessary failure 
and waste, and whose attainments, in the direction of our study, should 
serve us as standard and ideal and stimulus, so, also, as soon as we 
approach the problem of our spiritual development seriously (the develop- 
ment of our own character and powers, if you prefer so to phrase it), 
we need one who has already achieved to serve as ideal and guide 
and inspiration. To love such attainments is, obviously, the first step: 
because to love is to desire. And it is easier to love them in concrete 
form than as abstract qualities. Therefore we should learn to love some 
Master. 

"At this point there is a contradiction, I think, in the wording of the 
Gael's question ; because, once we not only believe in but truly appreciate 
that Master's love for us, we cannot fail to love him, with heart and mind 
and will, in return. So, in order to take the first step which I have 
suggested, we should meditate upon (that is to say, think over and brood 
upon) the way in which he loves us, always making our application 
personal, specific, not general; 'me' rather than 'us.' 

"In this connection we should use our imagination freely: for 
imagination, properly controlled, is a divine power. 'Will and imagina- 
tion are the means employed in the production of every magical phe- 
nomenon/ as Madame Blavatsky expressed it : and we are speaking now 
of the most magical of all phenomena the conversion of lead into gold, 
of corruption into incorruption, of the mortal into the immortal, of the 
animal into the divine. . . . So, then, we should use our imagination 



ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 159 

boldly in order to gain appreciation of what a Master's love for us means, 
and of how we should like to love him in return using also the world's 
great scriptures as foundation, as these are full of instances and illus- 
trations, left us for the very purpose of helping us in this work. 

"Meditation alone, however, will not do it, any more than the cold 
study of books. By means of meditation we shall gain light and tem- 
porary warmth; but the light and the warmth will disappear unless we 
use them: unless we flap our wings as the bird does, and gain strength 
from exercise. What I mean is, we must live by the light we have 
found, and turn meditation into action. There will be resistance (and 
if it were not for the resistance of the air, the bird could not fly at all). 
We shall have to contend against the resistance of all that is selfish in 
us ; and we shall be tempted to make the mistake of attributing to outer 
circumstances the cause of the difficulties which beset us. May heaven 
or some kindly Djin protect us from that mistake! The only enemy that 
concerns us is the enemy within our gates ; the enemy we see as a friend, 
and to whom we give power by thinking of him as "myself.' 

"We must do the deed, then, if we would have the power. And 
this means more than obeying the ten commandments and a few more 
rules of ethics. Such obedience will make us good ; but it will not make 
us occulists; it will not make us disciples, or give us knowledge of 
spiritual laws and forces. If we love the Master we must wish to serve 
him; and if we wish to serve him we must desire his power to serve. 
So we must use our imagination again. Failing still to love him utterly 
to the point of thinking no longer of ourselves at any time, but only of 
him, we must say to ourselves, 'I will act as if I did so love Him. I 
will learn to love by behaving as if I did. In my soul, in my inmost 
heart, I do already love him better than I love corruption, better than I 
love my lower self. I will externalize the real. I will make that 
Immortal live in all the details of my life. I will take love as the 
truth of my life. I will ask myself, fifty times a day, what I would do 
in that minute if I loved the Master with a consuming passion of love: 
and I will obey my vision whether I love him or not !' 

"Do you catch that? It is tremendous. It is the most creative thing 
that a human being can do. For what is the result? You act as if; 
and, before you know it, the 'as if is. And that is divine magic; that 
is to use will and imagination on behalf of all the longing and the effort 
of the universe; that is to throw yourself irrevocably into the burning 
heart of the Master. No longer will he need to cry to you through the 
darkness of your mind, 'child, give me thy heart;' for you you and no 
other will cry to him day and night, with an anguish of desire, 'Master, 
take my heart and give me thine: give me thy heart of flame: in the 
name of pity, give me thy heart Thy heart with which to love Thee 
and all that is Thine ; Thy heart that I may live.' " 

The Sage had spoken very quietly, but it was easy to see that he 



160 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

felt deeply the reality of what he said; and the Objector did not like it. 
The feeling was foreign to his habit. He could not understand it, and 
he said so. "It is beyond me the whole business! If I didn't know 
you better, it would remind me of the hysteria of some of the mediaeval 
monks. No don't misunderstand me: I am not accusing you of the 
extravagance with which, nevertheless, you seem to sympathize: I am 
not making that mistake. What I do not understand is how so normal a 
person as you are can admire that kind of emotionalism." 

The Gael exploded (he loves the Sage). "Most innocent Objector," 
he said; "truly you wrong him. If the Sage were the cold-blooded fish 
you take him to be, he would not be my friend: and that settles it. 
Incidentally, what in the name of all that is wonderful do you suppose 
the heart of man is made of? Or the heart of a woman? Jelly? Or 
some amorphous pre-amoebic plasma? Why such passion of love? 
Why, because some people are alive! And because yes, historically, 
mathematically, scientifically human beings have been known to exist 
who loved someone or something better than they loved themselves !" 

He was interrupted by the Sage, who pushed him back into his chair 
(for the Gael had risen for the occasion), and who told him to keep 
quiet. 

"The Objector is all right," he said. "He represents a different 
point of view, and one that is entitled to at least as much respect as my 
own. We are Theosophists, or, more correctly, are trying to be; and, 
for us, fanaticism should be impossible. But there is this to be said, and 
he will be the first to admit the truth of it : that you have as between men 
and women many instances on record of a devotion so complete that the 
mind and feeling of one were lost in love and consideration of the other. 
We must suppose that the great lovers of history were conscious at all 
times no matter how busy they were with other things of the object 
of their devotion. Everything they did must have been begun, continued 
and ended because of their love, and with the fire of it smouldering 
always as the source of their inspiration. The dryest duty, in that case, 
by its perfect performance, would have served them as means to express 
and to prove and to glorify the love that was in them. They would, as 
it were, have done all things in the name of the one whom they adored. 
And we know that to be the fact. We know it from biography and his- 
tory and poetry. Nor need we suppose that a Master necessarily must 
be loved less completely: the lives of the saints, both men and women, 
prove that. How can we escape the conclusion understand it or not 
that the passionate love I spoke of is not unattainable? . . . Is it 
desirable? That must depend upon what our purpose in life is. Some 
men will say frankly that they want their own kind of happiness and 
that they want to find it in their own way. But, from beginning to end, 
my argument has been based upon the proposition that selfishness spells 
misery, and that the lower personal self, though it may find enjoyment 



ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 161 

in transitory sensation, is constitutionally incapable of happiness. If we 
were to judge by the experience of the personal self only, we should 
be compelled to identify this world with Hell (you remember the phrase 
of St. Benedict: 'the intolerable burden of our own will'). My own 
belief is that the world is meant to be our Heaven, and that we can find 
Heaven here and now, in the midst of life as it is, if only we will con- 
sent to pass through the Purgatory of self-surrender." 

"Do you suggest, then," asked the Objector, "that we should culti- 
vate love for a Master in order to find Heaven : that we should love in 
order to be happy?" 

"Far from it," answered the Sage. "To love for the hope of reward 
is a contradiction in terms. To love is its own reward. I have heard a 
small child say, 'Daddy, I will love you ever so much if you will give 
me five cents.' But you and I know that a small child is not expected 
to understand love. Any conception of it such as that, belongs to 
infancy to the infancy of religions as much as to the infancy of human 
beings. 

"But I have not touched what is really at the root of your objec- 
tion, which I imagine to be practical rather than theoretical theoretically 
there can be no objection. Granting even the faithful and regular prac- 
tice of all that I have suggested, you fail to see how such love can 
develop. Well, the full tide of it cannot. You are right in that. But 
let me tell you a discovery that awaits you, if ever you try that method. 
You will have had some idea of the Master as a task-master, very kind 
and very self-sacrificing, doubtless ; but still, he will have seemed to you 
to have been trying to save you from sin and from selfishness, at the 
cost of much pain to yourself, and chiefly in order that you may become 
one of the workers for humanity one of those strange beings like him- 
self, whom you have imagined to be removed from all human needs and 
feelings. You will have felt that your sense of duty has pushed you 
as far as you have gone (as probably it has), and that, though you look 
for no reward, your consent to the process has shown considerable 
generosity on your part. Then you try the method which I have ven- 
tured to recommend. You try to imagine what a Master, in his char- 
acter and nature, actually is like. You begin, perhaps, by asking yourself 
what light you can obtain on the subject by considering what you are 
like in your best moments not as an abstraction, but as a man. If I 
am not mistaken, you will find that you get the keenest pleasure, in those 
moments, from .any successful effort to make those whom you love 
happy. You want them to be happy. You cannot imagine yourself as 
happy except on condition that they are happy too. And you are not 
selfish about it. If you love poetry and they do not, you do not try to 
make them happy by reading yards of poems to them not even the 
poems of other people. You put yourself in their place and ask yourself 
what will give pleasure and, if possible, lasting pleasure to them. 

ii 



162 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

"Then it will dawn upon you that the nature of a Master cannot 
differ radically from the best that you find in yourself. His insight will 
be deeper his view of consequences and reactions far more compre- 
hensive ; but his desire must surely be similar to your own. 

"Apply this to your past attitude and relations. Have you not 
done the Master a grave injustice? Have you not failed lamentably in 
gratitude? You have thought of yourself, not as 'badly used' (I exon- 
erate you from that), but as enduring bravely the blows of outrageous 
fortune; as suffering stoically for your past sins; as trying to accept, 
without complaint, the sort of discipline and discomfort which, you 
suppose, is the penalty to be paid for occult training. Suddenly you 
realize that, throughout it all, the Master has taken upon himself the 
burden of your sins ; that he has held back from you, by main force, and 
at infinite personal cost, the blows of fate which otherwise would have 
crushed you; that he has been toiling incessantly, tirelessly, with no 
thought of himself, or of his own happiness, inspired by no other desire 
than that you, whom he so dearly loves, may attain quickly to the happi- 
ness which he sees within his reach to give you. 

"Surely the least you can feel is a flood of gratitude! And you 
have made a discovery. You are beginning to understand him to under- 
stand his love for you. You will begin truly to love him in return; and 
you will begin to feel, as a friend of mine said of a Master not many 
days ago 'It does hurt him so to see us suffer.' 

"Will our path be rose-strewn now for ever ? It will not. For, even 
if we cease to suffer for ourselves, we could not cease to suffer for the 
suffering of others. But life will be made wonderful by love, and love 
of him will give us the right to relieve him of some of the burden of 
this world's pain. That will be our first reward: to carry our cross so 
cheerfully, day by day, that we relieve him of its weight, carrying it 
as that part of his burden which he asks us, for his sake, to carry; and 
so to gain strength to share with him, purely for love of him, and to our 
infinite delight, not only his work for others, but that dominion over 
the world which endless love of the world at last will give him." 

T. 



A PRIMER OF THEOSOPHY 



I. 

IN studying any system of religious thought worthy of the name, we 
are at once confronted by the problems involved in the relations 
of the Creator to the created, of Man to God. But we soon find 

that it is man who is really the creator, and that it is in his image 
that his God is made. The god of the savage is an intensification of the 
traits that the savage most fears, and admires and naturally worships, 
and as civilization carries its broadening light into darkest Africa, for 
instance, the deified savage takes on the semblance of something higher 
than himself in the scale of being, or if not higher, at least more power- 
ful. In Browning's wonderful poem of "Caliban upon Setebos," the 
poet seems to have penetrated to the very core of primitive man's nature, 
and to have painted a perfect picture of what he calls "natural theology 
in the island," as embodied in the savage Caliban's description of his 
creator, "placable if His mind and ways were guessed, but rougher than 
His handiwork, be sure. . . . "Also it pleaseth Setebos to work, 
use all His hands and exercise much craft, by no means for the love of 
what is worked. . . . Believeth with the life the pain shall stop. His 
dam held different; that after Death, He both plagued enemies and 
feasted friends. Meanwhile, the best way to escape His ire, is not to 
seem too happy." 

And yet even through this dim and bewildered brain, creeps a faint 
notion of "something higher than Setebos, that made Him, . . . some- 
thing quiet o'er His head, out of his reach, that feels nor joy nor grief. 
. . . This quiet, all 'it hath a mind to, doth." 

So comes into imperfect understanding, a suggestion of something 
greater than Setebos. If Setebos made man, then who made Setebos? 
And so, step by step with the development of man, grows the develop- 
ment of the idea of a Divine Being, embodied in the majestic figures of 
the sculptured gods of India, of Egypt, of Greece and Rome, as the objects 
of men's adoration. Later on, the jealous God of Israel sweeps away 
the worship of beauty, and then with the Christian era, begins the wor- 
ship of a God of Love. 

But all these phases of the Divinity mostly concerned the people, for 
among the priests and philosophers of every age is handed down a 
"Wisdom-Religion," the portion of "those who know," the keys that 
open the doors of all knowledge, behind which lie hidden the answers 
to all the enigmas of the universe. 

And the first and most important of these answers is the teaching 
that God is Spirit, not a Spirit, but SPIRIT, One and Indivisible, that from 
Him all things proceed, and to Him all things must return. But while 

163 



164 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

we look upon Him as the source of all Being, we have a dim feeling that 
beyond the heavens that declare the glory of God, there is what Brown- 
ing's Caliban would call "the Quiet," an all-embracing something, a 
spiritual atmosphere, so to speak, but utterly beyond the power of 
primeval man to comprehend. It is impossible to formulate the basic 
ideas of theosophy without a metaphysical background, it only remains 
to make that background as simple and easily comprehensible as possible. 

If we attempt to pierce through the veils that represent to us the 
limits of thought, we find ourselves confronted with that vague some- 
thing which our philosophers, in default of a better word, have called the 
ABSOLUTE, or the UNKNOWABLE. "The Absolute is not to be defined," 
(says the Secret Doctrine, Abridg. p. 322) "and no mortal nor immortal 
has ever seen or comprehended it during the periods of existence. The 
mutable cannot know the immutable, nor can that which lives perceive 
Absolute Life." 

The first and fundamental axiom of theosophy then, is this meta- 
physical conception of the Absolute, "the Causeless Cause," from which 
is derived "the First Cause." Because when we speak of the first, we 
think of something that is dependent on time, and space, and rank, and 
none of these can have any relation to the Absolute, which is entirely 
outside of our conditioned existence. As an old Kabalistic poem says: 
"Thou art One, the root of all numbers, but not as an element of 
numeration, for Unity admits not of multiplication, change or form. 
Thou art One, and no thought of ours can fix for Thee a limit, or 
define Thee" 

From "the Causeless Cause," the "Unknowable," is derived "the 
First Cause," the Creative God of all theologies. This is the Logos, in 
the theosophic philosophy the synthesis of the Seven Creative Powers, 
the "Word" of St. John's Gospel. "All things were made by Him, and 
without Him was not anything made that was made. In Him was Life ; 
and the Life was the Light of men." 

And at the beginning of a new cycle of existence, when this Light 
springs forth from the bosom of Darkness, "the pairs of opposites" come 
into existence, and the work of creation, or rather evolution, begins. 
Spirit-Matter divides into Spirit and Matter, two aspects of the One 
Unity, and from them radiates the Divine Energy, force as science calls 
it, which corresponds to "the Son" of the Christian Trinity. Spirit, 
Matter, Force, these are the three in one that form the basis of every 
theological trinity. 

That which theosophy calls Universal Substance, is underlying mat- 
ter in all its different grades, and that which it calls Universal Thought 
is the root of all individual consciousness. But apart from Universal 
Substance, Universal Thought could not manifest as individual conscious- 
ness, because it is only through a vehicle of matter that consciousness 



A PRIMER OF THEOSOPHY 165 

wells up as "I am I." And apart from Universal Thought, Universal 
Substance would remain an empty abstraction.. 

But just as the opposite poles of Spirit and Matter are but twin 
aspects of the one Unity, so there exists in the manifested Universe the 
guiding power of all manifestation, the Thought Divine, transmitted and 
made manifest through the intelligent Forces which are the architects of 
the visible world. Thus from Spirit, or Universal Thought, comes our 
consciousness; from Universal Substance the several vehicles in which 
that consciousness is individualized and attains to ^//-consciousness; 
while the Divine Energy, in its various manifestations, is the mysterious 
link between Mind and Matter, the animating principle electrifying every 
atom into life. Universal Thought includes Law, and the Forces of 
Nature are comprised in Universal Energy, while Life and Motion are 
convertible terms. 

We must begin, then, by recognizing the existence of an Immutable 
Principle, which is entirely beyond the range of human thought, and 
therefore is best spoken of (if spoken of at all) as the Unknowable. 
This is symbolised by theosophy under two aspects, absolute, abstract 
Space, and absolute, abstract Motion. This abstract Motion is the One 
Life, eternal, invisible, but omnnipresent, without beginning or end, yet 
periodical in its regular manifestations. It is often spoken of as "the 
Great Breath." Upon the boundless plane of the universe the worlds 
appear and disappear, in a regular tidal ebb of flux and reflux, confirm- 
ing the absolute universality of that law of periodicity, or cyclic law, 
which obtains in every department of nature. 

Moreover, we are taught, first, the fundamental identity of all souls 
with the universal Over-soul, the latter being itself an aspect of the 
Unknown Root; and second, the obligatory pilgrimage of every soul 
through "the Cycle of Necessity" or reincarnation, in accordance with 
the all-powerful law of cause and effect, and that of periodicity spoken 
of above. The Monad or unit of consciousness making this journey, is 
called "the Pilgrim," and is the only immortal and eternal principle in 
us, being an indivisible part of the Universal Spirit, a Ray of the Divine. 
This obligatory pilgrimage springs from the law that no purely Divine 
Soul can have an independent, conscious existence until it has passed 
through all the lower grades of being, belonging to this cycle of life, and 
thus has acquired the individuality which makes it immortal, first through 
natural impulse, and then by self-devised efforts, modified by the ex- 
periences it has gathered on the way. Thus it ascends through all grades 
of intelligence, from that of the mineral to that of the holiest archangel, 
and works out its own salvation by its own efforts, for the pivotal doc- 
trine of the esoteric philosophy admits no privileges or special gifts in 
any man except those won by his own Ego through personal effort during 
a long series of re-incarnations. 

This teaching of "the Cycle of Necessity" is very important because 



166 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

so many have asked, why should "the Pilgrim" leave its celestial abode 
and go through so much misery and such long and painful struggles, only 
to get back to where it started ? But it gets back with the conscious, im- 
mortal entity it has made of itself, and this is the salvation it has won. 
It has built up its individuality and is now an immortal Soul, not merely 
part of a wave of life, one indistinguishable drop of the ocean of being. 

"Just as at the close of the siderial year the heavenly bodies return 
to the same relative positions which they occupied at its beginning, so at 
the close of the Cycle of initiation, the inner man has regained the pris- 
tine state of divine purity and Knowledge from which he set out on his 
cycle of terrestrial incarnations." (Abridgment 184.) 

"It is the spiritual evolution of the inner immortal man, that forms 
the fundamental tenet of theosophy, the re-incarnating Ego that existed 
before its physical body, and survives all bodies that it may be clothed in." 
(Abridgment 285. 476.) 

II 

EVOLUTION 

The law of Evolution as defined by the scientist, means first of all, 
"a law of continuity or causal relation throughout nature," or in other 
words, "a continuous progressive change according to certain laws and 
by means of resident forces." (Le Conte on Evolution.) These "resi- 
dent" forces of Le Conte, are the same thing that theosophy calls "the 
essential faculty possessed by all the cosmic and terrestrial elements of 
generating within themselves a regular and harmonious series of results, 
a concatenation of causes and effects, which proves that they are animated 
by intelligence coming either from within or from without." In fact, to 
become complete and comprehensible, a theory of the universe has to 
start with a primordial Substance diffused throughout boundless Space, 
of an intellectual and divine nature. That substance must be the Spirit 
and Soul, the synthesis and highest principle, of the manifested Kosmos. 
And to serve as a physical basis to this, there must be its vehicle primer- 
dial physical matter, so to speak, though its nature must forever escape 
our limited normal senses, and we can know it only through its pheno- 
mena, the results, that is, of the action of the laws or forces of Nature, 
the life of the physical world. These forces may be roughly summed 
up as Light, Heat, Sound, Cohesion or Attraction, (which of course in- 
cludes Repulsion) and Magnetism, or Nerve-Force, together synthesized 
as Motion. These are not the "blind forces" of science, but the mani- 
festations of intelligent Powers, the Builders of the Universe.. And 
while science recognizes innumerable degrees in the scale of physical 
being, theosophy maintains that there are at least as many in the scale 
of spiritual existence. 

But while the degrees are infinite, none the less does this philosophy 



A PRIMER OF THEOSOPHY 167 

assert as its fundamental law, "the radical unity of all the component 
parts in Nature, from star to mineral atom, from the highest spiritual 
being to the smallest infusoria, throughout all the worlds, whether spirit- 
ual, intellectual or physical." 

"The informing Intelligences, then, which animate the various 
centres of being, * * * are called by the truly ignorant, gods; by 
the learned-profane the One God; and the wise, the Initiates, honor 
in them only the periodic manifestations of That which neither our 
Creators nor their creators can ever discuss or know anything about." 

The dawn of manifestation begins with attraction, the first flutter 
of awakening life being towards the centre, and after attraction comes 
expansion, or the action of the repulsive force, the two forming the 
rhythm of the Universe, or "the Great Breath." A fundamental law of 
theosophy as well of science, is that known as "the conservation of 
energy," which maintains that there is no such thing as rest or cessation 
of motion during these periods of activity, that which seems rest being 
only the change of one form into another. And another fundamental 
law is, that there is no such thing in Nature as inorganic (or lifeless) 
substances or bodies. Minerals and even chemical atoms are simply or- 
ganic units in profound lethargy, which has an end, and their coma 
becomes activity, when the wave of the new cycle of Life sweeps over 
them. 

There is no room here for the details of the splendid system of 
evolution as described in the Secret Doctrine, but it should be explained 
that in the earlier thesophical books, such as Esoteric Buddhism, an 
error has crept in as to the teaching of the "planetary chains," Mr. Sin- 
nett having therein described the Earth as one of a chain of seven planets, 
including the chief planets of our solar system. But the Secret Doctrine 
teaches that the Earth has its own seven states of matter and conscious- 
ness like all the other planets. These seven "globes" as they are some- 
times called, are of varying materiality, descending through three grades 
of increasing density to the fourth or most material, (represented by our 
Earth in its present state) and ascending through three grades leading 
back to the spiritual. And as our physical eyes are only capable of per- 
ceiving objects on the physical plane, it follows that any stars or planets 
visible to us are on the same plane as ourselves, and neither higher nor 
lower in the scale of being. And these seven "globes" or conditions of 
matter, are capable of simultaneous existence, as the more ethereal inter- 
penetrate the more substantial. Theosophy teaches that the matter of the 
heavenly spheres has its seven forms. First, we have primordial homo- 
geneous matter, the One Element ; then the second stage, called by science 
Cosmic dust, and Fire-mist ; the third stage is the nebulous ; the fourth is 
the atomic, when Divine Force thrills through this primordial matter, and 
the eternal vibration in the unmanifested world becomes vortical motion in 
the manifested. With motion, the differentiation of the elements begins, 



i68 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

and we have the fiery, or germinal stage, so-called, because these "ele- 
ments" are but the germs of those we know. The sixth stage, the vapor- 
ous, the four-fold, shows us the beginning of our elements, the future 
earth, and the seventh stage is the cold and solidifying globe, dependent 
upon the sun for life and light. 

Very briefly and roughly sketched, this is the field of man's evolu- 
tion. The reason of it is to be found in that often-quoted saying of 
Patanjali: "The universe exists for the sake of the soul's experience 
and emancipation," in other words, to give the soul its opportunity for 
development and salvation. And as man, to accept the popular division, 
is composed of body, soul, and spirit, the process of this evolution must 
necessarily be three-fold physical, mental and spiritual. 

The Ray of the Universal Mind, then, (the Monad, or the Pilgrim) 
passes through seven planes, three below and three above what the 
scientists call our threshold of consciousness. First it passes through 
three elemental planes or nascent centres of force, which answer to the 
nebulous stages in the earth's history; then through the mineral king- 
dom, the turning point in the evolution of consciousness, where it becomes 
wholly latent, then through the three stages of "organic" life, the vege- 
table, the animal, the human. In the higher animals the Monad almost 
becomes an individual entity, while in the vegetable kingdom there is 
hardly any tendency towards individual consciousness, which can only 
be seen in such attempts as the persistent struggle of a vine towards a 
support upon one side of it, or the unwearied seeking of a poplar's roots 
after the water of a distant well. 

The Sun gives Life to man, and therefore in the Eastern symbolism 
is rightly called his father, while the Moon represents his mother, for 
it is to the "lunar ancestors" that he owes that astral form around which 
is built up the physical body, given by his nurse the Earth. This astral 
prototype is formed of molecular matter far too ethereal to be perceptible 
to our normal senses, and interpenetrates the matter of our physical 
bodies, as a subtle odor interpenetrates the air. 

And as the seed that perishes in the ground nourishes, by its decay, 
a new plant, so the Moon, having completed her cycle of existence, 
transferred her energies in dying (according to the law of the conserva- 
tion of force) to a new cosmic centre which became our Earth. The 
process of evolution upon the Earth, as well as all other worlds, is by 
seven successive waves of life-giving energy, which it has been agreed 
to call Rounds, and during each of these stages of evolution, seven Races, 
with many subdivisions, inhabit the earth, each Race being specially adap- 
ted to the conditions which surround it. 

But the human Monad which has begun its pilgrimage upon this 
globe does not merely touch upon each of these conditions and then pass 
on, but has to go through many incarnations in each Race, the develop- 
ment of the individual soul being a long process. Between each individ- 



A PRIMER OF THEOSOPHY 169 

ual incarnation, and between each Round, or wave of evolution, the 
human Ego passes through a period of subjective, or unconscious life, 
thus completing the analogy with the shorter cycles of day and night, 
life and death, etc. Four times that great wave of evolutionary force 
has swept over the Earth, and four great Races have passed away. The 
present humanity is the fifth division of the Fifth Race, so that we have 
passed the lowest point of materiality, and are beginning to ascend to- 
wards spirit. But the eighteen millions of years which embrace the dura- 
tion of perfected physical man, have to be enormously increased if the 
whole process of spiritual, astral, and physical development, is taken into 
account. All analogy goes to show the truth of the theosophical teach- 
ings that man was not "created" the complete being he is now, however 
imperfect he still remains. Worlds and men were in turns formed and 
destroyed, under the law of evolution and from pre-existing material, 
until both the planets and their men became what they are in the present 
cycle. 

In strict analogy, the cycje of seven Rounds that gradually leads 
man's physical body through every kingdom of nature up to its perfect 
form, is repeated on a much smaller scale in the first seven months' life 
of the human embryo.. As the embryo although fully formed at that 
period, yet needs two months more in which to acquire a perfect develop- 
ment, so "man, having perfected his evolution during seven Rounds, re- 
mains two periods more in the womb of mother Nature before he is 
born (or reborn) a Dhyani, (or Divine Intelligence) still more perfect 
than he was before he launched forth as a Monad on the newly built 
chain of worlds" (Secret Doctrine, II. 259). 

K. HILLARD. 
(To be continued.) 



THE PILGRIM 



THE long, weary journey was nearly over, how long, how weary, 
the Pilgrim himself scarcely realized, for he felt that only one 
more steep ascent lay before him, but one sharp corner must be 
turned and he would stand at the door of the Temple. 

Months, nay, it was years ago, he had received the message, bid- 
ding him leave his old home, the land of his birth, and journey with 
all speed to the distant Temple, where, if he wished it, he would be ad- 
mitted as a Neophyte. 

What joy and gratitude had been his when he received this order; 
with what glad haste he had gathered together his most precious pos- 
sessions, made due preparation, and staff in hand, had turned his face 
towards that strange land which until then had been only a name to him ! 

At first all had gone well. The road wound through beautiful, fer- 
tile plains and exquisite forests, filled with fragrant flowers and the song 
of birds. Moreover, he had not been alone, quite a large company of 
pilgrims, all bound for the Temple, had journeyed by the same road and 
in conversation with them the hours had passed swiftly. All too soon, 
however, the foot of the mountains had been reached, the first difficulty 
had arisen, for there the single road became two, one skirting the foot- 
hills and then leading across open plains to a great city that could be 
dimly seen on the horizon, the other winding up into the mountains. 
A heated discussion had ensued amongst the pilgrims, some declaring 
it absurd to follow a path leading into mountainous regions where no 
Temple could be built, when they were sure to find it in the city; the 
others affirming with equal certainty that the Temple lay far from plains 
and cities and could only be reached by crossing the hills. 

Being unable to agree the little band had separated, more than half 
had turned their steps city-ward, the others taking the mountain road. 
Then the difficulties of the way had become apparent the Pilgrim 
shivered as he remembered them. The weary path winding ever up- 
wards, growing steeper day by day, the burning noonday sun, the freez- 
ing nights, the dense mists, enveloping them for many days. 

He had pressed on and on, assisting his weaker comrades, nursing 
them when sick, searching far and wide for food for them, guiding 
them carefully over the worst places and binding up their torn and bleed- 
ing feet. The little company had dwindled sadly, for some had turned 
back as soon as the path became really rough, while of those who had 
persevered many had fallen and died by the roadside. Now only two or 
three remained with him, worn, spent and aged, but how dear to him were 
these comrades, these loyal friends with whom he had endured so much. 

One thing only troubled him. The treasures he had carried away 



THE PILGRIM 171 

from his distant home, which he intended as gifts to the Temple, had 
proved too heavy to carry far. Sadly and reluctantly he had been 
obliged to drop them, one by one, by the roadside. All that remained 
were a few jewels hidden in his breast; his hand sought them continually, 
but he grieved to think his offering must be so small. With a mighty 
effort the Pilgrim crawled up the last ascent, turned the last angle and, 
with beating heart, paused for an instant thinking his goal must now 
be in sight. He raised his eyes and a cry of disappointment escaped him, 
for here was no Temple only a wind-swept, narrow plateau, a sheer 
wall of rock at the end making all further progress impossible and, at 
the foot of the rock, a tiny iron door, heavily barred, in front of which 
stood a grim, motionless figure gazing across at him with stern, cold eyes. 
Faltering, the Pilgrim advanced and asked of him the way to the Temple. 

"It lies there," was the answer, "through that door of which I am 
the guardian, there is no other way." "May I enter," begged the Pil- 
grim. "I received an order to come to the Temple and have travelled 
with all possible speed, but the way is long and weary, and I have been 
much delayed." "You may enter," replied the guardian, "but only if 
you leave your burden at the door," and he pointed to the hand hidden in 
the Pilgrim's breast. The latter drew forth the jewels and held them 
out : "I have no burden," he said, "all my treasures had to be abandoned 
long ago. These poor jewels I kept only for an offering to the Temple. I 
cannot enter without a gift in my hand." 

But the grim figure only pointed sternly at the jewels and with a 
heavy heart the Pilgrim laid them at his feet. At that the guardian 
drew the heavy bolts, the door swung ajar and the Pilgrim advanced to 
enter, when suddenly remembering his companions he stood aside and 
bade them pass in first, but the guardian swiftly barred the way. "Nay !" 
he exclaimed, "that cannot be, through that door none enters but alone. 
Your comrades must remain outside!" A cry of indignation escaped 
the Pilgrim. How could he abandon those loved and faithful friends? 

A fierce battle raged in the Pilgrim's heart. His whole being re- 
volted at the idea of deserting his friends. Surely it would be better to 
remain outside, to perish with them, if need be; yet a voice within him 
told him that he had been ordered to go to the Temple and that the 
order must, be obeyed, no matter at what cost. In agonized tones he told 
them he must go, begging them to forgive him, saying that once in the 
Temple he would surely find some kindly priest or attendant who would 
guide him back to the door and let them all in. But they clung piteously 
to him, till at last he had to tear himself from their grasp and, brushing 
past the silent, motionless guardian, entered the door, which imme- 
diately clanged heavily behind him. 

Half fainting, he sank to the ground and, on recovering conscious- 
ness, found himself in thick darkness, no ray of light anywhere, and 
groping around discovered that he was in a narrow passage in which 



172 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

it was impossible to stand upright. On hands and knees he dragged 
himself along, weary, breathless, aching in every limb, his heart full of 
misery and longing at the thought of those he had left outside. Each 
minute seemed an eternity, his strength was failing fast; he felt the end 
near at hand, when, looking up in agony, he perceived a dim ray of light 
and with a supreme effort dragged himself towards it. Brighter and 
brighter grew the glimmer till it broke on his dazed eyes in a great flood 
of glory and scarce conscious of how he had come there, he found himself 
in a vast hall, full of radiance and warmth. Tall, shining figures ad- 
vanced to meet him, greeting him with kindly eyes, welcoming him as the 
new Neophyte. As in a dream he found them gently stripping off his 
foul rags, clothing him in spotless white garments, pouring rare per- 
fumes over him, crowning him with fragrant flowers and finally leading 
him across the hall and through a great, glittering portal. 

Here a far greater radiance smote him, a great awe filled him, for 
he stood at last in the Temple, whose glory was beyond all he had ever 
dreamed of. 

Not daring to raise his eyes, he sank on his knees behind a pillar 
and strove to pray, but could not, for his thoughts turned ever to his 
loved companions and the longing for them grew more acute every 
moment. He could feel nothing but that and a hot revolt at the thought 
of them perishing miserably in the cruel mountains. Suddenly a rush of 
melody fell on his ear, low at first, then growing stronger, till the whole 
structure of the Temple vibrated to it and then his aching heart over- 
flowed and bowing his head on his hands, at last he prayed. His whole 
soul rose in prayer to the One Spirit, praying for those he had left, 
beseeching that they might enter and be blessed as he was. 

Nor for them alone did he pray, but for all the others, those that had 
fallen by the roadside and those who, fainthearted, had turned back. 
All, all, must come in. His heart dilated and filled with immortal love. 
As from a height he seemed to gaze down on the suffering, toiling world 
of men ; and he knew he could have no happiness, no peace, while one of 
them remained outside. His soul soared upwards in supplication for 
all his brethren, losing all thought of self in love for them, begging only 
that he might be permitted to return to suffer with and work for them, 
till all had found the way. 

Slowly the great harmonies died away. Silence fell on the air, but 
still the Neophyte remained bowed in prayer, when a gentle hand was laid 
upon his shoulder. Looking up with awe, he beheld the guardian, no 
longer stern and forbidding, but smiling, tender, and majestic. 

"Lo, friend, there is your answer," the Radiant Figure spoke. At 
His voice and gesture the Neophyte turned and there beheld them all 
his companions of the mountain, all, even to the least and poorest of 
them, with love filled eyes and welcoming hands, outstretched to him. 

E. M. S. 




TOO bad that so many interesting things occur before we have 
any interest in them! There is the complicated process of 
learning to talk each one of us was obliged to devote much 
persevering effort and time to that task. Why did we take the 
trouble, when we knew nothing about the avenues to human intercourse 
that would be opened up by this painful mastery of words as symbols? 
At that time we certainly had nothing to say that went beyond the limits 
of universal sign-language. 

If only a lusty two-year-old could give us his version of the impulses 
that pushed him on to speech! To be sure his story would have only 
an occasional connection with the actual facts of the case as known to 
his elders; but what interest there would be in tracing the means by 
which the smaller and personal desires of the child were molded and 
controlled by the larger and more universal purposes acting on and 
through him. Some day let us hope that his story will be written! 

Meantime here is an equally partial and inaccurate account of 
another adventure, undertaken like the child's with little conception of 
the reaches that were to be opened by it. As I attempt to tell why 
I joined the Theosophical Society, it is with the saving sense that none 
of us will take these "reasons" as the real ones. They have to do with 
the surface currents that were useful as mind-hushers, while the real 
things, of which the mind was not conscious, took place elsewhere. 

It was several years ago that I first joined The Theosophical Society, 
but I have been joining ever since, and as yet I am only a partial member. 
Every few months I find a new phase of the Society to join, or a new 
part of me that never joined. Indeed, I have split myself into so many 
different members that it would be disastrous if the Treasurer were to 
assess me annually for each one. 

Perhaps my progressive attempts to unite myself with the Society 
were made necessary by the debonair manner in which I made my appli- 
cation for membership ; that was made with little notion of the Society's 
high calling and wonderful mission. I had some superficial informa- 
tion about the tenets and aims of the Theosophist, as popularly under- 
stood ; had read with heedless eye and heart the best known of the Theo- 
sophical manuals; and had found in them little to provoke more than a 
passing interest. The whole scheme seemed to me to be based on an 
analysis of man's needs and possibilities that was clear but profitless. 
So I had classified Theosophy as an admirably constructed highroad that 
led nowhere. 



173 



174 

Consequently it was with a special tug at my social patience that 
I accepted an invitation to a drawingroom talk by a Theosophist. Much 
to my surprise it was a remarkable talk, touching on the problems of 
life with a directness and insight that challenged attention. I was so 
deeply impressed with the speaker's vision and force that it seemed 
worth while to undertake the task of separating the real wheat from 
what I considered the Theosophical chaff. So I asked where I could 
hear more. If the speaker had replied, "Come to our Theosophical 
meeting next week," I fear years might have passed before I was ready 
to try that pasturage. Fortunately he told me that some friends were 
to meet soon for the discussion of similar topics and I would be welcome 
as a guest. I went and found there people of unusual power and with 
that peculiar lucidity of speech and vision that characterized the speaker 
of the previous evening. There was also something about the atmos- 
phere of the gathering that was profoundly impressive, and to a strange 
degree both compelling and deterring. An invitation to attend subsequent 
meetings was eagerly sought. 

Several months later I faced the disconcerting discovery that I had 
actually been attending, with keen satisfaction, the regular meetings of 
a Branch of the Theosophical Society at the worst I had imagined them 
to be gatherings of friends interested in metaphysical discussions, among 
whom were numbered some with a bent toward Theosophical half-truths. 
Even this surprising discovery did not alter my conviction that Theosophy 
was a road, full of "blinds" and pitfalls, that circled around but did not 
ascend the Delectable Mountains. Yet I began to feel that I must either 
become a member of the Society or cease to attend its meetings, since 
there was no reason why I should seek to enroll myself as perpetual 
guest. With the declared objects of the Society I had no quarrel, though 
I was certain that those objects could never be realized by its methods. 
However, I wanted to secure the right to attend the meetings, so I 
made application for membership. I meant to be one of those "by night" 
members, for I did not intend to let any of my friends know that I was 
a member of the Society and really all I had done was to arrange for 
a pew in that house of worship, from which I could watch proceedings. 

Even though I was joining the Society in such a tenuous way I did 
cherish the hope of being useful to it. For I was persuaded that it was 
wasting time in mining little pockets of ore, while somewhere there was 
the "mother lode" that would infinitely repay the effort necessary to 
locate and work it. While I had never seen it I thought I knew how it 
might be found by those who, like these rare Theosophists, were qualified 
for the search. It was not that I felt a call to instruct them, that would 
be absurd, but I did fully expect that the "real light" of which I had 
caught distant reflections in other lines of study, would suddenly break 
through for them. When it came I had no question that they would 
recognise and follow it Gradually, I came to see that these Theosophists 



WHY I JOINED THE THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY 175 

had more standing-room in the divine world than any people I had ever 
known. Then, in my mind, I joined the Society over again. To be 
sure I still thought that there was some more direct and authentic path 
to the great goal, but I was sure that I had a better chance of finding it 
if I went along with the Theosophists than if I trudged alone. I wanted 
to be at hand, ready for the start, when these good people found the 
true path. 

Up to this time life had been a drab affair, even from the start. 
As a child I had lived alone in a world of my own construction and 
had proved a very poor creator. The little interior world of which I 
had made my small personality the center was most unsatisfactory, even 
then. I was dogged with a constant sense of incompleteness, almost 
too heavy to be borne. It was nearly burdensome enough to drive me 
from my self-centered position. Only I could not find either in the 
youngsters or in the grown-ups about me any real companionship 
probably because I presented a chestnut-burr exterior. At least I dis- 
covered no way of breaking into their world, or of bringing others into 
mine. Unable to fellowship with folks, I early concluded that my only 
chance was to fellowship with God. On that subject my ideas were 
distorted little copies of the notions prevalent in the dogma-ridden com- 
munity in which I was brought up. To assent to certain interpretations 
of the God-man and his mission, to give up certain so-called worldly 
amusements that was the sum of everybody's obligation. When one 
had met this obligation the burden of all the rest was on the shoulders 
of the Almighty. I knew these formulas by heart, but somehow the 
experiment did not work for me, the miracle I was expecting would not 
happen: I was still in my cramped little, mean little universe, as much 
shut off from God as from the human beings around me. And while 
I grieved, it never occurred to me that it might be my duty to seek out 
and do the will of God. My desire was centered in feeling, religious 
feeling to be sure, but I wanted a real orgy of it. Fortunately I was 
baffled at every turn and kindly thrown back on myself, instead of being 
allowed to set my feet in the miry soil of the psychic plane. 

Naturally, I entered early on the well-known pilgrimage of doubt. 
Had I not already tested the Christian formula and found that it would 
not work! The nature and scope of the doubt grew with my growth; 
and the bitterness and intensity of the interior struggle kept pace. It 
furnished a natural center for the youthful melancholy with which the 
entire universe is tinged at certain stages, even for the less reflective of 
its children. Mine was a "good old-fashioned case" of melancholies : 
the gloomiest of the poets was a pettifogging trifler ; Carlyle's reverberat- 
ing thunders always held a suggestion of coming illumination, even if of 
the jagged lightning brand. With what joy I discovered the old philos- 
ophers and their thoroughly inscrutable solutions of the problems of the 
universe. What a delightful feeling of tender comprehension, tinged 



i;6 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

with calm superiority, I had for Descartes because at the end of his 
"noble doubts" he found satisfaction from all his questionings in the 
quagmire described by his famous "I think, therefore I am." Unlike 
Descartes I was by no means prepared to posit my existence as a thinker. 
I saw myself as a miserable discord and felt no assurance that there was 
harmony anywhere in the universe. 

Outwardly, I went through the usual motions of an ordinary, hum- 
drum existence, yet I was haunted by the feeling that tfiere might still 
be something real in life that I had failed to find. I could see no traces 
of it. The people around me, the most active church members, told of 
experiences and assurances in which I had no share ; but when the great 
tests came, when they needed some fresh courage, some new power 
in an emergency, they seemed to have no access to any hidden source of 
supply. Like myself, they looked white-faced and stricken before experi- 
ences that ought to have carried them in confidence to their fountain 
head of love and of strength. 

One day I strayed into a new church and had a new experience. 
The rector read the service with a sincerity and a depth of feeling that 
were a revelation to me ; he preached a sermon that was in my language. 
I felt that he had fared through the valley of doubt, and was actually 
in sight of some land of promise. Sunday after Sunday, I listened 
eagerly to this man. I hardly dared let myself hope that I had found 
someone who knew that there was a King because he had seen His glory. 
Finally I was convinced that this man thought he saw, believed that he 
knew the King. Then I launched myself on a great experiment: I said 
I will try this thing thoroughly. For twelve months I will live in the 
faith of this new guide. I do not believe for a moment that there is 
anything in it, but having reasoned about all these things to no purpose, 
I will simply accept them this time ; I will pretend that they are true and 
live in the light of them. So the rector acquired, all unknown to him, 
a faithful understudy. His words of faith I took to heart, and said to 
myself, over and over again, this is what we believe, the rector and I, 
this is what we are going to live out during the coming week. Every 
day as I went past his church I would rehearse the list of our beliefs, 
the rector's and mine. In the midst of that experiment circumstances 
kept me away from the newly found church and the new faith slipped 
away. 

By and by a new mirage appeared. I am thankful for it, too, as 
it served to hearten me on my way, and gave me some further needed 
preparation. My mirage was one of the many New Thought systems, 
in which there is a curious blend of mysticism and materialism. Force, 
I was told, fills the universe, learn to draw on it and there is no limit to 
the possibilities of accomplishment. Had I not been looking, all my life, 
for the hidden source of all life and love now I was actually to be 



WHY I JOINED THE THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY 177 

taught a simple, direct way of reaching it, could even bring it down and 
use it as I wished. This would be real emancipation ! 

There was fattening food for my familiar unbelief, in the attitude 
of this new cult toward the forms of Christianity that I had found 
so unprofitable. They felt a profound pity for those who were still 
setting in Christian darkness while the dynamics of real life, as taught 
and practiced by the great Leader of the Church, were forgotten, un- 
known. Why must people waste precious time in religious observances 
instead of listening to the new evangel of unlimited force and how to 
use it? Why not be creators instead of creatures? So it was with a 
glad and final farewell to Christianity that I turned my face toward 
the new light shining in that darkness. For several years I lived in a 
welter of newly acquired "facts" about the universe, from its beginning 
to its end. There was keen fun in assorting and labelling them. They 
made most attractive furnishings for my new mansion and I enjoyed 
living in it. No "facts" could be permanently satisfying, however, and 
I began to be conscious of one serious lack in the mansion it had no 
shrine : I craved an altar and a living flame burning there. 

It was after this need was clearly established that I stumbled into 
The Theosophical Society, by the route already described. When I came 
to recognize the burning on its shrine, I tried to import that shrine into 
my mansion furnished with facts; later I sought a place before that 
shrine, ready to wait until I could catch a spark for my candle from 
the central fire burning there. The slow stages by which I eventually 
came to this position seem even more needlessly absurd now, after this 
retrospect of the many chances life has given me, than they seemed at 
the beginning of this story. There were evidently so many points along 
the way where I stood near enough to the heart of things to reach it, 
had I persevered. But my perseverance seemed to be limited to the 
continued search for new roads to the goal ; it did not serve to carry me 
over the final difficulties of any one. Yet I was always waiting for the 
real thing to happen; intent on it, without faith, without hope, still I 
waited. 

In that attitude of strained attention there was nothing to share. 
With an empty larder the habit of hospitality and its niceties are difficult 
to maintain. This is no story of a soul living in No-Man's-Land, and 
still there has been little in it reflecting the familiar experiences of every- 
day life. Where are the folks, the teachers, the learners, the loved ones ? 
Certainly, they have had a far-reaching influence on this inner life, but 
the connections are too subtle for me. There always seems to be a 
veil between the outer world of folks and the inner world of life, as 
impenetrable as that curtain between the seen and the unseen. And 
yet I know that both are only made of dream stuff, and that both must 
be worn away. 

To me there is nothing more impressive in the wonderful history of 

12 



178 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

the Society than the attitude, spirit and work of its present leaders; 
nothing so indicative of the tremendous unseen forces behind the move- 
ment as the living bond that holds those leaders together. This bond, 
evidently formed by a common consciousness of responsibility and 
privilege, enables them to work, not only as individual centers of force, 
but as one united current of power, guided by an insight both profound 
and loving. 

This was to me a new type of leadership. I also found in the 
Society a new type of citizenship. In some of its members I discovered 
people of marked intellectual gifts, in others people whom circumstances 
had not permitted to cultivate the graces of the mind ; but I found that 
all had graces of the heart; all had turned their lives toward the center 
of life and light. 

In my progressive joining of the Society I have been increasingly 
impressed with the light that Theosophy throws on the inner meaning 
of the religion that Jesus came to reveal anew. At one time I fancied 
that I had said good-bye to it forever, now I see that through Theosophy 
I am just beginning to understand the meaning of his words, the aim 
of his sacrificial life, the measure of his uncompleted work, and his 
constant effort to strengthen and to steady our hold on the things of the 
spirit. 

So here is the return and the affirmative side of the old negations. 
In Christianity, as I first knew it, I could find no saving grace, no 
healing power. After many wanderings, in despairing search for some 
path to the kingdom of the heavens, I come upon one, Theosophy, 
accredited by many signs as leading to the land of realities where the 
real work of the world is done by the real workers. And now this path, 
sought for years, proves, after all, to be no new and foreign way to the 
great goal, but the very same narrow way into which Jesus strove to 
lead his disciples, when he walked among them in Galilee. 

Why, then, is that path so hard to find if he is still with us, still 
the eager and loving guide? Partly, I think, because the search is too 
often half-hearted, inconstant; partly because dogma and doubt, like 
brambles and vines, have been allowed to grow over the entrance to that 
path. Or we might say, more accurately, that Jesus made a new way; 
a more direct road, for his followers to that "little old path" on which, 
through countless ages, men have struggled up to life eternal. He made 
himself the guardian of that new way, holding it open himself, at incal- 
culable cost. Only its entrance was left to the care of his followers ; 
yet how soon that entrance was neglected and overgrown; until now 
those whose insight and aspiration are not keen enough to pierce these 
barriers must find some other entrance, through the message and life of 
some other great Teacher. 



ELEMENTARY ARTIG ,E 




THEOSOPHICAL SYMBOLISM 

A GREAT many of our modern Western people suppose that all 
that is necessary in order to give us a clear understanding of 
anything is that it should be distinctly stated in words. Conse- 
quently they get quite impatient when reading ancient books 
or the writings of Orientals. A little study of things outside of ordinary 
business life will convince us that the ancients were right and we are 
wrong, for the deepest things cannot be expressed in words, they can 
only be suggested by figures. 

Thomas Carlyle in his Sartor Resartus says, "Man everywhere finds 
himself encompassed with Symbols, recognised as such or not recognised; 
the Universe is one vast Symbol of God ; nay if thou wilt have it, what 
is man himself but a Symbol? Is not all that he does symbolical, a 
revelation to sense of the mystic God-given force within him, a Gospel 
of Freedom which he, the Messenger of Nature, preaches as he can by 
act or words? Not a hut he builds but is the visible embodiment of a 
Thought; but bears the visible record of invisible things." 

To the ancient seer, when he looked at these things, the earth was 
not mere earth, nor man mere man. To him the earth had an inner 
meaning ; there was a glory above the heavens ; and an inner sanctuary 
in the soul of man where God dwelt. Everything he saw revealed to him 
something he could not see; the revealed became a symbol of the 
unrevealed. To thousands in more modern times the world is a symbol, 
and the things that are made and seen lead their minds through the 
outer veil to the inner reality the spiritual reality that can only be dis- 
cerned by Spirit. It is the quality of spirituality to recognise the symbolic 
character of the world, indeed of the universe and of man. It is a 
characteristic of the spiritual man that he is able through the symbol to 
commune with the Reality; he can enter behind the veil of the material 
universe and there find Spirit; behind the veil of history and recognise 
the Divine will and purpose, and behind the veil of human personality 
and in the inner sanctum find God. Such were Pythagoras and Plato, 
Jacob Boehme, Thomas a Kempis and Swedenborg with his great wealth 
of correspondence. Such too were Milton and Keats, Wordsworth and 
Coleridge, Browning and Tennyson, with an innumerable company of 



i8o THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

others. Our Christian Bible is full of symbols clouds and storms, the 
sea and the mountains, thunder and lightning, earthquakes and volcanoes, 
lions and eagles, the vine and the husbandman, sword and crown, seal 
and robe, bread and wine, water and light, the white stone, the palm, the 
dove, the anchor all creation and all life is made to contribute some idea 
or conception of God and spiritual things. And yet even these symbols 
so suggestive, are but attempts to express the inexpressable, for after 
thunder and storm God is still the silent One, known yet unsearchable. 

This is true of our beautiful Theosophical symbols the Lotus, the 
moon, the serpent, triangle and others. H. P. B. in the Secret Doctrine 
has told us that "every symbol in papyrus or olla is a many-faced diamond, 
each of whose facets not merely bears several interpretations, but relates 
likewise to several sciences." And we are further told that to every 
symbol there are seven Keys, or that they may be turned seven times, 
corrsponding to all the septenaries in nature and in man. To look for 
some of the infinite interpretations that can be discovered in Theosophical 
symbols, such as the seal of the society, is not time wasted, nor time 
devoted to an artistic superstition. The Secret Doctrine seems to teach 
that these symbols are the formulae of the laws, forces, and powers of 
nature and of mind. Let us begin with the serpent that forms the circle 
of the seal, that is, the serpent biting his tail. The serpent stands for 
wisdom. Legends and traditions from all over the world, from Egypt, 
and Chaldea, Mexico and Peru, ancient Britain and Scandinavia, as well 
as India, all inform us that the serpent was regarded with great rever- 
ence and was sacred to the God of Wisdom. It also stood for inspiration, 
and the Initiates of all ages have been called serpents. As the serpent is 
oviparous it was regarded by the ancients as a symbol of the Divinity 
which issues from the egg of space. The Secret Doctrine says, "The 
Spirit of God moving on chaos was symbolized by every nation in the 
shape of a fiery serpent breathing fire and light upon the primordial 
waters, until it made it assume the annular shape of a serpent with its 
tail in its mouth." Then too, the serpent sloughs his skin and so symbol- 
izes the Ego that sheds its various bodies, or personalities, during its 
cycle of reincarnation. The same thing symbolizes rejuvenation and 
immortality. It also stands for time and duration, and with its tail in 
its mouth it symbolizes eternity. These are not one tenth of the things 
that the serpent symbolizes to the ancients. Bible readers will remember 
the brazen serpent lifted up by Moses in the wilderness to save the people 
who had been bitten by fiery serpents, so typifying the great Teacher, 
who by his power can heal those who have been bitten by the fiery 
serpent of the passions and Kamic nature. Students will also remember 
that, The Voice of the Silence speaks of Kundalini, one of the powers 
latent in man, as the "Serpentine or annular power," and says "it is an 
electric fiery occult or fohatic power, the great pristine force which 
underlies all organic and inorganic matter." The serpent, like all other 



THEOSOPHICAL SYMBOLISM 181 

symbols, is a dual figure and it symbolizes both spirit and matter, good 
and evil. The circle made by the serpent with its tail in its mouth is one 
of the most ancient, most mysterious and universal of all symbols. It 
stands for the Aboslute, or Absoluteness, for space, the idea of which 
can never be eliminated from thought, never destroyed. The Serpent is 
not the circle, but assumes the form of a circle which symbolizes abstract 
space whose center is everywhere and its circumference nowhere. The 
absolute circle includes every idea of space and time, that is, duration 
or eternity, as it has no end and no beginning. The cycles or circles of 
time play an important part in all ancient systems and all astronomical 
calculations. The terms wheels, rings, rounds, and so forth, are all 
included in this symbol. The perfect type of space is also the type of 
the perfect or heavenly man. Plato has told us this and Egyptian hiero- 
glyphics also testify to it. So we have the same figure for the Macrocosm, 
or great world, or universe, and for the Microcosm, or small world which 
is man "As above, so below." 

Let us now consider the interlaced triangles. The white triangle 
with its apex pointing upward symbolizes spirit in its three aspects ; the 
three aspects of the Logos, three persons of the Trinity, in common 
language. It is the Everlasting Yea of Carlyle, the positive pole of the 
Universal Magnet. The darker triangle with its apex pointing down- 
wards symbolizes matter, or prakriti. It is the negative pole of the Uni- 
versal Magnet, the Everlasting Nay of Sartor Resartus. As the other 
represented the three aspects of the Logos, this lower triangle represents 
matters with its three qualities, the Gunams. The first is said to represent 
fire and this one water, yet the two are essentially one, the higher being 
reflected in the lower. The two are interlacing, which means that we 
knew nothing about spirit except as revealed through matter, and nothing 
of matter except as vivified by spirit. The student will find a great many 
more ideas symbolized by the triangles than I have mentioned here,"and 
if interested in numbers will find a new world opening to him there. 

The crux ansata, or handled cross is an ancient symbol of eternal life, 
immortality. We are told that "In ancient Egypt the initiated adept who 
had successfully passed all his trials was bound to a cross of this shape, 
upon which he remained for three days plunged in a deep and sacred 
trance, during which his higher principles, or Spiritual soul, were sup- 
posed to hold communion with the Gods." After three days, just as the 
sun rose, the cross was brought out of the crypt of the temple or pyramid 
and the glorified initiate brought back to earth life. In this connection 
the handle of the cross symbolizes the immortal, spiritual Ego. The dark 
crypt in which the crucified one was placed is the body. When we put 
to sleep the -lower nature we shall be glorified by the awakening of the 
spiritual senses. There are many other things symbolized by this cross. 
There is another curious figure near the mouth of the serpent at the top 
of the circle, which is commonly known as the Swastica. In India it is 



182 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

called the Wheel of Krishna, while in the west it is known as the Gnostic 
cross, and is identical with the wheels of Pythagoras and Ezekiel. It is 
also the Hammer of Thor, in Scandinavian mythology, the magic weapon 
forged by the Dwarfs in their war with the giants ; that is, the forces of 
matter. The turning back of its ends denotes its revolution and is said 
to symbolize evolution and progress. 

Looking at the symbol of the society as a whole it is most instructive. 
If we proceed from exterior to the interior we are really going from 
the interior to the exterior of things as manifesting the eternal idea, 
which suggests that the Theosophical method is from universals to 
particulars. First we have the serpent circle which, as a unity represents 
the one substance, the Mother-Father of the stanzas of the Book of 
Dzyan in the Secret Doctrine. This substance is not matter, but the one 
Something, which is for us pure thought. The whole process of creation, 
or evolution from this Something is portrayed in the figure. Perhaps 
most interesting of all is the fact that the seal includes and symbolises 
the three objects of the Society. It shows that the center of the universe 
is man the intelligent and self-conscious center of the arc of evolution 
so showing that all men are essentially one, thus giving us the first object 
of establishing a nucleus of universal brotherhood. Then as the seal 
unites in itself, in one symbol, the symbolism of all the great world 
religions, it shows their essential unity, which is the basis of Theosophy, 
the synthesis of all systems ; showing the second object of the society, 
which is the study of comparative religions, sciences and philosophies. 

In the third place, as the power of Cosmos, nature and man of the 
Macrocosm and the Microcosm are set forth in the symbolism of the 
serpent, so the third object of the Society is suggested a study of the 
undiscovered laws of nature and the powers of man. Is it worth while 
thus to study symbolism? What good will it do? Let Thomas Carlyle 
answer for us, "In a symbol there is a concealment, and yet a revelation ; 
here therefore by silence and by speech acting together, comes a double 
significance. And if both speech be itself high, and the silence fit and 
noble, how expressive will their union be! Thus in many a painted 
device, or simple Seal-emblem the commonest truth stands out to us 
proclaimed with quite new emphasis." 

Now from Carlyle, let the Student turn to the Secret Doctrine and 
study carefully the sections on mystery language and symbolism and he 
may catch the spirit of the ancient seers and gather from earth and air 
and sun, the suggestions of a nobler, higher, and purer life. Every day 
in the great outer world he may find that which will quicken faith, enrich 
understanding, comfort the heart, and turn the whole world into a holy 
temple. 

JOHN SCHOFIELD. 




TVw G/<?am, by Helen R. Albee, published by Henry Holt & Co., New York. 
This work might have as a sub-title, "The Story of a Soul," for it describes the 
inner life of the author, from earliest childhood, through storm and stress, trial, 
pain, happiness, success and failure, until, finally, a fair measure of real peace 
and understanding is attained. It is graphically, at times even dramatically 
written ; is interesting from start to finish ; and yet it is a difficult book to review. 
One can admire the author's purpose, unquestionably that of helping others in 
their struggles; one can sympathize with her experiences; one can and does agree 
in the main with her final conclusions ; one can even accept as wise, and approve of 
many of her methods; and yet there are certain things about the book that make 
one question whether it will not do more harm than good. The reason for this is 
quite simple. Mrs. Albee traveled a dangerous road, and while she seems to have 
come through without obvious harm, it is quite certain that others without her 
special qualities of mind and heart would end in disaster if they tried to follow her 
path. She realizes this, inadequately, and in part, for she gives one or two gentle 
warnings to too eager disciples ; but not having herself suffered from the mistaken 
methods she tried, or not being aware of the effects of these things on her own 
character and inner being, she gives the general impression to her readers that 
they could not do better than repeat her experiences if they wish to arrive at her 
goal. She herself would probably deny this and say that, quite the contrary, her 
main object in writing the book was to enable others to avoid the snags and 
pitfalls that she met, and surmount difficulties without going through the pain and 
suffering she experienced. But she forgets two things. One is that human beings 
will practically never take warning from the experiences of another. The second 
is that psychic phenomena have an almost irresistible attraction for most people, and 
they will run any theoretical risk and undergo any theoretical danger for the sake 
of having such experiences. So long as these things are so, it were better for 
the average human being to remain entirely ignorant of the possibility of cultivating 
psychism. 

For instance, Mrs. Albee once tried to and succeeded in producing marked 
psychic effects by breathing exercises. She minutely describes the experiences and 
their psychical results, interesting and seemingly valuable, and ends with the brief 
statement that it is not advisable to try these things without guidance. Now the 
plain truth is that it is always exceedingly dangerous to try them with or without 
guidance, for they tend to induce consumption, insanity and other physical diseases 
and always produce serious disturbances in the psychic body. It would be much 
safer and better to take opium or hashish ; for the value of the psychic experiences 
which result is quite as reliable and trustworthy in the one case as in the other, 
while the permanent results of opium are not so harmful, evil as they are. 

Mrs. Albee also tried automatic writing and other purely mediumistic processes. 
Indeed, one of the most objectionable parts of her book is the generally mediumistic 
tendency of her advice. She does not realize that she had certain admirable 
qualities, a strength of will, a fixity of purpose, a fundamental sanity, which 

183 



184 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

carried her safely through experiences which would land most people in a quagmire 
of evil, physical, mental moral and spiritual. In other words, although Mrs. Albee 
has learned much during a most interesting life, and has passed through a great 
variety of typical experiences, she does not know enough to write this kind of a 
guide for others. It is not necessary for soul growth that we should operate the 
planchette, or indulge in automatic writing, and because she did so with no known 
harmful after effects is no reason why others should try experiments which are 
known to be exceedingly dangerous. Psychism is alluring and this book shows 
such things at their best ; shows them as they can be only when they operate 
through a person as pure, as well-intentioned, as strong and sane as Mrs. Albee. 
There is the danger. She was an unusual person with unusual qualities, and the 
average person who reads her book and who seeks to repeat her experiences, would 
be subjecting himself to grave dangers, all the more serious because not under- 
stood and perhaps not even believed in. 

Before leaving the ungrateful and ungracious task of fault-finding, there are 
two more things we must mention. One, the most repellant in the book, is the 
matter-of-fact way in which she will use spiritual power to produce material 
objects and results. She does not hesitate to furnish her house by a conscious 
command upon the spiritual world for a rug or a rocking chair! She does not 
seem to realize how absolutely shocking this prostitution of her power really is; 
and that saves her from what, to give it its real name, is nothing more nor less 
than outright black magic. 

The remaining fault is the old one of curing physical disease by the use of 
spiritual power. Most people seem to think it right because it can be done. Their 
difficulty is in believing it possible, not in its morality or immorality. Mrs. Albee 
can see and she points out the fallacy in the philosophical position of the Christian 
Scientists, and she is blind to the immorality of her own practices, just as she seems 
entirely free from any doubt about the propriety of calling down from Heaven 
the particular kind of teapot needed to supplement her table furniture. Indeed, 
we despair of convincing people of the fundamental danger of these practices until 
they know enough to see for themselves that all they do is to escape an immediate 
and apparent disease, at the cost of a much more dangerous and painful inner 
trouble. It may be the same disease in an aggravated form later on, or it may 
take the shape of serious defeat in the moral nature, or still again, a distorted and 
deformed body in some future incarnation. What is certain is that the present 
expression of any disease is the easiest and simplest way in which nature can 
discharge from the system the poison which is there. It is at our peril that we 
disturb the natural process and stop its expression. We do not and we cannot 
eliminate the actual poison. The whole mighty power of the universe would have 
to be violated before we could do that. Barring a certain lack of sympathy for 
and understanding of orthodox religions, and their usual expression, this is all 
we have to say in criticism. 

Turning now to the merits of the book, it is a pleasure to bear testimony to 
the splendid manner in which Mrs. Albee has learned many lessons which we 
are all endeavoring to learn. We can give unstinted admiration to her courage, 
her fine will, her endurance, her mental honesty and to many another quality of 
mind and heart. Above all, her love of nature and the keenness of her powers 
of observing it, and the beautiful manner in which she uses natural objects and 
natural phenomena to illustrate some subtle psychological problem, excite our 
admiring envy. It seems hardly necessary to say that when such a character, 
endowed with so many rich gifts of mind and heart, filled with an intense desire 
for steady improvement, seeking the underlying causes for things and events, tells 
her story, she tells many, many things which are inspiring and helpful. 

Her whole idea of life as a school in which the soul learns its lessons by 



REVIEWS 185 

carrying on a perpetual warfare against circumstances and things, is in accord with 
our philosophy. Her ideas about its discipline and training, and the way in which 
this discipline and training come, seem to us eminently correct and sane. Her 
ideals are high ; almost the highest, and she gives us the impression of having read 
much more Theosophy than she acknowledges. Some of our books she must have 
read, for she uses whole sentences from them, as for instance Light on the Path, 
which may well be the little book which led to her awakening, but whose name 
she does not give. Indeed, one can say quite truthfully that all that is best in the 
book is pure Theosophy and that it is only when she departs from Theosophical 
teaching that we begin to doubt the wisdom of her methods or her conclusions. 
This is not because we believe Theosophy to be the only expression of truth, for 
we do not. It is because Mrs. Albee approaches life from the Theosophical 
standpoint, but lacks thorough knowledge of its teachings and when she diverges 
from it, she does not improve her position. 

She believes in reincarnation and refers to it, but not directly by name. Her 
book ends with a sort of appeal to her readers to believe in the existence of 
Masters, again without using the name. Her psychological explanations are at 
times profound and penetrating, and would be helped if she had at her command 
a larger vocabulary and a better classification of human principles. It is here that 
the English language fails us. Her analysis of mental processes, of the mere 
activity of the brain, and the distinction between it and the consciousness back of 
it, is admirable, and unlike most Western writers, she knows the difference between 
meditation, contemplation and prayer. She knows these things by personal experi- 
ence, and not by study, and that makes her presentation of them all the more vivid 
and enlightening. She has much, but not too much to say about concentration, 
its difficulty, and its absolute necessity. 

Indeed, we do not see how any sincere minded person, with a desire to go 
forward along the Path of life and Immortality, and who knows enough to avoid 
the subtle pitfall of psychism, could fail to get help and inspiration from the 
reading of this book; and that makes it all the more distasteful to end our notice 
of it by repeating the warning that its defects as a spiritual guide, are serious, 
because it tends to glorify psychic experiences and put them in the place of 
spiritual experiences which are much more rare and difficult of attainment. The 
psychic nature can be artificially developed, and Mrs. Albee so cultivated hers. 
The spiritual nature cannot be, and spiritual experiences will never happen save 
to those who have earned them by hard and faithful work along the time honored 
path of self-conquest and renunciation. Needless to say the book is Vedantic in 
its approach to the problems of life, and there will be many who will miss the 
personal note which exists in the religion of Christ. Will it be amiss to say to 
these that this is only a difference in method and not in essence? Exactly the same 
experiences can be lived through and the same lessons learned in terms of the 
Christian religion, if that is a more sympathetic or customary means of approach ; 
as it will be to most of the people who will read this most interesting and unusual 
book. C. A. G., JR. 



ANSWERS 




QUESTION 130. "Does not the theosophical philosophy contradict the modern 
theories about the rights of man?" 

ANSWER. Yes, without doubt Theosophy demonstrates that man has no rights, 
and the more one studies Theosophy the more fallacious appears the easy rhetoric 
of the Preamble to the American Constitution, which attempts to define these 
rights. Who gave man any rights? Who could give him rights? 

A little reflection will show, I think, that only God can confer rights, and so 
far as I know, he not only never has conferred any on man, but every sacred 
scripture, of every race and time, has laid all its emphasis on just the opposite side 
of the question has insisted that what God wants is the surrender of absolutely 
everything which man considers a right. 

The Preamble speaks of the "right" of every man to life, liberty and the 
pursuit of happiness, and yet the Constitution provides the machinery whereby 
he may be deprived of life, liberty and the opportunity to pursue happiness. 

We are a queer people, much given to delusions, and I know of none more 
universal and few more pernicious than this Western theory about rights. For 
it is a Western theory. A number of Hindu chelas were being taught something 
about Western civilization, not so long ago, and they came across this question 
of people's rights. After puzzling over it for some time, one of them asked the 
teacher, "What are rights? Is it some new kind of Western sin?" 

The trouble is that it goes so deep. Take children, for instance. There is 
much talk nowadays, about the average American child, about his bad manners, 
his lack of deference and respect for his parents, his general low taste. I believe 
the reason to be that our minds have become so perverted by this idea of "rights," 
that it has affected our ideals of education, of discipline and of the proper way 
to bring up children. Indeed, we hear much about the rights of children, their 
right to the free play of their individualities, and other nonsense like that. I know 
one fond parent who is so bitten by this modern craze that she lets her children 
eat whatever they want. I cannot imagine any way of corrupting a human being 
more efficient and more far reaching than to be brought up by a modern exponent 
of the "rights" of the individual to his own life and to the free expression of his 
nature. 

Now what is the fundamental principle which governs this question? It seems 
to me to be simple. The whole of life provides the discipline needed for the 
conquest of self ; for its conquest, its control, its suppression, if necessary ; not 
in any way whatever for its free expression. In due time we shall hope to express 
freely the developed soul, but that time is far off for all of us, and in the mean- 
while, the fewer opportunities we have for the full and free expression of our 
personalities, the better. We shall have that much less to overcome. I believe, 
therefore, that the whole spirit and genius of our modern, and particularly our 
American life, is really contrary to what it should be, and must be, before we can 
hope that the race as a whole will progress and not degenerate. No wonder the 

1 86 



QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS 187 

sociological writer notes a spirit of lawlessness in our people; no wonder that we 
have been warned that license is not liberty; no wonder that our children are 
famous all over the world for their disagreeable and unadmirable qualities, so that 
in a foreign hotel, an American child is considered an unmitigated nuisance. How 
could these things be otherwise? 

No wonder that all over the Western world, the snake of socialism has raised 
its crest, and that the whole social body is in a feverish delirium from its poison, 
rending itself in internal strife, and arraying class against class in the unrestrained 
struggle, through strikes, lockouts, boycotts and even wholesale murder, to gain 
or hold their fancied and so-called "rights." 

Face to face with death, in times of plague or war or famine a man knows 
that he would be grateful to be allowed to live at all. But in times of ease this 
knowledge passes from him. Then someone tells him he has "the right" to live 
that the "world owes him a living." He may try to put this theory into practice, 
and, taking what the world seems unwilling to give, get a living, but in jail. But 
even if its crudest applications be rejected, once the idea of inherent rights finds 
lodgment in the mind it grows beyond all limits. The right to live becomes the 
right to live in comfort, the right to all one desires and can get by force or 
strategem. The workman's wage must be a "living wage" no matter how poor 
and dead the work. And the right to a living wage becomes the right to a wage 
which will support him in comfort. Then he wants the law to recognize that 
"right," and his "right" to leisure, and to have it forbid longer hours of labour 
or a less rate of wages. In England, to-day, he sets the minimum at $10 a week. 
But if he feels he has the "right" to $10 a week, and can get it by legislation, 
he will not think his rights stop there. Why not $15 a week or $50 or $500? 
Why put any limit? There are no limits to the magnitude of our "rights," if we 
possess even the smallest. Truly we people of the West are laying up an extraor- 
dinary Karma for ourselves in this preaching of rights, and when the bubble 
bursts there will come a hard awakening. 

The plain fact is that no one of us has any "rights" at all, not even to life itself. 
Life is a privilege, a gift from the gods, and we would be wise to be grateful for 
it, grateful for the opportunity to work like galley slaves for mere existence, if 
those were the only terms upon which we could get it. G. HIJO. 

ANSWER. The theosophical philosophy does not contradict modern theories 
about the rights of man if those theories are really understood. Everything 
appears to have at least two aspects or lines of approach, and the other side of 
the rights of man is the obligations of man. The right of every child born into 
the world to care and nourishment during its early years, approached from the 
other side is the obligation of the child's parents to provide those things. The 
right of every member of society to a limited measure of freedom and protection 
is the obligation of the State to ensure that freedom and protection and the 
obligation of every other member of society not in any way to interfere with it. 
The right of the laboring man to a living wage is the obligation of his employer 
to make possible that living wage, even at the sacrifice of his own superfluous 
comfort. 

Socialism looked at from this viewpoint presents an unusual and altogether 
spiritual aspect. Instead of the masses clamouring for their rights and threatening 
the unearned or extortionate gains of the captains of industry, the situation is 
reversed : These captains of industry, realizing the debt they themselves owe to 
the democratic principle and feeling the obligation to protect and extend that 
principle, pour back their surplus incomes into the common fund, or, better still, 
stay their hands in the early days of their successes from the "sharp" or dishonest 
policy to protect a weaker neighbor and leave him in independence to acquire 



188 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

his share of the gains. This is the spirit of socialism from the capitalists' stand- 
point. It has apparently the hallmarks of the theosophical philosophy brotherly 
love and self-sacrifice. 

If the maxim, "Thy right is to the work but never to its fruits" applies to the 
laboring man who clamours for his "rights," it applies with even greater insistence 
to the capitalist who builds a wall around his "privileges." 

Standards vary with different stages of spiritual progress or different periods 
of evolution. Struggle for life, independence, "rights," egoism are right at a 
certain point. When a man has gained these "rights" and learned what he can 
from those experiences he comes under the sway of a higher law the struggle 
for the lives of others altruism. This is no mere sentimental theorizing; it is 
a plain statement of fact, and every member of the human race who has earned 
the right to know, knows it to be a fact. If it could be shown that the "masses" 
were in the earlier stage of development and the "classes" in the later and more 
matured stage extremes would meet, and our social problems would be solved in 
the winking of an eye. Would to God they might be so solved. 

L. E. P. 

ANSWER. Before attempting to answer this question on the rights of man, 
it was my privilege to see the two answers which had been previously received and 
which appear herewith. They interested me greatly, more, I confess, than the 
question itself, and as I read them I began to wonder whether the majority of 
readers would not fall between the two stools set for their accommodation. 
The more I reflected the more it seemed to me that they would eye each a 
little askance, and remain standing where they were before. Neither stool seems 
exactly suited to the restful occupancy of the mere-ordinary-person's common 
thought. We admire uncompromising rigidity, but we think it might soon 
become uncomfortable ; that stool has no back. We marvel at the mental suppleness 
which can twist itself around and repose upon contradictory opposites, facing two 
ways at once. We marvel, but we know we cannot imitate; that stool, also, is not 
for us. On the whole we prefer to stand where we are. 

But where are we standing? There the original question repeated itself, and 
it seemed to me there was need for a third answer which would not presuppose 
such an unusual moral or mental equipment in the reader as are respectively 
assumed in the answers of G. Hi jo and L. E. P. As a mere-ordinary-person, I 
felt myself admirably qualified for the task of writing it. 

But now that I have undertaken it, the task looms larger than it did at first. 
I wonder whether the mere-ordinary-person is safe to approach this subject at all. 
I wonder whether the readers of the THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY are mere-ordinary- 
persons. I wonder whether G. Hi jo's attitude, rigid and uncompromising as it is, 
may not be the only safe one, even if it does look uncomfortable. I wonder, 
particularly, whether we do not make a mistake to assume that an attitude will 
be uncomfortable before we have tried it. Perhaps we have a stronger backbone 
than we imagine. 

What is it we mean when we speak of the "rights of man"? I fancy that 
we do not need to look very deeply into our thought about our "rights" in order 
to see that when we use that term we are almost always talking and thinking 
about something we deem to be a "right" of the personality. We very rarely 
say: It is my right to be courageous, honourable, self-sacrificing in my duty. 
We do very frequently say, or think : It is my right to protect myself, to get a 
little rest, to take some enjoyment. We are rather careless in our thought of the 
rights of the soul, as rights, but the "rights" of the personality we are inclined to 
insist upon as such. The reason for this is simple. We think about rights, as 
rights, only when they are questioned, when the horrid doubt comes into our 



QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS 189 

minds as to whether some possession or power we have enjoyed or desired is not 
to be taken from us. No one can take from us the powers and possessions of the 
soul. Neither man nor circumstance can prevent our being courageous, honour- 
able, and self-sacrificing. But both men and circumstances are forever endanger- 
ing our safety and robbing us of ease and pleasure. And because we want these 
things we cry out against the danger and the robbery. We say we have a right 
to them, a just claim which ought to prevail and which we purpose to enforce 
against all comers. 

Now here we are face to face with a pretty complete self-contradiction in our 
conception of "rights" when we regard them as attaching to the personality. Cer- 
tainly part of our conception of a right is that it is something which is inherently 
ours, which cannot in justice be denied us. If we felt it could be justly denied us, 
we would be forced to recognize it as a privilege and not a right. Yet we have 
just seen that what we desire to claim as the rights of the personality are precisely 
those things which are most commonly denied us, and which are forever being 
threatened. Indeed it is not stretching the paradox to say that it is precisely 
because the gratification of our personal desires does not seem to us included, 
as an inalienable possession, in the existing scheme of things, that we are led to 
claim it as a right ; precisely because we realize that our tenure in the goods of 
the personality is in fact so insecure, is the reason why we cry out that they should 
be secured to us. We are forced to the conclusion that either the existing scheme 
of things is fundamentally and continuously unjust, robbing us of what is inherently 
ours; or else that these goods of the personality are not inherently ours, and that 
our thought that we have just title to them is a delusion bred from our desire. 

Upon this point the study of theosophy throws much light. The doctrine of 
Karma is as complete a denial of the fancied injustice of life as it would be 
possible to imagine, and the delusive glamour which arises from Kama-Manas (the 
brain under the influence of desire) has been exposed and analyzed in a hundred 
ways. There can be no doubt to which horn of the dilemma the theosophist is 
forced. In his thought the personality can have no rights, for the very simple 
reason that the universe as it is does not recognize them. Willy, nilly, we find 
ourselves sitting on the stool G. Hijo offered us. 

But before we are content to remain there we are tempted to glance at one 
other aspect of the common thought on personal rights. Almost always what we 
call a right is something we claim for ourselves as against others. Most of us 
are not so much inclined to rail against the universe as against our fellows. We 
say that probably the universe is just enough, but we are quite convinced that 
John Smith is not. We are inclined to forget that John Smith is part of the 
universe. We stand on the corner waiting for the omnibus, and the policeman 
tells us to "move on." We grow indignant and say we "have a right" to stay 
where we are. If he moves us on we are a hundred times more indignant and 
consider that our rights have been grossly violated. If we were standing on the 
same corner and a sudden cyclone blew us down the street, we should not think 
of appealing to our rights. We would know the futility of it, and the folly. 
Yet in fact the universe "moved us on" just as much in the one case as the other. 
There is no "right" of the personality which the universe respects, least of all 
the so-called right to life, and, as we reflect upon this, we begin to think that 
perhaps after all our idea of our rights did not attach itself to the things we 
claimed, to this or that possession or power which we desired, as much as to 
our feeling of what was due us from others, to a standard of conduct to which 
we felt others should conform. Surely, we tell ourselves, we "have a right" to 
expect, and to demand, decency and justice and f airplay from those about us. 
And this, we add with some heat, is all we ever asked ; if we had been given 
that we could have had all we wanted. 



190 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

With this we leap up from our stool, and find ourselves back where we 
started from, still standing on "our rights," and with the renewed sense that we 
have been badly treated. We have, however, considerably limbered up our mental 
joints and we begin to believe that, after all, we may be able to twist ourselves 
into L. E. P.'s attitude. Perhaps it is not so hopelessly upside down and facing all 
ways at once as it appeared. We have, we are told, only correctly to understand 
the modern theories about the rights of man, to see that they are in harmony 
with the teachings of theosophy and possess its hall-marks of brotherly love and 
self-sacrifice. We become even more anxious than before to obtain such a correct 
understanding, which will permit us at one and the same time to insist upon our 
rights, to retain our sense of ill usage from the powers that be, and still to feel our- 
selves animated by the high motives of brotherly love and self-sacrifice. We perceive 
that this correct understanding consists in taking everything in a sense exactly 
the reverse from its ordinary significance. When we talk about the "rights of 
man" we have only to look at its reverse, "the obligations of man." We are better 
prepared to do this now than we were at the outset; for now we have about 
persuaded ourselves that all we asked in demanding "our rights" was that other 
people should fulfil their "obligations." Surely it is a good and high thing, and 
altogether in accord with the theosophical philosophy, that man should fulfil his 
obligations and show love and kindliness and generous self-sacrificing helpfulness 
to all about him. That, we exclaim, is what we were after all the time in insisting 
upon our "rights." If our rights were but granted us that is what we, they, 

Here, somehow, something goes wrong when we had all but accomplished the 
attitude we sought. If our rights were gained it would be the rest of the world 
not ourselves who would be all these charming and high-souled people. We look 
in vain for our share in the generous self-sacrifice. Moreover, if they yielded 
our "rights" through our compulsion in insisting upon them, would they really be 
so loving and kind and generous as we were imagining? Just what part does the 
doctrine of man's rights play in this Utopian picture of the fulfilment of man's 
obligations? Something is very wrong indeed. 

It takes small thought to see what that something is. It is the hypocrisy, none 
the less real and poisonous because often unconscious, of masking the self-seeking 
of the personality under the cloak of high-flown sentiments of brotherhood and 
justice, which others are to practise. "The rights of man" have truly for their 
reverse "the obligations of man," as evil has for its reverse good. But tc 
attribute to the one the good of the other is to do worse than to attribute to the 
darkness of night the light of day. It is to attribute to the flames of hell the 
light of heaven. 

No, we cannot take L. E. P.'s attitude ; and we begin to doubt whether it was 
ever really taken by L. E. P. or by any one else. We suspect it of being just a 
fancied pose, as we can draw ourselves in postures we could never possibly assume. 
We have to come back to reality and face things as they are, not as we would 
like to fancy them. 

And when we do come back to reality we find ourselves again on G. Hijo's 
stool. The plain and simple fact is that as personalities, isolated and separated 
from other personalities, we can have no rights and no possessions. All religions, 
all clear thinking, speak here with one voice ; and in the whole field of the theosoph- 
ical philosophy there is no other point upon which the teaching is more explicit or 
more clear. "Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and 
rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal." This is of the 
very essence of all things personal. In them can be no permanency of possession, 
no right not doomed to be denied and violated. We must "desire possessions 
above all. But those possessions must belong to the pure soul only, and be 
possessed therefore by all pure souls equally." It is the soul only that can possess 



QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS 191 

anything at all, or in which any right can inhere. There "neither moth nor rust 
doth corrupt," there "thieves do not break through nor steal." There is no power 
in the universe that can rob the soul, none, save the man's own will, that does 
not respect its rights ; for these rights, like its possessions, are "the special prop- 
erty of the whole only, when united." 

If we would but look a little deeper into life, as theosophy helps us some- 
times to do, we would see the personality as it is, not as the man himself, but 
as "that thing which he has with pain created for his own use and by means of 
which he purposes, as his growth slowly develops his intelligence, to reach to the 
life beyond individuality. When he knows that for this his wonderful complex, 
separated life exists, then, indeed, and then only he is upon the way." Could we 
once see this clearly and remember it, and remember, too, that "all steps are 
necessary to make up the ladder," pain and loss and failure, quite as much as the 
aroma of virtue and success, then we would no longer be troubled with this 
question of "the rights of man," but would know that in the denial of the right 
of the personality the right of the soul is claimed. H. B. M 

ANSWER. Deep in the consciousness of every man lives a realisation that he 
has rights, rights that are a part of his being. What are they? Where did they 
come from? They are, it seems to me, direct powers or privileges given to man 
by the Creator, when he was placed in this ordered universe and started on his 
evolution. All of them are spiritual rights and all are essential factors in that 
supreme right of man, the right to recognise the Master and to become like Him 

This direct privilege of becoming courageous, pure, loving, irresistibly glad, 
divinely patient, triumphantly obedient, we have consistently neglected or debased. 
But for the power that clings in it, this our goodly right and heritage would long 
since have departed from us. Even the common law of the land recognises that 
only those rights which are used may be maintained. 

So far from entering into our heritage, we try to exchange it for a mess of 
pottage. Misled by dislike of the hardships that mould character and drunken 
with lust for a life of ease and sensation, we debase this spiritual right to be and 
to become, by our endeavor to transform it into a right to grasp and to gain 
material things. So transformed, it falls from our hands. The compassionate 
law will not permit us to retain that which we have poisoned ; and still we struggle 
to hold it fast. No wonder that the whole world is throbbing with an economic 
unrest. There can be no permanent solution of the world-problem or of the 
individual's problem until we claim our supreme right to know the great love 
of the Master for us, and to help this love to grow in the hearts of our fellow 
men. K. D. P. 




THE CONVENTION OF THE UNITED GERMAN BRANCHES 

Our Convention took place in Dresden, on May I3th and I4th, and was pro- 
nounced by all present a very successful event. Paul Raatz, Secretary, called 
attention to the fact that this Convention was the first one held since we gave 
up our national name and that the year just passed had brought no regret that 
this step had been taken. Each member and each branch has acquired inner 
strength by the direct connection with the Theosophical Society. 

A public meeting opened the activities of the Convention, attended by a 
good-sized audience, who showed deep interest in the two lectures delivered by 
Kurt Uhlig on the subject: "Nature as a manifestation of Divine Thought" 
and by Sandor Weiss on the "Problem of Christ." 

The business meeting took place Sunday morning, May I4th, and was attended 
by forty-eight persons, of whom twenty-nine were delegates from the German 
branches. The reading of the letters of greeting from Mr. Johnston, Dr. Keightley, 
Jasper Niemand, Mrs. Graves, Mrs. Bagnell, Colonel Knoff, Franz Lang and many 
members unable to be present, formed an interesting part of the proceedings. 

The report of the Secretary showed that our "Union" has eight German 
branches with a membership of 232. During the past year twenty-eight new mem- 
bers have been admitted. The Correspondence Class, with Leopold Corvinus as 
secretary, has been active, the branches exchanging letters with each other and 
with other countries, especially with England. Each branch sent an enthusiastic 
report of its work, showing the deepest devotion and zeal. 

An interesting and instructive part of the proceedings proved to be the lecture 
given by Paul Raatz on "Methods of Branch Work." He laid stress on the 
principle of unity which must prevail in each branch, each member identifying 
himself with the whole and devoting himself to service for the whole. To do this 
a branch must do inner and outer work; inner work by strengthening the feeling 
of solidarity among the members, by study, by exchange of thought and experience ; 
outer work by being active for the place in which the branch is located. The 
principle to be followed in outer work should be : interest in the spiritual awaken- 
ing of all who visit the meetings, especially those who are not members. The 
choice of subjects should not, therefore, be too narrowly restricted. 

Practical work in the branches should also be of two kinds : positive and 
negative positive work by strengthening the basic idea of the Theosophical 
Society, Universal Brotherhood, and negative work by correcting false impressions 
among outsiders, in respect to the aims and work of the Theosophical Society. 

One branch has had good experience in introducing into its programme lectures 
delivered by outsiders, followed by a discussion, emphasizing points of agreement 
and theosophical principles. Members have also visited lectures held by other 
societies and joined in the discussion. 

A social meeting was held on Sunday evening and a large number of members 
and guests enjoyed the hospitality of the Dresden branch in its "Home." 

M. R. SCHILDBACH, Secretary to the Convention. 

19* 



COMMENT 




The Theosophical Society, as such, is not responsible for any opinion 
or declaration in this magazine, by whomsoever expressed, unless con- 
tained in an official document. 

THEOSOPHY AND CHRISTIANITY 

The Theosophical Society recently celebrated its thirty-sixth birth- 
day, and sedately entered its thirty-seventh year. Its life has been full 
of events, full of blessings for mankind; full also of discords and mis- 
understandings. Perhaps there has been deeper and more persistent 
misunderstanding concerning the theme of the present "Notes and Com- 
ments" than about any other subject in our checkered and tumultuous 
history. So that it may be fitting that a little anniversary sermon like 
this should be devoted to a consideration of the true relation between 
Theosophy and Christianity. On the one hand, nothing has done more 
to block our work and chill our welcome than confusion on this one point. 
On the other, nothing will do more to put new life into our movement 
than a real and complete understanding of the relations between these 
two great powers, so often held to be of necessity inimical to each other. 
Such a true understanding will mean an immense liberation of power, 
a crashing of the barriers which have long held us in check, a new period 
of positive and creative life. 

Any complete account of Theosophy and Christianity the writer of 
these Notes does not pretend to be able to give. Any such claim would, 
in a mortal, be flat presumption, since so much of divinity went into the 
making of both, such a sweep of high powers and angelic forces, that 
none not of the immortals could comprehend or chronicle. But we make 
up in fidelity and close application for what we lack in breadth and 
soaring insight; we may attain results valid within their scope, though 
far from exhaustive, by sticking close to what we ourselves have verified ; 
by taking illustrations from our own immediate experience. 

The Theosophical Society has, as we said, entered its thirty-seventh 
year. The writer of these Notes first heard of the Society about the time 
it was celebrating its ninth birthday, and joined its ranks some six months 

13 '93 



194 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

later. So that this little anniversary sermon will be based on an experi- 
ence of many years, an experience extended, by the grace of Karmic 
opportunity, from the Ganges to the Pacific Ocean, and including imme- 
diate knowledge of all the outstanding persons who have helped to make 
the Society's eventful history. 

With such an experience as basis, what generalization do we reach 
as to Theosophy and the general work and scope of the Theosophical 
Society? To the writer of the present Notes, the following generaliza- 
tion commends itself: The Theosophical Society is founded on a new 
conception of Truth, a conception at once so original and so novel, so 
simple and so deep, that it is small wonder that it has not been more 
universally recognized, that so many have held that the essence of our 
movement consists in something else, whether it be a doctrine or a 
system or a principle. Small wonder that so many, approaching the 
Theosophical Society with all kinds of preconceptions and mental crystali- 
zations, have mistaken its purpose and foundation, and have plunged into 
activities and exertions which, to say the least of it, have not always 
tended to the growth and forwarding of the movement. 

A new conception of Truth, at once deep and simple, far-reaching 
and fundamental. Let us illustrate by citing in contrast two older 
conceptions of Truth which have pretty well divided Christendom between 
them, these two thousand years. Take, for example, the Catholic system 
of theology, which, it has been held for centuries, gives a complete ac- 
count of the universe, and which anyone not only may, but must, under- 
stand and accept, on pain of lasting punishment in both worlds. One 
comes close to the truth if one says that the general opinion of educated 
Roman Catholics would affirm that the whole of truth is contained in the 
books of Thomas Aquinas, the Angelic Doctor; and, more than that, 
whatever is not contained in these books is presumably false. The whole 
of Modernism is, indeed, nothing but a protest against that idea. The 
orthodox reaction against Modernism is practically an affirmation of the 
thought that the whole of Christian truth could be contained, and was 
contained, in the mind of a single man. 

On the other hand, it was the firm belief of a great number of those 
who took part in the Reformation and in the religious movements that 
flowed out of it, that the whole of Christian truth, which meant the whole 
of the truth which any wise man would concern himself with, was con- 
tained in the mind and in the books, not of Thomas Aquinas but of John 
Calvin. And in either case this conviction was no mere pious opinion, 
which one had the option of holding or not holding. On the contrary, 
a failure to agree, and to affirm one's agreement, was a burning matter 
on either side, as Giordano Bruno and Servetus learned. In either case, 



195 

and in unnumbered martyrdoms, whether bodily or mental, there was the 
same fundamental thought: that truth is a simple thing, which can be 
known by a single mind, contained in a single book or a single head, 
and the deduction that failure to grasp and affirm this simple thing meant 
a moral rather than a mental deficiency. 

But we of the Theosophical Society have our base on a principle 
in complete contrast with this. We do not hold that Truth, the whole 
of Truth, can be held in a single mind, stated by a single tongue, recorded 
in a single book. We hold rather, implicitly perhaps, for many of us, 
rather than as a fully realized opinion, that Truth can only be grasped 
when it is approached by many minds, from many points of view, 
working harmoniously together, yet each with its own original and inde- 
pendent vision. In the belief of the writer of these Notes, it is some 
such principle as this, some such conception of Truth, that is the vitaliz- 
ing principle of the Theosophical Society and the Theosophical movement. 

Take a simple illustration. Take one of those globes which are 
used to impress incredulous school-children that the earth is round, not 
flat. If one looks directly at London, one cannot see, let us say, Aus- 
tralia or the Pacific, or the Antarctic regions, or great spaces of America. 
On the other hand, if one looks at Mexico, the whole of Asia becomes 
invisible. Look down directly on the North Pole, and the equatorial 
regions and all below them vanish. Turn the globe over, and view 
the white continent of the South, and nearly the whole land surface of 
the earth disappears from view. No need to multiply illustrations. It is 
already quite clear that there is no single point of view from which one 
can see such a simple thing as a child's globe as it really is. Much more, 
there is no one point of view from which one can see its prototype, the 
big, round world. How, then, can any mind of man, looking from a 
single view-point, comprehend God's vast universe as it is, as God 
Himself beholds it in its mystery? 

But if we had half a dozen observers looking at our child's globe, one 
viewing it from the North, another from the South, while the four 
others looked at four points on the equator, ninety degrees of longitude 
apart, and if we could combine their six views into a single complex 
consciousness, then, indeed, we should have something more nearly 
approaching a true view of the globe, a view of it as it really is, a view 
of its true and essential being. 

Let that stand as a symbol of the Theosophical conception of Truth. 
We can only get a glimpse of the true, the real, a glimpse of essential 
Truth, when we gather together many views in one, taking them from 
points of view as diverse as possible, in as many lights as possible, with 



196 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

widely contrasted observers, and then combining the whole into a har- 
monious composite picture, viewed by that composite, collective con- 
sciousness. For this purpose, to form this collective perceiving con- 
sciousness, we should have representatives of widely different races, 
since each race means a new insight into life and nature, a new opening 
through which the Great Mystery may be viewed. Widely differing 
temperaments and tempers should also be included, the whole range of 
human faculty, so that our orchestral range of perceiving consciousness 
might be complete, or, at least, as complete as might be, since some races, 
with their secrets, have vanished out of life. 

But we can command many points of view: the analytic Western, 
the synthetic Eastern ; the practical, the contemplative ; the scientific, the 
devotional. And here we must allow ourselves a seeming digression, to 
consider the difference of view and faculty between men and women. 
It seems to us that there are three classes of human activities: those 
which men alone can accomplish, or which they can accomplish conspicu- 
ously better, such as a cavalry charge, or carrying bricks on a hod up a 
ladder, a job from which even militant suffragettes would shrink. Then 
there are things the two sexes can compass equally well, such as playing 
the organ, or tapping the typewriter. Then there are the things which 
women do conspicuously better than men; and we have not in mind the 
nurture of infants, which birds do, on the whole, quite as successfully, 
but rather such high matters as religious contemplation, holiness, the 
virtues of devotion and obedience. If we are right, women should have 
such experience of spiritual life, that they could speak of spiritual reality 
and spiritual law with the same certainty of touch with which men speak 
of physical reality and natural law ; nay, should not only be able to speak 
of these things, but should live them, in splendid certainty of immortal 
life. Women, who nowadays are losing the secret of rearing mortal 
children, should be able to inspire the immortals, should build the "house 
not made with hands" with the same sure faith as the bricklayer, who 
rears the towering wall of the visible dwelling, laying not one brick 
amiss out of thousands. Woman should be able to preside over the 
birth, growth and development of the spiritual man, breathing into him 
devotion, and nurturing him with her prayers. Look out of the window 
at any city: men have set every brick and stone of every house in 
place. Where is the spiritual building of the women, planned and 
reared with like fidelity? 

One need hardly ask the question. It is too patent to all eyes that 
women as a class, least of all the women of the Western world, not only 
have no sure knowledge of the birth, growth, life of the spiritual man, 
but they have no inkling that there is any such knowledge, or that it 
is their privilege, and their duty to possess it, while their failure to 



NOTES AND COMMENTS 197 

recognize and supply this crying need, the deepest need of life, is one of 
the most disastrous elements in the condition of the world to-day. Would 
that even a few might see the futility, the fatuity, of duplicating the 
already fairly accomplished activities of men, and set themselves to the 
search after those high and holy things which they could do supremely 
well. 

We need, therefore, for our ideal view of life, the executive- 
intellectual mind of man and the contemplative-spiritual soul of woman. 
Neither can at all be dispensed with, and, as we have already clearly 
said, the second is to-day far more grievously lacking than the first, with 
the resultant materialism which all decry, but few do much to remedy. 
The failure of women to do their part, to know and foster the life of the 
spiritual man, is the chief cause of our cheap view of life, our low ideals, 
our lack of inspiration, of devotion : our deficiency in all the qualities that 
should open to us the door of future promise. We need the two views, 
therefore, the masculine and the feminine, as we need the view of the 
transcendental Eastern and the dynamic Western mind, the thought both 
of simple races and of those most highly cultivated. All are necessary. 
All must be drawn together in a nucleus of collective consciousness, the 
supreme noetic instrument for piercing the mystery of the Soul. 

It is a truism of our day that the collective will, the energic corporate 
entity, has proved itself immensely more powerful than the individual 
man. So much is this so, that, in this country to-day, there is but one 
problem among all parties: how to direct the corporate will so as to 
take advantage of its wonderful power, and yet to safeguard the indi- 
vidual against the encroachments and excesses of that power. All dis- 
cussions of the Sherman law, the Trusts, labor unions, are but varying 
expressions of this one theme, which will fill the electoral declarations of 
all our parties during the coming year, and for many years. 

We have in view a corporate noetic instrument, a collective conscious- 
ness made up of many diverse elements, just as the collective will of 
many individuals forms the corporate productive instrument, and is by 
all recognized to be incomparably effective. And this purpose and 
intent, the formation of such a collective noetic consciousness, has been 
implicit in the work of the Theosophical Society ever since its First 
Object was formulated. That Object is, "to form the nucleus of a 
universal brotherhood of humanity, without distinction of race, creed, 
caste, color or sex"; to form, in other words, a corporate noetic instru- 
ment, of elements as varied, as sharply contrasted, as representative as 
possible, elements drawn from many races and creeds, men and women 
alike. An instrument which shall be as much more potent than the 
single seeking mind, as the Trusts are than their weak individual 
competitors. 



198 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

For it is evident that the separate person has well nigh reached the 
limit of his noetic power. Take an illustration. The trotting horse, 
after many years of careful selection and training, has at last succeeded 
in trotting a mile in about two minutes. It is practically certain that no 
horse will ever trot a mile in a minute and a half. The inherent limita- 
tions of the organism are against it. In the same way, the athletes have 
brought the time for running the hundred yards down first to eleven sec- 
onds, then, by a fifth of a second in a decade, to ten seconds, and to 
nine and four-fifths, with a contested record of nine and three-fifths. 
It is practically certain that no man will ever run a hundred yards in 
seven seconds. Again, the organism has inherent, insuperable limita- 
tions. So with the personal man, whether as a doing or a knowing 
power ; he has nearly reached the end of his string. 

Remains the noetic power of the collective soul, a thing as real 
and definite as the dynamic power of the corporate will, the Trust so- 
called, which everyone recognizes, though, so far as we know, the 
Theosophical Society alone clearly speaks for the noetic collective soul, 
and thus stands firm on the path of the splendid and inevitable future. 
And we may say, in parenthesis, that we have here a certain test, to 
distinguish between the central stream of the Theosophic Movement, 
and its overflows and backwashes. Where we see the noetic collective 
soul understood and worked toward, there we have the true current of 
the Theosophical Society. But where we see the individual authority, 
whether it be the emotional enthusiast, or the watery-eyed psychic, who 
hops about on the teaching perch, and drools forth pretended revelations 
about lost or non-existent worlds, then we have the backwash, the imita- 
tion, the mere copy of by-gone and outworn years. 

But let us consider the noetic collective soul in action, beginning with 
a simple case. There are conditions, just as there are in the formation 
of a musical group, beginning with a string quartette and culminating 
in a symphony orchestra with a full choir. The first condition is, that 
each of those who go to make up the collective soul must have found 
himself or herself to some degree, must have found spiritual life, have 
found the soul. Students just beginning to finger the violin would not 
strengthen the quartette or the orchestra. Their time is not yet. So 
with the search for the soul. There must be stability, poise, some 
mastery of life, the power to swim amid the waves of the world. 

Then there must be a proper subordination and adjustment of each 
to the collective soul. In the orchestra, some confusion would result, 
to put it mildly, if the French horn were suddenly smitten with a desire 
to play a solo, or if the bass drum, having composed a little piece of 
his own, determined offhand to favor the company with it. Solos are 



NOTES AND COMMENTS 199 

admirable and beautiful in their place, but symphonic playing is not that 
place. Yet, in a sense, every one of the four-score in a full orchestra 
must have it in him to play a fairly decent solo, or he has no place 
there at all. 

So with the collective soul which the Theosophical Society seeks to 
form, that "nucleus of the universal brotherhood of humanity" which 
is the supreme noetic instrument of the future. And one may say, 
again in parenthesis, that this defined purpose is as different from vague 
general friendliness as that precise and definite thing, a symphony 
orchestra, is from a vague feeling that music is pleasant and delectable. 
There are, in both, quite simple, quite imperative conditions : first, that 
each member must be a valid, independent individual, faithfully obeying 
his own law; and, secondly, that these individuals must combine in a 
certain way, to form a collective power, which will be able to accomplish 
ends and attain results that no individual could conceivably reach. 

So we have our valid individuals. Further, each must be willing to 
say what he really knows, and, as stuff of the conscience, abstain from 
saying what he does not know. To come to our simple instance. Not 
long ago, four people sought to put this method into practice, to form 
a collective consciousness, and therewith to come to some understanding 
and expression of the life of the soul. The first to speak was a man 
who had been deeply engaged in Church work, but, disappointed in his 
ideals, had given it up and plunged into practical charities. He said: 
"I believe spiritual life consists in service." The second speaker was 
a woman, blind, who had been tried in many afflictions. She said, "I 
believe spiritual life is joy." The third said: "Whenever I think of 
spiritual life, I feel myself immortal. It is like knowing that I am 
awake, hard to prove, yet the basis of everything. I believe spiritual 
life is immortality." The fourth speaker said: "I believe spiritual life 
rests on communion with the Masters, with the Master who stands 
immediately above each in the upward path of life." Thus did each say 
what he had of positive to say, abstaining from all negation, from saying 
things unexperienced or unknown. 

Now gather these rays in a focus. Take the synthesis of these four 
expressions, the word of that collective soul: "Spiritual life rests on 
communion with the Master, it carries the consciousness of immortality, 
it fits for service and is full of joy :" a deep and luminous approach 
to the great Mystery, but to be gained only on the conditions stated. 
Thus, had each speaker allowed himself negative as well as positive 
statement, we might have had one saying: "Spiritual life is service, but 
has nothing to do with Masters or immortality;" or another adding: 
"Spiritual life means obedience to the Master, but that service is devoid 
of joy," thus mingling manifest truth with as manifest error. 



200 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

Those who follow this way, vividly realize that each of us has only 
his part of truth. Priceless golden particles are in the hearts of others, 
of all about us, to be had for the asking. All must be gathered, to make 
the crown of life. But we must be ready to stand aside, to listen, to 
seek the other's truth, rather than to insist on our own truth. And this 
requires a high degree of detachment, of sympathy, of humility, first to 
keep ourselves back, and then to reach forth in heart, and veritably to 
receive and entertain the soul of the other, making his treasure ours, and 
doubling its value to him by our receiving it. For all spiritual powers 
are, like the quality of mercy, twice blest : to him who gives and to him 
who takes. 

This power to stand aside and listen is so essential that it is worth 
illustrating abundantly. Take an instance, in this case a ridiculous one, 
that it may adhere the better in our memories. Let us suppose that one 
begins the day with a funny story, say such a one as this : "A cyclist 
was overtaken by dusk at a point where three roads met. In the gloom 
he saw a post with a dim inscription. He shinned painfully up the post, 
struck a match and read, 'Wet Paint ! ' ' Not a bad story in its way ; at 
least sufficient for our end. Let us suppose such a one, primed with his 
story, to meet a friend, likewise so primed, who button-holes him, and, 
with gurglings of premature mirth, exudes a story of his own. Now our 
first friend does one of two things : either he puts his own story aside, hid- 
ing it in his cheek, so to say, and, listening with all his ears, breaks forth 
at the climacteric moment of the other's story into happy hilarity, and so 
gains a tale and confirms a friendship; or, on the other hand, he knits 
his brows, and repeats to himself, with heart of gloom, "When will the 
idiot get done, so that I can tell him my story of Wet Paint, and reap 
admiration and praise?" 

Pursue such a one through the day, and suppose him to meet a 
score of jovial friends, each rejoicing in a jest of his own, and eager 
to impart it. In the one case, our friend makes twenty men happy 
by his glad hearing of them, and adds twenty stories to his own original 
one; in the other, he returns at night to his domicile, sour and disap- 
pointed, leaving a trail of woe behind, and, as for his one story, with 
the paint pretty well rubbed off. 

A trite instance, but a great truth, the perception of which gave 1 
birth to the definition : "A true gentleman is one who always laughs 
at your funny story, and never says he heard it before." In just the* 
same way, one who goes forth of a morning, with some little spark of 
truth about life in his heart, may come home at night enriched with a 
score of new truths, and may, by his right hearing have added riches to 
the truth in a score of other hearts. For truth is ever enriched by right 



NOTES AND COMMENTS 201 

hearing. But, to make the result more perfect, each one of the score 
should also profit by all the others, so that in each heart there might be a 
synthesis of many-sided truth. To accomplish this, we should have to 
gather the score together in a single assembly, so that each might speak 
forth the truth that is in him, and, even more vital, add to his own truth 
the truth in all the others, thus bringing the collective consciousness to 
bear, as many lamps are united in the gloom-piercing beam of a light- 
house. 

This is exactly what should be done by a Branch of the Theo- 
sophical Society, which should be the field for the preparation and growth 
of a collective consciousness, a corporate noetic instrument like a compound 
beam of light. And this is exactly what has been done, and is done at 
each meeting, by a Branch of the Theosophical Society, to which the 
inditer of these Notes has the honor to belong. That Branch, seeking 
the synthetic view of truth, has, in that way, most fruitfully studied 
many themes : for example, the New Testament, Buddhism, Hinduism, 
the religion of China, the aim and purpose of the Theosophical Society, 
as expressed in its Constitution and history, or as related to ethics, to 
science, to religion, to social life. 

It will be a natural bridge to the second part of our theme, Theos- 
ophy and Christianity, if we consider some of the results reached by the 
Branch in question, when it came to study the New Testament and the 
Christian religion. We began with the documents. Taking a general 
view of them, from the standpoint of many temperaments, we came to 
see that they may be considered, among other ways, as being the record 
of many views, by men of widely contrasted temperament, of the tower- 
ing figure of the Master whose inspiration gives the whole collection of 
documents their life. We have, for example, in the two letters of 
Peter, one view of the Master, given by the ardent and impulsive friend, 
who loved rather than understood; in the gospel of Matthew, we have 
the record of a man predisposed to legalism, by nature a theologian, 
with a tendency toward ecclesiastical speculation; in the gospel of John, 
the view of a born mystic, who both loved and understood, who was 
very close to the heart and consciousness of the Master; then secondary 
testimony, like that of Mark, a Cypriote and the cousin of Barnabas, 
who spent years with the first disciples at Jerusalem, while the great 
events and greater inspiration were still vivid in their minds and hearts ; 
Mark gives us a simple, naturalistic view, limited by the limitations of 
his own mind; another secondary view is that of Luke, the man of 
letters, the eloquent biographer, whose sense of style has preserved for 
us such treasures as the parable of the Prodigal Son, with its wonderful 
climax: "I will arise and go to my father;" or that marvellous speech 
to Simon the Pharisee, which is the most eloquent antithesis in any Ian- 



202 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

guage: "Seest them this woman? I entered into thine house, thou 
gavest me no water for my feet: but she hath washed my feet with 
tears, and wiped them with the hairs of her head. Thou gavest me no 
kiss : but this woman, since the time I came in, hath not ceased to kiss 
my feet. My head with oil thou didst not anoint : but this woman hath 
anointed my feet with ointment. Wherefore I say unto thee, Her sins, 
which are many, are forgiven; for she loved much: but to whom little 
is forgiven, the same loveth little." To Luke's fine literary sense we 
owe also the preservation of the story of the good Samaritan, and the 
Pharisee and the publican, with their masterly dramatic characterization 
of three universal human types. 

To these we must add two views, the more important, because they 
form a link between the days of that Master's work in the world with 
his first disciples, and his later work, in the spiritual body, after he had 
laid the vesture of the flesh aside. First of these two witnesses is Paul, 
the fiery antagonist who was transformed into the fiery advocate by the 
touch of the Master himself, appearing to him in the spiritual body, 
on the Damascus road, and instructing him in detail of the Master's plan 
to open to the whole world the body of his disciples, which, up till that 
time, had been made up almost wholly of Jews, Galileans, men of his 
own locality, all speaking the same tongue. Paul's testimony shows 
how the Master came to him, and gave him clear, explicit instruction, 
first on the road to Damascus, then at Antioch, then at Corinth, when 
Paul was hard-pressed and well-nigh despairing, then at Jerusalem, when 
Paul was in instant danger of assassination, and finally at Rome, where 
Paul was on trial before the judgment seat of Nero: "At my first 
answer, no man stood with me but all forsook me: may it not be laid 
to their charge! Notwithstanding, the Master stood with me, and 
strengthened me." 

Yet another witness, this time one of the Master's family, his 
younger brother James. The fourth evangelist lets us see that, even 
on the eve of the Master's last journey to Jerusalem, his brothers, with 
this James at their head, not only did not believe in his power or count 
themselves among his followers, but even mocked at his claims, taunting 
him, and daring him to go to Jerusalem to prove them. But very 
shortly after, when Paul visited Jerusalem for the first time after he 
had seen the Master near Damascus, we find this same James, the 
Master's brother, among the chiefest leaders of the disciples and their 
following; we find him equal in authority with Peter and John, the 
elder of the disciples and the beloved disciple, and even exercising a 
certain dominance over the impulsive and changeable spirit of Peter. 
Thus, at the Council of Jerusalem, when the question of opening the 



NOTES AND COMMENTS 203 

assembly of disciples to those who were not Jews, whether by birth or 
conversion, was formally settled, the decision of the Council was de- 
clared, not by Peter, but by James, the brother of the Master. 

Almost by accident we learn, from a chance phrase of Paul's, that, 
just as tfie Master had appeared in the spiritual body to Paul, so he had 
appeared, at an earlier time, and therefore very shortly after his death 
and resurrection, to his own brother James, the son of Joseph and 
Mary, and that this appearance had transformed the whole view, the 
heart and mind, of James, just as the more widely known meeting of 
the Master with Paul, on the Damascus road, transformed the heart and 
life of the future apostle of the Gentiles. So we have, in Paul's history 
and letters, the recorded view of one who knew the Master only in the 
spiritual body; while, in what we know of James, the Master's younger 
brother, we have the view of one whose sight had been at first obscured 
by his very closeness to the Master, who, for him, was literally the 
"prophet without honor among his own kin." And, from these seven 
records, made by men of widely different temperaments and characters, 
we can gain a synthetic view of the Master, as seen by their collective 
consciousness, and thus having a truth, a depth, a relief, a reality, which 
no single view could ever give. We have, in fact, just such a synthetic 
view as we suggested in the case of the globe of the world, viewed at 
once from the four points of the compass, from the zenith and nadir. 

We therefore gain this great insight into our records of that Master : 
an insight which solves many of the difficulties raised by what is called 
the Higher Criticism. For example the critics of that school have held 
that the different views of the Master, presented in the records attrib- 
uted to Mark, Luke, Matthew and John, represent four successive views 
gradually developed through a period of two or three generations; but 
we see that their differences are precisely such as we should expect when 
the same great personage is viewed simultaneously by four men of 
markedly different temperaments, which we have tentatively described 
as naturalistic, literary, ecclesiastical and mystical; just such differences 
as we constantly meet in the actual application of the Theosophical 
method, the operation of the noetic collective consciousness. 

Great as is the light which our collective noetic method thus sheds 
on the figure of that Master as depicted by our records, the light which 
the same method sheds on his work is even greater. What do our 
records show that the Master did? He chose a group of disciples, 
drawing them forth from the multitudes who followed him, and requiring, 
as the necessary condition of his teaching, that they should turn from the 
worldly pursuits in which they were engaged, and come to him. There- 
after, for two or three years, he kept them constantly close to him, 



204 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

taking them with him in his journeys up and down the road which 
stretches from Galilee, under the mount of Samaria, to Jerusalem. 
During the greater part of this time, the disciples walked with their 
Master, slept under the same roof with him, crossed the Galilean lake 
in the same fishing boat, ate with him at the same table, until that 
culminating supper which he made a symbol of his whole work and the 
order of spiritual life he established. 

But he did more than bring the disciples outwardly near him, and 
make them share his daily life. He strove in all possible ways, and 
with marvellously patient iteration, to make them share the life of his 
thought, his hopes, his purposes also. "It is given unto you to know 
the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven," he said to his disciples; and 
he repeated to them times without number the formulas in which he 
summed up his view of life, sentences such as this, "he that loveth his 
life shall lose it; he that hateth his life shall keep it unto life eternal." 
Thus he made them sharers of his intellectual life, so far as the limited 
development of their minds made that possible. 

He did this, and something more. He sought in all ways to make 
them sharers in his life itself, the life of his soul, his spirit, his con- 
sciousness, his aspiration, his will. And this, not merely in the sense 
that he sought to make them feel and think the things which he felt and 
thought, but in a far deeper and more immediate sense; he sought to 
bring them into his very life, to make them share it from moment to 
moment, forming with him a single corporate life, a collective con- 
sciousness and will, of which his spirit should be the nucleus, and their 
spirits the component members. He sought to unite them so intimately 
with himself that his spiritual life-currents, the very life-blood of his 
soul, should flow through them from him, nourishing them and building 
up in them the common soul of which his soul should be the nucleus, 
the radiant center, the source and fountain of spiritual life. 

It may be suggested that these are modern thoughts and views, and 
should not be read into the mind of a teacher who lived two thousand 
years ago, and had not the advantages of these our enlightened days. 
But what does he himself say on this great matter of the collective 
corporate life? What similes and illustrations does he use? Take such 
a metaphor as this : "I am the vine, ye are the branches. As the branch 
cannot bear fruit of itself, except it abide in the vine; no more can ye, 
except ye abide in me. He that abideth in me, and I in him, the same 
bringeth forth much fruit; for without me ye can do nothing." Is not 
this a matchlessly eloquent simile for a collective corporate life, a shared 
consciousness and will, with one life current flowing through all? The 
Master gathering the power and life from the Father, the spiritual 



NOTES AND COMMENTS 205 

world, bringing it to a centre in his heart, and thence pouring it forth 
through the collective life of which his soul was the nucleus, the souls 
of his disciples the members. 

Take another illustrative metaphor which he himself used, an image 
striking, startling, shocking even, in the sense of shocking his hearers 
into aroused attention, so that their hearts might be opened to receive 
a stupendous truth quite foreign to all their former thought and life. 
This is the image: "I am the living bread which came down from 
heaven: if any man eat of this bread, he shall live for ever: and the 
bread that I will give is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the 
world. Verily, verily, I say unto you, except ye eat the flesh of the Son 
of Man, and drink his blood, ye have no life in you. Whoso eateth my 
flesh, and drinketh my blood, hath eternal life; and I will raise him up 
at the last day. For my flesh is meat indeed, and my blood is drink 
indeed. He that eateth my flesh and drinketh my blood, dwelleth in me 
and I in him. As the living Father hath sent me, and I live by the 
Father: so he that eateth me, even he shall live by me." Is it not 
clear that we have here another expression for the same thought: a 
corporate being and life, made up of the Master and his disciples, with 
the same life-current flowing through all as the blood flows through the 
body, or as the sap flows from the stem to the branches of the vine, 
bringing forth first the velvet buds, then the tiny golden leaflets, then the 
delicate-scented blossoms, and at last the clusters of grapes. A collective 
life, a collective consciousness and will, with the soul of the Master as 
its nucleus, with the life-currents flowing from his heart and soul, 
inspiring and quickening the whole being. 

But we can test the matter thus : Does that Master use expressions 
which necessarily signify the operation of a collective consciousness, a 
consciousness which he shared with his disciples? Most decidedly, he 
does. What else can be the meaning of such a sentence as this: 
"Abide in me, and I in you" ; or of words like these : "Because I live, 
ye shall live also. At that day ye shall know that I am in my Father, 
and ye in me, and I in you. He that hath my commandments and keep- 
eth them, he it is that loveth me, and he that loveth me shall be loved 
of my Father, and I will love him, and will manifest myself to him." 

It is quite plain that the Master of whom we are speaking had not 
in view a material union, an external assembly of persons, however 
harmonious. He says himself: "My kingdom is not of this world"; 
and again : "It is the Spirit that giveth life ; the flesh profiteth nothing" ; 
and once again, even more conclusively: "Except a man be born of 
water and of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God. 
That which is born of the flesh is flesh; and that which is born of the 



206 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

Spirit is spirit. Ye must be born again." And we may say that, in a 
certain sense, the necessity of making the disciples realize this was what 
made the Master's death inevitable; only the disappearance of his 
external form could bring them to realize his interior presence. That 
they did so is shown by our records, and notably by the testimony of two 
chief witnesses, Paul and James, the Master's brother, who show us the 
corporate spiritual life, the collective consciousness and will of which 
their Master was the nucleus, continued unbroken after his bodily death, 
and inspired and directed by him through the long years of Paul's 
ministry. 

One point more. Does that Master lay down conditions, by com- 
pliance with which one seeking to be his disciple may enter that collec- 
tive consciousness? He does, and with great precision. First, the 
turning toward him, just as the first disciples were asked to leave their 
worldly callings, to follow him. Second, complete obedience to certain 
rules of life which he laid down. "If ye keep my commandments, ye 
shall abide in my love ; even as I have kept my Father's commandments, 
and abide in his love." Third, as the fruit of this obedience, comes a 
sharing of the will and purpose of the Master. And, fourth, by sharing 
the will of the Master, we are by degrees inducted into his consciousness, 
so that we come to share that also, and take our place in the collective 
consciousness of which his life is the nucleus. 

One may consider the work of that Master and his teaching either 
as a definite historical event, quite real and substantially as described in 
our records ; or, on the other hand, we may view it as an ideal, a symbol 
of the laws and potencies of spiritual life. In either case, the practical 
result will be the same, since the four steps, attention, obedience, shared 
will, and shared consciousness, are the universal laws of spiritual life 
and growth, true two thousand years ago, true now, true for all time 
to come. 



"Once bodies were offered to flames for man's uplifting. Now souls 
are bared that men may see the way to grow." 

BOOK OF ITEMS. 



FRAGMENTS 



THE Path to the Masters is the path of likeness; there is no other 
way to go. Jesus said, "I am the Way, the Truth and the Life, 
no man cometh unto the Father but by me." He spoke then as 
the Christ. Only as we conform ourselves to the Master's 
image can we come to know him for by what sign or means shall 
we know that which is beyond the reaches of our consciousness? If 
he seems abstract, vague, is it not that he inhabits another world, 
utterly different and removed from our own? But so, mark you, only 
because of our limitations. For in reality he lives in the same world, 
sees the same sky and the same fields and flowers, only it is so much 
vaster and more luminous ! As the stones and plants and animals 
live also in our world, each in their place and degree, but without 
sharing our consciousness ; so we also in the Master's world see and 
yet not see, touch and yet never feel. 

When we awake sufficiently to realize with St. Augustine that we 
are "afar off in a cloud of unlikeness," then we perceive the lack, the 
deficiency in ourselves; then we turn our faces toward him, and our 
hearts; then we have entered on the path; then, as we conform our 
minds, our acts to his, seeking to follow as he bids us follow, we learn 
to catch the flutter of his garment as he makes the turn before us; we 
see the fresh foot-prints in the path ahead, and tones of his voice are 
blown back to us, growing clearer as the distance lessens. 

Seeking, seeking ; conforming without lessening zeal so eager is the 
search we grow into that marvellous consciousness, partake of some 
small corner of it, and there know face to face communion with him, 
growing deeper, stronger, fuller day by day, as love and faith and obedi- 
ence draw us closer to his heart, until at last no friend is so near as that 
friend, no communion so complete, no realization so vivid and so constant. 
But the path is the path of likeness, for which we must strive with 
virile power. Only in unlikeness can we be afar off from a love so 
perfect as his. 



There is a wonderful story told of the Master, a tradition of the 
Egyptian Lodge, which has many traditions of him. That once he was 
travelling in the desert with two disciples, and received the hospitality 



208 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

of some Arabs. And when the evening came, and the stars were throb- 
bing in the sky, he sat at the door of his tent and began to sing he, the 
mighty musician, the Master of harmony. And a great hush fell. The 
Arabs crept up to hear him, drawing closer and closer, charmed by the 
power of that marvellous voice. To them it seemed that Israfel had 
come forth from the gateways of Paradise and descended in their midst. 

With the magic of that sound the night was filled, so that the stars 
grew more luminous with listening, and the cool breath of the desert 
was alive with seraphs of folded wings. And he sang and sang until 
the listening world could bear its beauty no more ; and there came a cry, 
wrung from its heart; and when the cry had lifted to the stars and was 
lost among them, lo ! the Master had gone. 

Since then they have sought him throughout the desert, the marvel- 
lous singer those Arabs and their descendants, though they never speak 
of it. But there, where he stopped and sang not so many years ago, 
echoes can still be heard of the music he left, undying music; and 
across the evening sky, when the stars come out, long troops of angels 
travel, keeping sacred the very air that vibrates still to the lasting 
melodies he gave. CAVE. 



SOME ASPECTS OF THEOSOPHY 

As SEEN BY A NEW MEMBER OF THE SOCIETY 



INTRODUCTION 

FULL fifty times did I try to write an introduction to this series; 
to explain and apologize for it; and more particularly to express 
my great indebtedness to the busy man who with patient self- 
sacrifice and surprising affection has given me of his time and 
rich stores of knowledge that I might learn something of Theosophy. 

Forty-nine times I have failed but in the fiftieth I turned to the 
Book of Common Prayer (made truly available to me by these teach- 
ings), and in the Offertory Sentences have found just what I had tried 
to say and failed: 

"Be merciful after thy power. If thou hast much, give plenteously; 
if thou hast little, do thy diligence gladly to give of that little: for so 
gatherest thou thyself a good reward in the day of necessity." Tobit iv. 
8, 9, and, paraphrased, "All things come of Thee, O Master, and of 
Thine own have we given Thee/' SERVETUS. 



THE IDEAL 

To enter upon Theosophy had become my desire. But how should I ? 
The platform of the T. S. on which I was told to stand was broad enough 
to take in the whole world. What definite thing must I do to set me 
apart? The information I had gathered from talks and books was 
inspiring but it was so philosophical, so universal, so simple. Christ had 
said it all and so had every other great Teacher of the Moral Law. 
"Self-control; self-sacrifice; love" seemed to embody the whole of the 
fundamental principles. But any good man or good woman lived up 
to these.,- The very freedom of belief afforded me made me fearful. 
What was the hidden secret that I felt must exist to account for such 
lovely characters as I found in the membership? There must surely 
be some formalized creed and obligation; some marking one off as of 
an Order. 

In my search for the real qualifications all impatiently I read again 
the few books given to me as a beginner and asked many more questions 
of those patient ones who were giving me light. I felt that I simply 
must put myself under the unknown Rule. I dared not trust myself 
alone Despite the fact that all that I had learned of Theosophy was 
giving reality to, and at last making something really acceptable and truly 

14 **> 



210 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

illuminating of the Christian teachings I had received since childhood 
still I wanted something more. Then after continued searching and 
re-searching I felt that actually I had found a real and imperative 
mandate. On pages 73 and 74 of Fragments I found : 

"The first thing a Theosophist should do is to form an ideal, not a 
vague, far-away something, which he may half regretfully, half com- 
placently believe to be impossible of attainment ; but a definite, clear-cut 
object, varying, of course, according to the temperament and character 
of the man who makes it. What it is matters not, so long as it be higher 
and better than that which he has and is and so long as he concentrates 
the full power of his nature upon its realization. As the man so working 
attains this ideal, he will find growing out of it another correspondingly 
higher, and so on indefinitely as far as human thought can reach. In 
this manner a steady, consecutive growth will be ensured. He will not 
be one of those giant weeds that spring up in the night, only to wither 
when the noonday sun pours full upon it. The ideals of too many are 
so: born of emotion alone, nourished in a psychic hot-bed, and usually 
a source of gravest danger if not of ultimate destruction. Nature works 
slowly and surely, not by leaps, and we have been told to study nature 
and work with her. The cases we see of sudden unfoldment are those 
where growth has already taken place, and the soul, with all its stores 
of knowledge and experience, attained in the past, finally succeeds in 
commanding the personality. Those of us who believe in Masters and 
look to them as perfected men, have an ideal already formed to work 
towards; those who do not, can find innumerable types of noble and 
elevated thought, character and life. But the main point is that the ideal 
must be clearly defined, ardently desired and unfalteringly striven for. 
And in the fullness of time the step attained, he will see that 'wherever 
we stand there are always higher peaks of effort still towering beyond, 
lost in the mists of cloud'; as one who has traveled this path has sent 
us back word." 

Here was comfort. Thrice welcome the deliberate and specific 
direction along the path! 

How easy too but, the ideal must be "definite." Very good and 
certainly simple I would serve humanity; my life should be devoted 
to all mankind. But how? That question must be answered if one 
was to "consecrate the full power of his nature upon its realization." 
Upon consideration it became apparent that this could not be true of 
so huge and amorphous a subject. With a sense of vanishing pleasure 
I decided to limit my "ideal." To get the right result I should be 
content to take up work for boys. It was most enjoyable to let world- 
wide schemes of a great work dance past my happy mind in a succession 
of gorgeous colors. I soon began to plume myself upon already being 
the great benefactor of the coming generations. This ideal certainly 
went "as far as human thought can reach." Then, suddenly, I recalled 



SOME ASPECTS OF THEOSOPHY 211 

that this phrase of praise did not apply to me. It described a later stage 
and that a growth, not a newborn fancy. Painful though the process, it 
was certain that I must again draw in my ideal. "The boys of America" 
was as broad a field as I could venture to undertake. But the internal 
dissatisfaction was not lulled. Upon re-reading again the instructions, 
the statement "Nature works slowly and surely, not by leaps" stuck out. 
It also told me to be natural above all things. So great a project might 
be a characteristic concept but I had to confess it would not be natural. 

The shrinkage of my ideal was resumed perhaps I would better 
begin by devoting myself to the boys of New York. This vision was 
enticing and great were the institutions I imagined and great the power 
for good that I felt I would prove. 

It was a little difficult to know where to begin. Especially, as I can 
now see, that I merely read and did not accept the solemn admonition: 
"But the main point is that the ideal must be clearly defined, ardently 
desired and unfalteringly striven for." I was too busy just then with 
my vision to bother with such realities ! Friends of mine were interested 
in some church work in the city. One consecrated man was in charge. 
I sensed his consecration but dismissed the thought for I felt that in 
comparison with me he lacked practicality. So, when opportunity same, 
I tried to steer him on the proper course by patronizing advice. I can 
now see that it was only the combination of the Christ-qualities of gentle- 
ness and humor that kept him from slaying my conceit (if not me!) on 
the spot. I suspect he knew what would come. He listened patiently 
and, pending the adoption of my more ambitious plans, suggested that 
I try a class of boys. I felt it a waste of time for one with such a great 
work to do as I had, to undertake so elemental a task, but he craftily 
suggested that it would give me a chance to obtain local knowledge of 
his particular problem, and, thinking that this would enable me to advise 
him the better, I undertook to give twelve lessons in a certain practical 
science to twelve older boys. 

The one thing I do not understand is why the resultant disintegra- 
tion of the class could not have maintained a more perfect "curve," as 
the engineers say, for if only one boy had stayed until the last session 
I would have lost exactly one boy, on the average, for each lesson, but the 
last two regulars failed to show up for the eleventh lesson and the twelfth 
meeting is yet to be held! 

I had been so busy with my vision of a great ideal, so conceited in 
my confidence in my own ability to do anything unaided and without 
thought of the motive, that I had done no work of preparation, and 
my boys had found me out. Having nothing to give them they refused 
to waste their time, even if I were willing to waste mine. It came over 
me, as I sat alone at the eleventh session, waiting for the two regulars 
who never came, that perhaps my "ideal" of service was not even one 
of those "innumerable types of noble and elevated thought, character 



212 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

and life," given as an alternative standard. It had been ignoble to 
undertake the work in a spirit of patronage, coupled with the feeling 
that I was wasting my talents. It had not been elevating for the boys 
for their teacher to run in gaily from his club, not knowing what he was 
to talk about or else bringing some conscripted friend of scientific at- 
tainments to talk over the young men's heads. I had not given much 
"thought" to the subject, certainly not "character" and I had never really 
considered giving them anything, to say nothing of my "life"! 

My palaces of delight had crumbled one after another and had kept 
on a-crumbling until now my last cherished ideal was a chaotic ruin. 
Worse yet, my consideration had now been turned to my own limitations 
and I did not dare even to desire a smaller class of smaller boys to 
work with and to work for. Had I no ideal? 

Then began my first real thinking as a student of Theosophy, and 
its outcome was that I realized that I had made myself in various forms 
my own ideal. I had been vain. Worse yet, I had been stupid. I had 
not recognized that I had only decked myself in gay costumes for my 
own empty amusement. I was mortified. I was discouraged. . Yet 
somehow I could not give up the search for an ideal. I wanted, I craved 
the view of those "always higher peaks of effort still towering beyond, 
lost in the mist of clouds." Was that great vision never to be mine? 

"Then out of the darkness came a light; out of the stillness a voice." 
If under the very first test I had failed to qualify in Theosophy there 
was still something left to me. I could, at least, try to live up to the 
teachings I had received. As I reviewed these they focussed into the 
decision that I should attempt to help someone else and I seemed, 
somehow, to know and to know with surety that that "someone" was an 
older member of my own family who had never had all the happiness 
her beautiful life had merited. I would give up dreams of Theosophical 
attainment and quietly seek to give her such happiness as lay in my 
power. 

Then it came to me that in that thought I had an ideal. Yet the 
ideal was merely to do my nearest, surest, simplest duty. Apparently 
to enter upon Theosophy the first step was to forget self; to be simple; 
"and to do my duty in that state of life unto which it shall please God to 
call me." 

I had taken my step toward Theosophy. 

II 
RELATIONS WITH LIFE 

At last I dared to consider that I had entered upon Theosophy. 
There were few newer, none cruder, but I, too, was a member on the 
roll of the T. S. 

I had entered a new Service, joined a new Command. How would 



SOME ASPECTS OF THEOSOPHY 213 

this affect my relations with life? Of all my readings so far, that of 
Oriental trend had made the first appeal. How satisfactory it would 
be to give up all work, caste, family and ambition, and just enjoy the 
marvelous philosophy slowly unfolding before me. How lucky the men 
of the East who could turn from things mundane to the World of Mind 
and, passing through that, enter into the World of the Soul. How 
I did envy Purim Dass the privilege to become Purim Bhagat and to 
give up the Star of India for a begger's bowl. 

But Gradgrindian facts barred the way. To say nothing of 
climatic limitations and the American inability to differentiate between a 
wandering holy man and a commonplace "hobo," I had responsibilities 
not easy to put aside. Then a kind (and ever since beloved) friend had 
the courage among other things to tell me that such dreamings were "but 
the subtlest forms of self-indulgence." A cold water douche when one 
has been drugged is never pleasant but it does wake one up and later is 
appreciated with gratitude. So I set aside the drugging temptation of 
contemplating such unwisdom. Were such a life to be for me the oppor- 
tunity would have been given me. 

But the effect of the drug lingered and the illusion took the form of 
considering the possibility of becoming an anchorite with all the latest 
Twentieth Century improvements. I would go through life and work 
an untroubled automaton, as really removed from contact with or 
response to the life about me as if I were in the Desert or in the recesses 
of those mountains I miss but know not. Neither business duties nor 
kith nor kin should hamper my Soul's development. 

Fortunately before I crystalized in this absurdity I began to sense 
that to learn aught of Theosophy one must turn back to Christ, our 
great Master, and, while I was almost lamenting aloud my sad lot as a 
business man in a great city with family duties, there came the recollec- 
tion of the attempt to trap our Lord by asking him about the tribute 
to Csesar. I looked up His answer (Matthew xxii, 17) and read: 
"Render therefore unto Csesar the things which are Caesar's; and unto 
God the things that are God's" This seemed to be a special message 
for my need. The more I sought the meaning of this teaching the clearer 
it became. The Master had unfailingly accepted His own lot, recog- 
nized His own limits of circumstance, respected the Law and His own 
status and had never sought to better or change the situation for more 
seemingly favorable surroundings for His accomplishment. If He did 
all this and did not even refuse the bitter cup how dared I not accept 
my easy limitations ! 

"Limitations" did I call them! It came over me that they were 
blessed opportunities. I saw that with even a little of Theosophy I 
should have been a better lover and husband, and that I yet could be 
a better son, brother, father, employe and citizen. I knew then that I was 
put here this time to work for my own ultimate development and how 



214 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

unalterably foolish to cast aside the tools placed ready at my hand to 
sigh for those not deemed as helpful for my task. 

The "Universal Brotherhood" doctrine now first appeared as sane 
and practicable. I was to "love my neighbor as myself," but I must 
also accept my own lot and station. Since I was a son, a brother, a 
father, it would not be acceptance of my lot to care less than I did care 
for those dear ones allotted to me. The doctrine simply meant that I 
must not harm others but should consider and care for them as well 
as for my family and not seek to separate myself from any other through 
hate. It came as an inspiration that the Universal Brotherhood of 
course included my own family and that to neglect them would be to 
break the tenets of the doctrine! 

Before joining the T. S. I had heard that occultism invariably 
destroyed family ties and remitted family duties. Now that I had joined 
the T. S. I rejoiced to find this popular fallacy utterly and inexcusably 
wrong and that I was to be enabled to love the more and to do the more 
for those belonging to me. How clearly compatible this was with the 
acceptance of the Universal Brotherhood. It is the law of life that each 
shall serve and fend for his own. If I failed in this loving task what 
right had I to expect some Brother to give up his allotted work in order 
to do mine ? It all came down to a question of motives what worse 
selfishness, and of the most forbidden kind, to hurt another for the sake 
of trying to develop one's Soul? one's parents, brothers, sisters, chil- 
dren are of the Brothers why be heretically separate against them 
alone ! 

Then I found that theosophical thinking, studying, listening, were 
helping me surprisingly in my business relations and efficiency. The 
killing of the snake of self and the acceptance of others as my brothers 
has proved a hard, hard task from the beginning. But from the beginning 
I have found that the effort to do my duty has helped me to think 
straighter, work harder, and get on better with others. 

After the beneficial reaction upon my business situation had become 
noticeable to me I became frightened, fearing lest I was losing ground 
spiritually, and I turned in panic to my friend and patient teacher for 
relief and advice. "Of course you will be helped in all ways so long as 
you seek only the Path, but beware lest you seek the help for sordid or 
selfish motives. Not only will you not get what you try for, but you 
will lose more than it and suffer much until you learn the lesson." 

Then from his associate came the word that "the Master's work is 
here" and that so long as I worked solely for and only by the Master 
and was ever, ever on guard as to the righteousness of motive; ceaselessly 
watching that my motive was not selfish or self -advancement in any 
form; that most certainly the growing power I would gain would help 
me in every way, even in the market place, if that were to be for my 
good. 



SOME ASPECTS OF THEOSOPHY 215 

So, in my earliest stage as a member of the T. S. I learned that I 
would be helped in every way in each and all of my relations with life 
just so long as (and no longer than) I was in truth a seeker after 
Theosophy, and not merely masquerading as one. 

Ill 
"WHEN IS MOTHER COMING BACK?" 

"There is no problem of life and its relations which a Theosophical 
attitude will not solve." Once this would have sounded ridiculous as 
either an exaggeration or as fanaticism. Yet that it is neither, the veriest 
tyro soon finds. Take our attitude toward the death of a loved one. 
What shall it be? Is there a greater problem, even to those reared most 
carefully in the ordinary Christian family? Yet that may be answered 
by the student of Theosophy; the follower of Christ's real teachings. 
This at least is the conviction that comes to one as the result of the earli- 
est advance that a student is enabled to make. When so many worthy 
people, even older priests, are silenced how dare any one speak? Be- 
cause a little child can lead him. 

The smoothest lying, the most ingenious fictions had failed to satisfy 
the little boy when his mother had died. For a time he had fretted ; for 
two months he had questioned; and for a month he had been silent. 
"Comforted at last," said the wiseacres. But the little body had been 
growing frailer and the little nerves more sensitive painfully so. But 
the child had "accepted the inevitable." Had he? In the stillness of 
the night he suddenly waked his father with unusual and hysterical 
sobbing. The little voice wailed in the darkness, "When is Mother 
coming back? When is Mother coming back?" What was the father 
to do? Relatives had advised to deceive the child with statements that 
his mother had gone away "to get well," the earlier stage of the lying, 
and the later was to be indefinite and to lead the child's mind off the 
subject and in time his recollection would be dimmed and finally he would 
be comforted (calloused?). This policy had evidently failed. The little 
boy, not yet five years old, had felt the falsehood. Until that instant 
the father had not accepted the doctrine of reincarnation, but in that 
moment of trial, in the mystery of the night, fearful lest his child should 
suffer into sickness, his own mind was clarified. Two recollections 
came to him and though different yet they were one. The first was the 
Order for the Burial of the Dead, last read from the Book of Common 
Prayer, over the body of the boy's mother. The second was of the 
answers from time to time of his friend and teacher to his questions; 
questions not consecutive or always pertinent yet now the scattered 
answers came as one, and that one the same that St. Paul gave the 
Corinthians in his paean of the victory over Death. 



216 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

So, the father told his little boy the truth; that his mother was not 
coming back but that the boy could some day go to her. From Oriental 
phraseology he caught the thought of the distinction between the "I" 
(the really truly little boy) and "his" body, "his" mind. The discarding 
of the body terrestrial for the body celestial was explained in simple 
terms, mostly Biblical, and it was explained that this often happened and 
would happen to the boy and his father. The interminability of the 
current church teaching of a single incarnation was avoided by the 
explanation of reincarnation. That God had called his mother to let her 
rest between bodies was plain to the child and comforting, especially 
after he had been reminded of how he took off his clothes before he 
went to sleep and put on fresh, clean clothes in the morning before he 
started to play. It had been thought that he had been guarded from 
knowledge of death, yet it came out in the confidences of the dark that 
he had seen a little dog which had been killed, was "dead" and that he 
had caught a whisper or had guessed that his mother was stiff and cold. 
That was the horror that had been eating into his little life. When he 
found that it was only his mother's body that had died his fear vanished. 

At first he wanted to go to his mother at once and repeatedly since 
he has wished for "a new body" when hurt or not well, but the fear of 
death has departed. What reconciled him to waiting was not avoidance 
or forgetfulness but the analogy that his father and other men worked 
and that he wanted to grow up and do his work before he could "go to 
God," or "go to sleep and rest with mother," his two descriptions of 
Devachan or Paradise. This satisfied him, since he had been trained to 
put his toys away and do his other "work" before he could go to sleep, 
however much he had wanted to when tired. He prays for his mother 
and prattles of her. To him death is but a sleep, something that often 
happens and is not to be feared. 

The little boy is now more robust than ever before. He is less 
nervous. He really tries to get to sleep sooner ; to keep up his day time 
naps, which his playmates of his own age have abandoned, and to eat 
what is given him so that "my body shall grow big and strong" for the 
work "I am going to do before I can go to Mother." Attempts to move 
him by reciting "his" needs and "his" appetite had failed but the spirit 
of fair play toward the needs and appetite of "his" body seemed to appeal 
to him. Relatives had feared a morbid turn of mind from such disclos- 
ures but the happiness of the conviction that his dear mother still lives, 
that God needs her for other work in her next body and is letting her 
rest now and the assurance that some day they will be together have made 
the little fellow happier and stronger. But the outraged feelings of 
worthy people who call themselves Christians and yet regard Death as 
defeat rather than victory, as Terror rather than Peace, have reacted on 
the child until he rarely and then only with reserve will say anything of 
his creed and convictions. He still has the abiding comfort of his own 



SOME ASPECTS OF THEOSOPHY 217 

knowledge that all is well and that "mothers don't die, only their bodies" 
the simple remark that shocked one of the worthiest of his mother's 
friends into open denunciations that puzzled and silenced the child. 

If the desire to fit his body for work and to get his work done so 
that he can get to his mother and the feeling that death is a common- 
place helped a little child, why not a man? 

"Thou turnest man to destruction : again thou sayest, come again, ye 
children of men." Thus the Burial Service reads; thus the student of 
Theosophy early learns to believe. 

IV 
THE REACTION FROM ONE ASPECT 

One evening a connection who had just heard that I had joined the 
T. S. sent for me. I could not see why but after noticeable hesitancy and 
indirection the evening ended in the following dialogue: 

"You are a Churchman?" 

"I try to be; I was so baptised, educated and confirmed; and I so 
believe." 

"You are doing some work in connection with one of the Parishes 
in town?" 

"I have that privilege and pleasure." 

"How then can you call yourself a Theosophist ?" 

"I don't. I hope to be one. I am, however, now only a new member 
of the Theosophical Society and a student of primary Theosophy." 

"Well, I don't see how you can possibly call yourself a Christian 
and be that !" 

Yet that able, charming, sincere and devout young woman has been 
for years active in the church and an almost daily reader of those two 
great Theosophical respositories, the Bible and the Book of Common 
Prayer. 

But I can appreciate from my own experience how shocked she 
would have been had I ventured to tell her that my very first studies 
in Theosophy had revived my moribund Christian faith, had shown me 
the verity of Christ's teachings; had convinced me of the sincerity of 
His repeated promises to continue His work for His children, and so 
led me to believe that He is even this day at work in our behalf. 

The physical jar, the brutal physical shock I suffered when I first 
heard Christ calmly accepted as a present-day Actuality with Individuality 
is still too fresh and painful a recollection for me ever, I hope, to be 
impatient with members of Christian bodies who recite Theosophical 
teachings and truths arid know it not. Yet shocked though I was, I 
believed as I listened, racked and torn (and this, most emphatically, was 
not the same or in any way similar to the familiar evangelical conversion) 
and this acceptance on my part was one of the very first fruits of my 
preliminary studies in Theosophy. SERVETUS. 



THE DOGMA OF THE VIRGIN 

BIRTH 



"A certain woman lifted up her voice, and said unto Him, 
Blessed is the womb that bare thee. . . . 

"But He said, Yea, rather, blessed are they that hear the 
word of God and keep it." 

THE trial of an American clergyman for views held heretical 
concerning the Virgin Birth of Jesus is in all our memories. 
And it seems that this is the type of question which will serve 
as a rallying cry for all those who uphold the letter of the law ; 
that the acceptance of such doctrines as the Virgin Birth will be a test 
of Orthodoxy for some time to come. 

As a student of religion, especially in that vast Orient whence so 
much of religion has come, I am persuaded that the position of the prose- 
cutors in the trial to which I have alluded rested on a misunderstanding, 
a materialization of a spiritual truth ; that they have misapprehended the 
nature and meaning of the doctrine of the Virgin Birth, and, therefore, 
that the clergyman whom they condemned was the victim of a judicial 
error, based, shall we say, on a wrong construction of the statute. 

I think the truth is, that the dogma of the Virgin Birth, far from 
being in any sense peculiar to Christian theology, is of universal extent 
and of vast antiquity. It is more than a supernatural event in the life 
of Jesus. It is really an integral part of a much wider doctrine, a 
doctrine fundamental to all religion: the doctrine of the Incarnation of 
the Divine Man. 

The universality of this teaching is suggested by Rev. R. J. Camp- 
bell, when he writes: "the idea of a divine Man, the emanation of the 
infinite, the soul of the universe, the source and goal of all humanity, 
is ages older than Christian theology. It can be traced in Babylonian 
religious literature, for instance, at a period older even than the Old 
Testament. . . . This aspect of the nature of God has been variously 
described in the course of its history. It has been called the Word 
(Logos), the Son, and, as we have seen, the second person of the Trinity. 
For various reasons I prefer to call it or rather Him the eternal 
Christ." 

It has long seemed certain to me that there is a connection between 
Babylonian religious literature and the hymns of the Rig Veda. Be this 
as it may, we find the doctrine of the divine Man very eloquently set 
forth in the Vedic hymns. Thus the Purusha Sukta declares : 



218 



THE DOGMA OF THE VIRGIN BIRTH 219 

". . . Such is his greatness; the divine Man is yet greater 
"The universe of creatures is one part of his being, 
"Three parts are immortal in the heavens. 

"From him was born the Word. From the Word was born Spiritual 
Man. 

"When the Powers, making the divine Man the offering, accom- 
plished the sacrifice, 

"Spring was the oil, Summer was the fuel, Autumn was the oblation. 

"From this sacrifice, where he who is the world became the offering, 

all things were born. . . . 
"The Powers, accomplishing the sacrifice, bound the divine Man as 

sacrificial victim. 
"These were the first religious rites. . . ." 

The thought is, that the Logos, through self-sacrifice, became mani- 
fest as the created universe, in every particle of which the Logos lives 
and moves. This Incarnation of the divine Man in the world must 
be distinguished from the pantheism which sees Deity immersed and 
absorbed in the universe. For "the universe of creatures is one part of 
his being; three parts are immortal in the heavens." These three parts 
are the three divine Persons: Creator, Preserver, Regenerator, in the 
One Eternal. 

THE DEATH AND RESURRECTION OF OSIRIS 

The Incarnation of the divine Man through sacrifice was the 
religion of ancient Egypt. The central figure of the teaching was 
Osiris, in the ages before the dynastic kings. Osiris, or Hesiri, was the 
son of the goddess Nut, and a double paternity, human and divine, was 
attributed to him. At his birth, a divine voice rang out, proclaiming 
that "the Lord of all has come into the world." 

During the eight and twenty years of his life, Osiris brought civili- 
zation and culture to Egypt, teaching the people the use of corn and the 
vine, which thus came to be associated with his worship. He left Egypt 
to carry his message to other lands, and we find independent traces of his 
teaching in the oldest records of the Euphrates valley. On his return 
to Egypt, he was ensnared by Set, "the serpent," slain, and enclosed in 
a coffin, which was set adrift on the Nile. After long search, his body 
was found by Isis, or Hes, his sister-wife. Isis opened the coffin, and 
laid her face on the face of Osiris, kissing him and shedding tears. 

Set again seized the body of Osiris, and cutting it into twice seven 
fragments, cast it into the Nile. Isis found the fragments, bound them 
together with bandages, and fanned the cold form with her wings. 



220 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

Osiris was restored to life, and reigned as king of the dead, and judge 
of souls. 

The Egyptians saw in the resurrection of Osiris the evidence of life 
beyond the grave : "as surely as Osiris lives, shall we live also." Osiris 
is at once the type of the divine Man incarnated primordially in the 
world, his body being cut up by the serpent of Matter, and scattered 
through the world; and also the divine Man definitely incarnated in 
Egypt for the good of mankind, offering his body as a sacrifice, and 
rising from the dead. He is an Avatar, a divine Incarnation, not only 
in the cosmic, but also in the human sense. And we find that every 
spiritual manifestation of religion rests on the same thought of a definite 
divine Incarnation in human form; the history of every religion is that 
of a slow decline from the pristine teaching of the incarnate divine Man. 

The bas-reliefs of Dendera show Osiris lying swathed on the bier, 
then gradually raising himself till he stands upright. An ancient inscrip- 
tion declares that: "He gave his body to feed the people; he died that 
they might live." We are told that Apis, the symbol of the life of Osiris, 
was born through a divine conception, the impregnation of a divine 
power. Apis was, therefore, in the symbolical sense, a Virgin Birth. 

THE INCARNATION OF KRISHNA 

The Purusha Sukta depicted the divine Man putting forth the power 
called the Word, and then causing himself to be bora through the Word 
as spiritual Man. In other words, the Logos, through his own divine 
power, becomes manifest as the soul. This is the heart of the religion 
of ancient India. 

In the long centuries before the birth of Buddha, when the Three 
Persons of the Trinity had come to be called Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva 
Creator, Preserver, Regenerator the divine Man, who was considered 
as related in a special way to the Second Person of the Trinity, was 
called "the Lord." The Lord manifested himself through the power of 
Maya, the feminine Word. This was his Virgin Birth. The Lord 
causes Maya to bring him forth, and is himself the child who is brought 
forth. Thus Maya comes to be symbolised as the Mother of the Lord. 

As in Egypt, we have also the particular incarnation of the Logos 
in human form, the incarnation in India being Krishna, son of Devaki. 
Krishna is now recognised as a historical person, born several centuries 
before the Buddha, who was born six centuries before Christ. The 
incarnation of Krishna was twofold. First, there was the Virgin Birth 
of the Logos, the Lord, through Maya personified as a goddess. Then 
there was the human birth of the same Lord, as Krishna, son of Devaki, 
the wife of Vasudeva. This was a normal human birth, yet it was 
attended with signs and wonders, which are eloquently described by the 
Vishnu Purana: "on the day of his birth, the heavens were irradiated 
with joy. The winds were hushed. The seas made murmurous music, 



THE DOGMA OF THE VIRGIN BIRTH 221 

as the spirits of heaven sang." The voice of an angel sounded in the 
father's ears, warning him that the child must be taken away, to escape 
the wrath of the tyrant Kansa, who sought to slay him. The tyrant, 
enraged at the child's escape, ordered a slaughter of all new-born chil- 
dren, of two years old and under. Krishna escaped this slaughter, and 
lived to become a great teacher, later revered as the incarnation of the 
Second Person of the Trinity. 

THE BIRTH OF THE BUDDHA 

Several centuries later, and some six hundred years before the 
birth of Jesus, was born Siddhartha the Compassionate, also esteemed 
a divine Incarnation. The Buddhist scriptures, Sanskrit and Pali, tell 
the story with great beauty. I shall try to summarise their narrative. 

The Lord, who was to be born as the Buddha, "the Awakened," is 
depicted as dwelling in heaven, and perceiving that the time had come 
for him to be born among men, for the salvation of the world, he 
chose the family of king Suddhodana, in the ancient city of the sage 
Kapila. "The mother of a Buddha is one who has kept the precepts 
unbroken from the day of her birth. Now this queen Maya is such a 
one; and she shall be my mother." Maya the queen falls asleep and in 
a dream is caught up into Paradise. There she beholds the future 
Buddha miraculously entering her wMnb. She awakes and tells her 
dream. The wise men declare that she has divinely conceived, and that 
a son will be born to her "who will roll back the clouds of sin and folly 
from the world." At the moment of her conception, a great light spread 
through all the world, the blind received their sight, the deaf heard, the 
dumb spoke, flowers bloomed everywhere, heavenly music was heard 
in the sky, and the fires of hell were quenched. 

Angels guarded queen Maya with drawn swords, until her time 
was fulfilled. Then she desired to return to her father's home. Between 
the two cities was a grove of sal trees, and at this time the grove was a 
mass of flowers, with birds singing among the branches. When queen 
Maya, passing on her way to her father's house, beheld it, she desired to 
enter the grove to gather flowers. Going to the foot of a mighty sal tree, 
she stretched out her hands toward a branch. The branch bent down to 
her hand, and formed a canopy of leaves round her. Then the birth- 
pains came upon her. Four angels received the future Buddha as he 
was born, and bathed him with streams of miraculous water. Then 
placing him before his mother, the angels said: "Rejoice, O queen, a 
mighty son has been born to you !" The future Buddha strode forward 
seven paces, and said, with a noble voice: "The chief am I in all the 
world !" The aged saint Kaladevala came to see the new-born babe, and 
rejoiced over him, lamenting also that he would not live to see his full 
glory. 

There is also a noteworthy passage: "A womb that has been 



222 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

occupied by a future Buddha is like the shrine of a temple, and can 
never be used again. Therefore the mother of the future Buddha died 
when he was seven days old, and was reborn in heaven." 

Here the two elements of the Incarnation are blended together. 
The divine Maya becomes queen Maya, and the divine birth is blended 
with the human birth. Yet we have the conception in Paradise, as well 
as the birth on earth. 

Herodotus notes that the Greek story of Dionysus almost exactly 
repeats the Egyptian teaching of Osiris. In the same way Megasthenes, 
the Greek ambassador to India, identifies an Indian hero, who seems to 
be Krishna, first with Dionysus and then with Hercules. Hercules in 
his turn finds his prototype in ancient Babylon. We thus see that all 
these divine Incarnations, "goddess-born," who "bruise the head of the 
serpent," are but different presentations of a single idea. 

In western Asia, which was influenced both by Babylon and Egypt, 
we find several versions of the same primeval teaching, often materialised 
and overladen with sensuous details, yet recognisably the same in origin. 
In Syria, the doctrine of the divine Man attached itself to Adonis, whence 
the rites of Adonis reached Greece. In Phrygia the corresponding 
divine personage is the hero Attis, and circumstances decided that the 
worship of Attis should have a marked influence on the religious ideas 
of Rome. 

THE DEATH AND RESURRECTION OF ATTIS 

Dr. J. G. Frazer has learnedly set forth the history of Attis, in his 
recently published book: Adonis, Attis, Osiris. He shows that Attis 
was said to have been a fair young shepherd, beloved of the mother of 
the gods. His birth was miraculous. His mother Nana was a virgin, 
who conceived through the power of a sacred tree. The priests of Attis 
"made themselves eunuchs" in honor of their divinity. 

The worship of Attis was brought to Rome at the time of the great 
struggle with Carthage, two centuries before Christ. At the vernal 
equinox a pine-tree, cut in the woods, was brought to the sanctuary, and 
decked with violets. The effigy of Attis was tied to its stem. 

On the next day, the "Day of Blood," the effigy of Attis was buried. 
Late in the evening, "the tomb was opened ; the god had risen from the 
dead; and, as the priest touched the lips of the mourners with balm, 
he softly whispered in their ears the glad tidings of salvation." The 
next day, March 25, was a public festival in honor of the resurrection. 

The sanctuary of Attis and his divine mother was on the Vatican 
hill, and St. Jerome tells us that the traditional birthplace of Jesus was 
a cave shaded by a grove sacred to Adonis. It is further noteworthy 
that in Phrygia and Gaul, and even for a time in Rome, Easter was 
celebrated on March 25, being thus a fixed solar feast, instead of a 
movable lunar feast, as Easter now is, in conformity with the Jewish 



THE DOGMA OF THE VIRGIN BIRTH 223 

Feast of the Passover. There is also an intimate connection between 
the celebration of December 25 and the Mithraic festival of the birth 
of the sun-god. 

THE NATIVITY OF JESUS 

This brings us to the nativity of Jesus, and the Virgin Birth as a 
Christian dogma. Let us first consider the negative side of the question. 

To begin with, Jesus himself, though clearly affirming his divine 
incarnation and divine parentage, makes no mention of a miraculous 
human birth. On the contrary, when the woman cried out: "Blessed 
is the womb that bare thee!" we find Jesus replying: "Yea rather, 
blessed are they that hear the word of God and keep it." In exactly the 
same way he says: "Who is my mother? and who are my brethren? 
. . . whosoever shall do the will of my Father which is in heaven, the 
same is my brother, and sister, and mother." It cannot, therefore, be 
said that Jesus lays stress on the Virgin Birth, as a necessary article of 
belief, nor indeed does he ever suggest such a doctrine. 

In like manner neither John nor Paul nor Peter have anything to 
say of the Virgin Birth, either as an article of faith or even as a tradi- 
tion, though Paul had an admirable opportunity to do so, for example, 
when he wrote to the Galatians : "When the fulness of time was come, 
God sent forth his Son, made of a woman, made under the law." It is 
noteworthy that Paul does not write : "made of a virgin," and we know 
that this epistle is an autograph. Peter also speaks of birth through 
"incorruptible seed," through the Word of the living God, but refers 
to the regenerate in general, and not in any special way to the physical 
birth of Jesus. And John, though writing of "the Word made flesh," 
says nothing of Virgin Birth in the material sense. The same is true 
of James, "the Lord's brother," and of Jude "the brother of James." 

The only references in the New Testament to the Virgin Birth, as 
a material fact in the history of Jesus, are in the passages, Matthew I, 
18-25, and Luke I, 26-38. The verses in Matthew immediately follow 
the genealogy of Joseph, whose father is said to have been Jacob, and 
who was descended from King David through Solomon. We are told 
that : "the birth of Jesus Christ was on this wise : When as his mother 
Mary was espoused to Joseph, before they came together, she was found 
with child of the Holy Ghost. . . . Now all this was done that it might 
be fulfilled which was spoken of the Lord by the prophet, saying, Behold 
a virgin shall be with child, and shall bring forth a son, and they shall 
call his name Emmanuel." 

The reference is to Isaiah VII, 14. Literally, the Hebrew reads: 
"Behold, the young woman shall conceive, and shall bear a son." On 
this passage Prof. Toy writes: "The rendering 'virgin' is inadmissable. 
The Hebrew has a separate word for 'virgin.' " He further points out 
that a definite historical event, in the eighth century before Christ, is 



224 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

referred to, and that there is no allusion in it to a future time of pros- 
perity for Judah. 

In Luke, the essential part of the story is contained in verses 34-35 
of the first chapter: "Then said Mary unto the angel, How shall this 
be, seeing that I know not a man? And the angel answered and said 
unto her The Holy Ghost shall come upon thee, and the power of the 
Highest shall overshadow thee; therefore also that holy thing which 
shall be born of thee shall be called the Son of God." 

Only in the third chapter of Luke do we find the genealogy of 
Joseph. But here the "father of Joseph is called Heli, and his descent is 
derived from David not through Solomon but through Nathan. The 
occurrence of the genealogy as late as the third chapter of Luke suggests 
that this gospel originally began with that chapter, thus starting at the 
mission of John the Baptist, as the second and fourth gospels do. Simi- 
larly, the verses 18-25 of the first chapter of Matthew might be omitted 
without in the least breaking the continuity of the narrative. This is 
exactly what we should find, if the passage were a later insertion. 

THE BROTHERS OF THE LORD 

It would seem, therefore, that, with the exception of these two 
short passages, which bear some evidence of being later additions, we 
find no allusion to the Virgin Birth, as a material fact in the life of 
Jesus, in the canon of the New Testament. The real home of that 
doctrine is in the apocryphal gospels. 

There we find the doctrine set forth at great length, and with a 
multitude of details, to some of which we shall presently recur. It is 
very significant that, at the same time, we find the appearance of a cog- 
nate doctrine, that of the "perpetual virginity" of Mary, which presently 
becomes of primary importance. As the emergence of this latter doc- 
trine sheds much light on the later insistence on the material Virgin 
Birth, we may briefly examine it here. 

What have the canonical books of the New Testament to say as to 
Mary's "perpetual virginity"? Bearing on this question, we have such 
passages as this, in Matthew: "Is not this the carpenter's son? Is not 
his mother called Mary? and his brethren James, and Joses, and Simon, 
and Judas? And his sisters, are they not all with us?" The parallel 
passage in Mark reads : "Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary, the 
brother of James, and Joses, and of Juda, and Simon? and are not his 
sisters here with us?" Luke also speaks of "the mother and brethren" 
of Jesus, though without citing the latter by name. John has a note- 
worthy passage, in which the brethren of Jesus rather ironically urge 
kirn to go up to Jerusalem, and show his works publicly. In the Acts, 
we have the mention of Mary the mother of Jesus and his brethren. 
And finally we have Paul speaking of James "the Lord's brother," and 
also of "the brethren of the Lord.' r I am inclined to think that the 



THE DOGMA OF THE VIRGIN BIRTH 225 

mother of Jesus is referred to by Luke, as "Mary the mother of James," 
who was a witness of the crucifixion, and who is called "Mary the 
mother of James and Joses" by Matthew. At least it is certain that these 
passages were taken to refer to the mother of Jesus by writers of the 
apocryphal gospels who explain them away by telling how Mary had 
adopted James. 

But leaving out these last references, we have nearly a dozen pas- 
sages in the New Testament (in the four gospels, in the Acts, and in 
Paul's Epistles) referring to "the brethren of Jesus," and always in 
connection with Mary. The plain meaning of these passages is, that 
James and Joses, Jude and Simon were the children of Joseph and Mary, 
Jesus being the "first-born" son, their elder brother. It is noteworthy 
that Matthew and Luke both speak of Jesus as the "first-bora" son of 
Mary, at least suggesting that there were later children. Dr. Alford, 
who examines these passages very fully, comes to the conclusion that 
the brethren of the Lord were the children of Mary the mother of 
Jesus, and of Joseph. 

THE VIRGIN BIRTH IN THE APOCRYPHAL GOSPELS 
When we come to the apocryphal gospels, we find the doctrine of 
the Virgin Birth of Jesus occupying a very important place. A whole 
cycle of narrative confronts us, in which every side of the doctrine is 
given ample scope. The question of "the brethren of the Lord" is cov- 
ered by declaring that Joseph was a widower with four sons, James, 
Joses, Jude and Simon, and two daughters, Assia and Lydia, when he 
was espoused to Mary. The book called the "Gospel of Pseudo- 
Matthew" makes Joseph say: "I am an old man, and have children; 
why do you hand over to me this infant (Mary), who is younger than 
my grandsons?" 

The book called "The History of Joseph the Carpenter" goes even 
further, and makes Jesus himself narrate the circumstances of his mirac- 
ulous birth : "Joseph, that righteous man, my father after the flesh, and 
the spouse of my mother Mary, went away with his sons to his trade, 
practising the art of a carpenter. And I chose her (Mary) of my own 
will, with the concurrence of my Father, and the counsel of the Holy 
Spirit. And I was made flesh of her, by a mystery which transcends 
the grasp of created reason." This choice of Mary by the future Savior 
strongly reminds us of the choice of Maya by the future Buddha. 

When we come to the conception of Jesus, the apocryphal gospels 
offer us a richly colored narrative. The dogma of the Virgin Birth is 
safeguarded by the declaration that, immediately after the formal 
betrothal in the temple, Joseph departed to the seaside, leaving Mary in 
his house. Then we have the annunciation by the angel Gabriel, in 
passages resembling the narrative in Luke, but very much more elaborate. 
Then, six months after the conception, Joseph returns, and witnesses, 

is 



226 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

human and divine, appear to testify to the virginity of Mary. Joseph 
and Mary later go up to Jerusalem, and on the way the babe is born, 
in a cave to which Mary had retired. The cave is filled with miraculous 
light. The voices of angels are heard. And the babe is born without 
pain. Several of these ancient books tell us, further, that the virginity 
of Mary, even after the birth of Jesus, was established by a midwife, or, 
in some narratives, two midwives, who had been brought by Joseph. 
All these works at the same time insist on the "perpetual virginity" of 
Mary, and affirm that "the brethren of Jesus" were children of Joseph 
by a former wife. 

We may complete this part of the story by saying that the Virgin 
Birth of Jesus, in the material sense, is taught in the Koran, which tells 
us that Gabriel appeared to Mary, announcing the birth of her son; 
that he breathed on her, and at that moment she conceived. This breath 
of the angel is evidently the distorted form of the teaching of conception 
through "the holy Spirit," which in Greek would be "the holy Breath." 

Mirkhond, the Persian historian of the fifteenth century, tells us 
that Mary brought forth her son while leaning against a palm-tree, and 
that angels attended her, and produced a shower of miraculous water to 
wash the babe. These details, like the choice of Mary by the future 
Savior, and the doctrine of the "perpetual virginity," strongly suggest 
that the story of the Nativity was influenced by Buddhism in the early 
centuries, during which the apocryphal gospels were crystalising out of 
popular legend. I am inclined to think that these works reacted on 
the canonical gospels, and that from them the narratives of the Virgin 
Birth overflowed into Matthew and Luke. 

CONCLUSION 

We are justified, therefore, in saying that Jesus himself has nothing 
to say of the Virgin Birth, as an abnormal event in his own life. On 
the contrary, he brushes aside an attempt to glorify the physical circum- 
stances of his birth. 

John and Paul, Peter and Mark, James and Jude are equally silent 
as to the material Virgin Birth of Jesus, though many occasions for 
referring to this presented themselves. 

On the other hand, Jesus himself, and also John and Paul, Peter 
and James, have very much to say of the real Virgin Birth, in the spiritual 
sense, the "birth from above" through the Holy Spirit, the birth of 
"the new man, the Lord from heaven." Peter speaks of all the regener- 
ate as thus "begotten of God, of incorruptible seed;" and James speaks 
of "the Father of Lights," who "of his own will begat us with the Word 
of truth." In this spiritual rebirth, the Virgin Birth from above, Jesus 
is, as Paul says, "the first-born among many brethren." 

When we come to the apocryphal gospels, we find this idea of the 
spiritual Virgin Birth materialised into an abnormal physiological event, 



THE DOGMA OF THE VIRGIN BIRTH 227 

which is described with abundance of realistic detail, and elaborately 
developed. We find it in intimate association with two other doctrines, 
that of the Virgin Birth of Mary, and that of Mary's "perpetual vir- 
ginity." It is evident that this ascetic view of the events of life dates 
from the period of the hermits and celibates, during which the celibacy 
of the clergy was also formulated, though we know from the New 
Testament that Peter and the other apostles, as well as "the brethren of 
the Lord" were married, and Paul especially recommends the choice of 
married men as bishops. There is every likelihood that the material doc- 
trine of the Virgin Birth flowed back from the apocryphal gospels into 
the early chapters of Matthew and Luke, which are not closely attached 
to the rest of the New Testament. 

This is the conclusion as to the purely Christian side of the dogma. 
But it is in no sense a peculiarly Christian doctrine. On the contrary, 
it is already in existence in the oldest records of mankind. We find it 
as a twofold doctrine, cosmic and particular. As a cosmic doctrine, it 
gives an account of the formation of the world, by the manifestation of 
the Logos, the divine Man "immortal in the heavens." As a particular 
doctrine, we find it applied to divine Incarnations, who are held to be 
manifestations of the Logos in human form, for the salvation of man- 
kind. These incarnations are always associated with the idea of the 
Virgin Birth, a "birth without sin." 

When Jesus came to be recognized as a divine Incarnation, it was- 
both natural and right that all the characteristics of such Incarnation 
should be applied to him ; that he should be endowed with all the insignia 
of royalty, including the Virgin Birth, as a spiritual teaching. This was 
as natural and right as that John should apply to him Philo's doctrine 
of the Logos, which was but the restatement of the oldest spiritual 
teaching in the world. It was equally natural that pious but unlearned 
devotees should materialise this teaching, and turn it into an abnormal 
physiological event, as we find in the apocryphal gospels. 

If these conclusions are just, then we are in no sense called on to 
accept the Virgin Birth of Jesus as a physiological fact; but on the 
other hand, the Virgin Birth of Jesus, as of all the regenerate, in the 
true spiritual sense, is not only true, but is an integral part of religion. 

CHARLES JOHNSTON. 



DEVOTIONAL BOOKS 



THE typical missionary of a decade or two ago has been used 
as an illustration by many a lecturer from the platform of the 
Theosophical Society. The splendid symbolism of the great 
Eastern Scriptures, to which the Society has been given the key, 
was to these narrow enthusiasts but unintelligible hieroglyphs, or the 
most literal anthropomorphism. They could see only the heathen in his 
blindness bowing down to wood and stone. 

The thought of the world has changed in intervening years and 
the depth and profoundity of Eastern mysticism is being recognized 
throughout the Western thinking world. But the light which we can 
now see behind the stranger imagery of other times and races is still 
obscured for many of us by forms different but yet much closer to our 
own; and many protestant Christians of to-day turn from the early 
Catholic writers with the same contemptuous, ignorant condemnation of 
idolatry that our missionaries used to reveal in their description of 
Buddhist or Brahman literature. Sometimes great differences are more 
easily overcome than little. 

It is, I think, for this reason that the great mystical literature which 
Christianity has produced is to-day so little known and studied. The 
forms and symbols in which it is couched have been misunderstood and 
misinterpreted too recently by those about us for it to be wholly easy 
for us to read them now aright. Yet within them is the age-old truth 
of the way of life and the pathway of the soul. No one can understand 
Christianity who is content to pass these records by with careless indiffer- 
ence. No one can really understand Theosophy, or its universality in 
all religions, who ignores them or is balked by their symbolism. 

It is for these reasons, and because they are so little known, and far 
from being generally accessible in the ordinary book-store or library, that 
it seems it would serve a useful purpose to give a list of some of the 
greatest of them; some of the first hand records, each independent, each 
original, which describe with such astonishing unanimity the journey of 
the soul and the laws of the spiritual life. 



The number of mystical devotional books of really good quality is lim- 
ited ; so limited that even within the space of a single article it is possible 
to give a fairly comprehensive list, with some description of those least 
known, and where and how to get them. 

First, there are the well known purely Theosophical devotional books 
which may be obtained from the Secretary of the T. S., 159 Warren 
Street, Brooklyn, N. Y. : Light on the Path; Voice of the Silence; 



DEVOTIONAL BOOKS 229 

Through the Gates of Gold; Fragments; several translations of the 
Bhagavad Gita; Letters that Have Helped Me, Vol. I and Vol. II. These 
do not require any comment. We recommend beginning with Fragments 
and Light on the Path. Then there are the Upanishads and the Bible 
which of course must be included in our library. The best translations 
of some of the Upanishads are by Mr. Charles Johnston, but unfortu- 
nately they are scattered through many publications, some of which are 
unobtainable. The Song of Life and From the Upanishads contain the 
bulk of his work, however, and he is now preparing a volume which will 
collect the balance and will contain some new translations. His aim is 
to make available for English readers the seven or eight great Upani- 
shads, those dealing with the essence of the mystery doctrine. There 
are many others, some thirty-nine in all. Max Miiller tried to translate 
them in his Sacred Books of the East, but as he did not understand what 
they were about, his work is practically useless. Professor Deussen of 
Germany has published a complete translation which is the best in any 
modern language, but this has not yet been put into English. 

There are, of course, many commentaries on the Upanishads, some 
of which have been translated, and there are the Yoga Aphorisms, of 
Patanjali, which have just appeared in The QUARTERLY, and which are 
being republished in book form by Mr. Johnston. 

The Bible hardly requires comment. I would advise a Red Letter 
Testament and the recent American Standard Version as useful supple- 
ments to the King James Version with which we are all so familiar. 
They serve to bring the ideas to our minds in a fresh manner and, in 
consequence, often with a fresh meaning. 

Our main task, however, is to give a list of the best mystical books 
of devotion, published in the West, since the time of Christ, and to this 
we shall devote our remaining space, taking them up chronologically: 

The Confessions of St. Augustine (A. D. 354-430) : too well known 
to require description. Many have found this work inspiring because 
after a riotous youth St. Augustine became converted and turned into 
a good mystic. It can be obtained at any book store. The best transla- 
tion is by Dr. Pusey. 

The next few hundred years were barren of works that have stood 
the test of time. We must skip to the great St. Bernard (1091-1153) to 
find an author still widely read. Some of St. Bernard's Letters and 
Sermons are very fine. His Life and Works, by S. J. Eales, will give an 
adequate idea of his power and spirit of devotion. Together with the 
Scotch or Irish Richard St. Victor, a contemporary, he dominated the 
spirit of religious thought for two hundred years and can be said to begin 
mediaeval mystical literature. Richard's best work in English is A Very 
Devout Treatise Named Benjamin, included in The Cell of Self-Knowl- 
edge, translated by Gardner. (New Mediaeval Library, London, 
1910.) 



230 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

Those who wish to go deeper into the general subject of mystical 
literature must next look up the writings of a series of women mystics 
who followed Bernard and Richard St. Victor: St. Hildegarde (1098- 
1179), St. Elizabeth of Schoenan (1138-1165), the new Gertrude (1251- 
1291), St. Mechthild of Hackborn (1241-1298), Sister Mechthild of 
Magdelburg (1212-1299) and finally St. Gertrude The Great (1256- 
1311). They had between them every variety of subjective experience 
and mystic vision and have left beautiful and suggestive accounts of their 
religious life. The Exercises of St. Gertrude (London 1863) is the best 
example of their writings. There is no doubt that Dante read and was 
much indebted to these women and owed some of his most profound 
conceptions to them. 

St. Francis of Assisi (1182-1226) comes next in order. Unfortu- 
nately he wrote little and left no regular treatise, but every one should 
have The Little Flowers of St. Francis, published by Methuen & Co. in 
their series entitled The Library of Devotion. His great disciple, the 
Blessed Angela of Foligno (1248-1309) well expresses his spirit in her 
Book of the Divine Consolations, translated by Mary B. Steegman, 1909. 
A valuable work, The Mirror of Simple Souls, by an unknown French 
author, belongs to this period, but has not, so far as I know, yet been 
printed. There is also a beautiful fragment of the work of Margery 
Kempe (about 1290), Anchoress of Lynn, published in The Cell of Self 
Knowledge, mentioned above, which is all that survives of her writings. 
The Cell of Self -Knowledge, besides containing this, and Richard St. 
Victor's work, has five other translations, three of which are by unknown 
authors, and .can be obtained in no other form, The Epistle of Prayer, 
The Epistle of Discretion, and The Discerning of Spirits. 

Richard Rolle (1300-1349) is the first of a series of brilliant English 
mystical writers. His chief work, The Form of Perfect Living, is as 
alive and vivid and useful to-day as it was six hundred years ago. 
Almost at the same time appeared one of the greatest and least known 
of all devotional books, The Divine Cloud or "The Cloud of Unknowing," 
as it used to be called. It introduced the spirit of Dionysius the Areo- 
pagite into England and is almost pure Vedantin in tone and in its treat- 
ment of the inner life. The only edition I know is that by Rev. H. 
Collins, London, 1871, and is not easy to find. It is worth the trouble, 
especially to members of the T. S. who are used to the Eastern methods. 

John Tauler (1300-1361) has already been much written about in 
the QUARTERLY. The Inner Way (Library of Devotion) and The Follow- 
ing of Christ (T. Fisher Unwin, 1910) will give a good idea of this great 
man. Tauler was followed by the celebrated group of German mystics. 
Henry Suso (1300-1365) who should be studied in his autobiography, is 
now thought to be the author of Theologia Germanica, another of the 
world's great mystical books. A new edition, published in The Golden 
Treasury Series, by Susanna Winkworth, 1907, makes it easy to secure. 



DEVOTIONAL BOOKS 231 

A Little Book of Eternal Wisdom, London, 1910, has long been credited 
to Suso, but authorities like Poulain now say that Rulman Merswin 
(13101382), one of the Friends of God, is the author. Van Ruysbroeck 
(1293-1381) has been made available and has attracted attention recently 
by Maeterlinck's translation (into French) of his Spiritual Marriage. 

The Imitation of Christ, said to be the most widely read book in the 
world next to the Bible, is generally attributed to Thomas of Kempden 
or Thomas a Kempis; often erroneously referred to as St. Thomas a 
Kempis. He has not been canonized because of this very doubt about 
his being the author of the Imitation. A manuscript exists in his hand- 
writing, but that is not proof, for he spent a very long life transcribing 
religious works. That was the raison d'etre of the Brethren of the 
Common Life, to which order he belonged. Their occupation and 
finally their existence passed away with the invention of printing. 
Thomas was born in 1380 or 1381 near Cologne. The Imitation of 
Christ was given to the world about 1441. He died in 1471. The 
treatise was called The Ecclesiastical Music; the name now used being 
properly the sub-title of the first book. It was, of course, written in 
Latin, and the original is in either Rhyme or Rhythm. It has been 
translated many times. The most familiar version follows an edition 
which appeared in 1633, by Anthony Hoskins, a Jesuit. It contains many 
omissions and many mistranslations. The best modern translation, or 
edition, is that of Prof. C. Bigg of Oxford, published by Methuen & Co., 
of London. Modern scholars, both Catholic and Protestant, now feel 
sure that Thomas wrote most, if not all of this wonderful book. It 
should be in every library of devotion. 

Another Dutch mystic, Gerard of Zutphen, wrote The Spiritual 
Ascent, which is a valuable treatise, much loved by Thomas a Kempis, 
who wrote a biography of the author. 

Walter Hilton (died 1396) and Juliana of Norwich (1343-1443?) 
end the stream of English mysticism for nearly two hundred years. 
The Scale of Perfection by Hilton (London, 1908), and Revelations of 
Divine Love by Juliana (London, 1901), are books to possess and read 
and reread. Juliana, in particular, was a poet as well as a seer, and her 
work is considered the most beautiful of all English mystical writings. 

The Letters and the Dialogues of St. Catharine of Siena (1347- 
1380) must be added to our library, for she was one of the very greatest 
of the Saints, and is an exemplar of the practical work, in the worldly 
sense, that can be performed successfully by the nun and the contempla- 
tive. Nothing but the fact that she did get her directions from Jesus 
Christ himself, as she claimed, can explain her success. Algar Thorold's 
translations of her Dialogues (London, 1896) and Vida Scudder's Edi- 
tion of her Letters (London, 1905) make her work available to English 
readers. Those who wish to read more about her can get Edmund 
Gardner's St. Catharine of Siena (London, 1907) or The Mystic Bride, 



232 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

by Mrs. Aubrey Richardson, published this year by T. Werner Laurie of 
London. 

Next on our list come the works of the Venerable Blosius (1506- 
1565). He was a prolific writer and his Mirror for Monks is one of 
the most popular of devotional books in Catholic communities or among 
those who are not repelled by a distinctly Catholic method. He also 
wrote A Book of Spiritual Instruction, Comfort for the Faint-Hearted, 
and The Sanctuary of the Faithful Soul, which have been translated 
recently by an English Passionist, Bertrand Wilberforce, and can be 
secured in London. The Mirror for Monks gives the essence of Blosius' 
method and is probably enough for our library. The Spiritual Combat 
by Lorenzo Scupoli (1529-1610), an Italian mystic of renown, is a 
necessary addition to the list. It is published in the Library of Devotion. 

This brings us to the great group of Spanish mystics, who lived 
in the i6th century. St. Teresa (1515-1582), St. Ignatius Loyola 
(1491-1556), St. Peter of Alcantara (1499-1562) and St. John of the 
Cross (1542-1591). They all wrote and we can get in English, and we 
should by all means have in our library The Spiritual Exercises of St. 
Ignatius, The Dark Night of the Soul, by St. John of the Cross, The 
Interior Castle by St. Teresa, and Pax Animce, by St. Peter. We should 
also get St. Teresa's Autobiography (translated by D. Lewis, 3rd Edi- 
tion, London, 1904). 

If we were making a list of the books of the great mystics, we should, 
of course, include Jacob Boehme (1575-1624) and George Fox (1624- 
1690), but this is meant to be a devotional library. Augustine Baker's 
(1575-1641) Sancta Sophia or Holy Wisdom, is a long-winded but very 
valuable and useful treatise covering every detail of the spiritual life. 
Many would find it helpful (London, 1908). 

It seems almost trite to add the writings of St. Francis de Sales 
(1567-1622) to our list, they are so well known, but our library would 
be incomplete without them. On the Love of God and Introduction to 
the Devout Life are both published in the Library of Devotion. 

We must also get The Practice of the Presence of God and The 
Spiritual Maxims of Brother Lawrence (1611-1691). These are pub- 
lished in the Heart and Life Booklets (H. R. Allenson, London). 

The Spiritual Guide, by Molinos (1640-1697) (Library of Devo- 
tion) is a useful addition; so also are the works of Madame Guyon 
(1648-1717) the great French quietist. A Short and Easy Method of 
Prayer, is published in the Heart and Life Booklets, while this and her 
other devotional work Spiritual Torrents were translated by A. W. 
Marston, London, 1875. 

Maxims of the Saints and Meditations for a Month, by Fenelon, 
published in the Heart and Life Booklets, are an entirely inadequate 
representation of Fenelon's genius. One must go to his Letters to Men 
and Letters to Women to get the full benefit of his inspiration and 



DEVOTIONAL BOOKS 233 

spiritual learning. Many people like and are helped by the Serious Call 
to a Devout and Holy Life, by William Law (1686-1761), a non-juring 
clergyman who was influenced by Boehme and who was almost alone in 
keeping the fire of mysticism burning in the England of his day. 

The Hidden Life of the Soul, excerpts from the writings of the 
French priest, Pere Grou (1731-1803), translated by Mrs. Sidney Lear, 
is a charming little work. His Spiritual Maxims have also been trans- 
lated but I do not know by whom. During recent years another French 
priest has been issuing, and is still issuing, delightful little leaflets from 
time to time, under the title Paillettes d'Or. Some of these have been 
translated by Mrs. Charlotte M. Yonge, and are called Gold Dust. 

Our list comes to an end with a very valuable and remarkable book, 
published this year by Watkins, London, called The Path of Eternal 
Wisdom, by John Cordelier. It is the best devotional book, outside of 
our Theosophical books, which has been written for many years and 
represents the most exalted form of Christian Mysticism. 

The above list, which of course cannot be exhaustive, still does, 
I think, fairly well cover the field and contains examples of books which 
will supply the needs of nearly every kind of temperament. They are 
all treatises on the inner life, and they are designed to teach people how 
to live the inner life, giving detailed instructions for every step on the 
way. The obstacles we shall meet are described, as are the means for 
overcoming them; weaknesses and doubts are set forth and analysed; 
warnings given; experiences related for our guidance; and all by people 
who knew what they were writing about and who had lived what they 
are describing. It is that fact which gives vitality to these books and 
has safe-guarded them throughout the ages while hundreds of thousands 
of other works have perished. 

I would advise beginning with the simpler books, such as, to give 
the names of three or four, Fenelon's Letters to Men and Letters to 
Women, The Spiritual Maxims and The Practice of the Presence of God 
by Brother Lawrence, and the Mirror for Monks by Blosius. The 
Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius is also excellent. 

JOHN BLAKE. 



"It is rare when injustice, or slights patiently borne, do not leave 
the heart at the close of the day, filled with marvellous joy and peace." 



LETTERS TO FRIENDS 



II 
DEAR FRIEND: 

I HAVE your letter, bitterly complaining that I have withheld from 
you the help and teaching you say I could have given, and which 
you deem our personal friendship entitled you to expect from me. 

You tell me that I have always failed you, failed to sense and meet 
your need, failed to recognize that you had found the Master, failed 
to perceive that the only motive in your life was to do his will, and that 
this constant failure of mine and my reserve and aloofness have bred 
a resentment which stands as a barrier between you and the peace which 
you can only know as you feel in harmony with all about you. You 
ask me to remove this barrier. 

I cannot offer you the justification of myself which you desire. 
Nor would it profit you at all for me to do so even if I could. Not only 
because when self-justification enters, friendship ends; but because our 
barriers are always in ourselves and never in circumstances or in others. 
It is not I, nor my neglect nor failure, real or imagined, which is the 
barrier to your peace; but it is your own resentment. And this is in 
you, not in me. It is true that if I could place myself before you in a 
more favorable light it would give you some temporary easement and 
palliate your feeling. But it would be only a palliative and the cause 
of the trouble would remain untouched. Sooner or later you must face 
in yourself that which prompts this resentment; and, as you have asked 
mjy aid, it is better for me to help you to do this now, even though its 
first effect be to increase the intensity of your feeling, than to attempt 
to cover it over or to remove only the occasion for its manifestation. 

Let me be quite clear upon this point before we proceed further. 
Over the circumstances and environment of our lives we have little or 
no control. We have limitless control over the character of our own 
reaction from them, and what is to be their effect upon ourselves. We 
cannot spread a carpet over all growing things, over the rocks and stubble 
and brambles of the earth. But we can shoe our own feet. We cannot 
remove evil and unkindness and neglect from all those with whom our 
lives bring us into contact. We cannot, dare not even if we could, 
safeguard ourselves from the pain which these can give us. But we can 
make this pain a blessing, not a curse. We can make it yield us strength 
and courage and clear insight, tenderness and breadth of charity which 
is not blind to fault. We can learn to suffer and not grow bitter, and, 
above all, we can learn that there is no single thing in all this wide uni- 
verse that can come to us without bringing us a gift, will we but take it. 



LETTERS TO FRIENDS 235 

There is in every man's spirit an alchemy which, as we learn to use it, 
transmutes outer evil into inner good, and hardship into growth. By this 
alchemy alone can you win and hold the peace which you desire. 

Let us grant that I am guilty of all of which you accuse me. You 
do not wish to grant it. You wish to be persuaded it is not true. But 
that is only to evade the issue. If not I, then sooner or later some other 
will manifest this same attitude which now you find so intolerable in me. 
Is your peace to be dependent on another's attitude? Why should 
what is in another be so intolerable to you? Can we only be happy if 
we are justly appreciated, not slighted nor neglected? Can another 
stand as a barrier between us and the great Master who called sinners 
and outcasts to his love and whose kingdom is within? .If we think so, 
it is not the Master whom we have found, but a deification of our own 
self-righteousness. Why is it that you feel this burning resentment? 
What is it in you that is injured? 

First it is vanity. We think that we put vanity away when we 
cease to care, overly much, about our clothes, or to look with self-approval 
in the glass. But this is mere childishness, and vanity is not mere child- 
ishness. It meets us at every turn when we look out anew upon the 
world about us and see the image of ourselves reflected back to us from 
its myriad mirrors. Most men live for and from such reflections; their 
lives moved by the external stimulus of these images of themselves 
coming back to them with magic colour and deceptive potency. And 
this is vanity. Vanity is not only self-approval. It differs from pride 
in this : that its self-approval must be fed by its reflections. To one it 
is the halo of fame he must see about the image of himself. To another 
it is the echo of his power that he must hear resounding from the outer 
world; to yet another it is the aroma of fair deeds that must come as 
incense to his nostrils. But all alike are vanity the mere reflections 
of the self as we would see and have it seen a glamorous and enchanted 
world which holds us spell-bound and enthralled. 

But glamorous as these reflections are, there is something within us 
which keeps whispering they are unreal. It is the innate integrity of the 
soul which is never wholly blinded, but knows its kingdom must be inner 
and not outer, and that these things are outer things even the best and 
highest of them even the aroma of fair deeds. And though we listen 
but little to this inner voice, and ask ourselves in answer if such deeds, 
as here we see, are not both real and good, yet it makes us a little 
restless, a little keener than before to be reassured by the beauty of the 
image which we see. So if then it happen that there be but one direction 
where we look and see no halo, listen and hear no echo, scent and smell 
no perfume, our very existence seems in danger and our whole world 
threatens to melt away into a mist of shadow. We have built our house 
upon the shifting sands. 

It is not easy, much less pleasant, to realize that the greater part of 



236 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

all our suffering is but injured vanity. It is still harder to recognize 
how deeply it enters into the motives of our lives and colours all our 
works. To do this requires some knowledge and experience of a life 
that is not vain into which no image of the self as actor or enjoyer 
enters. To those who live in reflections such an experience would seem 
utter annihilation, not only of themselves but of their whole world. 
And so, in unconscious dread, in the mere blind instinct of self-preserva- 
tion, they cling to the delusive shadows of their works, the images of 
themselves they see about them, and strive to alter the mirrors, not the 
reality, till they see themselves again as they would be. 

From vanity springs jealousy. And this is the second thing which 
is wounded when neglect or reserve or aloofness appears in the attitude 
of others toward us. If vanity is subtle so also is jealousy. Each takes 
a thousand forms; each carries the other in its train; and both mask 
themselves against our recognition, the more impenetrably, the higher 
courts they enter. In crudely physical natures we see them readily for 
what they are ; but when our desires for ourselves have been moulded on 
a higher model, and the center of our life advances to the psychic and 
emotional planes, then their unmasking requires a courageous honesty of 
self-examination it is not easy to command. We wish to think of our- 
selves as loving, and as serving those we love ; as shedding gracious kindli- 
ness, dispensing charity, radiating peace and light, a source of strength 
and help to all about us. We tell ourselves, and tell ourselves truly, that 
these are high and noble aims. The model is indeed good. But the 
desire to see ourselves in its form and guise is vanity pure and simple 
differing not at all from the desire to see ourselves as beautiful, famous 
or admired. And if, when we find someone who seems not to require 
our charity or to recognize our light or to turn to us for the help and 
peace he finds elsewhere, if then we find bitter resentment springing up 
in us against him and his refusal of what we offer, we may know that in 
essence our feeling differs no whit from the blind jealous rage of 
thwarted vanity and ambition which an actress may feel, when applause 
is withheld from her and given to a rival ; or which may prompt to murder 
when drink is withheld from a drunkard. We, too, are drunkards of 
vanity, living on self -adulation and the incense of our own reflected 
perfections. 

You will accuse me of again misunderstanding you wholly of 
refusing to see the purity and selflessness of your feeling and desire of 
loving service. But we are not wise to consider ourselves exempt from 
the great snares and mirages of human life. Granted that there is 
purity and selflessness and genuine depth of noble love in your desire to 
serve. The question remains how much of vanity and jealously are mingled 
with them. When a man is ill the physician does not speak of what 
is sound, but seeks that which is diseased and the extent and origin of 
the poison in his veins. There is one test which, if honestly applied, 



LETTERS TO FRIENDS 237 

reveals the answer: To what extent do we desire that happiness may 
come to those we love, that good may be done in the world, in which we 
have no part or share as actor, agent or enjoyer, but which comes through 
other hands than ours and bears no trace or reflection of ourselves 
upon it? To what extent are we willing to be unnecessary and as 
naught ? 

Let us remember that these questions cannot be answered by 
assertions. We do not become selfless by the self-assertion that we are 
so. It is written: "It is easy to say 'I will not be ambitious'; it is not 
so easy to say : 'When the Master reads my heart, He will find it clean 
utterly.' . . . One fancies he has removed his interest from self, but 
he has in reality only enlarged the limits of experience and desire, and 
transferred his interest to the things which concern his larger span of 
life. Do not let yourself be easily deceived by your own heart. For 
now at the threshold a mistake can be corrected. But carry it on with 
you and it will grow and come to fruition, or else you must suffer bitterly 
in its destruction." 

It is to minimize this suffering that I write this letter in answer to 
your request, though it imperil still further the friendship you tell me 
my attitude has so impaired. The pain of your resentment is but part 
of the larger suffering that vanity, jealousy, and self-will must always 
breed. And to these presences, the great enemies of us all, you reso- 
lutely close your eyes. It is important above all things that you should 
recognize them in yourself and face them as your deadliest foes the 
traitors within your gates which stultify and poison all you seek to do 
or be, and every relationship into which you enter. 

I have written of vanity and jealousy. But still more dominant in 
your life is self-will. You have not learned the alphabet of tolerance. 
Differences, even minor differences of opinion upon trivialities, when 
your view is not agreed to, weigh upon you as an insufferable burden. 
You would have all men conform to your standard, pursue your ideals, 
seek happiness or service or rest where they exist for you. And you do 
not see that in consequence your will is constantly pressing upon those 
about you, necessitating either a surrender of themselves or ceaseless 
opposition, with the knowledge that they are causing you nervous strain 
and suffering. For against all obstacles to your own will you throw 
yourself with a reckless disregard of consequences that makes mortal 
issues of the commonplaces of daily life. 

How can I help you to see this, to see that your great need is to 
subordinate your own will, to cultivate passivity, to let differences lie, 
and to let others be unwise or mistaken or uncomfortable, if that be 
what they desire? If you think of it, putting yourself in the place of 
others, will you not perceive that there is as much self will in insisting 
upon being last as in struggling to be first; in pressing hospitality as in 
withholding it; in refusing to receive as in refusing to give? Will you 



238 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

not see, further, that if to open a topic of discussion means that it must 
be fought out into all its ramifications until agreement or flat opposition 
results, or if what is said is always given a personal application, that then 
only such topics as are wholly impersonal can be raised in safety? And 
it does little good to put an obvious bridle on your speech, if your mind 
and will continue to press upon the theme in silence. The strain is evi- 
dent, and what is outwardly repressed at the moment is only pent up to 
break forth with increased intensity later on. It is the will itself which 
needs the restraint of tolerance and respect for the will, the opinions 
and the reticences of others. 

No friendship can endure that does not respect the silences of friend- 
ship. No friendship can stand save in complete liberty, of will, of 
opinion, of action. And silence is not respected, nor liberty accorded, 
where its exercise is resented. 

I venture to think that when you tell me you have found the Master, 
and seek only to do his will, you do not realize the meaning of the words 
you use. To find the Master is to find a blaze of light in whose white 
radiance our sin stands out, unveiled and naked, and fills us with an 
intensity of self-loathing and abasement that would consume us where 
we stand, save for the compassion of his love. We long to be as 
nothing, but what we are is there in all its hideous unlikeness. There 
are no exceptions to this experience. Neither saint nor seer nor 
warrior has ever stood before the Master and not known its truth. 
Those who have passed through it will tell you that no trial of darkness 
is comparable to this trial of light to the self-revelation which comes 
with the light of the Master's face. If you have not received the 
teaching you think has been given me, and which you deem I should have 
given you, it is because you have not wanted it. Even now you do not 
want it, though you have asked for it. But because you have asked, 
and because, if I could, I would give much to help you, I have answered. 
That which you have found and thought the Father is a mirage of your 
own making, full of emotion, full also of the poison of self. You are 
as one dwelling in a black pit, filled with poisonous vapours that you 
cannot see, but whose walls are lined with phosphorus. If you touch 
them rightly they glow with many colours, and there is light and beauty 
and reflection. Before these walls you stand entranced and do not 
know that you are in a pit where the pure sunshine does not enter. As 
in Dante's Inferno the only way of escape was from its lowest depths 
up along the back of Lucifer, so from this pit of self the only road leads 
through its deepest blackness. There comes a time, therefore, when 
our trance must break, when, in pity, the phosphorescence is withdrawn 
and no longer answers to our touch. One by one the lights fail us and 
go out. We are left in darkness. But with the darkness, and the dread 
and pain of it, comes the craving for escape. 

All this has been written and described in many places, for it is the 



LETTERS TO FRIENDS 239 

growth, the fruition, and the death, of vanity and self-will. It is a 
stage in the life of the soul through which all pass who do not tear those 
things from their hearts at the outset of the Path. You will find in 
Fragments: 

"Behind all striving and seeming, behind all laughter and tears, 
behind our failures and the successes which are often more dishearten- 
ing lie the eternal verities of existence. And by and by, like children 
weary of playing, we rise and put away our toys. There falls then a 
hush, a silence, and to many a sense of blank. Suddenly it seems the 
great tide of life has rushed past us and left us alone. The world which 
had been so teeming with interests, so crowded with occupations and 
enjoyments, has, in a flashing turn of consciousness, become a world of 
shadows; the hands we held so warmly in our own have slipped away; 
the flowers we were weaving fall faded and unheeded. Why this has 
come about and how, is part of the mystery, but come it has, and life 
is no more the same for him forever. 

"This is the critical moment, when the weak soul faints and falters 
and succumbs. But the strong soul, crying: At least / am! struggles 
forward, and struggling, finds that he plunges deeper and deeper in the 
silence and the dark. Still move he must, live he must, terror of uncon- 
sciousness goading him, faith in that one knowledge of his own exist- 
ence the dim rush light by whose faltering flicker he must seek his way. 
Since I am, then God must be! his agony wrings from him, and lo! his 
rush light has grown brighter and the path more clear. 

"The turmoil of the world lies far behind. Wars may be raging 
there and nations rise and fall. He heeds it not; the darkness has 
enveloped him and the giant conflict of the universe is nothing to him 
who is struggling madly for his life and freedom, swallowed in its awful 
gloom. 

"On, on, oh struggle on. These are the birth throes of the living 
soul. The toys are put away, the flowers are faded. Yea, but God 
has other flowers that do not fade, and He has gifts worthy the soul 
of man. 

"Out on the sunlit plain the warrior stands, and ministering angels 
bear to him the blessings of the gods. He finds a new heaven and a 
new earth, dew dipped in morning freshness. Men of shining mien 
and eyes of understanding meet him here. Here is no jar nor fret, but 
a serene stillness full of rhythmic cadences. A soul is born. Through 
darkness and through pain and a wild conflict hand to hand with death, 
he has entered into life. The Path is found." 

There is no easy road to these "sunlit plains," no escape from self 
which is not fraught with pain. Before you can even understand these 
things the bubble of vanity must be pricked and with it your whole 
world will seem to fall into an abyss of nothingness. But if you would 
find and tread the Path, here is the way to it. 



240 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

"Seek in the heart the source of evil and expunge it. It lies fruit- 
fully in the heart of the devoted disciple as well as in the heart of the 
man of desire. Only the strong can kill it out. The weak must wait 
for its growth, its fruition, its death. And it is a plant that lives and 
increases throughout the ages. It flowers when the man has accumu- 
lated unto himselves innumerable existences. He who will enter upon 
the path of power must tear this thing out of his heart. And then the 
heart will bleed, and the whole life of the man seems to be utterly dis- 
solved. This ordeal must be endured: it may come at the first step of 
the perilous ladder which leads to the path of life: it may not come 
until the last. But, O disciple, remember that it has to be endured, and 
fasten the energies of your soul upon the task. Live neither in the 
present nor the future, but in the Eternal. This giant weed cannot 
flower there: this blot upon existence is wiped out by the very atmos- 
phere of eternal thought." 

There is no other way for you than this; and no other can tread 
it for you. You will suffer, not with a suffering you take upon your- 
self by your own will, but with a pain that overcomes your will. And 
this too is necessary. From where you are, only such suffering as this 
can lift you. If you will read further in Light on the Path, you will 
see why this is so. 

"In the early state in which man is entering upon silence, he loses 
knowledge of his friends, of his lovers, of all who have been near and 
dear to him : and also loses sight of his Teachers and of those who have 
preceded him on his way. I explain this because scarce one passes 
through without bitter complaint. Could but the mind grasp beforehand 
that the silence must be complete, surely this complaint need not arise 
as a hindrance to the Path. Your Teacher or your predecessor may 
hold your hand in his, and give you the utmost sympathy the human 
heart is capable of. But when the silence and the darkness come, you 
lose all knowledge of him; you are alone and he cannot help you, not 
because his power is gone, but because you have invoked your great 
enemy. By your great enemy I mean yourself. If you have the power 
to face your own soul in the darkness and silence, you will have con- 
quered the physical or animal self which dwells in sensation only." 

But though you must suffer, this suffering may be long or short. 
Pray that you may have the strength to make it short. You have both 
strength and power of obedience when you can free them from yourself. 
Pray that you may do this. Pray, humbly and on your knees, that you 
may recognize in yourself the vanity, jealousy and self-will which are 
poisoning your life. And pray that you may gain the humility and self- 
abasement that will enable you through self-subordination to use the 
will of others to help you conquer in your battle against your own. 

Does this seem vague to you? Will you tell me that every day of 
your life you have done this or its equivalent? I do not think that 



LETTERS TO FRIENDS 241 

what you have done has been its equivalent; but if you wish some 
concrete thing to do, do this. Turn to the man who is nearest to you, 
living in the same house with you, whom all these years you have 
thought to help and influence aright, and make with him the first great 
volt-face which your whole life needs. Resolve that for one whole year 
you will subordinate your will to his, be he right or wrong. That you 
will permit yourself even in thought, much less in speech, no criticism 
of him. That when deficiencies or faults appear in him you will turn 
your eyes from them, and looking upon your own instead, match fault 
for fault. That you will not answer back or argue or appeal. That 
you will not question. That in all which concerns him, you will be 
only the servant of his will or whim, cheerfully, quietly obedient not 
asking orders, not making your submissiveness obvious, not pressing 
yourself upon him, fulfilling literally, to the utmost of your power, 
whatever wish he may express. 

If you have the strength to do this you will doubtless do many 
things which, in your opinion, will seem mistaken. You will have the 
satisfaction, however, of acquiring the virtue of obedience. And you 
will have begun the conquest of your will, and entered the Path which 
will lead you to "the sunlit plain." 

Faithfully yours, 

JOHN GERRARD. 



"We are sons of yesterday, not of the morning. The past is our 
mortal mother, no dead thing. Our future constantly reflects her to the 
soul. Nor is it ever the new man of to-day which grasps his fortune, 
good or ill. We are pushed to it by the hundreds of days we have buried, 
eager ghosts. And if you have not the habit of taking counsel with 
them, you are but an instrument in their hands." 

GEORGE MEREDITH. 



16 



WHY I JOINED THE T. S. 



IT took ten years to remove my prejudice against the T. S. and 
a portion of my conceit. I came first to know something of the 
society after leaving college. During college years my interest in 
religion seemed ended. For religion appeared something aloof from 
and hostile to the world of art in which I was interested, and for which 
I was sacrificing everything else. After the breaking of home and 
college conections a new environment brought me into contact with 
Unitarians a form of religion until then more unknown than Islamism 
or Buddhism. I began regularly to attend Unitarian meetings, and, 
through the people I met there, I came into touch with many sorts of 
"liberal" and "progressive" movements, such as socialism, woman- 
suffrage, and theosophy. As I prided myself on being "liberal" and 
"progressive," I felt a certain responsibility toward everything that 
should swell the great tide of liberalism. Consequently, after reading a 
page or two of some theosophical propaganda literature, I took delight 
in calling myself a theosophist, when in the presence of orthodox 
church-goers. This continued for a year or two when I went to Paris. 
There my interest was wholly in literature and art, and after months of 
artistic revelry I returned to America to be depressed and dissatisfied 
with everything that had previously pleased or interested me. American 
daily life was vulgar, prosaic, and hideous. I shut myself away from 
it in a tower of French poetry. To my consternation, the Unitarian 
meetings also, and their connotations, were impossible. The cathedrals 
of Amiens and Paris, in which I had boasted merely an artistic interest, 
had made it impossible for me to draw any semblance of religious emo- 
tion from Unitarian logic. In this bankruptcy, I began again, almost 
against my will, a study of Dante. I had had courses in Dante both at 
college and university. But his work had been presented as history and 
syntax, and professors and students were both frankly bored with the 
poem which public opinion compelled us to consider. Freed from the 
historical and syntactical grind, I began to feel the poetry. And in two 
weeks I made the very important discovery that the poem is connected 
with life. Next, I saw the semblance between the doctrine of Purgatory 
and the Eastern teaching of Reincarnation. So I read on and over the 
poem, through the winter, with increasing admiration and delight. In 
the spring, by invitation, I made an address on the Divine Comedy 
before my "liberal and progressive" acquaintances, Unitarians, Socialists, 
Suffragettes and Theosophists. Shortly after, I was told by one of them 
that I had been talking Theosophy without knowing it, and I was given 
a copy of Light on the Path. My interest in the poem and my dis- 



WHY I JOINED THE T. S. 243 

coveries as to its content, led me to look a little into both the T. S. 
and the Roman Catholic Church. I went to a branch meeting or 
two. But tfie people were uninteresting not of the artistic type. At 
one meeting they were discussing a blue aura, and they made me feel 
that they knew nothing about the color blue, or the thing aura, what- 
ever that thing might be. The Roman Church was much more satis- 
factory. For months I went regularly to Mass shutting myself up 
in the tower of poetry when sermon time came. I interviewed priests 
from time to time to discover if they had any intimations of how vital 
their doctrines are. I got very little from Light on the Path. The 
book seemed a vague kind of poetry, but all of the first part made me 
very angry. I understood the first rules to mean that life was to be 
emptied of all human feeling. I shuddered at the thought of monsters 
whose eyes were incapable of tears, and who nourished spectral souls 
on the blood of the heart. The Warrior passage alone attracted me. 
Still the book was uncommon, and suited for shocking the orthodox, 
so from time to time I read parts of it to them, pretending clear under- 
standing of its meaning and entire sympathy with its purpose. A copy 
of the Gita came to me shortly after I received Light on the Path. I did 
not understand two words of it, yet I read it. I cannot remember now 
why I went to the book again and again. It must have been something 
more than faddishness that drew me to the little volume, every few 
months. I could not read the Gita for long, however. The reading of 
it was always attended by suicidal impulses. These I attributed directly 
to the Gita and the Oriental teaching of Nirvana, and gradually laid the 
book aside altogether. 

I went to Celebrations of the Mass for a year and a half. Then my 
church going ended altogether. The beauty of Catholicism made all 
forms of Protestantism impossibly dreary. To please friends I tried to 
find the Anglican High Church satisfactory. But it impressed me as 
an imitation of the Roman mise-en-scene. I should have been glad to 
follow Newman, to lose myself in the pomp and glory of the Roman 
ritual, to become an actor of hieratic roles. But I knew a time would 
come when the acting would be intolerable, and I should be wretchedly 
unhappy. So I tried to find or construct an ideal Catholicism for myself. 
My construction went well on paper; as a living form and creed it 
bound together a dolorous congregation my own wretched self and the 
corpses of half-a-dozen saints whose living flaming spirits I was altogether 
unable to reach. 

Thus for several years, five years, things seemed to rest in statu quo. 
I went along complacent in my conceit, and satisfied with my opinions. 
A certain superficial affection drew friends about me who generously 
lavished kindness upon me. But I was loveless. I pleased myself with 
the congeniality of friends, until their limitations and deficiencies became 
apparent. Then I estranged them, cruelly sacrificing them to a selfish 



244 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

and irrational demand for human perfection. My days were Epicurean 
an endeavor to absorb the visible, audible, tangible loveliness of things. 
On paper I professed burning love for the race. But the individuals 
who came into relation with me I found intolerable and the mass of 
men was loathsome. I could not enter a railway or ferry without 
repulsion, wonderment why all those men and women should exist. I was 
indifferent to their interests and welfare unless they should begin at 
once to make themselves over on my model. Above all I hated clergymen 
and churches. 

At the end of five years came bankruptcy. Ill in body, and half- 
mad I had to give over my selfish pursuits, and come nearer to the 
prosaic lives of average humans. The friends I had treated with horrid 
unkindness tended me with gentleness and affection; and the men and 
women above whom I had elevated myself on towered ivory uncon- 
sciously rebuked me by their kindly solicitude. I saw that I had been 
right much of a fool. But it took another year to make me completely 
insolvent. For a very short time I lay at death's door and learned 
a little bit more. I had thought the world needed me, and that I had 
much to give it. But I saw that I was insignificant. That recognition 
of unimportance was not discouraging, however. For with it came a 
recognition of something Real, something kind, that made my nothingness 
not altogether valueless, since It cared for me. That was my first experi- 
ence of religion. At the time I knew it was religion, and knew it was 
different from everything else in my life. I wanted to share it; to give 
others something of the happiness that had come to me through "accept- 
ance." But I could not speak. I could only run and wander over the 
mountains, half -drunk with my new happiness, calling on all Saints and 
creatures to behold the beginning of my conversion toward God. 

A few months after my heart had turned that small fraction of a 
degree away from self toward God, I met my first real Theosophist. 
It was in this way. I felt I could not return to my former mode of 
living but must seek something better. I resolved to spend a year in 
search of "the better." The Theosophist was the first of many people 
I came upon in my year of search. I did not know him at first as a 
Theosophist I might have turned from him if I had but only as one 
interested in Oriental thought. The first time I saw him I knew he was 
different from everybody else, and better. He gave me a little book 
which pointed the way to "the better." This little book made me desire 
to stop right there in my search, and learn of him. But he said I must 
carry out my original intention to travel. So I went, North, East, South, 
and West, wherever I heard that men were working devotedly for others. 
I wished to learn so to work, and to find a teacher. I saw many earnest, 
devoted workers, and much benefit from their endeavors. But to none 
could I swear allegiance. Disinterested as their endeavors were, they 
were all laboring for the things that perish. I had dimly glimpsed the 



WHY I JOINED THE T. S. 245 

Eternal for a moment, as I lay at death's door. Nothing could satisfy 
me that was not a striving after the Eternal. 

As I travelled I met people to whom I wished to give the little book 
that my new Theosophist friend had given me. Thus I was brought into 
connection with the Secretary of the T. S. who, after one or two letters, 
sent an issue of the QUARTERLY. From this I first learned of the 
existence of a society. My former acquaintances, Unitarians, Suffrag- 
ettes, Socialists, Theosophists had told me that theosophists were as bad 
as Christians, had quarreled with one another, so that the societies had 
gone to smash. That issue of the QUARTERLY came as a surprise. It 
contained the article, "Meditation," which brought a new planet to my 
ken, and it informed me that my new friend was a Theosophist and a 
member of the society. 

I was grateful for his friendship, and grateful to the QUARTERLY. 
But I was still overflowing with conceit; I could not repress regret that 
my friend should narrow his splendid ability to the service of a small 
sect, instead of being a free lance like myself. "Theosophy," I said to 
myself, "is everywhere, in all lands, in all writers. Madam Blavatsky's 
formation of a society was a fanatic's mistake, similar to that of all 
religious leaders ; it came out of her desire for a following self-worship. 
I approve the Theosophical philosophy but I will not confine myself 
within the limits of their society." 

Soon after I took up again Light on the Path, after having forgotten 
it for several years. I read it in amazement and tears. I had grown 
up toward it somewhat. It no longer made me angry. It became a 
light. That book and the life of St. Francis (Assisi) were my sole 
reading during one summer. 

The following autumn I sent in a subscription for the QUARTERLY. 
I still was hostile to the society, however. But as I worked through the 
autumn and read the QUARTERLY, I came to recognize that what I had 
for years been awkwardly trying to do was not antagonistic to the spirit 
of the T. S. as expressed in the QUARTERLY. I saw that I had blundered 
stupidly because I knew so little about things. It seemed sensible, there- 
fore, for the sake of what I was trying to do, to endeavor to get some 
help from the society. It was in this mood that I wrote to my friend 
if the T. S. would accept me, I should like to become a member and 
be taught. 

One good the T. S. has given me is the restoration of Christianity. 
Six months after I became a member of the T. S., I saw that it was 
my duty to go back into the Church which for ten years I had particu- 
larly hated. I had approached the T. S. seeking a substitute among the 
Eastern religions for the religion I had outgrown. The T. S. soon 
showed me that I had never known anything about Christianity, and that 
instead of having outgrown it, I must now begin to grow up toward it. 
But, above all, through the T. S. I have been given love. Kindly friends 



246 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

I have always drawn around me only to estrange and alienate them by 
my self-love. Through the T. S. I have found friends of deeper affec- 
tion. Their love of me has been so live a flame that it was not quenched 
or cooled by my selfishness. Their love has burned up a small portion 
of my selfishness, and has kindled a little flickering flame of love in me. 

SPENSER MONTAGUE. 



"Meditation may be likened to a prospector pursuing his silent pil- 
grimage into regions as yet unexplored by him, and with untiring vigor 
and persistence breaks away the crust and 'pans out' the base material 
in his search for the 'golden color/ which, when found, stimulates him 
with renewed energy to delve deeper for the precious 'mother lode' 
which will bring to him his heart's desire." L. 



WITHIN 



The keynote of Theosophy is brotherly love; the keynote of 
discipleship is "within." The child is father of the man. 
Theosophy is the child; discipleship is the man. 

THE language of religion contains many references to the higher 
as opposed to the lower. Heaven to man, his highest ideal the 
goal of his human striving as well as the life after death is sym- 
bolized as "above." The contrary pole, hell, man's lower nature, 
is thought of as "below." The Master has told us that the kingdom of 
heaven is within not above us and that like a grain of mustard seed it is 
at first the smallest of seeds, but that it grows and spreads out its 
branches till it is the largest of herbs a refuge and shelter for many 
creatures. 

Yet saints in the ecstasy of their vision of the kingdom are pictured 
kneeling, their eyes raised, looking up. How could it be otherwise? 
If the attempt is made to translate the ecstasy literally, without symbol, 
painter, canvas, and colors disappear, and the picture is transmuted into 
a vision pei:eptible only to the inner eye of other saints. Thus the 
unsanctified many, capable nevertheless of sincere aspiration, in whom 
the aspiration of others awakens responsive chords, lose the whole mean- 
ing of consecrated lives. For their sakes symbols are used, crude 
symbols perhaps, material symbols if necessary, but symbols capable by 
reason of their crudeness, their materiality, of carrying subtle messages 
to souls that would find them unintelligible if less crude. For their sakes 
is spiritual truth expressed in terms of human life. By them are symbols 
to be justified. Yet in so far as a man can see first within, finally inde- 
pendently of the symbol, in so far is he spiritually mature. 

In attempting to penetrate to the real meaning hidden behind the 
symbols of religion, let us take the hint given us and substitute within 
for above, without or outside for below. By this substitution the direc- 
tion of advance is changed and the subject at once takes on a new 
suggestiveness, characterized rather by possibilities of infinite extension 
than by the chance that anyone of us will ever be in a position to say, 
or even hear, the last word on the subject. Students of art have noted 
an advance along this line from mediaeval to modern methods of symbol- 
izing holiness. Painters of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries set a 
gold plate or rim firmly outside the head of the sanctified. The senti- 
ment of to-day tolerates nothing more external than a faint light 
emanating from the soul within. Often the expression of a face is made 
to do duty for the elaborate insignia of a cruder age. 



*47 



248 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

The development of literature is analogous. Mediaeval romances of 
external adventure, tales of the dangers and chivalrous deeds of brave 
knights, have been gradually superseded by novels where the whole 
interest is centered on the portrayal and development of character. The 
miracle play which symbolized the glory of God by mask and hand 
pieces of gold laid on outside a perfectly material Deity has given place 
to a type of drama in which the conception of interiorness is strong. 
For instance, in "The Passing of the Third Floor Back" the expression 
of one man's face and his attitude toward his fellows transforms the 
sordid life of the home into which he enters into a reflection of his own 
beautiful spirit. It is not too much to say that the whole great power 
of this play lies in the loving spirit of one man expressed in look rather 
than act. And it is a favorable comment on the spiritual maturity of 
our age that this play, which depends wholly for its appeal on its mes- 
sage, should have been a brilliant dramatic success. 

Undoubtedly a similar tendency of direction could be found in the 
music of the last four centuries. The transition from Bach to Brahms 
is suggestive enough to a musician, but one must already be a musician 
to even hear the language of music, much more to decipher its sym- 
bolism. 

Science, too, once it has acquired the courage to believe that man 
can know, and dared to look beyond proved and tabulated facts (so 
soon alas to be disproved and to require retabulation) shows the same 
tendency of direction. Matter, only recently a somewhat inert, hard, 
objective substance, has recently revealed itself to scientific experimenters 
as something quite other than they thought, something finer in quality, 
less hard and fast in its make up, less objective than they had supposed 
that it could be, more akin to the force element in nature than to what 
had commonly been called substance. 

To define matter as ions of electricity explains nothing. It merely 
pushes the mystery one degree inward. But one thing the ion theory 
does do. It shatters into bits the confident dogmatism of objective 
realism. And this is much. The scientist who realizes that his confi- 
dence in the solid objectivity of nature must be renounced in favor of a 
tentative belief in a reality more intangible and interior will soon, as he 
learns by being tentative to be truly scientific, sense the existence of a 
reality less objective and tangible even than his ions of electricity, lying 
behind or within them as they have all unseen lain behind or within this 
husk or shell of existence which we call the universe. 

The chemist or the biologist who examines with his microscope any 
portion of the world of "reality" discovers that all this solid looking 
substance is but an aggregate of varied and moving particles. Does not 
this revelation alone destroy all confidence in the impenetrability and 
ultimateness of the "solid world of reality" in which we live. And if 
by the aid of the microscope we discover that within the world as seen 



WITHIN 249 

by the naked eye is another finer world on which our visible world 
depends for its existence, which in reality it is, is it not a justifiable 
method of procedure in a scientist who has learned to be tentative to 
turn with a certain seriousness to the teaching of Light on the Path: the 
teaching that within the world as the microscope reveals it there lies a 
mystery which no machinery can probe, a world which is self -illuminated, 
permanent, the life and substance of this shell of a world; and that this 
world though real and omnipresent is perceivable only by those who 
have developed within themselves the faculties by which it can be 
perceived, otherwise invisible, just as the great world of germs and 
microbes was invisible till our weak natural sight was supplemented by 
those laboratory spectacles the microscope? 

Any dogmatic denial of this teaching is as absurd as it is unscientific. 
Throughout nature as we know it, the more vital parts are hidden within* 
the less vital. The life of man's body resides not in the epidermis but 
in the interior organs. The husk of the corn, the shell of an acorn, the 
skin of a snake are dead compared with the more vital parts which they 
enclose. And the relative inferiority of the outer covering is recognized 
all through nature. The husk of the corn, the shell of the acorn, the skin 
of the snake are cast off as worthless when the life within has developed 
beyond t! eir capacity to contain it. Is it unreasonable to see the force 
of the analogy applied to man as we know him to see quite clearly that 
his entire body with all its wonderful mechanism is a husk, a shell, a 
mere outer skin, soon thrown off and left to decay where it has fallen, 
while the life of the young creature develops unhampered, like a prisoner 
released from bondage? Does the fact that we can not see the young 
immortal weigh in the slightest degree against his existence? 

The physical sight of every creature is relative to the development of 
its organ of vision. The "eye" of the angle worm is no more than a 
sensitive spot an eye spot at the end of its spinal column. By means 
of this it is conscious of light and darkness and of nothing else. All 
the great world of varied forms visible to an ordinary dog is to this 
creature as though it did not exist. And the dog, proud when compared 
to the angle worm, must be humble when contrasted with man. Take 
the most alert, the most intelligent dog that ever lived for a walk through 
beautiful country. What does he see? Does he halt to admire the 
shapely trees or the odd flowers by the wayside? Does the red glory of 
the sunset or the immensity of the sea draw his attention for one 
moment from the rabbits or birds on which his whole consciousness is 
centered. Take him to a concert or, as Professor James suggested, into a 
library where wise men are conversing. Do the realities which draw us 
to the concert and the library, which make the music and the conver- 
sation determining influences in our lives, exist for him? Would he 
not say quite confidently, if he could speak, that they were not there? 
By what right, then, does man, the vain, claim exemption from the law 



250 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

valid for other creatures that knowledge is relative to the organs of 
perception in the knower? 

Man too is as dependent on his physical eyes as is the angle worm 
or the dog. And his eyes are hardly better than theirs. They can not even 
see the life within matter, which is the life of matter, till sharpened by 
the aid of the microscope. And even the microscope does not reveal 
those ions of electricity of which our most solid looking matter is com- 
posed. Electricity we never see; we infer its existence from its works. 
So we may infer the existence of the self of man. Does not the differ- 
ence in working efficiency between a living and a dead body indicate that 
in the case of the latter the worker has been withdrawn? Does not the 
vast and intricate working efficiency of nature force us to the conclusion 
that the Worker is still there? And where can he reside if not within? 
Above and below are mere forms of speech related to the gravitation of 
this earth. If the vital part of all that we know lies within it, and if 
increase of power means increase of fineness as it seems, where should 
we look for the life and power expressed in the universe if not within. 

Aspects of the apparently universal truth of inwardness as the key 
to progress meet us at every turn. Development along the line of dimen- 
sional space mathematically conceived is from without within. The one 
dimensional being must go within to find the second dimension ; the two 
dimensional being must go within to find the third dimension; and we, 
three dimensional beings, must look within if we would understand the 
mystery of the fourth dimension. The presumption is that the analogy 
holds all the way up (or in) to the complete fulfilment of all dimensional 
space. 

Wireless telegraphy is a fragmentary expression of the same law. 
Certain things can be done in the visible physical world, certain forces 
transmitted by well understood media. The atmosphere carries the 
message of a man who calls to another across the street. But in wireless 
it is the ether which carries the message which one man sends to another 
across the sea. And the ether is a medium of which the particles are 
smaller than the particles of the atmosphere and lie within them. 
Literally the ether is inside the atmosphere. 

The Eastern theory of thought transference carries out the analogy. 
Within the ether lies the akasa by means of which thoughts can be 
transmitted regardless of material bounds. 

The increase in relative reality marked by a progressive inwardness 
gives, as has been indicated, increase of power. A man can call a certain 
distance with his natural voice, but not across the sea. Thought trans- 
ference appears to be free even from the limitations of wireless. An- 
other characteristic is increase in richness, in fullness of manifestation. 
A two dimensional space is richer in possibilities, a fuller manifestation 
of the Great Source than a one dimensional space, a three than a two. 
Progress is from the mathematical point to infinity. Increase of har- 



WITHIN 251 

mony, of oneness, appears to be a concomitant of the increase in fullness 
of manifestation, but it is hard even to illustrate this point. However, it 
may be thrown out as a suggestion for the reader to verify as he can that 
power, fineness, scope of manifestation, and harmony are more marked 
at each advance on the path of inwardness. 

A Master once told his disciples to be wise as serpents and harmless 
as doves. The dove-like quality of non-resistance has been much em- 
phasized in Christian literature. The wisdom of the serpent has been 
pretty generally overlooked. Yet to one who has even the faintest 
insight into Christ's purpose what he was trying to accomplish the 
non-resistance of his death upon the cross is not more remarkable than 
the shrewdness of his method of saving men without their knowledge, 
even against their wills. The same method has been applied in the foun- 
dation and development of the Theosophical Society the same method 
and for the same end. 

Brotherhood, toleration, the comparative study of religions, and 
psychic research were laid as corner stones of the Theosophical Society. 
For toleration, though not one of the stated objects, is so fundamental 
a principle of theosophy and received such emphasis at the inception of 
the Society that it must be included in any summary of the principles on 
which it rests. These, though able to maintain their right to considera- 
tion on their face value, are not merely the simple and worthy objects 
which they appear. Each has a greater than itself hidden within it, 
which, as the stated object is followed begins to reveal itself to the inner 
eye of the astonished beholder. It is as though a man picking up what 
seems to be an empty purse should find some inner pocket which is full 
of gold, as though a college student perfunctorily taking a required course 
in English prose should chance on the Sartor Resartus. 

And herein lies the wisdom of the serpent. He who, obedient to the 
letter of the law, faithfully follows one of the four objects of the Society 
soon receives the great and surprising revelation that within that object 
lies another subtler and more far reaching than he could have guessed, 
leading to heights only yesterday beyond his power to imagine. Starting 
out, perhaps, with the simple, manly resolve to do his best for his fellow 
men, he suddenly, sometime if he really has done his best awakens to 
find himself a disciple, well started on the road to liberation. This is 
the wisdom of the serpent which has taught us to build that which we 
knew not, that has set us on a path which until well started on our way 
we were incapable even of conceiving. 

Let us take the objects of the Society in order and look within. 

The one pledge required of those who join the Theosophical Society, 
is that they shall help to found the nucleus of a universal brotherhood 
of man without distinction of race, creed, class (I use this word inten- 



252 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

tionally), or color. This brotherhood is to be founded on the external 
plane of our material life, where alone the social distinctions referred to 
exist. The Theosophical Society, be it remembered, at the time it was 
founded functioned on the external plane, could function, so far as its 
ordinary membership was concerned, on no other. Madame Blavatsky 
distinctly states that the first step toward the kind of brotherhood the 
Society is attempting to establish is the organization of society deputed 
by Edward Bellamy in Looking Backward* 

A letter published in the "Notes and Comments" of the QUARTERLY 
of January, 1911, endorses this position. "The Theosophical Society 
was chosen as the corner stone, the foundation of the future religions 
of humanity. To achieve the proposed object a greater, wiser and 
especially a more benevolent intermingling of the high and low, of the 
alpha and omega of society, was determined upon. The white races 
must be the first to stretch out the hand of fellowship to the dark nations, 
to call the poor despised 'nigger 5 Brother. This prospect may not smile 
to all. He is no Theosophist who objects to this principle." In the 
same letter the idea that the Theosophical Society should ever drop its 
noblest title, the "Brotherhood of Humanity, to become a school of phil- 
osophy" is vehemently repudiated. 

Now what is the significance of all this emphasis on brotherhood 
materially expressed in a society the foundation and tendencies of which 
are spiritual? What is the spiritual meaning within the stated object, 
or has it none? Just this: the observance of the outer has power to 
induce the inner ; the man who is brotherly to his fellows in all his human 
relations grows gradually like "the wise" in the Gita. "A Brahman full 
of wisdom and virtue, a cow, an elephant, a dog or a feeder of dogs ; in 
these the wise behold no difference." This, of course, means that the 
wise has attained to the realization of the unity of all souls with the 
Oversoul, the higher consciousness of the Vedanta philosophy. It means 
that by living the brotherhood (neighborliness) of the parable of the 
good Samaritan the spiritual unity of the fifteenth chapter of St. John's 
Gospel is attained. 

This, therefore, is the method of Jesus who taught the parable of 
the good Samaritan, the Golden Rule, and the "inasmuch" precepts. 
And his teaching is reinforced by his example. This was his teaching 
to the multitudes. To his disciples he revealed the mysteries of the 
kingdom. "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these 
my brethren ye have done it unto me" has a peculiar significance to a 
theosophist who applies the rule of inwardness and who knows the 
Master's habit of speaking for the higher self. It is first to lead the life, 
then, as effect to cause, to know the doctrine. 

Buddha's method was the same, if we are to trust Mr. Edmond 



Key to Theosophy, III. 



WITHIN 253 

Holmes, and for the same reason.* Four of the five rules in his Code 
of Moral Law are details of the principle of brotherhood expressed in 
man's external relations with his fellows. 

Such was the method of the Masters who founded the Theosophical 
Society, and such apparently is their method with the world to-day. Is 
not all the crude groping after political and social equality, all the ram- 
pant, incoherent democratic and socialistic agitation merely the effort of 
spiritual children to embody the glimpses they have had of the principle 
of the unity of all life, and who needs must express their vision of unity 
where they are, if at all in the darkness of material consciousness. 
Do not such well-intentioned children deserve to be understood, and their 
purposes, so far as possible furthered? as we would help a real child to 
build a tower of blocks that we knew could last but a moment, if thereby 
he might learn what was vastly more important for him to know than 
how to lay one block on another the- working of the law of gravitation. 

Any other method of attaining the end of us all the higher con- 
sciousness appears to be as fallacious as dangerous. To build a house 
without first laying out a broad ground plan and looking carefully to the 
foundation is to build badly. The foolish man who hears the sayings of 
Jesus and doeth them not is likened by him to "a man that without a 
foundation built an house upon the earth ;" the wise man who hears and 
does them is he who "built an house, digged deep, and laid the foundation 
on a rock." The house of the foolish man was destroyed by the flood; 
the other remained standing. 

To overlook the claims of external brotherhood is like attempting 
to solve the problems of trigonometry before one has gained a thorough 
knowledge of arithmetic. The only justification for the mathematician 
who ceases to study arithmetic is that he has so thoroughly mastered this 
elementary science that its laws have become automatic. The only justi- 
fication for the theosophist who ceases to study and practise brotherhood 
externally is that the laws of external brotherhood have already become 
a part of his nature that he has joined the company of the wise, who, 
regarding all men as the soul, literally see no difference. Each plane 
binds in relation to that above it. On each the self must be mastered 
before the student advances to the next. 

The architects of our Society designed the plan of a tower and gave 
it to us to build. They called the tower the higher consciousness and 
they drew it very beautiful and very high. It was to reach clear to the 
heavens and from its summit command a far view of the surrounding 
earth. The ground plan they called toleration. The foundation they 
named brotherhood. Little by little the builders were set to work as they 
were able. Stone-masons were needed as well as artist builders. First 
the ground plan was laid out, broad and spacious so that there should be 



Tim Creed of Buddha, IV. 



254 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

room for all people; then the foundations were placed deep and firm, 
strengthened with steel beams of endurance and chains of human kind- 
ness. Not till this had been done could the superstructure be raised, as 
fair and high as the ground plan was wide and the foundations strong 
and deep. Could a tower be built otherwise? Yes, but not with safety, 
A tower could be built on a narrow ground plan and weak foundations, 
but it would not stand. It would totter and perhaps fall with the first 
strong wind that shook it. Happy the builders of such a tower if the 
first wind is not too strong and if they still have time to reinforce the 
ground work and so save the superstructure from ruin. 

The dangers of overlooking the external plane can not be too strongly 
emphasized. Faults not overcome there return in finer form. The snake 
of self reappears with changed aspect in the heart of the disciple. 
Selfishness not killed out becomes spiritual selfishness the desire to save 
one's own soul and defeats its own end even by seeking it. Ambition 
and vanity become the desire for spiritual leadership. An autocratic 
temper evolves into the dogmatism of creed or of an ecclesiastical hier- 
archy. Pride becomes spiritual pride; and "He who thinks himself 
holier than another, who believes himself wise, or in any way superior 
to his fellow men, is incapable of discipleship." The interfering nature, 
the busy-body, takes on itself the duty of another, "full of danger." 
Anyone of these weaknesses unconquered below is enough to neutralize 
the progress of a lifetime. The chain breaks at its weak link. The 
tower falls for the lack of one bolt. The pity of it! 

So long as we live on this plane it is necessary to express ourselves 
here. We must therefore be brotherly or unbrotherly, there is no third 
path. The good Samaritan and the thieves are set against one another 
as alternatives in the parable. If, like the priest and the Levite, we 
attempt the medium way and go by on the other side, we at once range 
ourselves with the thieves. "Inaction in a deed of mercy becomes an 
action in a deadly sin." The Master expressed himself clearly in regard 
to those who in the parable attempted the impossible feat of neutrality. 

We exist not for ourselves but for the world. Those who see 
theosophy through us know nothing of our higher consciousness. They 
see and recognize the external fruits alone and are drawn to or alienated 
from theosophy according to those fruits. And we are our brothers' 
keepers. 

Toleration is an aspect of brotherhood. It means more than allow- 
ing a man who disagrees with us to express himself and still live. It 
means understanding, imaginative sympathy, and finally love: for the 
man who understands another inevitably loves him. If admiration and 
respect are out of the question, compassion remains. And compassion 
is also an avenue on which love freely walks. The more spiritual love 
becomes the more it partakes of the nature of compassion. Does any 
one deny that Christ loved the human race? If not, would anyone 



WITHIN 255 

venture to suggest that admiration or even respect was the basis of 
his love ? 

Barring inevitable illness and death most of the troubles in life spring 
out of misunderstandings. Two men see a thing from different stand- 
points and accordingly emphasize its different aspects. They believe 
themselves to be hostile to one another, irreconcilable. Lacking the 
power to see themselves as others see them, they may each be the victim 
of the same limitation, or they may really be emphasizing different 
aspects of the same truth. A catholic sees the value of the collective 
consciousness in religion; a protestant recognizes the importance of 
individual initiative. They stand opposed to one another on a basis of 
antagonism which is a mere figment of their fancy acting on the basis of 
their ignorance. A large intellectual toleration would recognize the evils 
that have always attended the attempt to ignore either one of these 
supplementary factors. Toleration of the heart intuitively teaches the 
same lesson. No system lives by the error that it contains but by its 
intrinsic Tightness. Each man holds his opinion because of the truth 
he sees in it. That particular truth he sees ; other equally true truth 
he misses. 

But there is an even deeper significance to toleration. The Theo- 
sophical Society has often been likened to an orchestra. An orchestra 
produces .the grandest music, the highest harmony, the most complete 
unity. Yet an orchestra is made up of instruments differing as radically 
from one another as the violin, the horn, and the drum. Stringed instru- 
ments alone could never bring forth symphonies, neither could wind 
instruments, nor drums. These different instruments are not antagon- 
istic to one another in the production of harmony. They are supple- 
mentary. The jarring of their different tone qualities is as necessary to 
harmony as the jarring of chords of the seventh or even of interloping 
sharps and flats is to the peace and unity of the tonic triad. 

Our opponent must be endured ; he must be understood ; and finally 
he must be loved as our best friend. He is no longer antagonistic but 
supplementary. He adds to our spiritual life elements which we, because 
of our limitations, could never get from our own natures, and which 
because our friends are of our choosing, we could never get from them. 
By faithfully carrying out the theosophical principle of toleration we 
learn the meaning of spiritual unity which is heightened and strength- 
ened by differences bravely overcome. 

Brotherhood and toleration belong to the exoteric side of theosophy, 
yet unfolding we find them laden with esoteric truth. The comparative 
study of religions and the investigation of the psychic powers latent in 
man are esoteric at the start. Have they too a deeper meaning hidden 
within ? 

The study of any great religion shows that it contains a revelation 
of an order of nature higher than the order in which we consciously 



256 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

live, a revelation also of a place or state to which we are introduced at 
death. The directions are given for the attainment of that state. A close 
comparison of descriptions and directions of guidance prove them to be 
identical. Each Teacher is describing the same thing the Path and its 
goal. Thus by entering upon the comparative study of religions, inge- 
niously enough, we stumble upon the teachings of occultism hidden 
within. Seeing these teachings from so many different standpoints, 
yet always the same, the conviction bursts upon us with the force of a 
revelation, that these great Teachers agree in their description of the 
path and of its goal because it is one path they are describing and one 
goal, a true path and a true goal that they know. 

When we recognize that the path is for us to tread and accordingly 
begin to tread it we have become disciples. This is to investigate the 
psychic powers latent in man. Looking within for a hidden meaning 
we see at first faint letters scrawled. If we fasten our attention firmly 
and persistently on the dim outlines we soon find them growing clearer 
till finally we can spell out the word. Then the vision grows before us 
as we watch breathlessly, a vision of the meaning of the whole of life 
advancing as it does from the outer to the inner a vision of immortality. 
We see immortality no longer as the faint hope of a stricken race, but 
as a clearly defined fact awaiting verification. The wisdom of 
serpents has been surpassed, and the harmlessness of doves transformed 
into positive and far-reaching love. 

Truly God has a sense of humor, and must needs laugh out- 
right at the blind gropings of "his wondrous manikins here below" : not 
with the shallow laugh of amusement or satire, but with the deep, sane 
laugh of clearer insight, the still laugh of infinite joy that is born of finite 
pain. LOUISE EDGAR PETERS. 



Life is like swimming. The man who struggles anxiously with the 
water, fearful lest it engulf him, sinks as the result of his own cowardly 
mistrust. But he who strikes out firmly, confident in the good will of 
the water to uphold him, lies on its surface as safely as his peace in the 
heart of a friend. L. E. P. 



A PRIMER OF THEOSOPHY 



III 

THE NATURE OF MAN 

f / r~ w ^ HE development of 'Man/ from his first appearance on the 
Earth in this Round, forms the subject of the second volume 
1 of the Secret Doctrine." 

The quotation marks, above, around "Man", point to a 
condition or conditions of being quite different from anything we should 
call man. If we can conceive of a ball of fire-mist gradually becoming a 
solid globe, settling into a man-bearing world, and if we see everything 
on it evolving from a speck of protoplasm to the gigantic forms of 
antediluvian monsters, is it impossible to imagine man himself going 
through the same transformations? The carbonic vapors and steam- 
ing soil of the early globe could have no effect on such human life 
and organisms as we are told existed at those remote periods, and the 
Secret Doctrine tells us that it is shown in every ancient scripture and 
cosmogony that "man evolved primarily as a luminous incorporeal form, 
over which, like tfie plastic clay around the iron framework of the 
sculptor, the physical frame of his body was built by, through, and from, 
the lower forms and types of animal terrestrial life." 

In studying the nature of man and his environment, we are struck by 
the omnipresence of the number seven. But after a long and careful com- 
parison of these correspondences, it seemed that the principal reason for 
the omnipresence of this number lay in its relation to the phenomena of 
life, and in fact the Secret Doctrine says that in our world the rhythm of 
life is in sevens, because that is the rhythm of our Mother the Moon, who 
in dying imparted her life to her child the Earth, according to the great 
law regulating the cosmic forces. Other planets and stars and solar sys- 
tems, have other rates of vibration; in them the rhythm of life throbs 
faster or slower as the case may be. The Sun is the heart of our solar 
system, and there is a regular circulation of the Life-Essence throughout 
that system, like that of the blood in the body, only instead of a few 
seconds it takes the solar blood ten or eleven years to complete its rounds, 
and the astronomers are beginning to recognize this rhythm as the cause 
of the recurrence of sun-spots. 

To return to the evolution of man we are told that the first human 
stock was a reproduction, by higher and semi-divine beings of their 
shadowy selves. They "became" the First Race, just as the "eternal 
cell" of which Weismann speaks, became the endless number of cells 
into which it subdivided. When the Earth had become dry land, the 

17 2 S7 



258 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

Spirits of the Moon came to fashion the astral body of man, the shadowy 
prototypes of future human beings.. 

These "lunar ancestors" as they are called, bear the same relation 
to the physical body of man that the Moon bears to the physical Earth. 
As the Moon formed the model, and still controls many of the pheno- 
mena of Earth-life, (the rhythm of diseases, of the tides, of generation, 
etc.), so the astral body still gives the model of the physical form, and 
controls the ebb and flow of its energies. But as these "lunar ancestors" 
corresponded to the elemental kingdoms preceding the mineral, and were 
devoid of the ray of Universal Mind, they could only give birth to astral 
man, a phantom with neither form nor mind. 

"The Solar Ancestors" properly so-called, could and did, impart to 
this astral body a semblance of life (for from the Sun comes that great 
flood of vital force that vivifies all nature), but they could not give man 
that sacred spark which expands into the flower of human reason and 
self -consciousness, for they had it not to give. 

It is the Solar Ancestors alone who could complete man, that is, make 
of him a self-conscious, almost a divine being a god on earth. But as 
they were devoid of the grosser creative fire they were unable to create 
physical man. The Lunar Ancestors, though possessed of creative fire, 
were devoid of the higher intellectual element, and could only give birth 
to the astral man, the model of the physical. The reason why the Solar 
Ancestors could not give to man the "sacred spark" just referred to, 
is because they were too divine and pure, too near to the Absolute Cause 
of all things. To complete the nature of septenary man, to unite his 
three lower principles with the spiritual Monad, two connecting princi- 
ples are needed, Mind and Desire, or the emotional soul. It would be im- 
possible for the Monad to dwell in a form without these, except in an 
absolutely latent state, as in the higher animals. 

We find primeval man, then, described as ethereal, devoid of com- 
pactness, and Mindless. He had no middle principle to serve him as a 
medium between the highest and the lowest, the spiritual man and the 
physical brain, for he lacked mind. For the Monad, the Ray of Universal 
Mind, has no hold upon the mere form. It cannot affect the form where 
there is no agent of transmission. But as no process of evolution is 
sudden or unprepared for, even the human mind developed by degrees, 
and although the First and Second Races were not what we call men, 
but merely rudiments of the future human beings, still even among these 
appeared here and there some faint foreshadowing of the intelligence to 
come. 

The Commentary sums up the early Races in a few words : "First 
came the Self-Existent on this Earth. They are the 'Spiritual Lives,' 
projected by the absolute Will and Law at the dawn of every rebirth 
of the worlds." (These, of course, are the Creative Powers, the fashion- 
ers of man.) "From these proceeds 



A PRIMER OF THEOSOPHY 259 

I. The First Race, the 'Self-Born', the astral shadows of their pro- 
genitors. The body was devoid of all understanding (that is, mind, in- 
telligence, and will). The inner being (the Monad), though within the 
earthly frame, was unconnected with it. The link was not there as yet. 

From the First Race emanated the 

II. Second, endowed by the preservers and the incarnating gods 
with the first weak spark of intelligence. 

And from this proceeds 

III. The Third Race, the Two-fold, or androgyne. As the process 
of evolution went on, and matter became more and more dense, the 
Third Race separated itself into three distince divisions, according to 
its methods of reproduction. From being entirely without sex, it became 
androgynous, and having gone through the earliest stages of propaga- 
tion by fission and by budding, in the Third (or egg-born) Race, the soft 
cell gradually turned into a man-bearing egg. These beings began to 
give birth, gradually and almost imperceptibly in their evolutionary de- 
velopment, first to beings in which one sex predominated, and then to 
distinct males and females. While the earlier Races were little higher 
than the sea-anemone in development, with the Third Race, and its in- 
crease in materiality, came many changes of form, and towards its end, 
men came into the world under the same conditions and by the same 
processes as at present. This change required of course many millions 
of years, and followed the general lines of evolution very closely. 

With the separation of the sexes, strife came into the world, and the 
conflict of natures bred passion and sin and death, for as some of our 
naturalists have said, reproduction has death as its inevitable consequence, 
"it is the price paid for a body." This is the real fall of man, "the 
descent of the soul into matter," and involution, or the union of the 
spiritual with the physical having been effected, evolution or the return 
towards the spiritual began. 

The Third Race shows three distinct divisions: physiologically and 
psychically ; the earliest sinless ; the second, awakening to intelligence ; 
and the third and last decidedly animal, where the mind succumbs to the 
temptations of desire. The brain had continued to develop, until it had 
at last become a fitting vehicle for Mind, and the divine spark having 
kindled the fire of intelligence in man, he acquired the consciousness of 
his own powers, and ate of the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge. That 
is, having been given mind, self-consciousness had arisen from its union 
with matter, and man had become as a god, knowing good and evil. Good 
and evil, light and darkness, heat and cold, male and female, active and 
passive, etc., etc., are the two scales of the ever-vibrating balance of 
creation. Therefore evil must be relative, and only through constant 
struggle can man work out his salvation, and win his way back to the 
Divine Source of all. 

IV. With the Fourth Race developed language, and the men of its 



260 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

early sub-divisions are described as being of gigantic stature, and en- 
dowed with extraordinary faculties. From the men of this Race we get 
our traditions of Titans and Cyclopes, the three-eyed, the third eye being 
however, at the back of the head. The old Commentary says that when 
after the separation of the sexes men had fallen into matter, and their 
spiritual vision had become dim, it had to be awakened by artificial stimuli, 
and the third eye gradually disappeared. But it has left a trace of its 
existence in the pineal gland, which Descartes called the seat of the soul. 
It was an active organ in man at that stage of evolution when the spiritual 
element reigned supreme, and it did not become entirely atrophied till 
the close of the Fourth Race, when man's divine powers had been made 
the servants of his newly awakened physical and psychic passions in- 
stead of the reverse. The sin lay, not in using these powers, but in 
mis-using them. 

The first civilisation of our Round (the Fourth) began with the 
Third Race, of which a few remnants are now to be found among the 
flatheaded Australians. With the Atlanteans, physical beauty and 
strength reached their climax (in accordance with the law of evolution), 
towards their middle period. They represented an almost countless 
number of races and nations, and at their best, Greek, Roman, and even 
Egyptian civilizations, were as nothing compared to theirs. Their 
knowledge of the hidden powers of nature was far greater than ours, 
they built and navigated flying machines, and their houses were floored 
with gold. But little of their literature is now preserved, and their 
art and science have left scarcely any vestige except in China, although 
one of the principal astronomical works in Sanskrit is the production of 
an Atlantean astronomer. 

It was the abuse of their knowledge of the subtler forces of nature 
which led to the downfall of the Atlantean Race. And as in any series 
of seven the fourth must be the central or point of equilibrium, so with 
the Fourth Race the spiritual element had become most deeply imbedded 
in matter, and with the 

V. Fifth the re-ascent towards the spiritual begins. Only by the 
union with matter can Universal Consciousness become individual Mind, 
only by the purification of matter can it regain the glorious liberty of 
the Sons of God. With each Race, we are told, a new sense and a new 
element come to perfection, and already the fifth element, Ether, is 
beginning to be recognized. Prof. Crookes has said that in its vibrations 
hardly understood as yet, "lie possibilities of a new organ in the human 
brain answering to these vibrations as the eye answers to the vibrations 
which we know as light." And so the way is being prepared for the 
development of that sixth sense which will be the distinguishing charac- 
teristic of the coming (Sixth) Race. 

After the destruction of Atlantis, the Fifth Race "was ruled over 
by the first divine Kings * * * who re-descended, who made peace 



A PRIMER OF THEOSOPHY 261 

with the Fifth, who taught and instructed it." "When mortals shall 
have become sufficiently spiritualised, men will Know that there never was 
a great world-reformer, whose name has come down to us, who was not 
a direct emanation of the Logos, and who had not appeared before, during 
the past cycle." Each of these, and many others, had first appeared on 
earth as one of the seven Powers of the Logos, individualised as a God 
or angelic messenger, then, more material in form, they reappeared in 
turn as the great sages and teachers of the Fifth Race, and finally sacri- 
ficed themselves for the good of mankind, to be re-born under different 
circumstances at various critical periods." 

IV 
THE SEVEN PRINCIPLES OF MAN 

So far we have seen the evolution of man to be conducted on three 
lines, the physical, the mental, and the spiritual, but the closer we look 
into this marvellous system the more we realise that many problems 
present themselves that can only be solved by a more minute division, and 
the doctrine of "the seven principles" seems to be the Key that opens 
many locks. These seven principles, to begin with the lowest, or the most 
material, and therefore the best known to us, are ( i ) The physical body ; 
(2) The astral body; (3) Vitality, or the Life-Force; (4) The passionate 
or emotional nature, the lower mind; (5) the higher mind, or the intel- 
lectual nature; (6) the spiritual nature; and (7) that Ray of the Divine 
that overshadows man, rather than forms a part of him.. Or instead of 
speaking of the emotional nature, etc., we may say the animal Soul, the 
intellectual Soul, and the Spiritual Soul, but the other classification is 
perhaps simpler. 

I. To begin with the physical body, the most material of the com- 
ponent parts of man : This outermost "sheath" as the Oriental philoso- 
phers call it, is built up of countless cells, or "Lives," under the construc- 
tive energy of the Life-Force, the third principle. These cells have a 
consciousness of their own, entirely apart from the brain-consciousness, 
which enables them to select from the nourishment provided them, that 
which suits their needs, and reject that which would be injurious. An- 
other phase of this cell-consciousness is shown in the way the cells hasten 
to repair wounded tissue in any part of the body. The brain-conscious- 
ness feels the pain of a wound, but has nothing to do with the action of 
the cells in repairing the damage. The memory, which is a function of 
the brain, urges the cells to repeat the repairing process even when it is 
no longer needed, and this is the cause of scars and other things of like 
nature." 

When the body dies, it is because the life-force is withdrawn from 
it, and the energy expended in building it up is changed into the energy 
which tears it to pieces. Wherever there is an atom of matter, even in 



262 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

the most gaseous condition, there is life, however latent and unconscious 
that life may be. The expression "inorganic substance" means simply 
that the latent life in the molecules of so-called inert matter cannot be de- 
tected by our senses. The Commentary says that "the worlds to the 
profane are built up of the known elements. Fire alone is One on the 
plane of the One Reality; on that of manifested, hence illusive, being, its 
particles are "fiery lives," which live and have their being at the expense 
of every other life that they consume. Therefore they are called the 
"Devourers." The preservation and destruction of the physical body 
are due to the alternate functions of the "fiery lives" as builders and 
destroyers. They are "builders" by sacrificing themselves in the form of 
vitality to restrain the destructive influence of the microbes, and com- 
pelling them under that restraint, to build up the material body and its 
cells. They are "destroyers" when that restraint is removed, and the 
microbes, unsupplied with vital constructive energy, are left to run riot 
as destructive agents. During the first half of a man's life the fiery lives 
are indirectly engaged in building up the material body; life is on the 
ascending scale, and its force is used in construction and increase. After 
thirty-five, the age of retrogression sets in, and the fiery lives having ex- 
hausted their strength, the work of decrease and destruction begins. 

But it must not be forgotten that there is in reality a principle more 
material than the physical body, or even the astral, and that is the fourth 
principle, the animal soul, the body of desires, as it has been called, the 
real animal centre through which the beast in us acts all its life, and of 
which the body is but the irresponsible shell and medium. 

II. The second principle is the astral body, the framework upon 
which the physical body is built, and which is still molecular, though of 
a finer grade of matter than the physical body. The evolution of the 
external form round the astral is produced by the terrestrial forces, but 
the evolution of the internal or real Man is purely spiritual. The stories 
o.f perfected men, like Enoch and Elijah who are taken up to heaven 
alive, symbolise the death of any spiritual man who has reached the 
power and degree, as also the purification, which enable him to die only 
in the physical body, and still live consciously in his astral body. The 
Pauline expression that "Enoch should not see death," has thus an 
esoteric meaning, but has nothing supernatural in it. The Biblical hints 
that Enoch will share witn Christ and Elijah the glories of the last' 
Advent, signify, esoterically, that some of these perfected men will re- 
turn in the Seventh Race. 

Theosophists will remember that during a period of cyclic rest, 
which answers to our nightly slumbers, everything visible and invisible 
remains in statu quo. All forms, as well as their astral types, remain 
as they were when the great clock of the Universe stopped. With the 
beginning of a new cycle the Monad has only to step into the astral body 
of the "lunar ancestors" in order that the work of physical consolidation 



A PRIMER OF THEOSOPHY 263 

should begin around the shadowy model. For there can be no objective 
form in all the universe, without its astral prototype being first formed 
in Space. From Phidias down to his humblest workman, a sculptor has 
to create a model in his mind before he can reproduce it in a figure, the 
most trivial thing that can be fashioned by the hand of man, must first 
exist in the mind of the artificer. 

The astral body inheres in the physical body, and "to project the 
astral" means to disentangle every particle of the astral molecules that 
form it from the physical molecules, a most difficult and complicated 
performance, needing the knowledge and skill of an adept to complete 
successfully. Only in occasional cases, the astral and the physical bodies 
are both so loosely built, that the astral can slip out of its sheath, as can 
be seen sometimes in seances, when the astral body appears to ooze out of 
the left side of the medium, the spleen, which has been called the factory 
of astral matter, being on the left side. The astral body dies with the 
physical, or very soon afterwards, and one of the strongest arguments 
for cremation is, that by hastening the dispersion of the molecules, the 
higher principles are the sooner set free from the bonds of matter. 

III. The third principle is "Life," or Vitality, which pervades all 
the rest, as indeed do all the principles, nor can any one of them be 
thought of as a separate compartment, as it were, of man's nature, while 
all of them are but a portion of the Universal Soul in whom we live 
and move and have our being. The principles of man correspond to 
the principles of the Universe, and so the Life of the universe is the 
"Spirit" of Electricity, we are told, "as an abstraction we call it the 
One Life; as an evident reality we speak of a septenary scale of mani- 
festation, which begins at the top with the Unknowable, and ends as om- 
nipresent Mind and Life, immanent in every atom of matter." It is the 
action of the vital force upon a compound or even a simple body that 
produces life. "When a body dies, it passes into the same polarity as 
its male energy, and repels therefore the active agent, which losing hold 
of the whole, fastens on the parts or molecules, this action being called 
chemical." (Secret Doctrine, I. 526, note.) 

IV. The fourth principle is the emotional nature or Desire, which 
must be carefully distinguished from Thought. In its lowest aspect, 
it is the emotional and passionate nature, the part of consciousness which 
is common to man and the animal; in its highest, it is aspiration, the 
motive power of the soul. It is this distinction between the conscious- 
ness of the animal and the .^//-consciousness of man, that solves so 
many of the problems of the psychologist as to the reason or instinct of 
animals. Romanes has shown that they have all the passions of men, 
and that they possess the reasoning faculty to a large extent, cannot be 
denied by any careful observer. What then is the difference? Simply 
that the animals have not what is called "the I am I" consciousness, that 



264 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

^//-consciousness which enables mankind to develop the inner man, and 
to become the Higher Ego, the immortal Spirit, or the Higher Mind. 

Perhaps the nearest approach to self-consciousness in the beast is 
the sense of ownership which many of the higher animals possess, but 
even this strong sense of individual property is hardly to be called self- 
consciousness. In the Transactions of the Blavatsky Lodge there are 
some very clear explanations of the true dividing line between man and 
beast, and even more in the second volume of the Secret Doctrine. 
"Man is a perfected animal," says the former, "the vehicle of a fully 
developed Monad, self-conscious and deliberately following its own line 
of progress, whereas in the insect, and even the higher animals, the 
Higher Triad of principles (the overshadowing Divinity, the Intellectual 
Soul, and the Spiritual Soul), is absolutely dormant." And the Secret 
Doctrine (II, 267) says: "No animal has the three higher principles 
awakened in him; they are simply potential, latent, and thus non-exist- 
ent." Therefore, "between man and the animal there is the impassable 
abyss of mentality and Self-consciousness." And yet we must not forget 
that "in relation to its own plane of conception and perception, the ant 
has as good an intellect as ours, and over and above instinct, shows very 
high reasoning powers." (Transactions of the Blavatsky Lodge, I, 13.) 

But the three higher principles that go to make up man's complex 
nature, the Intellectual Soul and the Spiritual Soul, with the overshadow- 
ing Divinity, can have no individuality on Earth, cannot be man, that is, 
unless there is (i) the Mind, the Ego, to cognise itself, and (2) the 
terrestrial false personality, or the body of personal desires and will, to 
cement the whole to the physical form of man. It is the Mind and the 
body of desires and passions that contain the dual personality ; the real 
immortal Ego (or the individuality) and the false and transitory per- 
sonality, the two having to be closely blended to make up a full terres- 
trial existence. "The most perfect soul incarnated in the most perfect 
physical body, would be only a beautiful and unconscious being without 
Mind." (Abridgment, 395.) 

V. It is then very evident that the most important principle of our 
nature is the fifth, the Mind, the pivot upon which all the other facul- 
ties turn, and which is the foundation of our immortality. It is the close 
and intimate union of the Mind or the Intellectual Soul, with the Spiritual 
Soul, that forms that immortal Ego that persists forever. Consciousness, 
that which beholds itself in the mirror of thought, is all that we can feel 
secure of in the beginning. "I think, therefore I am," said Descartes. 
"I am, therefore I think," is equally true, and it is the Thinker within us 
that spells out by slow degrees the complex characters of itself and its 
surroundings, and learns at last to discern the important from the 
unimportant. 

VI, VII. But higher even than Mind, because nearer akin to Spirit, 
is the sixth principle, the Spiritual Soul ; Intuition as opposed to Under- 



A PRIMER OF THEOSOPHY 265 

standing, and the seventh principle, which is its vehicle and can hardly 
be treated of separately. "The Spiritual Soul (the sixth principle), is 
but a mirror that reflects absolute bliss, a reflection not yet free from 
ignorance; the Supreme Spirit (the seventh principle), alone, is the one 
real and eternal substratum of all the essence and absolute knowledge." 
(Abridgment, 269.) 

But it is better to leave the lofty speculations of philosophy for the 
present, and busy ourselves with matters more closely concerned with our 
everyday problems. 

K. HILLARD. 
(To be continued) 



"A lift!" thought will show you how vastly your own happiness 
depends on the way other people bear themselves towards you. The 
looks and tones at your breakfast table, the conduct of your fellow- 
workers or employers, the faithful or unreliable men you deal with, what 
people say to you on the street, the way your cook and housemaid do 
their work, the letters you get, the friends or foes you meet, these things 
make up very much of the pleasure or misery of your day. Turn the 
idea around and remember that just so much are you adding to the 
pleasure or the misery of other people's days. And this is the half of 
the matter which you can control. Whether any particular day shall 
bring to you more of happiness or of suffering is largely beyond your 
power to determine. Whether each day of your life shall give happiness 
or suffering rests with yourself." GEORGE S. MERRIAM. 



ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 



THEOSOPHY AND THE GREAT RELIGIONS 

^/^nr^\HE relation of Theosophy to the great religions, and par- 
ticularly to Christianity, is a subject I wish greatly that you 
1 would bring into the next Screen" said the Philosopher. 
"Most absurd misunderstandings are current, even among 
some members of the Society." 

The Recorder professed complete ignorance. Would not the Phil- 
osopher explain? 

"I am tired of explaining," he responded. "It is so simple, and it 
seems to me always that people whose misunderstandings persist, must 
close their ears deliberately. Yet perhaps that is not fair: perhaps pre- 
conception and prejudice will account for it, as they account for so many 
other stupidities. Here is a man who calls himself a Theosophist, actu- 
ally abusing Christianity. And he is not insane in any ordinary sense. 
Tell him that Theosophy is Christianity, and he froths at the mouth. 
Add for his consolation that Theosophy is also Buddhism and any other 
religion which he prefers, and instead of enlightening him, he thinks 
you are trying to trick him into your heresy. He hurls at you a host of 
crimes perpetrated in the name of Christianity as if crimes had any 
more to do with it than the quarrels or misbehaviour of so-called 
Theosophists can affect the character of Divine Wisdom! Then he 
talks about priest-craft, ignoring the fact that Brahmanism has developed 
a system of priest-craft which puts Rome hopelessly to shame, and that 
he thinks none the worse of the Bhagavad Gita or of the Upanishads on 
that account. Point out such discrepancies, drive him into a corner, and 
I have known him as a last resort to argue with Nietzsche that Christ 
taught obedience, and that obedience makes slaves, while Theosophy makes 
men. As if Theosophy, which is a practical working principle, were 
not based upon obedience, and as if the chief difference between a man 
and a child does not lie in the ability of the man and the inability of 
the child, faithfully and intelligently to obey someone or something which 
he recognizes as superior in wisdom to himself his own flickering 
conscience to begin with! 

The Student carried the argument a step further. "Suppose," he 
said, "that we were compelled to live and to work in Burmah among the 
Burmese: should we try to convert them to Christianity? Should we 
attack Buddhism and denounce Gautama Buddha? Is that the way in 
which members of the Theosophical Society should set to work to help 
the people of that country and of that religion ? Of course, membership 
in this Society does not necessarily cure a man of bigotry, although it 



266 



ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 267 

ought to do so: it gives him endless opportunity. Consequently there 
may be members who would violate the laws of common-sense and of 
good taste by conduct affirmative of my questions. This would prove 
that they do not understand even the elements of Theosophy, though 
they may have been members of the Society for years, and may have 
read every book and magazine ever published on the subject. 
All of which is clear, and all of which would meet with the approval 
of those who, in this country and among Christians, see fit to attack that 
small fragment of Christianity which their narrowness permits them 
to see. Their position is not consistent, and that is because they have 
no understanding of the fundamental principles of Theosophy upon which 
their procedure in either case ought to be based. Of course there are 
evils in Buddhism, in Hinduism, in Christianity: there are evils every- 
where and in all people. But faults are the distorted reflections of 
virtues, and the best way to eradicate faults is to concentrate attention 
upon their substance that is, upon the good qualities, upon the truth and 
beauty and power of that which the faults perversely represent. 

"At one stage whether the field of our endeavor be a garden, a 
character, or a religion there is destructive work to be done: over- 
growth to be cut down, weeds to be torn up, accretions of all kinds to be 
removed. But that work, though of vital importance, is preparatory. 
It was done in this country years ago by Robert Ingersoll, whose work 
was negative; and by Madame Blavatsky with marvellous success, be- 
cause she attacKed all views that were hide-bound hard-shell science, 
hard-shell Spiritualism, hard-shell religion, with large impartiality; and 
because, while 'breaking the moulds of minds,' she knew how to inject the 
seed of construction which, as she was well aware, would come to fruition 
under the fostering care of her successors. Her work, therefore, though 
often destructive in form, was at all times creative in effect, and was 
intended by those whose agent she was to prepare the way for the purely 
constructive methods of to-day. It is our part to reap the fruit of her 
sowing. If we were to insist upon tearing up just because she did so, 
we should undo her good work not aid it." 

"To use another simile," added the Philosopher, "you may have to 
begin the capture of a city by bombarding its walls; but once you have 
captured the city, or any part of it, your effort is to preserve and to 
govern to work from within outwardly, instead of from without 
towards the centre. Adaptability is one of the first requisites in war, 
in business, and in Occultism; and one of the troubles with the people 
of whom you have been speaking is that they have not moved forward 
with the procession : they are out of date, and they imagine that because 
they seek to reproduce the work of twenty or thirty years ago, they are 
the only survivors of the original movement. . . . Well, it is a pity. 
But I do not see that anything can be done for them. Their minds are 
shut. And certainly the clock of the universe cannot be put back to 



268 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

please them. Theosophy means more than they know. They pay the 
penalty of limiting its significance." 

"But there is still another phase of it which ought to be referred to" 
it was the Disciple who spoke now "and which has not been men- 
tioned as yet. I mean that the test of Theosophy is a life, not a doctrine. 
We cannot reform people; we cannot help them in the least, except in 
so far as our own lives are the outcome of self-reformation. No man 
can rule who has not learned to obey. No man can afford to talk who 
has not learned to keep silent. No man can give light to another whose 
heart is not illumined. His head may be full of words and of logic, 
and yet he will be no better than sounding brass. Others may think 
that he helps them; they may say that he does: but "by their fruits ye 
shall know them," and the test to-day as ever is, how much more is there 
of patience, of gentleness, of dignity,- of self-control, of quietude, of joy, 
of kindliness, of fire, of courage, of sagacity, of endurance, of devotion, 
of vigour, of consideration for others, of fidelity, of humility, and of 
those other qualities which go to the making of real men and of true 
women? Relatively speaking, so long as that basic fact be included, 
the nature of the doctrine will matter very little ; and it will in any case 
be possible so to phrase the other clauses of our belief that people will 
understand them as an explanation and extension of their own. Mem- 
bership in a Society, acceptance and declaration of certain beliefs, does 
not make a man a Theosophist. To be a Theosophist is to live a theo- 
sophical life, which means an ideal life. To be a Christian, in the real 
sense, can mean no less. Neither Christ nor Buddha asked people to 
adopt some intellectual formula, some new explanation of the universe, 
or to join a church. Both of them, in language which their hearers could 
understand, said, 'Follow me. I have found the Way. I am the Way, 
the Truth, and the Life. Live as I live. Obey as I obey. Become what 
I have become. Be what I am. Love is life.' Egotists call that egotism. 
Humility understands, and adores such self-abnegation. . . . It is 
folly to say that the imitation of Buddha will not make a man a Theoso- 
phist. It will. And by the imitation of Buddha, he will in time discover 
Christ. It is folly as great, or greater for western people, to say that 
the imitation of Christ will not make a man a Theosophist. It will. 
It does. And, by the imitation of Christ, he will in time discover 
Buddha. The man who refuses to follow is following himself. His 
end will be destruction, and, if his vanity be positive enough, he will lead 
others with him. . . . But can it be that anyone of this day and gene- 
ration claims seriously to know more about the spiritual life than Christ 
knew and knows? It were well, in that case, to read, mark, learn, and 
inwardly digest such a book as Madame Blavatsky's Secret Doctrine, 
as an experience provocative of humility, and then to remember that 
Madame Blavatsky spoke and wrote of Christ as an Avatar as the 
embodiment of wisdom and love and power." 



ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 269 

"Here are a few quotations from the writings of Madame Blavat- 
sky," said the Orientalist at this point, "which I copied out a few days 
ago, and which are fortunately appropriate. For instance she says: 
'And now once more we have to beg the reader not to lend an ear to the 
charge against Theosophy in general and the writer in particular of 
disrespect toward one of the greatest and noblest characters in the history 
of Adeptship Jesus of Nazareth nor even of hatred to the Church.' 
Elsewhere she says: 'And this . . . shows Him, beyond any doubt, 
as an Initiate of the Egyptian Mysteries.' Again: 'Those great char- 
acters who tower like giants in the history of mankind, like Siddhartha 
Buddha and Jesus,' the one 'as noble and as loving' as the other. But no 
one who knew Madame Blavatsky or Mr. Judge personally, can doubt 
the veneration in which they held Christ as Avatar and Jesus as Adept." 

The Wanderer had joined our party before the Orientalist had 
begun to speak. From where he came, no one knew and no one asked. 
We have learned better than to ask him personal questions. He had 
over-heard the last of what the Disciple had been saying, and he is quick 
to draw inferences. 

"Obedience is the thorn that pricks in this case," he said. "But 
their resentment is due often to lack of understanding. They hate priest- 
craft, and they are right. They are wrong, however, when then confuse 
that with obedience. The two things are poles apart. They are right 
when they demand force and individuality. They are wrong when they 
forget that the force of Niagara itself must be harnessed and concen- 
trated before it can be transformed from mere noise into utility. Objec- 
tions to obedience always are voiced loudly. Power is quiet. The 
worship of the Higher Self will lead to liberation. It is one of the paths. 
But, as Krishna says in the GUd, it is a path of great difficulty, and many 
a man who has followed it, owing to his immersion in a self less high 
than the highest, and owing to his mistaken view of impersonality, has 
failed to find the intermediate link, the person, the teacher, the one who 
has gone before, who would have saved him from destruction. No 
matter what path is followed, a teacher is needed. The moment a path 
is entered, a teacher stands ready. We may recognize him or not: but 
he is there and should be sought and, being found, should be obeyed. 

"There is this further truth, however: no one can recognize his 
teacher not though he talks with him daily until he has recognized 
the voice of his own conscience. No one can obey his teacher until he 
has learned first to obey his own conscience unflinchingly. Obedience, 
therefore, begins most simply with the effort to do what we know to be 
right. And against that obedience, no one, theoretically, rebels. Those 
who rebel against an extension of that principle and who declare that 
they would never obey a person; those who go further than that and 
who condemn the teaching of Christ because of his insistence upon obedi- 
ence to himself, are the people who, through lack of obedience to the 



270 

highest they have seen, have not experienced its value: and no one can 
appreciate a quality who has not at least the beginning of that quality in 
himself, and who has not tried to manifest it. 

"The fact is that obedience, like love and gratitude and all other 
virtues, has to be acquired. We have to learn to obey. Destined to 
govern all things to bring 'all things in subjection under our feet' we 
have first to bring our personal wills into subjection to Wisdom, and to 
wisdom as embodied in some Master of Wisdom. This is merely another 
way of saying that we have to learn self-control: that the lower self 
must be brought into subjection to the higher Self not killed, but domi- 
nated. And do you realize how many different kinds of activities, in 
the ordinary person, take place without so much as his recognition of 
them? Naturally, he has no control where he has no recognition. But 
take some obvious instance, such as self-control in matters of speech: 
are there many people who can say that their tongues are completely and 
permanently bridled? Dare they claim to be masters of their speech 
or even of their written words? Most people talk before they think, 
which is more dangerous than to leap before looking. Will not 'a single 
word put the spirit of a lion into a dead fox,' and is not death as well as 
life 'in the power of the tongue' ? 

"Obedience to the will of the highest in the matter of speech, un- 
broken recollection of that duty, will enable the student in time to govern 
his thoughts and his feelings to bring them also into a state of subjec- 
tion. And until he has done that, he is not free : he is a slave. He has 
learned, presumably, not to squander his money (our present civilization 
exists very largely for the purpose of teaching him self-control and 
obedience there). He must learn not to squander his time, his words, 
his thoughts. He must include as part of his rule of life this saying: 
the unnecessary is the immoral. 

"One result of such discipline will be a tightening of the fibre; a 
greater intensity in action. He will, at least to some extent, be able to 
throw the force of his entire nature into whatever it may be his duty to 
undertake. If he speaks, if he bargains, if he fights, if he meditates, if 
he prays, he will do it with power. His obedience will give him 
dominion." 

The Student asked a question : "Is it not helpful to concentrate the 
mind upon the duty of the moment, and to make a practice of living from 
moment to moment treating the past as a back number, stale and 
unprofitable, and the future as none of our concern ? Many people brood 
so over the past and worry so over the future, that they seem to me to 
fritter their energies and to reduce their working capacity by one half." 

"Cave" was with us and answered. "To brood, to worry that 
must always be wrong. To throw our full force into the performance 
of the moment's duty must always be right. But the duty of some 
moments must be to reflect; and although, when people are inclined to 



ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 271 

be morbid, it may be necessary, as a temporary remedy, to advise them 
to turn their minds away from the past, and to live only in the present, 
there can be no question that those who wish to become disciples must 
learn to live continuously. After all, your past is a living fact not dead 
at all, but part and parcel of what you are to-day, no matter how much 
you may have changed, developed, turned from it. It defines, limits, 
modifies your present, and will continue so to do in your future, until 
the causes there generated are worked out. Rightly to understand and 
to manipulate your present and future, therefore, you must understand 
your past : and to understand it you must reflect upon it ; you must study 
it with the utmost care, both as a storehouse of causes, perpetually 
moulding and determining things to-day, and as lessons whose full 
value and significance should not be lost in the slightest detail. Otherwise 
you are working in the dark, unaware of danger, unprepared for diffi- 
culties, every one of which it is possible to change and often to eliminate, 
though only when taken intelligently in hand, never when ignored. 

"The disciple does not live in the present; he lives in the Eternal, 
which includes past, present, and future, as one : and he learns to regard 
them, and his life, therefore, in the essential spirit of unity. . . . 
You cannot divorce yourself from your past : if you try to do so, it will 
become as a ghost to hound and hinder you at every turn. You must 
face it, study it, take possession of it, master it, learn from it, profit by it, 
and make it serve as means to your ends. If you do not possess and 
dominate it, it will possess and dominate you. You have created it, 
putting your own life and power into it : only you can destroy that in it 
which should be destroyed. And without the force it contains, you will 
be crippled hopelessly in your work. 

"To work without your past is to cut yourself off from one of your 
bases of supply, which are two the spiritual world on the one hand, 
and, on the other, that mass of generated force of a personal kind which 
is sometimes called a man's Karma. . . . The past holds the key to 
each man's present, and without that key he cannot understand his 
present. To live in any other way is to drift; is to live in a third of 
oneself instead of in the whole ('regard the three truths, they are 
equal') is to live, not even in time, but in only a portion of time, instead 
of in Eternity." 

THE HOLY COURT 

At our next meeting, the Philosopher commenced at once. "That 
the Master's kingdom may come; that his will may be done on earth as 
it is done already in heaven : a great prayer !" he said ; "a prayer which 
Christ himself said on the cross, and which we should learn to say with 
him, as he then said it, so as to add to our own power the tremendous 
volume of his. 

"For what else are we working, if not for the Father's reign on 



272 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

earth: for the restoration of the Adept kings who, before men deserted 
them for evil, ruled the world in peace? The Age of Gold, though of 
the past, is also of the future, as the cycles return upon themselves, and 
as innocence, lost in sin, becomes converted, by the fires of love and 
suffering, into purity. . . . So the Father of Adepts will yet reign 
on earth, though first his children, to prepare the way for him that 
men be not blinded by his glory ; and before them even, there must come 
those who will rule in his name, for love of him, with understanding of 
the Lodge, and with delegated power. Not so far off, though not in 
your life-time or in mine, is that day of conscious effort, when a Court, 
nobler than Arthur's, will take a Master as its unseen King, and when 
royalty will strive to serve him as his messengers and representatives, 
guided by him, let us hope, as Teresa and many another was guided 
knowingly by Christ. 

"A gloomy Court, you say" (the Objector had commented, and the 
Philosopher turned to him in reply). "Dear man, why so pessimistic? 
And besides, as I have mentioned Saint Teresa, was she gloomy? Only 
a few minutes ago I was reading a sketch of her, by a Protestant, who 
says: 

'This gracious, aristocratic Castilian, who receives with high-bred 
courtesy such visitors as may chance to call, this charming lady of bril- 
liantly witty conversation, au fait with all manner of current topics, a 
letter-writer who has never been excelled, this marvel of contagious 
merriment, who keeps her fellow-nuns in constant amusement if not 
shaking with laughter, breaks every rule for saintship that has been con- 
secreted by time and by tradition.' One of the greatest of the saints, 
both in spiritual and in worldly attainment (you remember Crashaw's 
wonderful poem), she was a 'marvel of contagious merriment.' With 
someone like her to inspire a Court, it would become the gayest in all 
Europe ; and it would be gay, not in spite of but because of its ideals." 

The Student has just returned from Europe. The Philosopher had 
interested him. "What you have been saying reminds me," he remarked, 
"of criticism of the Queen of Holland which has appeared recently in 
certain Dutch newspapers, significant only because these newspapers are 
conservative and in all ways devoted to the interests of the throne. They 
complain that the Queen is becoming 'too religious': that she rarely 
attends the theatres, and, when she does, seems to make a point of arriv- 
ing very late and of leavii.g long before the end ; that she is inclined to 
display her dislike of music, while the Dutch are a nation of music- 
lovers; that she appears to be morose, and that she leads a life of such 
seclusion that her people feel themselves entirely out of touch with her. 
Such criticism is personal and could not be referred to in the QUARTERLY 
were it not for the fact that the Queen's warmest friends are responsible 
for it, and that they have made the extraordinary mistake of attributing 
her shortcomings, whether real or imaginary, to her growing interest in 



ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 273 

religion. The Queen of Holland is, of course, a Calvinist; and Calvin- 
ism has the reputation of being 'dour.' But I doubt, even, whether a 
proper understanding of Calvin would warrant behaviour so unfortunate 
in a Queen as that alleged against Her Majesty of Holland. What a 
hideous perversion of Christianity! Surely, if any Master were con- 
sulted if Christ himself were able to prescribe he would say that a 
Queen's first duty is to love her subjects and to charm them by constant 
evidence of her love. How else would he himself reign over us! The 
love of God, if it be real, must express itself in love of our neighbour; 
and for a Queen, with the eyes of the world upon her, there can be no 
higher form of 'yoga? or of prayer than to sit through a concert which 
bores her, with all the appearance of deep interest and appreciation. 
Nor is it as foolish as may seem, for us to discuss the duties of a Queen : 
is there any woman living who may not and should not be the Queen 
of her own kingdom? Four bare walls may contain it, but the fact of 
her womanhood makes her royal, if she understands what womanhood 
means. She does not need to assert it only to be it ; and her sweetness 
and purity, her consideration for others, her loving heart, her gracious 
dignity, will bring every man, who is a man, to his knees. What woman 
is there who, many times a day, in nursery or in kitchen, with brothers 
or with friends, is not called upon to practise just that kind of 'yoga.' 
which I have suggested for the benefit of Queens! And what does it 
mean but self -surrender, as opposed to self-indulgence the subordination 
of personal will e.nd preference for the happiness and encouragement of 
others." T. 



"// instead of a germ, or even of a flower, we could cast the gift of 
a lovely thought into the heart of a friend, that would be giving as the 
angels, I suppose, must give" GEORGE MACDONALD. 



18 



ELEMENTARY ARTICLE 



THEOSOPHY AND SOME DARK PROBLEMS 

THAT there are some dark problems in life I think no one will 
deny, and they sometimes seem so insoluble that we are brought 
to the edge of despair. Millions of hearts desired to know 

"By what power without our own consent, 
Caught us in the snare of life we know not how, 
We are placed here to suffer and to sin, 
To be in misery and we know not why." 

None of our modern philosophies has solved the great problems of 
life. We may freely admit that these philosophies throw some light on 
the perplexing questions of life and so give us some comfort and help. 
One of the dark questions most frequently asked us is : why are a few 
people born to wealth and luxury, while the masses are born to poverty 
and toil? If we look back over history we may see the greed and crimes 
of the strong, the torture and sorrow of the innocent and weak; and all 
through the centuries there seems to be a fearful waste of martyrs' 
blood. Think of the great and noble and good, the world's greatest 
benefactors, who for trying to bless their fellow-men have received 
stripes and imprisonments, scorn and persecution, crowns of thorns and 
crucifixion. Think of the cares, the tears, and the sorrows that so often 
come to the mother in return for her love and service. All around ue 
are living martyrdoms. Here a sweet and virtuous woman marries a 
sober and industrious man, but after a few years he falls into bad habits 
and sinks lower and lower until he becomes a drunken brute, making her 
life one long agony. Here in another home is a bright and lovely child, 
the joy of father and mother. This child is apparently healthy until he 
is seven years old; then a painful disease attacks him and the parents 
watch the progress of this lingering disease, knowing what the end will 
be and dreading it, suffering slow torture for three weary years; then 
they are left childless, with heart wounds that are never healed on earth. 

Read a book like Twenty Years at Hull House, by Jane Addams, 
where the life and experience of the squalid districts of a great city are 
vividly painted. There are innocent children suffering terribly for the 
idleness, sin and crime of their parents. Born in poverty, cradled in dirt, 
not knowing what kindness is, but often receiving brutal treatment from 



THEOSOPHY AND SOME DARK PROBLEMS 275 

those who should love them tenderly. Their passions are allowed to 
grow strong, while their higher faculties of kindness, love of the beau- 
tiful, reverence and truthfulness are left undeveloped. Some come into 
the world physically weak or diseased, while their health is made even 
more precarious by early environment, and they seem to have no oppor- 
tunity for education, or for physical and mental culture. Around Hull 
House are Italians and Greeks, Russians and Poles, each race despising 
every other, but all living in ignorance, superstition, poverty and wretch- 
edness. It would be impossible to estimate the good that has been done 
by this settlement, many in each of these races have been induced to try 
for better things, to live for new ideals, and hundreds (perhaps thou- 
sands) have become good citizens, skillful mechanics, artists and scholars. 

But here again a new problem presents itself, and a dark one too. 
Frequently the most earnest among these people failed because physical 
vitality failed. Miss Addams gives instances of several of the most 
successful who fell a prey to consumption, or to some other disease that 
carried them off. Now why should those who make the bravest attempt 
to free themselves from their unfavorable surroundings fail? It seems 
like a great waste of effort and strength, and we are led to ask what is 
the value to them of the efficiency they won in art and in music? Is it 
not all lost, all wasted? What answer do philosophers give to these 
dark questions? Generally they will say: "The laws of nature are 
uniform and are no respecters of persons, what seems cruel is not really 
cruel. If through ignorance we break these laws we must suffer, and 
through our su Bering learn wisdom." It is something to be assured that 
these laws are good and that sometime men may come to understand 
them and so be freed from much of the pain and suffering they have to 
endure to-day. But very few will find this a satisfying answer. 

What does Theosophy say? That man is a pilgrim (not a tramp) 
and that in order to reach his destiny a character perfected in wisdom 
and love some struggle will be necessary, for if he is to be a conqueror, 
he must subdue the flesh by the spirit, the earthly by the heavenly. 
Throughout this entire pilgrimage he is in the grip of two great laws, 
the law of Love and the law of Karma. The law of Love binds him to 
his Eternal Father and to each and all of his brothers. During a part 
of his pilgrimage he is only at times conscious of this law, groping up- 
ward for his Father, yet vigorously fighting his brothers as bitter enemies, 
as the child in delirium may fight its mother. But in time this groping 
and struggling open the eyes of the pilgrim so that he comes to recog- 
nize his Father and his brethren. To accomplish this great awakening 
the law of Karma, cause and effect, is used. This great law is not fully 
and clearly expressed in the words, "Whatsoever a man soweth that shall 
he also reap." There is another phase of Karma that may be called 
the law of cost, or the law of sacrifice. In this lowest of the three worlds 
of our pilgrimage everything that is good, viewed from a spiritual stand- 



276 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

point, must be won, must be paid for. The great law of life that we find 
perfectly exemplified in the Cross of Jesus flashes its light all along the 
pathway of human history. Sacrifice is everywhere the law and measure 
of progress. 

All the privileges and opportunities of our twentieth century, have 
been bought with blood. All the safeguards of our civilization, all our 
security against storm, pestilence and disease; all the things which mean 
to us safety, comfort and enjoyment have been won for us by hardship, 
patience, heroism and sacrifice. Gide, a French professor of Political 
Economy has shown that every mile of railroad built has cost in its con- 
struction at least one human life, and that the operation of every hundred 
miles costs at least five lives more. That is, the seven hundred thousand 
miles now in operation cost about thirty thousand lives every year. This 
is just as true of other great departments of life, as for instance naviga- 
tion. So, too, liberty of conscience and religious enlightenment have 
been purchased for us at a tremendous cost. To make them possible, a 
long procession of faithful, loving souls have not counted dear their lives 
or the sweet things of life, but have given up ideals of comfort, of culture 
and ease for our sakes. If we have escaped from the terrors and des- 
pairs of former days we owe it to men who were willing to stand alone, 
to be misunderstood, to sacrifice ease and peace, and to help on the 
progress of mankind. They laid down their lives in Roman amphi- 
theaters, in the fires of Smithfield, and on the moors and hills of Scot- 
land, and in a thousand other places. But the great law of cause and 
effect makes it certain that for this sowing in tears there shall be a joyful 
reaping; and those who have suffered most have assured us that even in 
the suffering they found great joy. 

I know that to-day another doctrine is preached by many. They 
tell us that there can be no pain unless we make it ourselves by wrong 
thought; that the great heroes, reformers and saviours need not have 
suffered at all, but that the liberties of the world, the sanctities of the 
home, the redemption of society and the triumph of justice could all be 
won without the shedding of blood, without suffering or tears. They 
further tell us that sickness and poverty are curable by right thought, that 
death can be conquered in the same way; and to prove their faith they 
are now forming leagues of immortality. Thus, they say, we need not 
bear a cross nor sympathise with suffering at all we make a mistake if 
we do. This teaching greatly exaggerates certain truths and entirely 
ignores certain other truths and facts. It is really telling us that we 
need not pay our debts, that we need not pay the cost of cleansing the 
slums or disinfecting the plague spot, that creation need not "groan and 
travail in pain" as a great seer has said. The experience of the world 
contradicts all this and has proved beyond a doubt that manhood and 
womanhood can only be lifted towards their superb possibilities through 
struggle and trial. 



THEOSOPHY AND SOME DARK PROBLEMS 277 

To come back to the cases given by Miss Addams in her book, when 
those boys and girls struggled for success and then died before reaching 
it were their brave efforts wasted? By no means. The law of Karma is 
the law of the conservation of energy. No effort is ever lost, the awaken- 
ing of the soul to a consciousness of its powers is a long step forward. 
The culture of their intellectual and aesthetic powers is not lost to these 
young people although they did not live to use these powers here. Of 
course if this were the only life on earth it would be different, but Karma 
demands reincarnation. And in the other world what has been won here 
will be further perfected, worked up into faculty and made far more 
available in another incarnation. And further, the struggle to free them- 
selves from their unfavorable environment will also bear fruit and they 
may be born into more favorable conditions. 

The natural world is not an end but a means, and if we feel a sense 
of defeat it is well; for we must lose the natural in order to gain the 
spiritual. Theosophy teaches us that "All life exists for the purposes of 
the Soul, for the making of the spiritual man." It is then in perfect 
harmony with this great law that these trying experiences come to us to 
win our thoughts and affections away from the material and the tran- 
sient, so that we may recognize the spiritual and the permanent. The 
uncertainties of life and the sufferings we have to endure are well adapted 
to this end. Physical pain at least arrests cur attention, and mental and 
moral suffering, whether in the form of parental solicitude, business 
anxieties, or any one of the numberless forms of inward distress to which 
we are subject, are even more useful in drawing our thoughts and affec- 
tions from the charms and fascinations of the world, and in dispelling 
its illusions. Sickness, pain, sorrow, calamity, death, and other sad 
experiences are so many teachers to set us free from our bondage to 
the earthly, and to help forward our spiritual development. When these 
rude teachers have done their work (which is preparatory) we pass into 
a higher grade of the great school of life, and we come to see that every 
thought, word, and act of our lives has a spiritual meaning and affects 
our character. A wise teacher said, "Children here is a beautiful china 
plate; it is painted with flowers just as charming as they grow. It has 
been and will be admired by thousands. Every one who observes flowers 
will be delighted with it. But I did not bring it in on account of its 
beauty, I brought it to tell you something about its manufacture. First 
it is painted; then the colors are burnt in. So it is with character; the 
qualities that make character must be burnt in. That is done by trials 
and temptations. You mean to be truthful; if you are tempted to lie 
and resist, you are burning in your truthfulness." 

So working, fighting, watching, we are by a strange spiritual alchemy 
transforming our characters, being changed from glory to glory, until 
at last all the dark problems are solved and we enter into life eternal. 

JOHN SCHOFIELD. 




Psychic Phenomena, Science and Immortality, by HENRY FRANK (Sherman, 
French & Company, Boston). In this day of specialists, when every branch of 
science is so minutely subdivided, none but a layman would dare propose to 
himself so sweeping a review of the ground traversed by modern science. En- 
thusiasm and faith have carried the author dry-shod over many a spot which to 
a more logical and scientific mind would have been impassable. But anyone who 
accepts a certain means of conveyance, whether airship or camel-back, has no 
call to find fault, en route, with the drawbacks incidental to that method of travel. 
So let us as mannerly travelers set sail with the author. 

"Does man live after death?" is the question that shadowed the author's days, 
until he was driven to seek a complete answer. This answer he sought but could 
not find in philosophy which, he found "always speculative and uncertain." He 
turned in vain to religion, knowing none but that partial and incomplete form which 
he says "is temperamental and but marks the residual tracings of human experi- 
ence in the institutions of humankind." Finally in his perplexities, he went to 
Science, "whose mirror, however much betimes distorted, yet images for man the 
only trustworthy reflection of Nature's mysterious truths." There he found the 
answer to his question about immortality, both in the pronouncements of men of 
the highest scientific attainment and in his own application of accredited scientific 
principles to a range of phenomena that have not as yet engaged the attention of 
the great body of scientific explorers. 

The reader who has not found time to keep abreast of the restless onward 
march of modern science will find in these pages a reflection of the great work 
of many great men. The varied quotations from writers on all phases of scientific 
research show the range of the authors investigations and will prove for many 
readers the most interesting and valuable feature of the entire book. Those whose 
certainty of the unity of life, here and hereafter, is established, beyond necessity of 
argument or support, will still find satisfaction in seeing the swinging searchlight 
of science thrown ever further forward, till it is now trained upon the confines 
of psychic and even of spiritual life. This direct touch that the author gives his 
readers with the conclusions and convictions of a multitude of the best thinkers 
of the present day is after all the best service he could render them and it will 
surely be appreciated by those who may not find equal illumination in the author's 
own contributions to the discussion of his immense subject. It is more than likely 
that another class of readers who do not care to follow closely the different steps 
taken by the authorities so freely quoted may find their satisfaction in the many 
phenomenal experiences, both personal and otherwise which the author relates 
and in his own deductions from the facts and interpretations he has gathered. 
From the start Mr. Frank states clearly the basis of his own contribution. His 
thesis is always evident. His handling of it is candid and thorough. If he continu- 
ally makes the bold leap from theorem to conclusion, ignoring the reader's demand 
for proof, it is only fair to say that his real audience will generally find it easy to 
make the leap with him, will usually be satisfied to subscribe to the Q. E. D. 



REVIEWS 279 

with which he closes the discussion. For is it not true that most of us demand 
rather to feel convinced than to be convinced? When an author proposes to the 
minds of his readers a question that cannot be truly answered by the mind alone 
it were very unreasonable to find fault with his method if he shifts his ground 
and appeals to the heart and to the hopes of his followers when an appeal to the 
intellect will not serve. This shifting of the ground from cold scientific state- 
ment to the wider vision of constructive science, and then to aspiration untram- 
melled by a scientific basis may leave the reader gasping at times but let him 
cease grumbling and remember that extremes of temperature make for mental 
as well as for physical robustness. 

To do justice to the author's argument, as presented in over five hundred 
condensed pages would require too much space. His inquiry is divided into three 
main sections : Book I, Psychic Phenomena ; -Book II, Scientific Interpretation ; 
Book III, The Problem of Immortality. In this last section the heart of the book 
is found and that may be partially represented by a few quotations : 

An "immaterial emanation of radiant matter flows ceaselessly around the cell 
centers of the brain, and is the immediate instrumentality of the energy of the 
will. . . . The will energy, which is the center-force of personality or self- 
consciousness, is itself radiant substance that is, a pure immaterial emanation, 
radio-active, electric and all-penetrative. When this substance is directly manipu- 
lated by the sub-conscious mind, or subjective will, it is susceptible to extraordinary 
manifestations, such as intervention with the laws of gravity, levitation, etc. 
. . . When it manifests its properties in the intellectual, emotional and reflective 
realms, then it becomes the instrument of the expressions of genius, of creative 
art, of oratorical inspiration, and of such phases of personal force as are far 
beyond the normal capacity of the individual, who becomes its momentary instru- 
ment. . . . 

"The normal consciousness is the result of the aggregate life of the composite 
cells of the brain. But there is a consciousness which tends still more to liberate 
the mind from the aggregate limitations of the united-cell-minds of one's body. 
. . . It is the consciousness of cosmic or monistic unity. . . . Within the 
substance of the cell we find the physical groundwork of the spiritual planes of 
consciousness, or the psychic activities. The outer substance of the cell is the 
instrument of objective consciousness. . . . Deeper within the cell ... we 
find the pure substance, the nucleal plasm that acts as the instrument of the 
subjective consciousness, the consciousness that relates to pure intellect and forma- 
tive thought. While, around the cortical cells and all enswathing them, as a golden 
light, we discover the super-substantial, ultra-material, radio-active emanation that 
constitutes the direct instrument of sentiency, volition and self-consciousness in 
its supreme state. . . . There reside in the human being, apparently, all the 
factors essential to the continuity of personal existence after the dissolution of the 
cellular units of the physical body. All seems to depend on the tenacity of self- 
consciousness, the strength of the personal will, the potency of the character or 
the determination of integrated individuality." 

To this summary of his argument on scientific grounds, the author adds a 
"Conclusion" in different vein, which forms the final chapter of the book. There 
he says: 

"The universal consciousness of life, and its constantly inciting activity, is 
the groundwork of belief in immortality. . . . We realise life ; death we can but 
observe. . . . Are life and death eternal foes or, in fact, perennial allies in the 
warfare of existence? . . . Who can think of himself as never thinking? How 
can a living soul conceive the experience of not living? ... If, indeed, there 
is a life beyond, we should not halt to learn the law by which it may be attained : 
nor think that it is our due because we have been forced into existence here. . . 



280 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

It may be, as has been intimated in the deductions made from scientific revelations 
in the preceding pages, that only they shall go into another vital experience who 
shall prove this right by force of moral fiber, by tenacity of purpose, by virility of 
personal consciousness." 

This clear, bracing atmosphere is befitting the close of a book which repre- 
sents much research, keen devotion to the truth as the author sees it, and an 
earnest desire to hold high his torch to light the way of others. T. E. P. 

The Golden Rose. The world is full of surprises, especially the literary 
world. Who would have dreamed of a book by Amelie Rives, Princess Trou- 
betzkoy which should be built upon extracts from The Light on the Path, The 
Voice of the Silence, the Bhagavad Gita, et al? The motto upon the title-page 
sums up the tragic little story, but even that does not prepare one for all that is 
to follow in the way of theosophy. 

"Absence kindles a great passion and extinguishes a small one," that is the 
thesis of the book, slightly condensed, and the characters are but four, the young 
widow Meraud, whose name immediately suggests Maeterlinck, and who has just 
been freed from a disastrous marriage; her cousin Anice, a semi-invalid and a 
hunchback; (Meraud has heart-disease). Steven Gordon Trafford, the hero, a 
commonplace young man who is being continually lifted off his feet in his efforts 
to keep up with the heroine, and the doctor, that all-wise and big-hearted doctor we 
have known taking his sapient way through the pages of so many novels. There 
is a little of the Topsy type of darky, to leaven the lump of mysticism, and permit 
one of the characters at least to have his foot on the solid earth occasionally. 
The book begins with a discussion between the cousins upon love, and Meraud 
declares that love upon this earth leads always to the same end, and it is an end. 
"There is a mighty law that few people seem to know about," says Meraud. "It's 
the law that fulfilment on this earth means death. What people call the fulfil- 
ment of love means love's death. . . . Maya! Maya! 'Under every flower is 
coiled a serpent.'" 

The overture having been played, the hero, Steven Gordon Trafford, enters. 
He announces himself as an historian, he wants to write a history of "that part 
of Virginia," and of course Meraud can supply him with all the documents his 
heart could wish. They also find that they have a consciousness of pre-existence, 
and share all sorts of dreams and fancies. "Do you really believe in reincarnation, 
and and all that?" blurted Trafford. "And do you think that we have all lived 
before often and shall live again on this earth?" "Until we conquer once for 
all," she smiled at him; "until we reach the end of that 'ancient, narrow path 
stretching far away, as hard to tread as the edge of a razor'." And here begins 
the elevation of the hero, with quotations from Lessing, Walt Whitman, and the 
Bhagavad Gita, particularly the latter. One of the chief reasons that she liked 
him so much was that he took her exactly as she meant him to take her in a 
word, he always "understood", even when she told him that she had once "slipped 
out of her body, like an Indian yogi," though this did "startle" him! 

Then the Doctor comes, to find Trafford installed at Kingsweather, and his 
keen eyes soon pierce to the heart of the mystery. "I am afraid," he says to the 
cousin, "I am afraid there's not enough to him. Just that," he ended, "not 
enough to him." 

Several quotations from the Gita come in after the inevitable declaration from 
Trafford, followed by extracts from the Voice of the Silence, "Shila, the Ray 
of harmony in word and act; Dana, the golden key of charity and love immortal," 
followed by bits from Reiny de Gourmont, the Vita Nuova, Paracelsus, Michel- 
Angelo, and Tennyson. She tells her lover that she can never marry again, and 



REVIEWS 281 

he professes to be content. Well he might be, as they are described as entering 
from that night "into a state of being which some great Trouvere might have 
dreamed of, Gaucelm Faydit, during his long servitude of Marie de Ventadour, or 
Pierre Vidal, yearning out the sad, vain years in fruitless love of Adalais de Baux." 
In the next paragraph we get a few bits from Browning, Pico della Mirandola, 
and Rossetti. The only writer of fiction of this sort to whom the Princess 
Troubetzkoy can be compared, is the late Mrs. Augusta Evans in her novel of 
St. Elmo, in which she easily distances all lovers of quotations before or since. 

Upon the halcyon atmosphere of a sublimated platonic love, there suddenly 
breaks in a friend of the hero, demanding the fulfilment of a promise that 
Trafford should join him in a trip to the Himalayas for which he has already 
made every preparation. They go, and Meraud lives upon letters, until the terrible 
time comes, of which she has been forewarned, when there can be no sure posts, 
and there must be a gap of two or three months in their correspondence. During 
this time Trafford had been ill, he writes, at last, nothing serious, only his illness 
seemed to have left him dumb and numb, but when they met all would be well 
again. Unfortunately, with this resumption of correspondence a deadly chill seems 
to have come over them, and they meet only to part. "The wonder, the splendor 
of a great passion had dimmed into the commonplace for him." She had played 
with the key of "Dana, the golden key of charity and love immortal," but she had 
opened no locks with it, and now she remembered those words, terrible and piteous 
as life itself "Before the soul can stand in the presence of the Master its feet 
must be washed in the blood of the heart." (Light on the Path.) 

And the book virtually ends with Emily Bronte's last lines, beginning 

"No coward soul is mine, 

No trembler in the world's storm-troubled sphere. 
I see Heaven's glories shine, 
And Faith shines equal, arming me from fear." 

The value of such a book as this is above all its testimony to the far-reaching 
influence of the theosophical ideas in our current literature. 

"The Golden Rose" is the ideal love, as contrasted with the "painted apple." 
The book is exquisitely written, and the impossibility of raising a thoroughly 
commonplace nature to ideal heights, and holding it there is exceedingly well 
portrayed. K. H. 

The Kabala of Numbers, by Sepharial, published by William Rider & Son, 
Ltd., London. 

This belongs to the class of books which deals with astrology, or other 
recondite speculations of the restless human mind. They are a weariness to the 
flesh to many, a matter of contemptuous scorn to most, and, curious as it may 
seem, a delightful interest to a few. To that few this little work can be com- 
mended. It is clearly and simply written and does not presuppose too much 
knowledge of the subject. Sepharial, by the way, was once a well known member 
of the T. S. G. 

True Occultism has recently been published by the Committee of the English 
members in the penny form which has already made four valuable articles accessible 
to many who could otherwise ill afford them. It is just what is needed at the 
present time ; a clear statement of the difference between true and false occultism, 
and a ringing appeal to all of us to follow that higher life which is true occultism. 
The writer is to be congratulated upon a fine piece of work and the English members 
upon the successful creation of a most valuable instrument for helpfulness. The 



282 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

format, paper, and printing are admirable. American members can secure the 
pamphlet through the Secretary T. S., 159 Warren Street, Brooklyn, N. Y., and 
abroad from the Corresponding Secretary, 43 Brook Street, London, W. 

G. 

Death and Resurrection, by Gustaf Bjorklund (Chicago, The Open Court Pub- 
lishing Company). 

This is a very remarkable book, by a contemporary philosopher of Sweden. 
It has conspicuous defects. Its author seems to have no marked literary gift, and 
his translator has only a very dim idea of the rhythm of a sentence. But despite 
these obstacles, the book's striking merits remain. Like another Vergil leading 
Dante through the hidden worlds, this good Swede leads us, by devious ways, 
involving the mysteries of cell-life, and brings us forth at last into the clear sun- 
light of mysticism. He perceives with piercing vision the reality of the divine 
world, the existence of the spiritual body, the ultimate unity of man with God. 
He writes with astonishing wisdom and profundity concerning the invisible world, 
the relation between time and eternity; the entry into immortal life; and, at the 
same time, he genuinely believes that all his conclusions flow by inevitable steps from 
certain discoveries and theories of cell-life. Perhaps they do, as the universe 
throughout is one and undivided. But we are inclined to believe that his con- 
clusions came first, and that his reasonings were hammered out to fit the conclu- 
sions. At any rate, the conclusions are full of spirituality and truth, and we 
look back to our reading of this book with satisfaction, even though at times it 
was a somewhat irritating task. Some things the author has expressed admirably 
well ; better, perhaps, than they have ever been expressed in a Western tongue. 

C. J. 



^QUESTIONS 



ANSWERS 




QUESTION 130 (Continued). Does not the theosophical philosophy contradict 
the modern theories about the rights of man? 

ANSWER. The four answers to this question in the last issue of the QUARTERLY 
interested me greatly. They seemed flatly contradictory, and yet I doubt if the 
writers differ as much in principle as in their use of terms. "Rights" is a word 
which this generation is using much and loosely. A few centuries ago the Rights 
of Man meant liberty, toleration, the rights of the soul. To-day the Rights of 
Man mean, in general, material rights, rights of the personality, a very different 
proposition. The answer to the question depends on how far back "modern 
theories" are meant to go. Do they go to the days of "the easy rhetoric of the 
Preamble to the American Constitution," when, for the establishment among men 
of such rights of the soul as it proclaimed, brave men gladly sacrificed every 
"right" of the personality, even the life of the personality itself? Or does it mean 
the "rights" we hear more of now, the "right" to a living wage or to eight hours 
recreation ? 

"Rights" is a relative term used to indicate a certain moral relationship be- 
tween beings. For the word to have any meaning it must involve two parties, the 
possessor of the "right" and those in relation to whom it is possessed. Obviously 
the "right" will change with a change in the relationship. To use a trivial illus- 
tration, if we pay for it, we have a "right" to occupy a seat at a base-ball game 
so far as the management is concerned, but that "right" disappears as against the 
employer to whom we may have sold our time. An inferior "right" must cease to 
exist in the face of a superior one. 

In general, "rights" so-called may be roughly divided into two classes our 
claim on moral grounds first, to certain immunities from interference by others, 
and second, that certain positive acts shall be done by others as our due. Such 
claims as that to a living wage are of the second class, those to life, liberty and 
the pursuit of happiness of the first. Relationships between beings and right or 
wrong action therein being inevitable, men's "rights" are as inherent as good and 
evil. They are also as relative and as subject to change at different periods of 
development. With the inherent right of man to free will the Masters themselves 
will never interfere, much as we may sometimes wish that in our case They would. 
The right to believe what we will and to be accorded toleration in that belief by 
others no Theosophist will deny. These are rights of the soul. Ultimately, as 
H. B. M. says, all rights are rights of the soul. The personality is "that thing 
which he (the soul) has with pain created for his own use and by means of which 
he purposes, as his growth slowly develops his intelligence, to reach to the life 
beyond individuality." This "thing" has no rights against its creator and "in the 
denial of the rights of the personality" (as against the soul) "the right of the soul 
is claimed." Theosophists know that there can be no real conflict of interest 
among men. That which we do against the interests of others we do against our 
own soul. So any fancied right of our personality against another's interest must 



284 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

cease to exist before the paramount right of our soul. Nor can we insist on that 
too strongly, for ourselves. 

But we ourselves are not the only ones concerned and here we must go back 
to the poor, abused, upside down, facing-both-ways stool of L. E. P. and plant 
ourselves on its upturned legs, uncomfortable as that may seem. For rights are 
a relationship and as such have two sides, not "good and evil," not "light of 
heaven and flames of hell" but just plain rights (of the possessor) and obligation 
of the other party to respect them if they are rights. To possess rights does not 
mean to enforce them, does not even mean to ask for them. But we cannot 
deny that we, as men, have rights without denying that others, as men, have 
rights. We know that others have rights, whether we have them ourselves or 
not, and that it is our obligation to respect them. 

To remove the conception of the rights of man, the conception that has done 
away with slavery and to which we owe liberty and toleration, would turn the 
world centuries backward on its path toward the realization of the brotherhood 
of man. We must respect the rights of others, must feel that with certain activities 
or possessions it is wrong for us to interfere. Whether these be of the personality 
or of the soul they must be respected. True, all rights are rights of the soul, but 
the personality is the creature of the soul, created not idly but with pain to help 
the soul on its path and to that extent the rights of the soul inhere in the per- 
sonality. Thus if we impair the "rights" of the personality of another we at least 
run grave risk of impairing its usefulness to the soul. This is obviously so with 
the extreme case, murder. 

Conversely we may feel that with the "rights" of our personality it is wrong 
for others to interfere. Here Theosophy and the modern theory of the rights of 
man part company. It is wrong for us to infringe the rights of others? Yes, and 
we are the judge of our own actions. Is it wrong for others to act or not to 
act so toward us? How can we say? We cannot judge for them nor say that 
anyone else should or should not do this or that. Judge not, that ye be not 
judged. They may have reasons of which we are ignorant, rights before which our 
fancied rights melt into nothingness. 

As was so well brought out in "The Hair Line of Duty," published some years 
ago in the QUARTERLY, our neighbor may even for good reasons have been inspired 
to attempt an interference with our action when we are actually doing what is 
right. To seek anything for the personality as apart from the soul, is self-seeking, 
and self-seeking and Theosophy are opposite poles. 

Of the supreme right of man, of which K. D. P. wrote, the right to love the 
Master and become like him, no power in the universe can rob us, whether we deny 
or affirm it as a right. But there are other rights which it behooves us not to deny, 
rights so generally conceded to-day that we forget they were won only after cen- 
turies of struggle, the right to spread the Light as we see it, to teach the love 
of the Master to others and to preach the Kingdom of Heaven among men. 

J. F. B. M. 

The Editor is glad to publish in full the following letter from a reader of the 
QUARTERLY in Milwaukee. It is in further reply to Question 130, and the answers 
given to that question. Our correspondent writes: 

MILWAUKEE, Wis., Nov. 5, 1911. 
THE THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY, 

Brooklyn, N. Y. 
DEAR SIRS: 

I was much interested in reading in the THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY for October, 
1911, the four answers given to the question, "Does not the theosophical philosophy 
contradict the modern theories about the 'rights of man'?" 



QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS 285 

In after thought I put the question to myself, "Did G. Hijo, L. E. P., H. B. M. 
and K. D. P. have a right to their individual opinion?" Or in other words, "Can 
an expressed opinion of an individual be considered a man's right?" 

If not, what's the use of trying to answer the original question? 

If it can, who is going to be the judge to draw the dividing line, that shall 
say where the "rights of man" begin and end? 

Does not individuality of character come from man's beliefs and opinions 
expressed or lived? 

Jesus Christ undoubtedly considered, it His right, to call the clothes on His 
back His ; but if one wrongfully demanded them, He considered it an obligation 
on His part, not to resist evil, but yield to what the other considered his rights. 

From this we would learn, that Jesus was willing to sacrifice His acknowledged 
right to material goods, for the sake of principle or a belief that in so doing He 
would overcome death. 

Not only that, but when many considered it their right to crucify Him instead 
of resisting evil He considered it an obligation on His part to sacrifice His right 
to live, in holding to the belief and opinion they could not kill His individuality 
of character, which He proved in His resurrection and ascension. 

It seems to me the matter is pretty clearly summed up, by saying: Man has 
rights in material things, brought about through honest work, or there is no such 
thing as honesty or obligations to right and wrong: that the opinion man has as 
to these rights, actually lived, is what makes his individuality : that one's indi- 
viduality is only rounded out and completed in an everlasting life, through a 
willingness to lose his life, even if holding to principle or his right to belief and 
opinion means the sacrifice of material rights. 

If this letter can be shown to G. Hijo, L. E. P., H. B. M. and K. D. P., it would 
be a favor to the author, who is not a Theosophist, Christian Scientist, Catholic, 
Socialist, Republican or Democrat, but just a common, ordinary, everyday man, 
who would live his life after Christ's teachings. 

Yours respectfully, 

ERNEST L. HARDENBERGH. 

QUESTION 131. Does anyone ever enjoy pain, or really feel that pain is joy? 

ANSWER. Yes, of course. All pain ever suffered by anyone is enjoyed by 
some part of our being and the more enlightened we are the more parts of our 
being enjoy it. It is purely a question of understanding. We understand enough 
to enjoy the pain of sacrifice for someone we love. We enjoy, in one sense at 
least, the pain inflicted by a surgeon when he lances an ulcerated tooth ; the red 
Indian enjoys torture for the pride of being able to endure it; we enjoy the keenest 
suffering which comes from true repentence; the saints enjoy the anguish of their 
ecstacies, about which they write so much. Life is full of illustrations of the love 
of pain whenever it is borne for some higher purpose, or for some stronger pur- 
pose; a case in point is that of the red Indian, already mentioned, who has a 
strong motive but not a high motive. It is purely a question of understanding. 

The goodness of God would prevent anyone from suffering pain of any kind 
at any time unless that pain was for his good; if he really understood that he 
would enjoy the pain. G. HIJO. 

ANSWER. The psychologists tell us that the extremes of pain and the extremes 
of pleasure meet, and are indistinguishable. And the saints and martyrs are sup- 
posed really to find happiness, or rather pleasure, in the tortures inflicted upon 
them. But ordinary mortals can hardly be said to enjoy pain, it is a contradiction 
in terms. K. H. 



286 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

ANSWER. Hosts of people have felt that pain is joy. It is merely a question 
of the lower and higher self, or of the good of self and the good of others. If 
the lower self is stronger than the higher we prefer our own good to that of 
another; if the higher self is stronger we prefer the other's good. That is all 
there is to it. When we say that happiness is a by-product and can therefore only 
be attained by seeking something else, we are merely stating the truth that in all 
human nature the higher self the divine principle is so strong that it can not 
be ignored. 

Pain doesn't amount to anything anyway. It is merely a bugaboo to scare us 
away from our high destiny. It is the iron gate which shuts us out of our fair 
ancestral garden. It is the flaming sword of the angel who stands at the entrance 
to the Garden of Eden. But it is a phantom gate and a phantom sword; it has 
no real existence. Bravely approach it and it disappears. 

All depends on our consciousness, on the way we look at it. I remember once 
having suffered so much from so-called intellectual doubts that when a sharp 
physical pain came to me it was a relief. I enjoyed it. Compared to the other 
it -was joy, and it was so strong that it took away the consciousness of the other 
pain. Yet I have known people who did not believe in the possibility of intellectual 
doubt producing pain. It all depends on where you are standing, whether you 
are more beast or more god. V. V. V. 

ANSWER. On the purely physical plane any alienist, psychologist or neurologist 
will answer, "Alas, yes, self-inflicted, ecstatically-enjoyed pain is too often a sign 
of morbidity." On the plane of the lower mind there is enjoyment of pain, espec- 
ially when it is lowering, as in the case of the opium-fiend or the dipsomaniac. 
On a higher intellectual plane pain does not seem to be accepted as joy so fre- 
quently. On the spiritual plane many people actually do "enjoy pain" and "really 
feel that pain is joy." This point is rather fully covered in Fragments, especially 
pages 82 to 89 inclusive, with the solemn warning in the midde of page 87 and again 
on pages 19 et seq., 29 and 32; at least these citations have proved satisfactory, 
even to those not interested in Theosophy. 

There are two human analogies that suggest how pain might be taken as joy. 
The first is the feeling of a mother toward the pains before the birth of her child. 
Why should not the sufferer accept pain joyously as the sign of the gathering life 
and coming birth of the Soul? The second is the attitude of all science which 
to-day accepts pain and welcomes it as indicative of need in the human body and 
of means of supplying that need. If a patient welcomes the pain of surgery, 
to continue this rough analogy, in the body terrestrial; why not rejoice in pain as 
a sign of surgery in the body celestial, and joyously acclaim it as indicative of 
improvement? G. V. S. M. 

ANSWER. Yes. Where the pain is endured for others it may be a great joy. 
When one loves intensely there is an intense longing to give expression to that 
love. If, as sometimes happens in surgery, we were to have an opportunity to 
save the life of one we so loved by giving of our blood, the resulting pain would 
be the keenest joy. The pains of child-birth are often a wonderful joy. And we 
have all read of the joy the martyrs of history found in the extreme of pain 
suffered for love of the Master. T. J. 

QUESTION 132. // the mind is properly trained from infancy, developing under 
the best influences, must it necessarily be in the way of spiritual advancement? 

ANSWER. Since spiritual advancement means efforts towards perfection, why 
should a healthy well-trained mind be a barrier any more than a healthy well- 



QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS 287 

trained body? It would seem to be only so much work done on the way towards 
perfecting the instrument before the person waked up to consciousness as a soul, 
and to a consequent insight into the values of life. 

If the transcending value is soul-vision it is clear that it cannot be reached 
by any process of the intellect, but neither can intellectual training prevent it. 
The great point is to keep clear the function of the Soul and of the mind. A mind 
with a habit of seeking truth and the discipline which proper training gives must 
be a good tool rather than a barrier. 

If the mind is used as an end in itself it would, of course, be a barrier, but 
if it is used to find the answer to the great question of the modern world, "What 
is the end of evolution, where does it lead?" the better its training the surer 
would it be to bring the enquirer to the borders of the region where alone the 
answer can be found. 

Kant showed us for all time what the intellect could do and just where its 
powers stopped. It is quite possible to make its bounds clear and then its place in 
our make-up becomes evident and our respect for it considerably decreases. 

B. P. 

ANSWER. An adequate answer to this question would require ancient wisdom. 
To the student the answer appears to depend upon a definition of terms. If by a 
"properly trained" mind is meant purely intellectual development the answer would 
seem to be an emphatic "no"; for ultimately the pent-up reactions would break 
out in one strong and definite revolt. If character training is, however, included 
there should be more hope of an affirmative reply; for a better instrument might 
result, through which the Soul could function. But in all this reasoning let us 
also recollect the 2Oth rule of the first series of Light on the Path, with its pre- 
liminary admonition "Seek it not by any one road." G. V. S. M. 

ANSWER. No faculty, properly trained, can be an impediment to spiritual 
advancement. All our faculties are necessary, but with none should we confuse 
our identity. Too often we consider that to train the mind is to enthrone it in the 
place of the Self. When this is done it is an impediment. Our minds must be 
our servants, not our masters, and should be trained as servants and kept to their 
own functions. H. B. M. 

ANSWER. There must be some deep significance in the insulation of the child 
from outside influence. In spite of wise and tender study and oversight, the child 
is the ceaseless mystery of the home. Those to whom he holds out the scepter 
are admitted to certain degrees of intimacy; they may "train" a little here, or 
mould a bit there. But ultimately the child's own reactions on what his elders 
try to do for him are the only significant features of the "training." To him 
action is all important. He meets us with an instructive readiness for what he 
needs most the training of the will. We say to him "come learn." He replies 

"No, no, let's do " If we could find wisdom enough to meet his demand with 

proper discipline for the will we should be doing something to make him "fit" for 
spiritual advancement. T. E. P. 

QUESTION 133. How must the insanity and those perturbations and diseases 
inaccurately called mental be considered according to Theosophical principles? Are 
they the results of Karma created in another life? Are they indicative of possession 
by strange entities that use the Astral, etherous or dense body for realising un- 
known purposes? Is the state in which they occur a form of the somnambulic 
state? 



288 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

ANSWER. The various forms of brain-disease may be the result of many 
causes, some more or less physical, others purely mental, and some undoubtedly 
the outcome of Karmic law, of causes generated in a former life or lives. But 
we have been warned by Those who Know, never to ascribe anything to the result 
of another's Karma, as it is impossible for our limited intelligence to separate 
the tangled threads of destiny, and to trace their influence in our own lives or 
in the lives of others. 

The less we meddle with "strange entities, that use the astral, ethereal or 
dense body, for realising unknown purposes" the less likely we are to be attacked 
by brain-disease of any kind. K. H. 

ANSWER. Insanity is a very broad term covering an immense range of abnor- 
mal mental states. It is said that everyone is more or less insane. This may be 
an over-statement of the case, but it is probably true that everyone is at least 
slightly insane at times. Not much is said in our books about the rationale of 
insanity. It seems probable that in the great majority of cases the trouble is with 
the connections between the brain and the mind. The co-ordination between the 
two, which must be perfect if we have a perfectly sane individual, becomes partly 
interrupted, or obstructed. It is apparent that there is an immense range in the 
extent to which this co-ordination may be interfered with; therefore there is an 
immense range in the kinds and types of insanity. 

It is as if there were a rope connecting the brain and the mind composed of 
thousands of separate strings. For complete health they must all be alive and 
functioning. Now it is perfectly possible for some of these strings to be dis- 
connected, or to be broken, or to cease to be adequate conductors of the nervous 
or vital impulse which must pass over or through them. Such conditions may be 
temporary, or may last any length of time. There may be one or a thousand of 
these strings in a disturbed and abnormal condition. We can see by this analogy 
how easy it is to account for the countless different kinds of diseased or abnormal 
mental states. 

It is probable that if the rope connecting the brain and the mind be entirely 
broken we have the condition of complete idiocy. This may be congenital, or it 
may develop during life. It is also probable that when some of the strings are 
broken, the loose ends, as they float around in the psychic and kama-manasic planes 
of consciousness, can be seized and used by elementals and elementaries, and by 
all kinds of forces and influences ; so we may have a person entirely sane in most 
ways, but with a queer and irrational streak. Probably the kind of influence which 
is attracted by a lo'ose string is the kind of influence which that particular string 
was designed to transmit from brain to mind and -vice-versa, but coming from 
outside the individual, and from a source not governed by conscience and will, 
it necessarily appears both irrational and immoral. 

The astral body is of course the link between the brain and the mind and 
corresponds to the rope of many strings spoken of above. Insanity may, there- 
fore, be considered a disorder of the astral body. Save when there is a complete 
separation between the mind and the brain, the disease is curable through the will, 
for the trained will absolutely controls the astral body. Modern science has dis- 
covered this fact and disordered mental states are now treated through the will. 

E. C. 



COMMENT 




The Theosophical Society, as such, is not responsible for any opinion 
or declaration in this magazine, by whomsoever expressed, unless con- 
tained in an official document. 

AFTER FOUR AND TWENTY YEARS 

Immediately following the "Notes and Comments" in this number 
of THE THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY our readers will find an article of the 
highest interest and value, bearing the title : "Is Theosophy a Religion ?" 
It first appeared as an editorial in Lucifer for November 1888, and, 
though it is unsigned, internal evidence shows conclusively that it is 
by the senior Editor of that journal, Mme. H. P. Blavatsky herself. It 
happens that the writer of the present "Notes and Comments" had the 
great privilege of knowing Mme. Blavatsky at the time this article was 
written, and thus had the opportunity to hear much that was said by 
her on the subjects discussed in this article; and thus to become familiar 
with the atmosphere of thought and feeling from which the article 
emerged. This gives it, for the present writer, an added personal in- 
terest, in addition to the deep and universal interest belonging to the 
treatment of such a theme by such an authority. 

The interest, in this case, rests chiefly on two things: first, on the 
fact that Mme. Blavatsky has very eloquently and forcibly defined her 
position with regard to Theosophy and The Theosophical Society, and 
her understanding of the purpose with which The Theosophical Society 
was founded and the body of teaching associated with it was given forth ; 
and, secondly, this editorial of four and twenty years ago is of vital 
interest because Mme. Blavatsky in it defines her position toward the 
great religions and religious Teachers of the world, and especially toward 
Christianity and its Founder. 

Let us begin by reviewing the first of these two elements of vital 
interest. How does Mme. Blavatsky, in this old editorial, express her 
understanding of Theosophy? What is Theosophy, from her point of 
view, as there defined? Very characteristically, Mme. Blavatsky begins 
t>y telling us what it is not : characteristically, because a large part of the 
work of that dauntless pioneer was aggressive and destructive, in the sense 

i 9 189 



290 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

of being directed to the demolition, the sweeping away, of false ideas 
and false understandings, as jungle must be cleared away, to make way 
for fertile fields. This destructive period expresses itself in I sis Unveiled, 
in which the writer and her collaborators set themselves to attack and 
demolish the many false notions, barring the way to human progress and 
spiritual life, which made up so much of the materialistic science and 
dogmatic theology of that time, whether that theology had been built up 
by Christians or Buddhists or Hindus. 

This period of destruction, of demolition, of attack, this clearing 
away of jungle and tangled overgrowths, was followed by an epoch of 
building; of positive, creative work. To the latter period belong the 
more positive and constructive parts of The Secret Doctrine, as dis- 
tinguished from the critical and analytic essays directed against the 
errors of scientists; to it also belongs The Voice of the Silence; and 
finally, to this period of reconstruction belongs the formation of that 
"inner body" of the Theosophical Movement, which is alluded to, in the 
same number of Lucifer, November 1888, and also in The Key to Theos- 
ophy. We should always bear in mind that, in Mme. Blavatsky's rela- 
tion to, and discussion of, Christianity, there are the same well-marked 
stages or periods: the destructive and the creative; and part of the 
lasting interest of the editorial we are considering, lies in the fact that, 
in it, both periods are represented. We have work of demolition, 
directed against the false overgrowths of Christianity; we have work 
of reconstruction, directed toward the revelation and restoration of the 
original teaching of Its Founder. 

But to go back to our point of departure. We have, first, a defi- 
nition of Theosophy by negatives, a declaration of what Theosophy is 
not. Theosophy, says Mme. Blavatsky, is not a Religion. Theosophy 
is not an "ism." The Theosophical Society is not a sect, with a particular 
set of dogmas or beliefs. So far our definition of negatives. Let us 
try to make it more explicit. Theosophy is not a set of doctrines. 
It is not comprised, let us say, in the doctrines of Karma and Reincarna- 
tion and the teaching of the unity of all souls with the Oversoul. These, 
taken together, do not constitute Theosophy. 

Be it understood that the present writer is a firm believer in 
Theosophy; and is further, if this be of any interest to any reader of 
THE THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY, a firm believer in Karma, in Reincar- 
nation, and in the unity of all souls with the Oversoul. The present 
writer is, indeed, firmly convinced, and on what seems adequate evi- 
dence, that we may sometimes come to know of our past incarnations in 
detail, and with considerable color and vivacity; may even, should this 



NOTES AND COMMENTS 291 

make for our spiritual well-being, gain some vision of incarnations to 
come. A firm believer, also, in the law of Karma and its operation, in 
little things and great, in the moving of motes and mountains, in per- 
sonal idiosyncrasies and in the cyclic growth of worlds. A convinced 
believer, too, in the unity of all souls in the Oversoul; finding, indeed, 
therein the general hope of salvation. So that, as regards these three 
teachings, the writer of these "Notes and Comments" may hope to 
pass an examination even with the most orthodox. 

Yet the present writer is deeply convinced that these doctrines: 
Karma, Reincarnation and the unity of souls with the Oversoul, do not 
constitute Theosophy; and that this is the kind of truth that Mme. 
Blavatsky is so anxious to convey, when she so eloquently and ardently, 
even passionately, affirms that Theosophy is not a Religion, not a sect, 
not a set of doctrines or dogmas. 

The reason why Theosophy can never be said to be comprised in 
doctrines like Karma, Reincarnation and the unity of souls with the 
Oversoul, we shall see quite clearly when we come to Mme. Blavatsky's 
definition by affirmatives ; when she comes to tell us, not what Theosophy 
is not, but what Theosophy is. "It is perhaps necessary," says Mme. 
Blavatsky, "first of all, to say, that the assertion that 'Theosophy is not 
a Religion' by no means excludes the fact that 'Theosophy is Religion' 
itself. A Religion in the true and only correct sense is a bond uniting 
men together not a particular set of dogmas and beliefs. Now 
Religion, per se, in its widest meaning is that which binds not only all 
MEN, but also all BEINGS and all things in the entire Universe into one 
grand whole. This is our Theosophical definition of Religion." Let 
us draw the conclusion of our syllogism: Theosophy is Religion, and 
is, therefore, "that which binds not only all men, but also all Beings 
and all things in the Universe into one grand whole." Which makes it 
altogether clear why Theosophy can never be said to be a doctrine or a 
set of doctrines. That which binds all Beings together is the Oversoul, 
Brahma, Paramatma. The Oversoul is one thing. A doctrine, even a 
doctrine concerning the Oversoul, is a quite different thing. 

It would be fair to say that Mme. Blavatsky is here making Theos- 
ophy something like the consciousness of the Oversoul, the wisdom of 
the Father, the "Mind of God," to use the phrase of Philo or of the 
ancient Chinese sages. No one will be daring enough, rash enough, to 
claim for any doctrine, any group of doctrines, that they are "the wisdom 
of the Eternal," "the Mind of God," in the full sense. If you feel 
tempted into such an assertion, go into the night, consider the quiet 
immensity of the stars, and learn reverence. Mme. Blavatsky was far 



292 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

too wise, far too deeply religious, ever to claim, or think of claiming, 
that the doctrines she taught were "the Mind of God." And one may 
say, with entire confidence, that no Master, no group of Masters would 
ever claim that even the immensity of wisdom contained in their vast 
and luminous spirits fully represented "the Mind of God." 

Beyond the utmost knowledge of the highest Masters remains, and 
will ever remain, the awful, inscrutable Mystery, before which the great- 
est spirit must bow as a little child, in silent adoration and reverence. 
The utmost that can be claimed for any doctrines, whether set forth by 
a disciple, or a Master, or a group of high Masters, is, that these teach- 
ings represent the mirroring of the Mind of God in these minds ; repre- 
sent their consciousness of the Divine Consciousness. But the vast 
Mystery still remains. Mme. Blavatsky paraphrases her affirmative defi- 
nition thus: "Thus Theosophy is not a Religion, we say, but RELIGION 
itself, the one bond of unity, which is so universal that no man, as no 
speck, from gods and mortals down to animals, the blade of grass and 
atom, can be outside of its light." This should make it even more clear 
that Theosophy is not a doctrine, or a set of doctrines. Blades of grass 
are not held together nor illumined by doctrines : happy blades of grass ! 

Here is another of Mme. Blavatsky's affirmative definitions, and 
a very illuminating one: "The genesis of that WISDOM-RELIGION, in 
which all Theosophists believe, ******** has to be 
traced in its origin to those Beings who, led by Karma, have incar- 
nated in our humanity and thus struck the key-note of that secret Science 
which countless generations of subsequent adepts have expanded since 
then in every age, while they checked its doctrines by personal observa- 
tion and experience. The bulk of this knowledge which no man is 
able to possess in its fulness constitutes that which we now call Theos- 
ophy or 'divine knowledge.' Beings from other and higher worlds may 
have it entire; we can have it only approximately." Here, Mme. 
Blavatsky limits Theosophy somewhat; it is made the equivalent, not 
of the whole Mind of God, but of that part of it which is contained 
within the consciousness of the adepts of one system of worlds; yet 
even of that, how much has any single human being grasped? How 
much can any human being ever grasp? A cupful from the ocean. 

So far, concerning the negative and the positive definitions of 
Theosophy, in the wise editorial which the editor of THE THEOSOPHICAL 
QUARTERLY has reprinted. Now concerning the second part of our 
inquiry: what does Mme. Blavatsky say of the world's religions, and 
their relation to Theosophy, thus defined? And here a word of general 
comment. Mme. Blavatsky mentions Mazdeism, Brahmanism, Bud- 



NOTES AND COMMENTS 293 

dhism, Mahomedanism, Christianity. It would be most fitting if, in 
each case, adherents of these religions should speak for them, here, in 
the pages of THE THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY; it would be well, if each 
of them had its personal representatives, and many of them, in the ranks 
of The Theosophical Society. We have, of the great Oriental relig- 
ions, few adherents. Why? Because, while the Society had many of 
each of these faiths, Mazdeism, Brahmanism, Buddhfsm, Mahomedan- 
ism, and the writer of these Notes has known members of each, yet, 
at the present day, they are no longer in our ranks. The painful truth, 
and it may as well be stated plainly, is, that half the Oriental members 
failed to survive the shock of the attacks on Mme. Blavatsky; the 
residue disappeared in the stress of the attacks on W. Q. Judge. 

But to come to our definitions. Both negative and affirmative ele- 
ments are represented in the following: "It is from this WISDOM- 
RELIGION that all the various individual 'Religions' (erroneously so 
called) have sprung, forming in their turn off-shoots and branches, and 
also all the minor creeds, based upon, and always originated through, 
some personal experience in psychology. Every such religion, or relig- 
ious offshoot, be it considered orthodox or heretical, wise or foolish, 
started originally as a clear and unadulterated stream from the Mother- 
Source. The fact that each became in time polluted with purely human 
speculations and inventions, due to interested motives, does not prevent 
any from having been pure in its early beginnings. There are those 
creeds we shall not call them religions which have now been over- 
laid with the human element out of all recognition ; others just showing 
signs of early decay; not one that escaped the hand of time. But each 
and all are of divine, because natural and true origin ; aye Mazdeism, 
Brahmanism, Buddhism as much as Christianity." 

We suppose it would be entirely logical and lawful to turn the last 
sentence round, and write it thus: "Each and all are of divine, because 
natural and true origin; aye Christianity as much as Mazdeism, Brah- 
manism, Buddhism." Or is the "tolerance" of some of our readers not 
equal to that? 

Now for our practical conclusion. If, as Mme. Blavatsky tells us, 
"Every such religion or religious offshoot, be it considered orthodox or 
heretical, wise or foolish, started originally as a clear and unadulterated 
stream from the Mother- Source," it would seem to be a part of the 
task of students of Theosophy to try, in the case of every such religion, 
(be it considered orthodox or heretical, wise or foolish,) to get back 
to the clear and unadulterated stream. Does Mme. Blavatsky, in her 
editorial, endorse this programme? 



294 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

Let two quotations suffice. First, describing her own work in the 
Secret Doctrine, Mme. Blavatsky writes: "It was found indispensable 
to tear away all this mass of concreted misconceptions and prejudice 
which now hides the parent trunk of (a) all the great world-religions; 
(b) of the smaller sects; and (c) of Theosophy as it stands now 
however veiled the great Truth, by ourselves and our limited knowledge. 
The crust of error is thick, laid on by whatever hand; and because we 
personally have tried to remove some of it, the effort became a standing 
reproach against all Theosophical writers and even the Society." Mme. 
Blavatsky thus declares that she has toiled terribly to lay bare the parent 
trunk, the living stem, of all the great religions: Mazdeism, Brahman- 
ism, Buddhism, Mahomedanism, Christianity. This is the necessary 
work of demolition, logically to be succeeded, in each case, by work of 
reconstruction. 

Thus Mme. Blavatsky indicates the task which Theosophists should 
be busy at, in care of all the great religions, Mazdeism, Brahmanism, 
Buddhism, Mahomedanism, Christianity. We should try to clear the 
living parent stem; try to find the pure stream, as it issued from the 
Mother-Source. Mme. Blavatsky gives us a third simile: If Theosophy 
were not universal, she tells us, it "would be but a word added to 
hundreds other such words as high sounding as they are pretentious and 
empty. Viewed as a philosophy, Theosophy in its practical work is the 
alembic of the Mediaeval alchemist. It transmutes the apparently base 
metal of every ritualistic and dogmatic creed (Christianity included) into 
the gold of fact and truth." 

Here, then, is Mme. Blavatsky 's view of her task and ours. We 
all know something, and we should know more, of her tireless efforts to 
get to the clear stream, the living stem, the pure gold, of the great 
Eastern religions. The record of her work in that field is contained in 
her books, and, even more, in the early numbers of The Theosophist. 
We are also, many of us, familiar with her like effort to reach the pure 
stream, the stem, the gold, of Christianity, but it seems that only the 
negative part of that effort is known to some of our readers. If the 
Editor of THE THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY is willing, it may be both 
interesting and valuable to try to present to our readers the affirmative 
part; to show what, in the view of Mme. Blavatsky, is the clear stream, 
the living stem, the pure gold of the great world-religion which we 
know as Christianity. 



IS THEOSOPHY A RELIGION? 



Religion is the best armour that man can have, but it is the worst 
cloak. BUNYAN. 

IT is no exaggeration to say that there never was during the present 
century, at any rate a movement, social or religious, so terribly, 
nay, so absurdly misunderstood, or more blundered about than 

THEOSOPHY whether regarded theoretically as a code of ethics, or, 
practically, in its objective expression, i. e., the Society known by that 
name. 

Year after year, and day after day had our officers and members to 
interrupt people speaking of the theosophical movement by putting in 
more or less emphatic protests against theosophy being referred to as 
a "religion," and the Theosophical Society as a kind of church or 
religious body. Still worse, it is as often spoken of as a "new sect!" 
Is it a stubborn prejudice, an error or both? The latter, most likely. 
The most narrow-minded and even notoriously unfair people are still in 
need of a plausible pretext, of a peg on which to hang their little uncharit- 
able remarks and innocently-uttered slanders. And what peg is more 
solid for that purpose, more convenient than an "ism" or a "sect." The 
great majority would be very sorry to be disabused and finally forced to 
accept the fact that theosophy is neither. The name suits them, and 
they pretend to be unaware of its falseness. But there are others, also, 
many more or less friendly people, who labor sincerely under the same 
delusion. To these, we say: Surely the world has been hitherto suffi- 
ciently cursed with the intellectual extinguishers known as dogmatic 
creeds, without having inflicted upon it a new form of faith! Too 
many already wear their faith, truly, as Shakespeare puts it, "but as 
the fashion of his hat," ever changing "with the next block." More- 
over, the very raison d'etre of the Theosophical Society was, from its 
beginning, to utter a loud protest and lead an open warfare against 
dogma or any belief based on blind faith. 

It may sound odd and paradoxical, but it is true to say that, hitherto, 
the most apt workers in practical theosophy, its most devoted members 
were those recruited from the ranks of agnostics and even of material- 
ists. No genuine, no sincere searcher after truth can ever be found 
among the blind believers in the "Divine Word," let the latter be claimed 
to come from Allah, Brahma or Jehovah, or their respective Kuran, 
Purana and Bible. For: 

"Faith is not reason's labour, but repose." 

Reprinted from Lucifer, Volume III. No. 15. November 15, 1888. 

295 



296 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

He who believes his own religion on faith, will regard that of every 
other man as a lie, and hate it on that same faith. Moreover, unless 
it fetters reason and entirely blinds our perceptions of anything outside 
our own particular faith, the latter is no faith at all, but a temporary 
belief, the delusion we labour under, at some particular time of life. 
Moreover, "faith without principles is but a flattering phrase for wilful 
positiveness or fanatical bodily sensations," in Coleridge's clever defini- 
tion. 

What, then, is Theosophy, and how may it be defined in its latest 
presentation in this closing portion of the XlXth century? 

Theosophy, we say, is not a Religion. 

Yet there are, as everyone knows, certain beliefs, philosophical, 
religious and scientific, which have become so closely associated in recent 
years with the word "Theosophy" that they have come to be taken by 
the general public for theosophy itself. Moreover, we shall be told 
these beliefs have been put forward, explained and defended by those 
very Founders who have declared that Theosophy is not a Religion. 
What is then the explanation of this apparent contradiction? How can 
a certain body of beliefs and teachings, an elaborate doctrine, in fact, be 
labelled "Theosophy" and be tacitly accepted as "Theosophical" by nine 
tenths of the members of the T. S., if Theosophy is not a Religion? 
we are asked. 

To explain this is the purpose of the present protest. 

It is perhaps necessary, first of all, to say, that the assertion that 
"Theosophy is not a Religion" by no means excludes the fact that "Theos- 
ophy is Religion" itself. A Religion in the true and only correct sense, 
is a bond uniting men together not a particular set of dogmas and 
beliefs. Now Religion, per se, in its widest meaning is that which binds 
not only all MEN, but also all BEINGS and all things in the entire Universe 
into one grand whole. This is our theosophical definition of Religion; 
but the same definition changes again with every creed and country, 
and no two Christians ever regard it alike. We find this in more than 
one eminent author. Thus Carlyle defined the Protestant Religion in 
his day, with a remarkable prophetic eye to this ever-growing feeling in 
our present day, as : 

"For the most part a wise, prudential feeling, grounded on mere calculation; 
a matter, as all others now are, of expediency and utility; whereby some smaller 
quantum of earthly enjoyment may be exchanged for a far larger quantum of 
celestial enjoyment. Thus religion, too, is profit, a working for wages; not rever- 
ence, but vulgar hope or fear." 

In her turn Mrs. Stowe, whether consciously or otherwise, seemed 
to have had Roman Catholicism rather than Protestantism in her mind, 
when saying of her heroine that : 



IS THEOSOPHY A RELIGION? 297 

"Religion she looked upon in the light of a ticket (with the correct number 
of indulgences bought and paid for), which, being once purchased and snugly laid 
away in a pocket-book, is to be produced at the celestial gate, and thus secure 
admission to heaven. . . ." 

But to Theosophists (the genuine Theosophists are here meant) 
who accept no mediation by proxy, no salvation through innocent blood 
shed, nor would they think of "working for wages" in the One Universal 
religion, the only definition they could subscribe to and accept in full 
is the one given by Miller. How truly and theosophically he describes 
it, by showing that 

". . . true Religion 
Is always mild, propitious and humble; 

Plays not the tyrant, plants no faith in blood, 
Nor bears destruction on her chariot wheels; 
But stoops to polish, succor and redress, 

And builds her grandeur on the public good" 

The above is a correct definition of what true theosophy is, or 
ought to be. (Among the creeds Buddhism alone is such a true heart- 
binding and men-binding philosophy, because it is not a dogmatic 
religion.) In this respect, as it is the duty and task of every genuine 
theosophist to accept and carry out these principles, Theosophy is RE- 
LIGION, and the Society its one Universal Church; the temple of Solo- 
mon's wisdom,* in building which "there was neither hammer, nor axe, 
nor any tool of iron heard in the house while it was building" (I Kings, 
VI) ; for this "temple" is made by no human hand, nor built in any 
locality on earth but, verily, is raised only in the inner sanctuary of 
man's heart wherein reigns alone the awakened soul. 

Thus Theosophy is not a Religion, we say, but RELIGION itself, the 
one bond of unity, which is so universal and all-embracing that no man, 
as no speck from gods and mortals down to animals, the blade of grass 
and atom can be outside of its light. Therefore, any organization or 
body of that name must necessarily be a UNIVERSAL BROTHERHOOD. 

Were it otherwise, Theosophy would be but a word added to hun- 
dreds other such words as high sounding as they are pretentious and 
empty. Viewed as a philosophy, Theosophy in its practical work is the 
alembic of the Mediaeval alchemist. It transmutes the apparently base 



* Whose 700 wives and 300 concubines, by the bye, are merely the personation of man's 
attributes, feelings, passions and his various occult powers: the Kabalistic numbers 7 and 3 
showing it plainly. Solomon himself, moreover, being simply, the emblem of Sol the "Solar 
Initiate" or the Christ-Sun, is a variant of the Indian "Vikarttana" (the Sun) shorn of his 
beams by Vishwakarma, his Hierophant-Initiator, who thus shears the Chrestos-candidate for 
initiation of his golden radiance and crowns him with a dark, blackened aureole the "crown 
of thorns." (See The Secret Doctrine for full explanation.) Solomon was never a living 
man. As described in Kings, his life and works are an allegory on the trials and glory of 
Initiation. 



298 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

metal of every ritualistic and dogmatic creed (Christianity included) into 
the gold of fact and truth, and thus truly produces a universal panacea for 
the ills of mankind. This is why, when applying for admission into the 
Theosophical Society, no one is asked what religion he belongs to, nor 
what his deistic views may be. These views are his own personal 
property and have nought to do with the Society. Because Theosophy 
can be practised by Christian or Heathen, Jew or Gentile, by Agnostic 
or Materialist, or even an Atheist, provided that none of these is a 
bigoted fanatic, who refuses to recognize as his brother any man or 
woman outside his own special creed or belief. Count Leo N. Tolstoy 
does not believe in the Bible, the Church, or the divinity of Christ ; and 
yet no Christian surpasses him in the practical bearing out of the prin- 
ciples alleged to have been preached on the Mount. And these principles 
are those of Theosophy; not because they were uttered by the Christian 
Christ, but because they are universal ethics, and were preached by 
Buddha and Confucius, Krishna, and all the great Sages, thousands of 
years before the Sermon on the Mount was written. Hence, once that 
we live up to such theosophy, it becomes a universal panacea indeed, for 
it heals the wounds inflicted by the gross asperities of the Church "isms" 
on the sensitive soul of every naturally religious man. How many of 
these, forcibly thrust out by the reactive impulse of disappointment from 
the narrow area of blind belief into the ranks of arid disbelief, have been 
brought back to hopeful aspiration by simply joining our Brotherhood 
yea, imperfect as it is. 

If, as an offset to this, we are reminded that several prominent 
members have left the Society disappointed in theosophy as they had 
been in other associations, this cannot dismay us in the least. For 
with a very, very few exceptions, in the early stage of the T. S.'s activ- 
ities when some left because they did not find mysticism practised in the 
General Body as they understood it, or because "the leaders lacked 
Spirituality," were "untheosophical, hence, untrue to the rules," you see, 
the majority left because most of them were either half-hearted or too 
self-opinionated a church and infallible dogma in themselves. Some 
broke away, again, under very shallow pretexts indeed, such, for in- 
stance, as "because Christianity (to say Churchianity, or sham Christian- 
ity, would be more just) was too roughly handled in our magazines" 
just as if other fanatical religions were ever treated any better or 
upheld! Thus, all those who left have done well to leave, and have 
never been regretted. 

Furthermore, there is this also to be added: the number of those 
who left can hardly be compared with the number of those who found 
everything they had hoped for in Theosophy. Its doctrines, if seriously 
studied, call forth, by stimulating one's reasoning powers and awakening 
the inner in the animal man, every hitherto dormant power for good in 



IS THEOSOPHY A RELIGION? 299 

us, and also the perception of the true and the real, as opposed to the 
false and the unreal. Tearing off with no uncertain hand the thick 
veil of dead-letter with which every old religious scripture was 
cloaked, scientific Theosophy, learned in the cunning symbolism of the 
ages, reveals to the scoffer at old wisdom the origin of the world's 
faiths and sciences. It opens new vistas beyond the old horizons of 
crystallized, motionless and despotic faiths ; and turning blind belief into 
a reasoned knowledge founded on mathematical laws the only exact 
science it demonstrates to him under profounder and more philo- 
sophical aspects the existence of that which, repelled by the grossness 
of its dead-letter form, he had long since abandoned as a nursery tale. 
It gives a clear and well-defined object, an ideal to live for, to every 
sincere man or woman belonging to whatever station in Society and of 
whatever culture and degree of intellect. Practical Theosophy is not 
one Science, but embraces every science in life, moral and physical. It 
may, in short, be justly regarded as the universal "coach," a tutor of 
world-wide knowledge and experience, and of an erudition which not 
only assists and guides his pupils toward a successful examination for 
every scientific or moral service in earthly life, but fits them for the 
lives to come, if those pupils will only study the universe and its 
mysteries within themselves, instead of studying them through the 
spectacles of orthodox science and religions. 

And let no reader misunderstand these statements. It is Theoso- 
phy per se, not any individual member of the Society or even Theosophist, 
on whose behalf such a universal omniscience is claimed. The two 
Theosophy and the Theosophical Society as a vessel and the olla 
podrida it contains, must not be confounded. One is, as an ideal, 
divine Wisdom, perfection itself; the other a poor, imperfect thing, 
trying to run under, if not within, its shadow on Earth. No man is 
perfect; why, then, should any member of the T. S. be expected to be 
a paragon of every human virtue ? And why should the whole organiza- 
tion be criticized and blamed for the faults, whether real or imaginary, 
of some of its "Fellows," or even its Leaders? Never was the Society, 
as a concrete body, free from blame or sin errare humanum est nor 
were any of its members. Hence, it is rather those members most of 
whom will not be led by theosophy, that ought to be blamed. Theosophy 
is the soul of its Society; the latter the gross and imperfect body of the 
former. Hence, those modern Solomons who will sit in the Judgment 
Seat and talk of that they know nothing about, are invited before they 
slander theosophy or any theosophists to first get acquainted with both, 
instead of ignorantly calling one a "farrago of insane beliefs" and the 
other a "sect of impostors and lunatics." 

Regardless of this, Theosophy is spoken of by friends and foes as 
a religion when not a sect. Let us see how the special beliefs which 



300 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

have become associated with the word have come to stand in that posi- 
tion, and how it is that they have so good a right to it that none of the 
leaders of the Society have ever thought of disavowing their doctrines. 

We have said that we believed in the absolute unity of nature. 
Unity implies the possibility for a unit on one plane, to come into 
contact with another unit on or from another plane. We believe in it. 

The just published Secret Doctrine will show what were the ideas 
of all antiquity with regard to the primeval instructors of primitive 
man and his three earlier races. The genesis of that WISDOM-RELIGION, 
in which all theosophists believe, dates from that period. So-called "Oc- 
cultism," or rather Esoteric Science, has to be traced in its origin to 
those Beings who, led by Karma, have incarnated in our humanity and 
thus struck the key-note of that secret Science which countless gene- 
rations of subsequent adepts have expanded since then in every age, 
while they checked its doctrines by personal observation and experience. 
The bulk of this knowledge which no man is able to possess in its 
fulness constitutes that which we now call Theosophy or "divine 
knowledge." Beings from other and higher worlds may have it entire; 
we can have it only approximately. 

Thus, unity of everything in the universe implies and justifies our 
belief in the existence of a knowledge at once scientific, philosophical 
and religious, showing the necessity and actuality of the connection of 
man and all things in the universe with each other; which knowledge, 
therefore, becomes essentially RELIGION, and must be called in its integ- 
rity and universality by the distinctive name of WISDOM-RELIGION. 

It is from this WISDOM-RELIGION that all the various individual 
"Religions" (erroneously so called) have sprung, forming in their turn 
offshoots and branches, and also all the minor creeds, based upon and 
always originated through some personal experience in psychology. 
Every such religion, or religious offshoot, be it considered orthodox or 
heretical, wise or foolish, started originally as a clear and unadulterated 
stream from the Mother- Source. The fact that each became in time 
polluted with purely human speculations and even inventions, due to 
interested motives, does not prevent any from having been pure in its 
early beginnings. There are those creeds we shall not call them relig- 
ions which have now been overlaid with the human element out of all 
recognition; others just showing signs of early decay; not one that 
escaped the hand of time. But each and all are of divine, because natural 
and true origin; aye Mazdeism, Brahmanism, Buddhism as much as 
Christianity. It is the dogmas and human element in the latter which 
led directly to modern Spiritualism. 

Of course, there will be an outcry from both sides, if we say that 
modern Spiritualism per se, cleansed of the unhealthy speculations which 
were based on the dicta of two little girls and their very unreliable 



IS THEOSOPHY A RELIGION? 301 

''Spirit" is, nevertheless, far more true and philosophical than any 
church dogma. Carnalised Spiritualism is now reaping its Karma. Its 
primitive innovators, the said "two little girls" from Rochester, the Mecca 
of modern Spiritualism, have grown up and turned into old women since 
the first raps produced by them have opened wide ajar the gates between 
this and the other world. It is on their "innocent" testimony that the 
elaborate scheme of a sideral Summer-land, with its active astral popu- 
lation of "Spirits," ever on the wing between their "Silent Land" and 
our very loud-mouthed, gossiping earth has been started and worked 
out. And now the two female Mahommeds of Modern Spiritualism 
have turned self -apostates and play false to the "philosophy" they have 
created, and have gone over to the enemy. They expose and denounce 
practical Spiritualism as the humbug of the ages. Spiritualists (save 
a handful of fair exceptions) have rejoiced and sided with our enemies 
and slanderers, when these, who had never been Theosophists, played 
us false and showed the cloven foot denouncing the Founders of the 
Theosophical Society as frauds and impostors. Shall the Theosophists 
laugh in their turn now that the original "revealers" of Spiritualism have 
become its "revilers"? Never! for the phenomena of Spiritualism are 
facts, and the treachery of the "Fox girls" only makes us feel new pity 
for all mediums, and confirms, before the whole world, our constant 
declaration that no medium can be relied upon. No true theosophist 
will ever laugh, or far less rejoice, at the discomforture even of an 
opponent. The reason for it is simple: 

Because we know that beings from other, higher worlds do confabu- 
late with some elect mortals now as ever; though now far more rarely 
than in the days of old, as mankind becomes with every civilized gene- 
ration worse in every respect. 

Theosophy owing, in truth, to the levee in arms of all the Spirit- 
ualists of Europe and America at the first words uttered against the idea 
that every communicating intelligence is necessarily the Spirit of some 
ex-mortal from this earth has not said its last word about Spiritualism 
and "Spirits." It may one day. Meanwhile, an humble servant of 
theosophy, the Editor, declares once more her belief in Beings, grander, 
wiser, nobler than any personal God, who are beyond any "Spirits of 
the dead," Saints, or winged Angels, who, nevertheless, do condescend 
in all and every age to occasionally overshadow rare sensitives often 
entirely unconnected with Church, Spiritualism or even Theosophy. And 
believing in high and holy Spiritual Beings, she must also believe in the 
existence of their opposites lower "spirits," good, bad and indifferent 
Therefore does she believe in spiritualism and its phenomena, some 
of which are so repugnant to her. 

This, as a casual remark and a digression, just to show that Theos- 
ophy includes Spiritualism as it should be, not as it is among its 



302 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

sciences, based on knowledge and experience of countless ages. There 
is not a religion worthy of the name which has been started otherwise 
than in consequence of such visits from Beings on the higher planes. 

Thus were born all prehistoric, as well as all the historic religions, 
Mazdeism and Brahmanism, Buddhism and Christianity, Judaism, 
Gnosticism and Mahomedanism ; in short every more or less successful 
"ism." All are true at the bottom, and all are false on their surface. 
The Revealer, the artist who impressed a portion of the Truth on the 
brain of the Seer, was in every instance a true artist, who gave out 
genuine truths; but the instrument proved also, in every instance to be 
only a man. Invite Rubenstein and ask him to play a sonata of Beethoven 
on a piano left to self -tuning, one half of the keys of which are in 
chronic paralysis, while the wires hang loose; then see whether,- the 
genius of the artist notwithstanding, you will be able to recognize the 
sonata. The moral of the fabula is that a man let him be the greatest 
of mediums or natural Seers is but a man; and man left to his own 
devices and speculations must be out of tune with absolute truth, while 
even picking up some of its crumbs. For Man is but a Fallen Angel, 
a god within, but having an animal brain in his head, more subject to 
cold and wine fumes while in company with other men on Earth, than 
to the faultless reception of divine revelations. 

Hence the multi-coloured dogmas of the churches. Hence also the thou- 
sand and one "philosophies" so-called, (some contradictory, theosophical 
theories included) ; and the variegated "Sciences" and schemes, Spiritual, 
Mental, Christian and Secular; Sectarianism and bigotry, and especially 
the personal vanity and self-opinionatedness of almost every "Innovator" 
since the mediaeval ages. These have all darkened and hidden the very 
existence of TRUTH the common root of all. Will our critics imagine 
that we exclude theosophical teachings from this nomenclature? Not at 
all. And though the esoteric doctrines which our Society has been and 
is expounding, are not mental or spiritual impressions from some "un- 
known, from above" but the fruit of teachings given to us by living men, 
still, except that which was dictated and written out by those Masters 
of Wisdom themselves, these doctrines may be in many cases as incom- 
plete and faulty as any of our foes would desire it. The Secret Doc- 
trine a work which gives out all that can be given out during this 
century, is an attempt to lay bare in part the common foundation and 
inheritance of all great and small religious and philosophical schemes. 
It was found indispensable to tear away all this mass of concreted mis- 
conceptions and prejudice which now hides the parent trunk of (a) all 
the great world-religions; (b) of the smaller sects; and (c) of Theosophy 
as it stands now however veiled the great Truth, by ourselves and our 
limited knowledge. The crust of error is thick, laid on by whatever 
hand; and because we personally have tried to remove some of it, the 



IS THEOSOPHY A RELIGION? 303 

effort became a standing reproach against all theosophical writers and 
even the Society. Few among our friends and readers have failed to 
characterize our attempt to expose error in the Theosophist and Lucifer 
as "very uncharitable attacks on Christianity," "untheosophical assaults," 
etc., etc. Yet these are necessary, nay, indispensable if we wish to 
plough up at least approximate truths. We have to lay things bare, and 
are ready to suffer for it as usual. It is vain to promise to give truth, 
and then leave it mingled with error out of mere faint-heartedness. 
That the result of such policy could only muddy the stream of facts is 
shown plainly. After twelve years of incessant labour and struggle with 
enemies from the four quarters of the globe, notwithstanding our four 
theosophical monthly journals The Theosophist, Path, Lucifer, and the 
French Lotus our wish-washy, tame protests in them, our timid declara- 
tions, our "masterly policy of inactivity," and playing at hide-and-seek 
in the shadow of dreary metaphysics, have only led to Theosophy being 
seriously regarded as a religious SECT. For the hundredth time we are 
told "What good is Theosophy doing?" and "See what good the 
Churches are doing" ! 

Nevertheless, it is an averred fact that mankind is not a whit better 
in morality, and in some respects ten times worse now, than it ever was 
in the days of Paganism. Moreover, for the last half century, from 
that period when Freethought and Science got the best of the Churches 
Christianity is yearly losing far more adherents among the cultured 
classes than it gains proselytes in the lower strata, the scum of Heathen- 
dom. On the other hand, Theosophy has brought back from Material- 
ism and blank despair to belief (based on logic and evidence) in man's 
divine Self, and the immortality of the latter, more than one of those 
whom the church has lost through dogma, exaction of faith and tyranny. 
And, if it is proven that Theosophy saves one man only in a thousand 
of those the Church has lost, is not the former a far higher factor for 
good than all the missionaries. 

Theosophy, as repeatedly declared in print and viva voce by its 
members and officers, proceeds on diametrically opposite lines to those 
which are trodden by the Church; and Theosophy rejects the methods 
of Science, since her inductive methods can only lead to crass material- 
ism. Yet, de facto, Theosophy claims to be both "RELIGION" and 
"SCIENCE," for theosophy is the essence of both. It is for the sake and 
love of the two divine abstractions i, e., theosophical religion and 
science, that its Society has become the volunteer scavenger of both 
orthodox religion and modern science; as also the relentless Nemesis of 
those who have degraded the two noble truths to their own ends and 
purposes, and then divorced each violently from the other, though the 
two are and must be one. To prove this is also one of our objects in 
the present paper. 



304 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

The modern Materialist insists on an impassable chasm between the 
two, pointing out that the "Conflict between Religion and Science" has 
ended in the triumph of the latter and the defeat of the first. The 
modern Theosophist refuses to see, on the contrary, any such chasm 
at all. If it is claimed by both Church and Science that each of them 
pursues the truth and nothing but the truth, then either one of them is 
mistaken, and accepts falsehood for truth, or both. Any other impedi- 
ment to their reconciliation must be set down as purely fictitious. Truth 
is one, even if sought for or pursued at two different ends. Therefore, 
Theosophy claims to reconcile the two foes. It premises by saying that 
the true spiritual and primitive Christian religion is, as much as the 
other great and still older philosophies that preceded it the light of 
Truth "The life and the light of men." 

But so is the true light of Science. Therefore, darkened as the 
former is now by dogmas examined through glasses smoked with the 
superstitions artificially produced by the Churches, this light can hardly 
penetrate and meet its sister ray in a science, equally as cobwebbed by 
paradoxes and the materialistic sophistries of the age. The teachings 
of the two are incompatible, and cannot agree so long as both Religious 
philosophy and the Science of physical and external (in philosophy, 
false) nature, insist upon the infallibility of their respective "will-o'-the- 
wisps." The two lights, having their beams of equal length in the matter 
of false deductions, can but extinguish each other and produce still 
worse darkness. Yet, they can be reconciled on the condition that both 
shall clean their houses, one from the human dross of the ages, the other 
from the hideous excrescence of modern materialism and atheism. And 
as both decline, the most meritorious and best thing to do is precisely 
what Theosophy alone can and will do; i. e., point out to the innocents 
caught by the glue of the two waylayers verily two dragons of old, one 
devouring the intellects, the other the souls of men that their supposed 
chasm is but an optical delusion; that, far from being one, it is but an 
immense garbage mound respectively erected by the two foes, as a forti- 
fication against mutual attacks. 

Thus, if theosophy does no more than point out and seriously 
draw the attention of the world to the fact that the supposed disagree- 
ment between religion and science is conditioned, on the one hand by 
the intelligent materialists rightly kicking against absurd human dogmas, 
and on the other by blind fanatics and interested churchmen who, instead 
of defending the souls of mankind, fight simply tooth and nail for their 
personal bread and butter and authority why, even then, theosophy 
will prove itself the saviour of mankind. 

And now we have shown, it is hoped, what real Theosophy is, and 
what are its adherents. One is divine Science and a code of Ethics so 
sublime that no theosophist is capable of doing it justice; the others 



IS THEOSOPHY A RELIGION? 305 

weak but sincere men. Why, then, should Theosophy ever be judged 
by the personal shortcomings of any leader or member of our 150 
branches? One may work for it to the best of his ability, yet never 
raise himself to the height of his call and aspiration. This is his or her 
misfortune, never the fault of Theosophy, or even of the body at large. 
Its Founders claim no other merit than that of having set the first 
theosophical wheel rolling. If judged at all they must be judged by the 
work they have done, not by what friends may think or enemies say of 
them. There is no room for personalities in a work like ours; and all 
must be ready, as the Founders are, if needs be, for the car of Jagger- 
nath to crush them individually for the good of all. It is only in the 
days of the dim Future, when death will have laid his cold hand on the 
luckless Founders and stop thereby their activity, that their respective 
merits and demerits, their good and bad acts and deeds, and their 
theosophical work will have to be weighed on the Balance of Posterity. 
Then only, after the two scales with their contrasted loads have been 
brought to an equipoise, and the character of the net result left over has 
become evident to all in its full and intrinsic value, then only shall the 
nature of the verdict passed be determined with anything like justice. 
At present, except in India, those results are too scattered over the face 
of the earth, too much limited to a handful of individuals to be easily 
judged. Now, these results can hardly be perceived, much less heard of 
amid the din and clamor made by our teeming enemies, and their ready 
imitators the indifferent. Yet however small, if once proved good, 
even now every man who has at heart the moral progress of humanity, 
owes his thankfulness to Theosophy for those results. And as Theos- 
ophy was revived and brought before the world, via its unworthy ser- 
vants, the "Founders," if their work was useful, it alone must be their 
vindicator, regardless of the present state of their balance in the petty 
cash accounts of Karma, wherein social "respectabilities" are entered up. 



"The most modest little pond can reflect a picture of the sun, if it is 
absolutely at rest in itself." 

CARLYLE. 



FRAGMENTS 



TO-DAY is the day of psychic dreams, and on all planes. The 
material world by one turn of revolution is to become a para- 
dise ; and the joys of Earth, not raised to Heaven, but the power 
of Heaven dragged down to minister to Earth. So the material- 
ists. But are the "spiritually minded" I use a phrase I heard in this 
connection the other day who float in cloud-land visions and sounds 
and fancies, who deny the stern facts of life, and who often ignore its 
duties, less dreamers than these? Quietly, unknown, unthanked, the 
real workers for Humanity toil on, winning by self-sacrifice and self- 
discipline a footing for the world to climb by, while far, far beneath, 
least known perhaps to those who cry it most, the mighty stream of 
spiritual life is gathering for its flood. 

And so men prate of the Inner Life! Strange fantastic twistings 
has this great truth received, this kernel of truth; for to-day forsooth 
the truth must be made to fit the mind, not the mind expanded to the 
truth ! 

Where is the Inner Life? Is this change in material employment 
the difference between an inner and an outer life? These hours of vain 
striving to keep the mind on one spiritual thought is this meditation? 
The truth lies deeper than the mind, deeper often than the heart 
untrained, and therefore often unresponsive. The truth itself when 
materialized is lost; for everything material is lost. What is materiality 
but death? 

Affairs of the outer life, or circumstances there, do not affect the 
inner Life at all only it affects them, in that living an Inner Life a great 
Light shall shine forth through all you do or say, and the colourless 
trivialities of your daily round shall be illumined from within, and 
glorified. Therefore no need for this concern with outer doings; for 
this Light, inwardly burning, shall bring of itself a subtile change in 
act and word, which of yourself alone you never could have wrought. 

Remember to look for the Warrior who shall fight. Therefore the 
first step is one of retreat, the first force constrictive. For we cannot 
enter upon the Path until we have found the Gate, and that Gate is in 
the heart; in each man's heart for himself; which, passing through, he 
travels upon a road, broad as the Universe, reaching upward to the 
stars, from the hell he has left behind. 

Leave details aside : they quickly fall into line when great principles 
have command and engage the thought and energy. For great prin- 

306 



FRAGMENTS 307 

ciples are not material but immaterial. Nor is Soul Life found in the 
activities of the body or brain, which can never, rightly used, be more 
than vehicles and expressions. I feel the hopelessness in what I say of 
reaching some of the souls I long to reach, the more that they know by 
heart the form of words that I must use. They have made a drug of 
them with which to deepen their slumber, and brighten it with dreams. 
Alas! that dreams should be that which is most real, and what you call 
the "waking life" a shadow and illusion. All that is real in it, all that 
gives it semblance of truth, is the admixture of Soul life, only a drop 
with some, but forming the centre for their fancy to weave about; 
making pictures and images ; and lost in contemplating these, they forget 
all else and finally deny the possibility of other forms of existence; 
grasping the shadow, lose the substance, and sell their birthright for a 
mess of pottage. That is true of almost everyone, not alone of the 
ordinary man, but of would-be disciples. Indeed, with these latter it is 
worse, for the reason I have touched on, that higher things are material- 
ized, dragged down to everyday levels, and great truths forgotten or 
misunderstood. The empty form of words remaining is again taken 
merely as a starting point for the delightful game of fancy or shadow- 
making, which the psychic mind so fondly plays. And thus the awaken- 
ing power they had is lost and another effort fruitless. 

After all these years of work, of enormous sacrifice and expenditure 
of force, with countless activities and an ever swelling army of candi- 
dates, tell me how many disciples are there? How many who lead the 
Inner Life? Each heart in silence may question itself, and answer 
whether its name could be enrolled among the few. 

O ! Humanity, too long, too long have you wandered in the gardens 
of material existence, plucking flowers which faded in your hands, and 
whose very picking you paid for in the cruel sting of thorns. Know 
you not there is another garden where flowers far more beautiful never 
fade, nor are you torn in grasping them. O! Humanity too long, too 
long you linger on the way. 

O! slumbering souls awake! 

CAVE. 



THE SNAKE DANCE 

A RELIGIOUS CEREMONIAL 



THERE is a special zest in approaching so bizarre a rite as the 
Hopi Snake Dance armed with the conviction that behind and 
above every religious manifestation is the same spirit of divine 
truth. The title savors of barbarism, and the popular accounts 
which periodically appear in print dwell always on the weird horror of 
the spectacle with small effort to explain or comprehend. 

Our eighty mile drive through the Navajo reservation has made 
us subtilely aware of the distrust and hostility latent in a people still 
essentially savage, but immediately on entering Hopi-land our curiosity 
grows hopefully inquisitive. Their frank welcome and confiding friend- 
liness convince us that here is a diametrically differing race. Surely 
there must be ethical standards worthy of search or the common village 
life to which we are at once cordially admitted could not so abound in 
gentle consideration, in kindly interest and spontaneous gaiety. Their 
self chosen name signifies "The Good People" and on every side we see 
it corroborated; in the gentle old men caring for the brown babies, in 
the soft-voiced little girls guiding with such anxious solicitude the foot- 
steps of the blind grandmothers so many are blind! in the generous 
hospitality and the cheerful industry of the house-holders. 

Some one, Huxley, I believe, has said "Goodness is wisdom; add 
beauty and it is religion," and if this be true the goal has surely here been 
achieved. The beauty is obvious, unalloyed, constant, from the moment 
the climb begins through the patiently fostered fields and orchards, up 
the rock-worn trail with the tiny stone sheep corrals on either hand, to 
the picturesque adobe village on the mesa-top. Loveliness lurks at every 
turn of the narrow stone streets which twist between the terraced houses, 
in the shapes and colors of the pots which their great creative artist, 
the old Nampejo is painting, in the pretty fabrics being woven on the 
looms, even in the primitive implements for grinding, sifting and baking 
the precious meal. Apparently the entire community-life is devoted to 
adding beauty to the native goodness. 

It is in the light of such impressions that we approach our study 
of the Snake Dance, or more properly speaking, the dramaturgy of the 
Sun-serpent Myth. Briefly stated, it is an elaborate nine-day prayer 
for rain "that the crops may ripen and our children have food, then 
afterwards that we too may have to eat." The reptiles bear their part 
in it as the wise Elder Brothers who, living underground, have intimate 
relations with the spirits of the springs and the germinating seeds. 

308 



THE SNAKE DANCE 300 

As long as Christian nations deem drouth a fit subject for united 
supplication, we can but regard tolerantly a like effort made by a simple 
people whose very lives are in actual peril from this perpetual menace 
of their climate, while real respect is due the entailed sacrifice, faith and 
prolonged concentration. Strange as is the ritual, it is closely bound by 
a rigid symbolism of color, form and number to a very beautiful myth 
whose underlying ideas of the serpent's wisdom, of the earth-mother, 
or spider-woman spinning her fateful thread, of the sun-father's vigor 
and power, are by no means alien to us. 

The dramatization is conducted jointly by the Snake and the Ante- 
lope lodges, two of the many hereditary clans into which the Tusayan 
people are subdivided, and takes place every other year in each of the 
principal Hopi villages, alternating with the less famous but no less 
lovely Drama of the Blue Flute. This summer Walpi and Mishongovi 
were the stage of the Snake people, Oraibi and Cunopavi of the Flute 
clan. Although only the events of the eighth and ninth days are per- 
formed publicly, the entire ceremony has been witnessed by patient 
scientific observers who gained the trust of the Indians and were freely 
admitted to the underground kivas. Detailed accounts of the proceed- 
ings may be found in the reports of the Ethnological Bureau and of the 
Field Columbian Museum. 

Broadly generalizing, the first seven days are devoted to preparation 
and consecration. The altars, symbolizing the rainclouds and light- 
ning, serpents of the four world quarters, are carefully painted with 
colored sands ; always yellow for the North, green or blue for the West, 
red for the South and white for the East. Prayer emblems, called Pa-hos, 
are constructed and after being endowed with a breath-body or spiritual 
double, by means of ceremonial smoking, talismanic words and the six- 
teen traditional songs, are deposited at the surrounding shrines on the 
plains. The bearers, never breaking their running pace, describe on each 
of four successive days a complete sinistral circuit about the mesa. The 
farthest shrines are visited on the first day, "because the rain gods dwell 
afar," and on each succeeding day the circuit is contracted "that the 
gods may likewise so approach, the dry river-beds be swollen with water 
and the farmers hear the pattering of rain." Four days are also given 
to the capturing of the snakes, the hunt to the North, East, South and 
West, taking each a day in turn; afterward these formidable Elder 
Brothers must perforce undergo the priestly purification by water, smoke 
and breath before being duly laid upon the altar. 

On the mornings of the eighth and ninth days, we are awakened 
long before dawn by the long call of the crier above on the house-top, 
announcing respectively that the Antelope and the Snake races will occur 
at sunrise. The Antelope is shorter and less strenuous than that of the 
Snakes, which is considered much the more important of the two. Be- 



310 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

ginning some five miles out on the plain, it is participated in by about 
forty youths. Through the dusk of dawn the runners, silent and intent, 
slip forth to the place of meeting, and just at sun-up the starter having 
four times drawn with meal the symbolic raincloud sign across the 
trail, the race begins. 

It is wonderfully beautiful to see the splendor of the level morn- 
ing light, the tense brown bodies with their steady spring through the 
deep sand and their light bounds up the sheer cliff to the kiva-top where 
are awarded the prizes, charms insuring fertility to the winner's field. 

In the late afternoon of these two culminating days occur the spec- 
tacular public dances. They are alike in character except that the Ante- 
lope ceremony lacks the wild dramatic element of the living serpents. 
In each there is the solemn processional of priests and the same fine 
contrast of massed color, the Antelopes all in white and blue both as to 
paint and costume, the Snakes rich in threatening red and black, and 
leading each the same isolated figure of the asperger in heavy white 
homespun, fresh garlands of green cottonwood leaves on head, wrists 
and ankles. On each occasion the contrasting lodges draw up facing 
each other in opposing lines and for upwards of half an hour engage 
in intricate antiphonal songs and dance steps, rhythm and melody sug- 
gesting much which the words fail to convey. But on the ninth day, in 
place of quietly disbanding, the Snake Priests divide into groups of 
three. One of each group in turn thrusts his hand into the kisi, a 
bower of fresh cottonwood branches, where up to this point the Elder 
Brothers have lain confined and concealed and seizing a serpent thrusts 
it between his teeth with the head pointing towards his right, and stoically 
disregard ful of its writhing protest, marches once about the court, when 
a second serpent is seized and replacing the first is treated in like man- 
ner. The second member of the group, marching with arm about the 
neck of the first, strives to keep the snake in good humor by dint of 
continual stroking and tickling with an eagle feather. The third member 
gathers the reptiles as they either wriggle themselves free or are volun- 
tarily dropped at the close of a circuit. 

It is an unbelievable sight, yet we accept it with strange lack of 
concern. The spirit of the place, remote, unworldly, primal, has gripped 
one too forcibly to permit the domination of twentieth century standards ; 
our real excitement comes with a glow of contagious gratitude at the 
actual sudden crash of thunder, flash of lightning and the drenching 
torrent which fairly floods the court. The gods have given quick proof 
that the sacrifice has been accepted and that they found "no hearts to 
be bad nor thoughts to have left the straight path." 

When the ceremonially attired manas, charmingly picturesque maid- 
ens, with their huge whorls of black hair en squash-blossom coiffure, 
have duly powdered the last reptile with offerings of sacred meal, a 



THE SNAKE DANCE 311 

circle, likewise of meal, is drawn upon the pavement. Into this the entire 
mass of squirming, writhing snake-dom is cast. Immediately the priests 
rush upon them and each seizing a double handful speed down the rock 
trail and deposit them, dazed but free, on the plain. Fraught with mean- 
ingful messages they wriggle their way whence they came. 

The last rite of the Younger Brothers is a final purification, this 
time by means of a powerful emetic prepared secretly by the elder- 
women of the clan. It was once surmised to be an antidote to the bites 
which assuredly sometimes occur, but later evidence agrees in finding it 
wholly of religious purport. 

General rejoicing and merry-making follow. The long fast of the 
priests is broken by an Homeric feast. From every side come laughing 
manas bearing great wicker trays piled high with melons and corn, with 
roasted kid and great heaps of the pretty piki, gossamer sheets of corn- 
meal baked with deft skill on polished stone slabs. 

While games and contests of skill are being proclaimed for the fol- 
lowing day, we make our way lingeringly through the friendly, gay 
multitude and down to our camp beneath the low arching peach trees, 
delighting in the new damp smell of the earth and the luminous opales- 
cent light of the afterglow, yet with one eye warily cocked lest some 
silent Elder Brother should elect to wend his homeward way by the 
light of our blazing fire ! 

The legend which follows, abbreviated from Mr. A. M. Stephens' 
translation, is given as the best guide to the meaning of the dramaturgy, 
but it can well stand alone, a true myth, passed orally from generation 
to generation, of a people without written literature. 



Far down in the lowest depth of the Colorado Grande is the Si-pa-pu, 
the orifice where we and the white men and all people came up from the 
Below. 

The mothers carrying the children on their backs went forth to 
gather seeds and prickly pear for food, while Morning Dove flew over- 
head spying out the springs and calling us to come. Some followed and 
built their houses at the waters he found and are still called after him, 
the Morning Dove People. The Horn People, the Sand People and 
others were led by Puma to the Navajo Mountains where they also 
built houses and lived many days, but the clouds were thin, rain came 
seldom and the corn was weak. 

The eldest son of the Chief was called Ti-yo, the Youth. He seemed 
always melancholy and was wont to haunt the edge of the cliffs. Day 
by day he would sit there gazing down into the deep gorge, wondering 
whither the ever-flowing water went, and where it finally found rest. 
He questioned much, saying, "It must flow down some great pit into the 



312 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

underworld, for after all these years the gorge below never fills, and 
none of the water ever flows back again," and his father made answer, 
"Perhaps it goes so far away that many old men's lives would be too 
short to mark its return." 

At last one day Ti-yo declared that he was constrained to go and 
solve the mystery and to this end he hollowed out a great cotton-wood 
log in which he might be enclosed and so float away with the river. 
For sustenance his mother ground him meal, while his father prepared 
prayer-emblems called pa-hos ; a long one bound on a single willow-wand 
was for Spider- Woman ; four shorter ones bound on twin blue wands 
were for the Ancient of the Six (the Indian's six cardinal points), for 
the Woman of the Hard Substance (the genius of wealth and precious 
stones), for Ta-wa the Sun, and for Mu-i-yin-wuh, Maker of Life- 
germs. Together with these he placed down from the thigh of an eagle. 

When all was ready Ti-yo was sealed into his floating box by means 
of small twigs and pifion-gum and away it sailed, bobbing up and down 
over smooth waters and swift rushing torrents, plunging down cataracts 
and spinning through whirlpools where black rocks protruded their heads 
like angry bears. At last it came to rest on a bank by the edge of a 
great water, and scarcely had Ti-yo disengaged himself and stepped 
forth when beneath his feet he heard a faint sound of "Hist hist" re- 
peated four times. Looking down he perceived a small round hole and 
from it spoke the voice of Spider-woman, saying, "You, the long-ex- 
pected are here; my heart is glad; come down into my house." "But 
the entrance," answered Ti-yo, "is too tiny even to admit the point of 
my toe," yet as in obedience he placed his foot upon the hole it widened 
out and he easily passed down into a roomy kiva. 

He at once presented Spider-woman with the large pa-ho and after 
thanking him she added, "I can be seen or I can become invisible. I 
go everywhere and know all things. I know whence you come and 
whither you go. Your heart is good. I have prepared food for you;" 
and she gave him to eat. During four days he dwelt there ; then Spider- 
woman directed him to go next to the Snake-house, promising to accom- 
pany him throughout his journey ings, perching invisible on the tip of his 
right ear, where inaudible to all others she would whisper to him her 
promptings. She also gave him the medicine-charm, called Na-hu, a 
little of which he should put on the point of his tongue and spurt at the 
Angry Ones who guard the entrances of rooms. 

With the fluttering eagle-down as a guide he travelled northwest 
till he came to a kiva guarded by a huge serpent at the top, and two 
fierce bears at the foot of the hatchway. All of these, subdued by the 
Na-hu bowed their heads and allowed him to descend. Here the walls, 
roof and floor were decorated with snake-skins, while men garbed in 
snake-skins were squatted on the ground about a sand altar. None spoke 



THE SNAKE DANCE 3*3 

nor was any sound heard in that gloomy chamber. On Ti-yo's display- 
ing a pa-ho the chief merely nodded and motioned him toward the Si-pa- 
pu, down which he passed immediately into the cheerful Snake-Antelope 
kiva. Here everything was white and cheerful and men, gay with 
colored garments and bright plumes, were seated about a beautiful sand 
altar. 

All gave him welcome, and their chief, after carefully scanning the 
blue pa-ho which Ti-yo offered him, accepted it and laid it upon the 
altar. In thanking him he added, "I cause the rain-clouds to come and 
go, and ripening winds to blow, and I direct the coming and going of 
the mountain animals. Ask what gifts you desire, and you shall receive/' 

Prompted by the whisper of Spider-woman and guided by the flut- 
tering eagle-down, Ti-yo then resumed his journey to the edge of a 
great water, in the midst of which he spied the long tips of a ladder 
projecting from another kiva roof, the abode of the Woman of the 
Hard Substance, built on a scrap of floating land. By means of the 
medicine-charm and the eagle-down the waters were parted on either hand 
and he came with dry feet to an entrance guarded by two angry pumas. 
On these he likewise spurted the Na-hu and they lay down on either side 
of the ladder saying, "Never before have we let a stranger live who 
came here, but now we know that your breath is pure and your heart is 
brave;" and stepping between them he descended. The ladder was 
covered with glittering shells and the inside of the room was resplend- 
ant with turquoise and coral. On the floor a very old woman was 
seated, quite alone. Her eyes were dim, her hair gray, her skin deeply 
wrinkled, her mantle old and dingy, but Spider-woman whispered, "This 
is the kind mother, of tender and generous heart; when she lays aside 
her robe, she becomes an enchanting maiden, and she is arrayed with 
splendor at dawn." Immediately Ti-yo stepped forward and offered a 
pa-ho, and after examining it she said, "This was made by one who 
knows. I thank you." Whereupon she proceeded to prepare a food 
of corn-pollen in a large turquoise bowl, explaining, "This will be ready 
for you and the Father, when he conies, that you may eat and depart un- 
delayed ;" and as Ti-yo, to be also in readiness, drew forth another pa-ho, 
the Sun, with the noise of a mighty lightning-bolt, came rushing down 
through the air and alighted on the roof. Entering, he hung up his 
beautiful shining shield and it cried "cling-a-ling" as it dangled against 
the wall. His garment of white buckskin, trimmed with fringes of jing- 
ling shells, was thick and heavy because it is very cold in the sky 
region, and it had many pockets to contain all the pa-hos which he found 
set for him during his day's travel. Great numbers of these he laid 
before the old woman, who scrutinized and sorted them; part she put 
aside with the right hand. "These are from the folk of good heart," 
she said, "and I will send them what they ask ; but these," and she cast 



3H THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

many away with her left hand, "are from liars and deceivers ; they hurt 
my eyes." 

Then the Sun took from his right wrist the scalps of those slain in 
battle to the right of his path, from his left wrist those who had fallen 
to the left, and the old woman wept and bewailed, "My heart is sad, it 
pains me as I look upon you, I long for my people to live at peace." 

After scanning narrowly Ti-yo's prayer stick the Sun said, "It is 
well, my friend, my relative, my son," and filling a great turquoise 
pipe they smoked from it and partook of the corn-pollen food. 

Then Ti-yo firmly grasping the girdle of the Sun, they sped away 
together and as a lightning flash sank to the lowest underworld, the 
home of Mu-i-yin-wuh. Here a host of eager toilers passed back and forth, 
up and down, all working with anxious haste. Mu-i-yin-wuh inspected 
closely the offered pa-ho and promised always to heed the wishes of its 
maker, adding that at his command were made the seeds of all vegeta- 
tion, of all animals and of men; all that swarming multitude were cease- 
lessly busy at this task, the largest and handsomest among them being 
the earnest and industrious, while the stunted scraggy creatures were the 
careless and lazy. 

In the same fashion as before, Ti-yo holding tightly by the Sun's 
girdle, the two sped upward and Eastward to the palace of the Sun-rise 
and alighted at the Sun's house, a beautiful kiva like that in the West, 
but rosy red in color, while the food bowl from which they ate was of 
polished pink stone. No woman lives in that lodge; Ta-wo and his 
brother Tai-o-wa alternately occupy it. Four days Ta-wo carries the 
shield across the heavens, then rests in the kiva while Tai-o-wa per- 
forms the allotted task. 

Here Ti-yo learned many things, was strongly admonished to re- 
member all he had seen, and was finally taught to make the Great Sun 
Pa-ho ; by this his eyes would be opened ; thenceforward he would know 
all people, and looking into their hearts could comprehend their thoughts. 
As a token he straightway heard the mourning of his family beseeching 
him to return. The Sun added, "I counsel you that your most prized 
blessing will be the rain-cloud from the Snake-Antelope lodge." Then 
swiftly he bore him once more toward the house in the West, showing 
him all the world until the hour of Sun-set. 

There was still the yellow light of evening as Ti-yo approached the 
Snake-Antelope kiva where for four days more he listened to the teach- 
ing. In farewell the chief said, "Here we have rain and corn in 
abundance; in your land there is but little. Fasten these prayers in 
your breast; these are the songs you shall sing and the pa-hos you shall 
make. Then when you display the white and black upon your bodies, the 
clouds will come. Two maidens possessing the charm against our death 
poison shall accompany you," and, enveloped in fleecy clouds like a 



THE SNAKE DANCE 315 

mantle, the three were borne gently to the home of Spider- woman who 
in turn gave further instructions during four days time, charging him 
to keep secret all he had learned, revealing it only to those whose hearts 
he should prove. After placing the youth and the maidens in a wicker 
pannier, she vanished up the hatchway, and presently there floated down 
a filament which drew them softly up into the white clouds above. So 
enfolded, they were wafted on and on till the Navajo Mountain was 
beneath, when the filament gradually lengthened and they were lowered 
to the ground. The maidens were received into the house of the chief and 
there remained four days while bridal gifts were prepared. On the fifth 
day they emerged, one to follow Ti-yo to the Snake-Antelope kiva, the 
other his brother to the Snake kiva, and it was announced that in sixteen 
days their feast would be celebrated. Thus it is that even now the 
Snake ceremony is proclaimed sixteen days in advance. 

On the fifth evening and for three succeeding evenings, low clouds 
trailed over the mountain, and from them trooped the folk of the under- 
world into the lodges where they partook of corn-pollen fare and then 
mysteriously vanished. In the morning they were in the valley meta- 
morphosed into reptiles, and the Snake maidens bade that they should 
be gathered in, ceremonially bathed, and allowed to dance with the 
youths. 

The order was obeyed and at sunset a house of meal was constructed; 
within it the reptiles were laid and all the tribe cast prayer-meal upon 
them; whereafter their Younger Brothers of the Snake clan again car- 
ried them reverently to the valleys whence well pleased, they returned to 
the underworld bearing gladly the supplications of the people. 

Even thus, from that far-off time till the present day do we entrust 
our prayers for rain to the Elder Brothers. The chief of the Blue Flute 
family also comprehends these mysteries, for long ago when the Horn 
People separated from us, we imparted our knowledge to him that it 
might serve his tribe in time of need. It is for this reason that now, 
since we have again come together in one place, guided thither by a 
fire flitting about the base of this mesa and by the counsels of Morning 
Dove, they of the Flute sometimes lead in the ceremony, while we of 
the Snake sit behind, but our prayers and our songs have both the same 
intent. 

"The uncle of my uncles," concluded the narrator, "spoke with one 
tongue and this is the story that he told." 

A. E. 



LETTERS TO FRIENDS 



III 
DEAR FRIEND: 

IT was good to see you. That was my feeling as you came in last 
night, after these long years of absence. It was still more my 
feeling, as our talk lengthened and I felt again the charm of your 
shy expansiveness. It was good to sit and talk with you, even 
of the surface things. But it meant far more to me, when here and there 
you lifted, as of old, some corner of the veil of your soul. For I love 
that soul. 

And yet when you left me, late as it was, I continued to sit, 
musing, if the truth be told, upon my love and hopes for you. Some- 
times the light of love is terribly clear, and so it was that I did not need 
your letter of this morning to know that all was not well with you, 
had not been well through all these years. You see we had been 
thinking together, though the end of our thought was not the same. 

You know me too well to expect me to deny your self-accusations. 
I would be doing you a poor service did I try to dim your realization 
of all your life lacks, of the empty vanity of what you have sought, and 
found so sterile of happiness. Rather would I make your realization 
still more keen, for even now you but half recognize it; and in the 
covered places of your mind there lurks the thought that had you been 
willing or able to seek more whole-heartedly the pleasures of worldly life 
you might have found content. You will never be able to seek them 
whole-heartedly, for your heart has heard the call of the insistent silences 
of the soul. "In His Will is our peace." Against that Will you cannot 
pit your own; outside the Path to which it leads you will never find 
content. Life itself has brought you to the Portals from which none 
can turn back save to unrest and deepening misery. "It is useless to 
pause and weep for a scene in a kaleidoscope which has passed." 

And yet you weep; weep for the lost zest of your early youth, for 
your impotence in the hands of fate, for the years that are gone and have 
left no gift, for your lessening genius, and the vista of dead level com- 
monplace through which your road seems to stretch endlessly ahead. 
You weep, though even from me you hide your tears, and you say 
you are but another of life's failures. And in so saying you are a 
coward. 

Let us face the fact. You have, measured by your own standard, 
failed. Of your hopes, ambitions, ideals, how many have come to frui- 
tion? And of those few, which one has not proved bitter and unnour- 



LETTERS TO FRIENDS 317 

ishing? Before the hunger of your own heart you stand with empty 
hands. 

By the world's standard you have failed. Place, fame, riches, 
are not yours, nor little else which the world admires and for which it 
gives its coveted rewards. 

And by God's standard you have failed; again and yet again, con- 
tinuously throughout the years. The good you willed was but half done ; 
the evil that you turned from still drew you to itself. In the stillnesses 
when the flame of your soul burned clear, no philosophy of the world, no 
extenuating comparison, has sufficed to veil its light or hide you from 
yourself. You have failed, and know that you have failed, and you 
call yourself a failure. And I tell you again that in so saying you are 
a coward. 

But there is that in you which is no coward. Call upon it now. 
Have you been all your life the prey to conflicting emotions, contradictory 
desires, volitions arrayed one against the other, without learning from 
your own experience, that there is no force, no power, no tendency or 
quality in this wide universe or in heaven or in hell that is not also in 
your own heart and nature ? It is for you to choose upon which you will 
call. If cowardice is there, so also is dauntless courage. If you have 
yielded to weakness, lethargy, self-indulgence, you have known also self- 
sacrifice and the red glow of aspiration, which you turned from lest it 
kindle into a consuming flame. All are your servants, to come or go 
at the bidding of your will. But they must hear a command ; not a weak 
whimper of entreaty. You have never learned to command yourself. 
Begin and learn it now by banishing from your mind this craven sur- 
render to the past, this thought of the hopelessness of effort for the 
future. 

Was there ever a success worth the gaining that did not have its 
origin in failure? Is there a single human achievement that has been 
won by any other means than through the endurance of defeat until we 
had wrested from it the secret of victory? Did you learn to speak, or 
walk, or write, or even to digest your food, in any other way than through 
repeated failure? Yes, you have failed. But only when you will no 
longer endure failure do you become yourself what you will not endure. 
We are only beaten when we cease to fight. 

The coward in us makes its sullen answer that it does not wish to 
fight. To what purpose, it asks, is all this ceaseless striving? Where 
is the joy of combat if we always are at war with ourselves; if which- 
ever way the battle goes, we must be the conquered no less than the 
conquerors? The price of victory it deems too great, even were victory 
attainable. And it denies that victory is attainable. If we point to the 
achievement of others, it answers that they were more fortunate; they 
had not our complex and many sided natures. So Arjuna argued with 



318 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

Krishna. So the young man of great possessions turned sorrowfully 
from the Master beyond Jordan. 

There is profound significance in that latter phrase. The coward 
is always "sorrowful." There is no joy in the shameful laissez faire 
which he counsels. There is not even freedom from pain, as you know 
well. And there is joy in effort, peace in battle, though we be beaten 
endlessly. This, too, you know. Why do you turn wilfully from the 
knowledge which is your own? 

"He went away sorrowful: for he had great possessions." There 
is depicted your life from the beginning to this day. Great, and greatly 
to be valued possessions have been yours, each one so greatly valued 
by you that you would sell none to gain greater. What else was your 
keen power of enjoyment, your quick instinctive response to the appeals 
of all sides of your nature, but such riches as you would not leave? To 
no one thing could you give yourself completely; and grasping for all, 
all have escaped your hands, or turned to dust beneath your touch. 

"The kingdom of heaven is like unto a merchantman seeking goodly 
pearls; who when he had found one pearl of great price, went and sold 
all that he had, and bought it." 

The kingdom of heaven is the kingdom of our happiness. We shall 
never enter it until we find one thing for which we will give all else, to 
which we can give ourselves without reserve, our life and all we are, 
whole-heartedly, irrevocably. You say you have never found that thing. 
But the truth is that you have found it a thousand times, though never 
the courage and the will to make it your own at the price you must 
pay for it. You have never dared to venture all upon the hazard, and 
have turned your eyes away lest you be tempted despite yourself. 

Now, when you feel all else to have failed you, this, the greatest of 
all, is still within your reach. Will you still turn from it, clinging to the 
mere shells whose emptiness your life has proved? The Master stands 
always at the Gate of Failure. He stands there now beside you, offer- 
ing you the reality of all the shadows you have grasped in vain, calling 
you to the Great Adventure, pleading with you that at last you should 
face your own heart and recognize the pathway to your joy. 

All these years you have been seeking life. He calls us that we may 
have life and have it more abundantly. You have sought it in the husk 
and rind of things. Life flows and grows from within. You have 
sought joy, in circumstance, environment, events. Joy is a spirit, an 
uprushing of the heart from sources in its depths. He would unseal 
those depths, that your joy may be full. In Him is all that you have 
sought. He calls you to the Way, the Truth and the Life. 

You answer that you do not know the Master. It is true ; but your 
soul knows Him, and you, even as you are, have heard His call. You 
hear it now whenever you will listen, whenever you silence your mind 



LETTERS TO FRIENDS 319 

and enter the stillness of your soul. Be no longer afraid of that stillness. 
In it is the evidence of His presence. And as you listen to its wordless 
voice, the meaning of what you hear will grow clearer and you will see 
your way. 

"The Way exists. Knowledge exists and is obtainable." And as 
you seek it you will find it. The time will come when you will thank 
God for the love which has stripped you of all that you now mourn, 
and brought you to the Gate of Failure, which is the Gate of Life, and 
of knowledge of the Master. 

In the heart and soul of you, you are no coward. And the Warrior 
within you has heard the call to arms. Obey that call. In the past 
you have thought of it as summoning you away from all you cared for, 
from all the colour and vividness and gaiety of life. You have felt, and 
felt rightly, that it was no voice to be trifled with or to which a half 
obedience could be given. It demanded all or nothing, and because you 
were not ready to give all you closed your ears. Is your life now so 
dear to you that you will still turn away? 

Look out upon the world about you and see who are those that are 
happy. In each and every case you will see that their happiness is rooted 
in something deeper and greater than themselves, in some form of love 
and service and self-surrender. To seek happiness alone is to pluck a 
flower from its stem, to hold it a moment in our hands, only to watch 
it fade and die. And even while we held it we knew that it was not our 
own, that it was something we had plucked, not some blossoming of our 
own heart. How can our hearts blossom if they have no root, if they 
do not draw to themselves, and through them to the whole organism, the 
life-giving currents of the soul? In literal truth, without self-surrender 
the heart lives only by feeding on itself. And to the possibility of this 
there is an end. 

Is self-surrender so drab and negative a thing as you have thought 
it ? Look back over your own life to its keenest and most vivid moments. 
Each one was a moment of self-surrender, when you were taken wholly 
out of yourself by something greater than yourself. Do you remember 
standing with me years ago before the picture of Napoleon at Friedland, 
and saying that these days of peace had no sensation to offer comparable 
to what a man must feel in such a charge of cavalry, reckless of life 
and death, carried out of himself by his cause and his leader? That is 
self-surrender. That is obedience. It is to that, to such keenness and 
intensity of living, that the soul and the Master call us. And yet we 
think of obedience as drab and grey, and cling to the petty and the 
trivial. 

You will never be lifted from yourself by the lesser things you have 
sought. No one of them has the power to unify your divided life, or to 
kindle into flame the embers of your will. You know that, now, if you 



320 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

will but face your knowledge. Nor will your spirit be content to remain 
inactive, masterless and causeless, while the great issues of the Master's 
warfare are being fought out about you. You are summoned to His 
standard. 

If you answer that the summons is vague and confused that you 
do not know what is asked of you or where your post may be, I reply 
that you have but to listen to find your orders grow clear and imperative, 
and that your present post is precisely where you now are. When you 
have brought your own heart to His allegiance, when you seek to hear 
and to fulfil His orders for the round of your daily duty, then perhaps 
you may be summoned to some greater field. But what you will discover 
first is that your present field is far greater than you know, that wherever 
you may be you are face to face with issues before which those of life 
and death are insignificant. You do not need to change your place. 
You need only to change the focus of your vision. And as you come to 
see life as it is, you will perceive, not that you have outworn it (as you 
think) ; not that you have failed and are a failure (as you write) ; but 
that never have you entered into it, never begun to live. 

This is why I said at the beginning of this letter that, though we 
had been thinking together, the end of our thought was not the same. 
To you it seemed that life was closed and outworn. With me was the 
knowledge that it lay all before you, that at last, weary of playing and 
living with shadows, you would turn to your waiting destiny and to the 
reality of the soul. The Way exists, for you, as for all men; and at 
its portals you will find your orders for the path ahead, and with them 
the power for their fulfilment. "Seek and ye shall find. Knock and it 
shall be opened unto you." And if I can help you in any way as I 
know I can if you will let me write or come to see me whenever you 
will. 

Faithfully yours, 

JOHN GERARD. 



"Study Wisdom as if you were Eternal and Immortal: 
Do your Duty as if Death already had you by the hair" 

FROM THE SANSKRIT. 



WHY I JOINED THE THEOSO- 
PHICAL SOCIETY 



WHEN the key to a man's life lies untouched at his hand for 
years without his even turning his head to see what that 
unknown object may be, the question that first presents itself 
is rather "Why did he not see it?" than why he finally did. 
Misunderstandings, which a few questions would have removed, kept 
me for many years from joining the Theosophical Society. This is 
written in the belief that some of these same misunderstandings are 
widespread, and in the hope that it may help bring to others an oppor- 
tunity to gain peace and joy. The opportunity lies waiting at their call 
as it lay for years at mine until unconsciously to myself the Infinite Care 
and Patience that has guided my life brought me to it. 

I have been more or less familiar with the existence of the Theo- 
sophical Society for many years. One of my best friends was absorbed 
in it and through him from time to time I heard of the Society and some- 
thing of the theories held by many of its members. I thought them very 
reasonable, very logical, but unfortunately reason has always seemed 
to me a much overrated faculty. That a given theory is logical is so poor 
a ground for adopting it. For the world to be round is truly a pre- 
posterous thing. A number of learned mediaeval gentlemen proved most 
logically and convincingly that it was flat. The imposing logical structures 
built on Rousseau's Social Contract convinced the i8th century, but the 
iQth most inconsiderately kicked the props from under it. Had Achilles 
and the tortoise remained in the realm of metaphysics the tortoise would, 
I am convinced, be still leading in the race. Each age demolishes the pet 
theories of its predecessor and founds its own upon a rock, until the 
storm comes and the rain falls and the little, overlooked premise crumbles 
away. The truth is that reason and the universe do not get on very 
well together and consciously or unconsciously all men must decide 
between them. I early grasped the fact that I had a finite mind in an 
infinite universe. Did space go on for ever or did it stop somewhere? 
My reason said it did one or the other and then flatly refused to conceive 
of the possibility of either alternative. In most clashes of reason with 
the universe one has at least the option of blaming the universe but I 
could not very well lay the blame on space, so reason was forced to 
bear it. Thereafter I suspected that if any plan of creation could get 
within the limits of my mind, that very fact went far to prove the plan 
finite and no true representation of the infinite. Distrustful of my 



322 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

ability to pick out the one faulty premise I saw little for me to gain by 
investigating theories. 

But they did seem reasonable, the few that I heard. How the ap- 
parent injustice of the world melted before the idea of reincarnation, 
according to man's needs and deserts from former lives. Surely the 
soul that is immortal to-day was immortal yesterday and all yesterdays, 
as all to-morrows. Surely if our earth is but one two-millionth of that 
part of the universe that our poor physical eyes can see, it is not reason- 
able to suppose that that earth happens to contain the most highly devel- 
oped beings in existence. The chances are just two million to one against 
it. When my Theosophical friend told me that he knew of people who 
could see and hear at a distance, I was not convinced. Coincidences 
and illusions deceive at times the most sincere and truthful. But I saw 
no reason for positive disbelief. I could hear a thousand miles myself 
by picking up a rubber instrument plus some wire and nine dollars, so 
why deny the possibility of its being done without the instrument and the 
dollars? My mind was open and I fear only mildly interested. It 
wasn't very important and I could not see that there was anything for 
me to do about it, whether they could do these things or whether they 
could not. 

The really important thing to me was the attitude toward Chris- 
tianity of the few members of the Theosophical Society that I happened 
to know. Here a few questions would have saved me much misunder- 
standing, but strangely enough I never asked them. I knew that the 
Society sought the truth back of all religions in the belief that every great 
religion that had endured, must, to have lived, contain something of 
truth. Academically one could not help agreeing with this. Practically 
I felt that I was a Christian, blessed with some measure of faith and 
loyalty. It was a faith of intuition, not reason. My reason was satisfied 
that the wonderful, complex universe of law was the product, as all laws, 
human, physical or spiritual, must be the product, of Intelligence and 
Will. Further, that as a guide to a true judgment of the essential benefi- 
cence and justice of the universe, a cross-section of seventy years out of 
the eternal progress of an immortal soul was as useless as a cross-section 
drawing of a locomotive to a savage who had never seen a piece of 
machinery. So reason, thus obligingly committing suicide by convincing 
itself of its own impotence, left my intuition a clear field. 

Intuitively I had faith in God, in His goodness, and that Jesus Christ, 
His Son, had given His life to save men. How, I did not pretend to 
know. Inarticulately I felt that I was a Christian, His follower and 
owed Him loyalty. Any hint that the founder of any other religion 
could be remotely compared to Him I resented instinctively as disloyalty. 
Theosophical writings, which to be sure I never read, spoke constantly 
of Krishna, Christ, Buddha; and theosophical conversations which I did 



WHY I JOINED THE THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY. 323 

near, did the same thing. Also the theosophists of my acquaintance 
never went to church. Neither did I, except occasionally, but somehow 
it failed to occur to me that our real reason might be the same that so 
little of the spirit of Christ was to be gained there. My immediate 
reason was indolence, theirs I vaguely supposed to be chiefly lack of belief 
in the value of prayer. Strangely enough this wild misconception 
persisted for years. 

All this is my recollection of unformulated feeling of ten to fifteen 
years ago. Then as a result of what seemed a chance remark made by 
an acquaintance to my father, I travelled for some years. In that time 
I learned many things, something of toleration, which my friends, with 
more unanimity than politeness, tell me I needed badly, of obedience, 
of the difference between the man and his acts, of widely differing moral 
codes, but of theosophy as such, nothing. 

On my return I devoted to my friends and to outdoor sports what- 
ever surplus energy was left me by my somewhat strenuous business. 
Now and then my theosophical friend would, with great tact, drop ideas 
into my mind, and watch while, unconsciously to myself, their inherent 
truth and power colored my entire thought. I heard too a number of 
religious discussions participated in by men of keen intellect and widely 
differing beliefs, clergymen, scientists, laymen, agnostics and some theoso- 
phists. The discussions were conducted by all with a single-minded 
desire to arrive at the truth rather than to prove one's own point. They 
brought out many interesting things, the fundamental faith of the 
scientists, the logical superiority in argument of those with faith over 
those who lacked it, (the agnostic being visibly shaken and brought to 
say, "Almost thou persuadest me") ; but above all they brought out in 
the theosophists, deep devotion and spirituality combined with mental 
power in an exceptional degree. 

The next year my personal affairs caused me great worry and 
anxiety. One among many acts of sympathy from my theosophical friend 
was the gift of a copy of the Bhagavad Gita. Its wonderful peace 
gripped me as no printed words had ever done. It made me wish above 
all that I could bring to the beautiful words of the Gospels the same 
freshness with which I read the Gita. In part it helped me to do this, 
for it illumined passages that before had been quite meaningless to me. 
I found nothing contrary to the spirit of Christianity, much that sup- 
plemented, deepened and vivified my own faith. Its deep peace, beauty 
and devotion, its sure faith, left no doubt of its inspiration. In my 
enthusiasm I presented copies which they did not read to all my 
friends. If the Theosophical Society was engaged in making known to 
the Western World such works as that I most certainly was in hearty 
accord with at least one of its objects. I asked for a copy of its consti- 
tution. "Universal Brotherhood," "The truth in all religions," "An 



324 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

investigation of the higher powers of man." Why, all the world 
could join that Society and the world for years had heaped ridicule and 
abuse on its members ! Now, to be sure, its ideas had largely triumphed 
and much of the storm was over. There was, however, plenty of mis- 
informed ridicule left ; and I joined the Society regretting that I had not 
done so when the fight was hottest and its few members had had to stand 
the storm almost alone. In joining I was actuated partly by my apprecia- 
tion of a small piece of the work the Society was doing, but chiefly by 
my friendship for some of its members and as a kind of protest against 
the injustice of the general attitude toward the Society. 

That done I did nothing further. I knew the Society held meetings 
but the idea of attending and hearing what I presumed would be a 
feminine discussion of religion had no charms for me. That, to be sure, 
was a ripple on the surface. The real reason, I fancy, was the unformu- 
lated half-conscious feeling that with the ideas of the Bhagavad Gita 
there was for me no half-way resting place. It would be a life's devo- 
tion or nothing. With the magnificent grandeur of those ideas there 
could be no playing. Complete renunciation of the fruit of all works 
was but the least of the four ways of reaching the Master, suggested in 
pity for those whose weakness rendered the three higher ways beyond 
their power.* Lacking knowledge of the theosophic ideal of first 
doing completely those duties that lie nearest at hand and to which we 
have been born, renunciation appeared, vaguely and most untheosoph- 
ically as the abandonment of friends, personal duties and amusement, 
with the shadowy outline of a settlement house in the back-ground. 
Something within me held me back whenever the question of a further 
study of theosophy arose in my mind. Not yet. Cowardice perhaps, 
or like St. Augustine I was willing to pray to be reformed "but not yet 
and not too completely." Be that as it may, I was held back by some- 
thing which I was never able to define. 

The anxieties passed. Business prospered beyond my hopes and at 
the same time came other duties and responsibilities which there could 
be no question of abandoning. Singularly blessed in all ways, with 
friends, health, capacity for enjoyment, I had all man could ask of the 
world. Here by all the rules I should say: "But I was not satisfied." 
But I was, completely, so far as I knew. 

About this time I began to search for a religious church. Sermons 
on service to one's fellows, on organized charity, parish activities, poli- 
tics, morality, most eloquently and convincingly delivered, were to be 
had in plenty. Sermons on theology, carrying no conviction even when 
not quite meaningless to me, I also found. But spirituality and the 
Gospel of the Living Christ were sought with little success, due in part 
I dare say to my own lack of understanding. Finally I went to a 

* Blwgavad Gita. Book XII. 6-ix. 



WHY I JOINED THE THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY 325 

small Episcopal 'Chapel in a very unfashionable neighborhood, and sought 
no further. 

It was very simple, but the atmosphere was one of deep devotion. 
There was preached with a beauty and power beyond my ability to 
describe, yet with a simplicity that a child could understand, the won- 
derful truth of the Living Christ, not gone two thousand years ago to 
some far away heaven, but here at hand on earth, not figuratively but in 
literal truth; the Gospel of an undying, ever present love that stretches 
forth its hands and calls to us to follow, that we may have life and have 
it more abundantly ; that happiness lies not in outward circumstance, but 
in character and inner attitude; that all that comes to us, misfortune, 
grief or joy is the gift of love did we but see and accept it. 

Through all and above all there was evident a passionate devotion 
to the Master, Jesus Christ, beyond the power of words to express. 
Sentences that I had heard unheeding from childhood took life and 
meaning there. After the first day I never willingly missed a Sunday. 
The preacher was a theosophist and among the congregation were those 
theosophists who years ago I had thought never went to church. 

At this same time a guest of mine, not a theosophist, expressed a 
desire to attend a meeting of the Theosophical Society. As a matter of 
politeness I went also. I do not recall the particular subject that was 
discussed that evening. I do know that it was not phenomena, auras, 
telepathy, spiritualism or any one of the similar things that arise in the 
mind of the average newspaper reader when he hears the word "Theos- 
ophy" ; for in the years that I have attended the meetings of the Society 
I do not remember ever having heard one of these even mentioned there. 
It was, as always, some fundamental aspect of life viewed in the light of 
Theosophy. The spirituality, the purity and beauty of the theosophic 
ideals and the power with which they were presented, made a deep 
impression on me. Whence came the power of these people, their 
serenity, their high ideals and sure faith? 

That is how, largely in ignorance, I came to join the Society. 
A much more interesting question is, as one member recently put it, 
"Why do I continually rejoin?" or why would I join now if I had it 
to do again. 

First and far above all other reasons, because there is to be found a 
deep devotion to Christ, an understanding of and faith in His precepts 
hard to find in the churches. The Kingdom of Heaven is at hand, Seek 
and ye shall find, Ask, and it shall be given unto you. That, on this side 
of death, those willing to pay the price may find, in literal truth, the 
Master and His kingdom, may see His face and hear His voice as He 
was seen and heard nineteen hundred years ago, is the sure faith of 
many among the members. And the price : "He who seeketh to save his 



326 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

life shall lose it and he who giveth his life for My sake shall keep it unto 
life eternal." 

Obedience, selflessness and love. Not that we should seek to save 
our own souls, but to do His will because it is His will ; the ideal, not of 
conscious unselfishness but of self-forgetfulness, striving to serve Him, 
leaving ourselves and our fortunes to Him in the sure knowledge that 
our feeble love is but the faint reflection of His mighty love for us. 
Sure too, once we have trusted ourselves to Him, of His deep longing that 
we may find happiness and joy, that all that comes to us thereafter, be it 
pain, or loss, or grief, is needed for our happiness and contains His gift 
of love if we will but look for it. 

Through the Theosophical Society one is privileged to come in con- 
tact with this faith. Needless to repeat neither this nor any other belief, 
is the belief of the Society, but it is the spirit to be found there. Indi- 
vidual members believe what they will. 

To me it has brought the belief that the soul of man is not only 
immortal but divine, proceeding from, and, after its pilgrimage, return- 
ing to God. Further that the foundation of the universe is love, obscured 
and complicated by free will. With the gift of free will to man no power 
in earth or heaven interferes. Though the physical accomplishment be 
hindered, we may will what we will, always, at all times, and in all 
circumstances. 

So we may will to go forward on our pilgrimage ; or backward ; but, 
immersed in, and blinded by matter as we are, we are not left without 
a guide. Each step forward that the soul takes on its return toward 
God brings it something of joy, of peace and happiness. 

At each misstep a voice within first warns us gently, very gently, 
like the voice of infinite tenderness. If we disregard the gentleness, the 
Angel of Pain, no less the voice of infinite tenderness, lays his hand on 
us to turn us back. We still persist, crying out against the cruelty of 
life, and the pressure grows stronger and stronger until at last we turn, 
not only outwardly but completely in our hearts. 

This is no affair of three score years and ten. 

"The soul that rises with us, our life's star, 
Hath elsewhere had its setting" 

and, unfortunately comes trailing more than clouds of glory. Tendencies, 
faults and weaknesses, our misdirections of life's forces within us, must 
be straightened out. Each one is born into that environment which he, 
the soul, most needs, which will help him most toward his goal. What 
he aspires to do in the present builds his character, determines what he 
will need and so what he will receive in this or a future life. How 
slowly we learn the plainest lessons and how rich life is in lessons to be 



WHY I JOINED THE THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY. 327 

learned! Seventy years, or seven times seventy, will not complete our 
lesson, nor fit us for an eternity of heaven or hell. 

The key to all life is that the infinite Love and Justice of the uni- 
verse, while respecting the right of the blinded divinity in man to 
freedom of choice, gives him for guidance what he most needs for his 
own ultimate happiness. His material welfare or misery at any given 
time is of slight importance provided he be learning and so advancing 
ever so little toward the happiness that does not pass away. We have 
little pity for those who toil unremittingly, joylessly, for a day or a year 
if we see that at the end of that time they will win success, wealth, 
leisure. So, if we regard each life as but a day in the journey of the 
soul, the whole perspective and scale of values changes. What traveller 
in the desert, hurried on by the need of water, would spend his strength 
in piling up by his resting place at night treasure that he could not carry 
with him on the morrow? Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon 
earth, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, in that kingdom of 
heaven that is within us, in our souls. For what the soul gains of 
obedience, of power, of truth, of love, it keeps. The incidents from 
which they were learned pass from our memories, but the powers them- 
selves once gained are ours for all eternity. 

A great peace comes to him who knows and who holds fast to his 
knowledge that all that comes to us or to others, is planned by Infinite 
Love to help man to that final bliss to which, in the fullness of time, all 
will come. Peace comes from faith, faith from love and our strongest 
love is but the faint reflection of the burning personal love of the 
Master for us. "We love because He first loved us." "Ask and ye shall 
receive." 

ROLAND PAGE. 



With meekness, humility and diligence apply yourself to the duties 
of your condition. They are the seemingly little things which make no 
noise that do the business. 

HENRY MORE. 



THE STORY OF ADAM AND EVE 

IN THE NEW TESTAMENT 



IN trying to realise the thought, feeling and aspiration of the people 
of Palestine in the time of Jesus, with the desire to understand 
the thought of Jesus himself, we are influenced, perhaps, more than 

we realise by the form of the English Bible as we are familiar with 
it. We are led to think of the period described by Matthew as follow- 
ing and growing out of the period of Malachi, thus failing to remind our- 
selves of the profound change which passed over the life and thought of 
the Jews between the time when Malachi announced the coming of the 
messenger and Matthew's record that the messenger had come. If we 
used the Septuagint, or even some of the older English editions, we 
should be reminded that after the last prophet delivered his message, 
the peoples of Palestine, with the whole Eastern shore of the Mediter- 
ranean, had been almost transformed by Hellenic influences, spiritual 
and material, flowing from the campaigns and conquests of Alexander 
the Great. 

Very largely, perhaps, because we omit the Apocryphal books, we 
come to think of the life and times of the New Testament following 
with hardly a break upon the Old; whether it be the material energies 
of the period of the kings, with their ever present tendency toward 
idolatry, or the passionate fervor of the prophets, poured forth in pro- 
test against idolatry and materialism. If we turned over the pages of 
the first book of the Maccabees, we should at once be reminded of 
Alexander's invasions and conquests, and the founding of the Greek 
empire, with its revolutionising influence over Mesopotamia, Asia Minor, 
Palestine and Egypt. And in books like the Wisdom of Solomon, or 
the Wisdom of Jesus the son of Sirach, we should find, perhaps, many 
traces of Greek feeling and Greek thought, with a view of ethical im- 
mortality nowhere very clearly set forth in the canon of the Old Testa- 
ment, but very beautifully taught by Plato. We should remember also 
that the Jews, during the centuries immediately before the birth of Jesus, 
had spread eastward as far as Mesopotamia, northward almost to the 
shore of the Euxine, westward among the isles of Greece, and even as 
far as Rome, where they had their own colony, and southward into 
Ptolemaic Egypt. In most of these regions they came into contact with 
Greek thought, and, returning to Jerusalem to bring gifts to the temple, 
or to celebrate the great feasts of their religion, they of necessity brought 
something of the atmosphere of Hellas to the hill of Zion. Perhaps 
Philo Judaeus and Flavins Josephus, the one coming immediately before 

3 .8 



THE STORY OF ADAM AND EVE 329 

the mission of Jesus, and the other immediately after, are our best wit- 
nesses to the fascination which the poets and philosophers of Greece exer- 
cised over the best minds of the Jews. Both, writing in Greek, quote the 
Greek poets and the Hebrew prophets side by side, and one of Philo's 
great arguments for the unity of God is the Homeric verse : 

OVK ayafio'v it oXvKot party si$ xoi'parog crrao 
"A multitude of kings is not good." (Iliad, ii, 204.) 

Philo of Alexandria represents the strongest and most luminous 
stream of thought in Judaism just before, and during, the lifetime of 
Jesus. He sets forth his views of life and of the world in a wonderful 
series of treatises which have the general form of a running commentary 
on the Old Testament. Philo was saturated with Greek philosophy, 
holding closely to the world-concepts of the Stoics, but above all, per- 
haps, he was a follower of Plato. He held Plato's view that this visible 
universe of hills and sea and sky is but the outer presentment and veil 
of another and finer universe, invisible to the bodily eyes, but visible to 
the eyes of the mind, for the mind itself is an inhabitant of that finer 
universe, and of its essence. This idea is closely akin to the view which 
is coming to dominate our best science, which divines the invisible ether 
as the dwelling-place of all forces, and as the womb of matter and of all 
material things. 

For Plato, and for his ardent disciple Philo, there was first an in- 
visible universe, immortal, incorruptible, to be perceived not by the outer 
senses but by the intellect, which is indeed an inhabitant of that im- 
perishable, invisible world; and after the model of the invisible world 
the visible world was made, the corruptible in the likeness of the in- 
corruptible. Philo was so saturated and possessed with this idea that 
things visible are but the outer husk and shell of things invisible, that 
he takes such outward things as histories, traditions, nay, the very doings 
of prophets and kings, as being themselves symbols, allegories, figures of 
finer, impalpable realities. In this spirit Philo bends his whole energies, 
the powers of a fine intellect and a lofty soul, to the interpretation of the 
Old Testament narratives in the spirit of Plato's philosophy, dissolving, 
as it were, the solid realism of the Semitic records in the sea of imagina- 
tion and pure thought. 

We can take no more vital and important illustration of this alle- 
gorising method of Philo's than the story of Adam and Eve and the 
Fall ; first, because of the great place which this story has been made to 
occupy in our theology, and, second, because it is precisely this story 
which has been made the point of attack in the campaign of materialistic 
and destructive criticism which followed the discoveries and theories of 
Darwin. It is no exaggeration to say that hundreds of thousands of 
thoughtful people have turned away from a traditional belief in Chris- 



330 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

tianity, because they feel convinced that the work of Darwin and his 
fellow-labourers has proved that the story of Adam and Eve and the 
Fall is a fable, while they had been taught by the doctors of theology to 
think of it as the foundation-stone of the plan of salvation, the correla- 
tive of the Redemption. 

We are, therefore, led to ask whether this story was so regarded by 
the writers of the New Testament; and, most of all, whether it was so 
regarded by Jesus himself. We can best approach the solution of this 
question through the thought and writings of Philo Judseus. 

For Philo, the story of Adam and Eve and the serpent takes its 
natural place in his complete system of allegorical interpretation. But 
first he points out, what is often allowed to sink into the background, 
the fact that we have in the opening chapters of Genesis two wholly 
distinct accounts of the creation of man. There was first, in the ordered 
sequence of creative Days, the making of man in the image of God, and 
then, as a subsequent event, the formation of the man Adam from the 
red earth. Philo holds that the man first created, in the image of God, 
was a spiritual and invisible being, a part of that divine prototype or 
model of the universe, which he calls the Logos, the Word, or rather the 
Mind of God. And he beautifully illustrates this archetypal world by 
picturing a powerful king setting about to found a city, and giving the 
work into the hands of a wise master-builder or architect. The whole 
plan of the future city is first formed in the mind of the architect: the 
streets, the walls, the harbour, the market-place, the dwellings ; then this 
invisible city is gradually made manifest in the visible city built by the 
workmen of the king according to the wise master-builder's plan. So the 
first universe, immortal, invisible, incorruptible, dwells in the Mind of 
God, in the Logos; and of this invisible universe, the first man, made in 
the likeness of God, is a part and an inhabitant. 

After this, (says Philo), Moses says that "God made a man, having 
taken clay from the earth, and breathed into his face the breath of life." 
And by this expression he shows most clearly that there is a vast dif- 
ference between the man generated at this point, and the first man made 
in the image of God. For man as formed at this point is perceptible to 
the external senses, partaking of qualities, consisting of body and soul, 
male or female, by nature mortal. But man made in the image of God 
was an idea perceptible only by the intellect, incorporeal, neither male nor 
female, by nature immortal. 1 

Philo comes next to the story of the Fall. It is said, he tells us, 
that the old poisonous and earthborn reptile, the serpent, uttered the 
voice of a man. And he on one occasion coming to the wife of the first 
created man, reproached her with her slowness and, her excessive 
prudence, because she delayed and hesitated to gather the fruit which 

1 Philo Judseus. "On the Creation of the World." ch. 46. 



THE STORY OF ADAM AND EVE 331 

was completely beautiful to look at, and exceedingly sweet to enjoy, and 
was, moreover, most useful as being a means by which men might be 
able to distinguish between good and evil. And she, without any inquiry, 
prompted by an unstable and rash mind, acquiesced in his advice, and 
ate of the fruit, and gave a portion of it to her husband. And this con- 
duct suddenly changed both of them from innocence and simplicity of 
character to all kinds of wickedness; at which the Father of all was 
indignant. For their actions deserved his anger, inasmuch as they, 
passing by the tree of eternal life, the tree which might have endowed 
them with perfection of virtue, and by means of which they might have 
enjoyed a long and happy life, preferred a brief and mortal (I will not 
call it life, but) time full of unhappiness; and, accordingly, he appointed 
them such punishment as was fitting. 

And these things, comments Philo, are not mere fabulous inventions 
in which the race of poets and sophists delights, but are rather types 
shadowing forth some allegorical truth, according to some mystical 
explanation. 

Applying this most valuable and fruitful principle, that the char- 
acters in the story of the Fall are types, allegorical characters to be inter- 
preted mystically, Philo goes on to give his own interpretation of the 
story. 2 The serpent, he says, is the symbol of self-indulgence, of pleasure, 
because it crawls, feasts on clay and has poison under its teeth ; from it 
come "drunkenness and voracity and licentiousness," inflaming the ap- 
petites and strengthening the impetuous passions. Using gluttony as 
an example of self-indulgence, Philo says that immoderate eating is 
naturally a poisonous and deadly habit, inasmuch as what is so devoured 
is not capable of digestion, in consequence of the quantity of additional 
food which is heaped in on top of it, and arrives before what was 
previously eaten is converted into juice. 

And the serpent, Philo says, is said to have uttered a human voice 
because pleasure employs innumerable champions and defenders, who 
take care to advocate its interests, and who dare to assert that the power 
over everything, both small and great, does of right belong to it without 
any exception whatever. . . . Many other things are said in the way 
of praise of this inclination, especially that it is one most peculiar and 
kindred to all animals. . . . But its juggleries and deceits pleasure 
does not venture to bring directly to the man, but first offers them to the 
woman, and by her means to the man; acting in a very natural and 
sagacious manner. For in human beings the mind occupies the rank 
of the man and the sensations that of the woman. And pleasure joins 
itself to and associates itself with the sensations first of all, and then by 
their means cajoles also the mind, which is the dominant part. For, 
after each of the senses has been subjected to the charms of pleasure, 

a Ibid. ch. 55-56, trs. C. D. Yonge, p. 47. 



332 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

and has learnt to delight in what is offered to it, the sight being fascinated 
by varieties of colours and shapes, the hearing by harmonious sounds, 
the taste by the sweetness of flowers, and the smell by the delicious 
fragrance of the odours which are brought before it, these all having 
received these offerings, like handmaids, bring them to the mind as their 
master, leading with them persuasion as an advocate, to warn it against 
rejecting any of them whatever. And the mind being immediately caught 
by the bait, becomes a subject instead of a ruler, and a slave instead 
of a master, and an exile instead of a citizen, and a mortal instead of 
an immortal. 

So far the teaching of Philo, with its admirable sanity and philo- 
sophical breadth. It is admitted by all critics that these chapters are 
amongst Philo's earliest writings, belonging to the period of the boyhood 
of Jesus, so that we may well believe that some such view of the meaning 
of Adam and Eve and the Fall was accepted by the best Jewish thought 
not only at Alexandria, but also, in all probability as far as Jerusalem 
and more distant Tarsus of Cilicia. We are justified in thinking that, 
for the better educated Jews of the time of Jesus, Adam and Eve were 
just what Philo calls them, symbols and figures and allegories, hardly 
to be taken literally, yet yielding a rich mystical meaning, and of high 
value for edification. 

Let us now turn to the New Testament, and see what position 
is held by the story of Adam and Eve, in the teaching of Jesus and 
his disciples. When we come to count up, we shall, I think, be not a 
little surprised to find how very few are the allusions to Adam and 
Eve and the Fall, in the Gospels and Epistles. 

In the four Gospels, Adam is only mentioned once, and without any 
reference to the Fall, or to any doctrine of original sin. Indeed, as 
Professor Toy has pointed out, "no distinct dogma of universal depravity 
exists in the Old Testament," 3 and this view was, without doubt, common 
to the writers of the Gospels and the Jews of their day. The one refer- 
ence to Adam in the Gospels is in the genealogy in the third chapter of 
Luke, and this genealogy is in reality hardly an integral part of the 
Gospel. Much the same may be said of the words of Jude, who speaks 
of "Enoch, the seventh from Adam." The allusion is chronological, not 
moral; and, as Jude is seeking to identify the author of the apocryphal 
Book of Enoch with the supernatural patriarch, we cannot safely give 
much weight to his citation. 

In truth, there are only three passages in the New Testament which 
have any real reference to the story of Adam, and these are all in the 
Epistles of Paul. Taking them in the order in which they were written, 
there is, first, the allusion in the splendid chapter of the first letter to 
Corinth, which we associate with the burial service: "Since by man 

Crawford Howell Toy: "Quotations in the New Testament," New York, 1884, p. 132. 



THE STORY OF ADAM AND EVE 333 

came death, by man came also the resurrection of the dead. For as in 
the Adam all die, even so in the Christ shall all be made alive." * We 
must take this in conjunction with the passage later in the same chapter: 
"So also it is written, The first man Adam was made a living soul, the 
last Adam was made a quickening spirit. . . . The first man is of the 
earth, earthy: the second man is the Lord from heaven. As is the 
earthy, such are they also that are earthy: and as is the heavenly, such 
are they also that are heavenly. And as we have borne the image of the 
earthy, we shall also bear the image of the heavenly." 5 

One cannot fail to be struck with the likeness to the earlier teaching 
of Philo Judseus, of the two men, the one immortal and incorruptible, of 
the divine nature of the Logos; the other, of the earth, earthy; and to 
Philo's further teaching that regeneration comes when, mortifying the 
flesh, we turn from the man of earth, and once more conform to the 
image of the heavenly man. This regeneration, in Philo's view, con- 
stitutes "the perfect man," the immortal, renewed in an imperishable life. 
Having formerly conformed to the image of the earthy, we are to 
conform ourselves to the likeness of the heavenly man, who is of the 
divine nature of the Logos or Reason of God. 

The parallelism is close indeed, and we have much warrant for 
believing that Paul shares the thought of Philo, that Adam is a symbol 
of the man of flesh, in a wide and general sense : "in the Adam, all die," 
rather than a definite historical personage, who, by a single sin, con- 
demned the whole human race. 

The second allusion in Paul's letters to the story of Adam is in the 
letter to Rome, written, perhaps, some ten or fifteen years after Philo's 
death at an advanced age. "Wherefore," writes Paul, "as by one man 
sin entered into the world, and death by sin; and so death passed upon 
all men, for that all have sinned : ( for until the law sin was in the world : 
but sin is not imputed where there is no law. Nevertheless death reigned 
from Adam to Moses, even over them that had not sinned after the 
similitude of Adam's transgression, who is the figure of him that was 
to come. . . .)." 8 

It is noteworthy and significant that, in this passage, on which the 
dogma of the Fall is chiefly founded, we find Paul applying to Adam the 
very word used by Philo. Adam is a "type," a "figure of him that was 
to come." Paul could hardly tell us in a more explicit way that he is 
interpreting the story of Adam allegorically, just as he did, in writing 
to the community at Corinth. 



* I. Cor. xv, 21-22. The Greek reads EV TOO ''Addfl and BY TOO XplCTTGO. The Revised 
Version, in a marginal reading, brings out the latter article, but not the "former. I have 
ventured to translate both. 

I. Cor. xv, 45, 47, 48. 

* Romans, v, 12-14. 



334 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

The third and last allusion to Adam is in the first letter to Timothy : 
"Let the woman learn in silence and all subjection. But I suffer not 
a woman to teach, nor to usurp authority over the man, but to be in 
silence. For Adam was first formed, then Eve. And Adam was not 
deceived, but the woman being deceived was in the transgression. 
Notwithstanding she shall be saved in childbearing." 7 

"Eve shall be saved in childbearing:" surely this makes it plain that 
Paul is once more using the allegorical method, and taking Eve as a 
type, a genus, to use Philo's phrase; and indeed there is the closest 
resemblance here to the passage of Philo, already quoted, where he points 
out that Eve was first tempted, and then Adam through Eve. 

A striking example of Paul's use of the Philonic method of allegory 
is that in the letter to the Galatians, where he writes : "For it is written 
that Abraham had two sons, the one by a bondmaid, the other by a free 
woman. But he who was of the bondwoman was born after the flesh; 
but he of the free woman was by promise. Which things are an allegory : 
for these are the two covenants ; the one from the mount Sinai, which gen- 
dereth to bondage, which is Agar. [For this Agar is mount Sinai in 
Arabia,] arid answereth to Jerusalem which now is, and is in bondage 
'with her children. But Jerusalem which is above is free, which is the 
mother of us all." 8 

This is in the very spirit of Philo's Allegories of the Sacred Laws, 
as, for example, where he writes: "Do you not see that wisdom when 
dominant, which is Sarah, says, 'For whosoever shall hear it shall rejoice 
with me.' But suppose that any were able to hear that virtue has brought 
forth happiness, namely, Isaac. . . ." 9 and so on. And this is 
thoroughly in harmony with the usual Rabbinical method of exegesis, 
well described by Professor Toy, as "summed up in the principle, that 
every sentence and every word of the Scripture was credited with any 
meaning that it could possibly be made to bear; and the, interpreter 
selected the literal or the allegorical sense, or any other that suited his 
argument." 10 

We are, therefore, justified in saying that, during the period in 
which Jesus and Paul lived and taught, Philo, who was a commanding 
figure among the Jews, and a recognised leader of religious thought, 
openly treated the story of Adam as an instructive allegory, a symbol 
of the sensual man; that the three passages in which Paul mentions 
Adam are all very close to the spirit and thought of Philo, and that in 
all three passages Paul makes it evident that he is speaking allegorically, 
calling Adam a type, a figure, just as he makes Eve a symbol of all 



7 I. Tim. ii, 11-15. 

* Galatians, iv, 22-26. 

Philo, On the Allegories of the Sacred Laws, Book II, ch. xxi. 

10 Op. Cit. Introduction, p. xxiii. 



THE STORY OF ADAM AND EVE 335 

womankind. And it is on these three passages that the doctrine of 
original sin, as connected with the Fall of Adam, is founded; for the 
two other allusions to Adam in the New Testament are purely chrono- 
logical and have no moral colouring. 

But we come to the most striking aspect of the matter, when we 
ask what meaning the story of Adam had for Jesus himself. The 
answer is, that Jesus nowhere mentions Adam or Eve or the Fall at all, 
that Jesus nowhere connects an idea of original sin with Adam's Fall, 
or in any way suggests that his own coming and teaching, or his death 
and resurrection, are correlative to Adam's expulsion from Eden. It 
is most significant and characteristic of the method of Jesus, that he 
nowhere assigns a general cause to sin, considered as a common heritage 
of mankind. Indeed, he uses expressions which are hardly com- 
patible with the idea of original or universal sin. For example: "If 
I had not come and spoken unto them, they had not had sin. . . . 
If I had not done among them the works which none other man did, 
they had not had sin." 11 But it would seem that it was much more 
characteristic of Jesus to speak, not of sin, but of sins, in the sense of 
errors, transgressions, of missing the mark, rather than in the theological 
sense of a condition into which we are born. In the four Gospels, the 
word sin (Greek afj-apria ) occurs forty times; it is used in the plural 
twenty-eight times, while of the twelve occurrences in the singular, only 
one is in the synoptic Gospels, while several of the occurrences in John 
seem, as we have shown, directly to negative the idea of universal, 
original sin caused by Adam's transgression. 

The dominant fact, therefore, is that Jesus nowhere connects the 
idea of sin with the story of the Fall of Adam; Jesus nowhere teaches 
that his own work is the correlative of that Fall, or that his coming is 
to be set over against Adam's transgression, as we are accustomed to 
see it set, in our theology. Jesus takes the fact of sins, of transgres- 
sions, of errors, of failures, of death itself, just as he saw them all about 
him; and straightway, without theorizing, sets himself to applying the 
cure, holiness, purity, humility, faith, love, bringing the new birth and 
immortality. He teaches that certain things are to be done, rather than 
that certain things are to be believed. The saying that "He that believ- 
eth not, shall be damned," 12 at the close of Mark, is an interpolation of a 
later century. The authentic teaching is : "He that hath my command- 
ments and keepeth them, he it is that loveth me;" or this: "If any man 
will do his will, he shall know of the doctrine whether it be of God, or 
whether I speak of myself." 13 

If these conclusions be trustworthy, and, as I think, well supported 



11 John, xv, 22-24. 
u Mark, xvi, 16. 
13 John, vii, 17. 



336 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

by the evidence brought forward, then it would seem to be certain that 
the correlation of the Fall with the teaching and life of Jesus is nowhere 
to be found in that teaching; and that, while this dogma is made to rest 
on certain phrases in Paul's letters, Paul himself in all probability shared 
Philo's view that the story of Adam was an allegory, and that Adam 
was a type or symbol of that mortal nature which we all know at first 
hand, the passional nature which must be purified, before we can 
conform to the likeness of the heavenly, putting on the new man, who 
is of divine and eternal nature. 

If these conclusions be trustworthy, then the correlation of Adam's 
Fall and the life of Jesus, in our theology, is based on a misapprehension 
as to what Jesus taught, and what Paul meant. The second event does 
not depend for its significance on the first. The message of Jesus is 
wholly independent of the story of Adam. That message must be 
studied in itself, in its immediate and present bearing, apart from the 
theories of legal theology, burdened as it is with the Roman doctrine 
of contract, or debtor and creditor, of imputed righteousness, or trans- 
ferred credit. If we wish to test the validity of the doctrine, we must 
follow the injunction of the teacher of the doctrine, and test it, not by legal 
argument, but by obedience, by keeping the commandments, by working 
the divine will. 

CHARLES JOHNSTON. 



"He who is faithful over a few things is a lord of cities. It does 
not matter whether you preach in Westminster Abbey, or teach a ragged 
class, so you be faithful. The faithfulness is all." 

GEORGE MACDONALD. 



CHARITY 




NOWLEDGE puffeth up, but charity edifieth." This 'saying 
of St. Paul's is as appropriate to the conditions of the 
present age, as it was to those of nineteen centuries ago. 
All earnest students of Theosophy will do well to consider 
it seriously; especially those who are inclined to attach as much 
importance to the study of the philosophy, and the investigation of the 
unknown psychic powers in man and nature as they give to the work 
for brotherhood. But the second and third objects of the Theosophical 
Society are, when taken alone, like a double-edged sword that cuts both 
ways; they are helpful only in so far as they help to advance the first 
object. 

Knowledge, in itself, is no more a virtue than dynamite is a bless- 
ing. It is beneficial only when used for beneficial ends, or governed 
by love. But love is always a virtue, a Divine power, the divinest of 
all powers, active or latent in man. Hear what St. Paul says of love: 
"Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not 
charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. And 
though I have the gift of prophesy, and understand all mysteries, and 
all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove 
mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing. And though I bestow 
all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, 
and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing. Charity suffereth long, 
and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed 
up, doth not behave itself unseemingly, seeketh not her own, is not 
easily provoked, thinketh no evil ; rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth 
in the truth; beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, 
endureth all things. Charity never faileth: but whether there be 
prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; 
whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away. For we know in 
part, and we prophecy in part. But when that which is perfect is come, 
then that which is in part shall be done away." 

It is of the greatest importance that this fundamental theosophical 
principle should have proper application in all our doings and in all our 
intercourse with other men, especially with our co-workers in The 
Theosophical Society. We should find it profitable, therefore, every 
night before going to bed, to review the past day and to see, whether we 
have been edified by the love that Saint Paul calls charity, or whether, 
puffed up by knowledge, we have indulged in any unkind and uncharit- 
able deed or sentiment. Our morning devotions, whether or not per- 

337 



338 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

formed according to any ritual, should always include a solemn vow to 
be charitable, a vow made with such earnestness and force that we 
always remain conscious of it, no matter how much attention the duties 
of the day may claim. 

And this vow of charity must be of universal validity, not confined 
to certain circumstances or relations. We must lead our lives in an 
atmosphere of charity; we must fill our minds and hearts with charity 
and breathe charity into all our doings. 

Life continually brings us face to face with a great many experi- 
ences, some pleasant, others hard to bear. They represent as many tests 
and as many opportunities. The Ever Watching Eye is always upon 
us, anxiously watching our steps, tenderly stretching out a supporting 
hand, compassionately forgiving our failures, lovingly undoing our mis- 
takes as far as the great Law permits, and charitably arranging new 
opportunities for our advancement. It is a tremendous outpouring of 
Divine Love, and if we realized this, we should certainly be most eagerly 
anxious to open our hearts and to have them filled with this love in 
order to give it out abundantly to all who surround us, knowing that 
the more we give the more we receive. And we should strive most 
earnestly to make our hearts clean vessels ; lest the Divine gift, the pure 
love that is poured into them, shall be defiled and its sweet waters made 
poisonous on its way through our hearts to our fellow-men. 

Among the manifold trials, that of admiration is, perhaps, the 
most difficult to withstand. In most cases it calls forth self-esteem 
and pride; and "pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit 
before a fall." If we were truly charitable, we should not lead our 
brother into this terrible temptation by flattering and admiring him, 
because of his fancied or real development in advance of ourselves, nor 
should we give him an authority which is due only to those who are so 
far ahead of us that they cannot mingle directly with the affairs of the 
material world, but have to work through agents who are fit for their 
service. 

Self-esteem leads inevitably to uncharitable feelings toward the 
brother, whom we put on a lower level than ourselves, and especially 
toward a blundering comrade. We have met with this temptation many, 
many times, and we have perhaps fallen as many times. It is the old 
story of self congratulation, which the Christian Master narrated thus: 
"God, I thank thee, that I am not as other men are, extortioners, unjust, 
adulterers, or even as this publican." The occasions of stumbling are 
sure to come again and again, till we are able to stand. As the Master 
said: "For it must needs be that the occasions come, but woe to that 
man through whom the occasion cometh ! " This being so we are wise, 
if we consider well how to meet these occasions, and we cannot do this 



CHARITY 339 

better than by finding a proper answer to this question: "How would 
the Master have us meet them?" 

We know very well that we are all failing in some way or other; 
but is anyone of us able to say who is the greater sinner? We cannot 
avoid seeing obvious failings, and the closer to our hearts the sinner is, 
the more we suffer from his mistakes. It is, or ought to be, a suffering 
of the same kind, though to an infinitely smaller degree, as the suffering 
of Christ, whe'n he, drawing nigh to Jerusalem, wept over the city. 
His were not the tears of judgment, but of charity. Let us see to it 
then, that our sorrow over a brother's failings is of the same nature; 
and let us always match the failings of others with our own, seeking 
virtues in each other, not deficiencies, and forgiving endlessly. 

Jesus spoke these very suggestive words to Simeon the Pharisee 
some 1900 years ago: "Her sins which are many, are forgiven, for 
she loveth much" ; and the Master still says just the same thing about all 
those who, though failing greatly, love Him much. Remembering this, 
and having our hearts filled with the Master's love, we shall be able to 
stand, when the temptation comes. Then, instead of falling through 
self-esteem, we shall look at a stumbling comrade with charity, and shall 
love him with that love which, in some cases, binds the tender heart of 
a mother even more closely to her prodigal son than to the son who 
never caused her a moment's anxiety. 

Therefore, if we have charity, and there be in our midst an erring 
brother, we shall love him, and our love may in time turn him from his 
ways. If one of our brothers is wronged, and we have charity, we shall 
defend him. There is no better way to do this than by shielding him 
with our love, letting the whole world see how we love and appreciate 
him. There is no shield stronger and more impenetrable than love; 
and the offender will feel this love, and be silenced. There is nothing 
for him to ward off, since no one attacks him. By disarming the 
offender with love, our love is shielding him, as well as ourselves, against 
the influence of such malevolent powers as are sure to be attracted, 
whenever we are indulging in a state of mind akin to their nature. Con- 
sidering this, we shall better understand the saying: "But whosoever 
smiteth thee on thy right cheek turn to him the other also." 

The Master Jesus said: "He that hath my commandments and 
keepeth them, he it is that loveth me"; and again: "This is my com- 
mandment that ye love one another, as I have loved you." As Christians 
we ought to live up to this commandment. And have we any right to. 
call ourselves Christians, if we daily act contrary to it? And to live 
up to it is not a matter of rites, customs, words, or sentiments. It is 
a conscious life, more real than physical life; it is the beginning of life 
eternal. If we earnestly strive to live this life, and have "charity" as 
our constant watch-word in the long and terrible contest with our lower 



340 THEOSOPH1CAL QUARTERLY 

natures, we shall in time find that there will be no opportunity for 
judging, no time for fault-finding, no room for feeling hurt, or for "just 
indignation." By constant meditation on the nature of Divine Charity 
we shall come to a deeper understanding of it; we shall learn to know 
how the Master wishes us to meet the trials of prosperity and of pride 
as well as those of misfortune and of vexation. 

This principle of charity does not apply only to moral feelings, it 
is just as applicable to intellectual blunderings and to cases of differing 
opinions. It is our right and duty to hold our own thoroughly consid- 
ered opinions on religion, on rites, on dogmas on all spiritual and 
material questions. But charity forbids us to try to force other people 
to accept our opinions. Eternal Truth has not as yet been unveiled to 
the world; we know only in part, and our knowledge shall "vanish 
away" when "that which is perfect is come." And that which is perfect 
is charity as a manifestation of Divine Love. To teach our fellow-men 
charity is, therefore, the true theosophical work. To do this is to help 
in spreading the teachings known as the Evangel of Love. 

But teachings which are not practised in daily life, are dead letters 
only; they are as "sounding brass" and cause the truth-longing heart 
to shrink, and to turn away in pain. This tragedy has been played for 
ages gone by, and it is our sad fate to witness it still every day. If we 
want to help in carrying out the Christian mission, we must live the life 
of the Christian, which above all means to practise charity according to 
this commandment of Christ : "Love one another, as I have loved you." 
By so doing and only then shall we become true Followers of Christ. 

T. H. KNOFF. 



SOME ASPECTS OF THEOSOPHY 



V 
THE VOICE IN THE SILENCE 

"Everyone is according to his faith, descendant of Bharata. 
For man is formed of faith; what his faith is, that verily is he." 
Bhagavad Gita (C. J. Ed.} xvii 3. 



"In a moment things which the imagination would take 
long to put together are unfolded to us, for it goes beyond all 
that we can understand here below. So does that Beauty and 
Majesty remain stamped upon the soul, that nothing can drive 
it from her memory. . . . Do you think it is of little im- 
portance for a distracted soul to understand this truth, and to 
know that she need not go to Heaven to speak with the Eternal 
Father, or to regale herself with Him? Nor need she speak 
aloud, for, however low she may speak, He is so near that He 
will hear us: neither does she require tvings to fly and see Him, 
but she can compose herself in solitude and behold Him within 
her self" St. Teresa of Avila. 



THE student of Theosophy is soon told of the existence of the 
Masters, those divine Helpers, Who, having progressed in Their 
own development, by an act of supreme self-sacrifice turn back 
to help others onward, epitomizing the lesson that the greatest 
work to be done is the giving of one's self. At first it may seem that 
there is no novelty in this, for it is what is said in all Christian churches. 
But there, as many of us have found, it is too often taken as a purely 
academic matter, an ideal that is never real, to say nothing of realized. 
It is surprising at first to have Christ's teachings accepted as simple, 
natural rules of practice and not as ideals impossible of attainment. 
This point-of-view explains why to the Christian student of Theosophy 
his faith is made vital and at last of abiding comfort by what he is taught 
from the very first of his connection with the T. S. 

Yet, accepting the Masters as Real and Helpers, to the student 



341 



342 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

comes the inevitable question: How do the Masters reach us to help 
us? There are many splendid passages in Theosophical books covering 
this point but at first they seem as mere words, as too many of us have 
regarded those teachings and explanations found throughout the New 
Testament; teachings and explanations so truly Theosophical that one 
perceives without verbal teaching that the holy writers thereof were 
mystics and members of a definite Order that we as beginners can 
recognize as somehow surviving in the T. S. though just how and why 
we do not understand. Yet as persons of sense and some mental train- 
ing we can not escape the force of the striking parallel. 

When I asked of my guide, philosopher and friend the question "How 
do the Masters communicate?" he began by telling me that They "func- 
tion in the fourth dimension." This, of course, came to me at first as 
meaningless. It is true that as a very small boy I had listened without 
understanding but enjoying the sound while my father discussed the 
fourth dimension with a naval officer, since a noted technical Professor, 
and with that gallant soldier, who by international reputation ranked 
as one of the world's greatest engineers and who was one of the leaders 
of the T. S. ; but the revival of a child's memories did not suffice. It 
required a different effort when I say one of "recollection" I shall sound 
contradictory to many, while to others I have made myself perfectly 
clear. 

Many things were then explained to me; more especially the 
physical aspect, so to speak, that while in the third dimension the 
Masters and their chelas might seem to us to be afar, yet in the fourth 
dimension They would be close at hand and that my submerged power 
of- functioning in the fourth dimension would slowly yet gradually 
emerge with my aspiration, work, devotion and faith and that the two 
latter were the more important factors. 

This never sounded of spiritism or legerdemain to me as I have 
found it does to some others, which fortunate fact is due to no special 
merit or ability or my own, but which I credit to the wisdom shown in 
teaching me. The policy was followed, laid down in Hebrews V. (one 
of the Epistles in which, it seems to the student, St. Paul is most direct 
as a teacher of Theosophy) and "milk, and not strong meat" was given 
me and, furthermore, I was fed with wise discretion so that I was given 
time to digest what I received. 

In passing ; it may be forgiven a new student to venture the opinion 
that much of the repulsion which so many unfortunately find in Theos- 
ophy (to their own great loss) is due to unwisdom in working alone 
when "Ye have need that one teach you again which be the first principles 
of the oracles of God" (does not that "again" remind one of St. Paul's 
preaching the doctrine of reincarnation, as set forth in Corinthians and 



SOME ASPECTS OF THEOSOPHY 343 

as used in the Burial Service?) or else to unwise teaching by which one 
received "strong meat" when "milk" was required. 

Furthermore, the warning of Light on the Path was often repeated : 
"The 'medium' or 'spiritualist/ who rushes into the psychic world 
without preparation, is a law breaker, a breaker of the laws of super- 
nature. Those who break Nature's laws lose their physical health; 
those who break the laws of the inner life lose their psychic health. 
'Mediums' become mad, suicides, miserable creatures devoid of moral 
sense " 

Even in such primary study as I am permitted to undertake I am 
taught to avoid sensation and to suppress psychic development and urged 
to seek for enlightenment solely on the spiritual plane. The sweet 
reasonableness, the utter sanity, the satisfying rationalism and the mar- 
vellous simplicity of occultism (which to me had savored of a child's 
tales of "magic" until I joined the T. S.) have been made clear to me. 

How the Masters could function in the fourth dimension remained 
more or less incomprehensible until one day in the lunch club my atten- 
tion was called to our shadows in the sunlight. The familiar illustration 
of the second dimension by the shadow on the wall was recalled to me. 
To the shadow length and breadth was comprehensible but the third 
dimension, height, unknowable. I might put my hand one one-millionth 
of an inch above the heart of that shadow and yet to it I would be an 
infinite (because incomprehensible) distance away. Yet to me in the 
third dimension it would seem as if my hand were laid upon the 
shadow's heart. To the shadow's understanding it would make no 
difference whether I was that one-millionth of an inch away or a million 
light-years distant. In either case I would be infinitely afar to it. 

Why not then believe that the Master may be near, striving to reach 
my heart, while to my understanding He may be infinitely afar and 
quite beyond my ken on the purely intellectual plane? 

I have recently talked over the matter of the fourth dimension with 
a man who is unconsciously a Theosophist at heart though not knowingly. 
He attends the meetings of the T. S. with a curiously (to him) mixed 
motive partly interested ; partly outraged. He is an engineer of 
scientific attainments. He would deny that he is at all Theosophical yet he 
is and strongly. He told me of Prof. Mitchell's illustration of the fourth 
dimension. 

As I gathered : in one dimensional space the point could ever move 
onward but to its understanding it would be utterly impossible to move 
off that straight line, for to do so, or to conceive of doing so, would 
involve the second dimension which it could not comprehend. In two 
dimensional space a circle circumscribed about the shadow would, to its 
comprehension, eternally confine it eternally, that is, to its accepted 
laws of the physical world ; and any shadow venturing the conception that 



344 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

the circle might be stepped over would be condemned as visionary, non- 
scientific, a creature of faith and not of reason. The "scientifically- 
minded" shadows simply could not understand, comprehend or explain 
how one could step over that limiting circle for that would bring in the 
third dimension in shadow phraseology, the Infinite. The proposition 
might be worked out by higher mathematics and the theoretical possibility 
of such freedom admitted, but to explain it practically to shadows worry- 
ing about what might be Beyond never ! 

So it is, as I take in the illustration, when a three dimensional being 
like any one of us ordinary mortals is put in a room and all the doors 
closed he can not even conceive how he can get out without opening a 
door or breaking down a wall (or in the larger aspects of life, escape 
from the physical trammels of our being without breaking a "law.") 
Yet to One functioning in the fourth dimension it would be as simple 
to escape from that room without opening a door or breaking a wall 
as it is for one of us to step over the circle to the absolute bewilderment 
of shadowland, where it would be said we had vanished or had been 
snatched up into a cloud. And in shadowland annals the fact would in 
time be called a tradition, then a myth and finally scientific nonsense. 
If one of us stepped back and forth occasionally those shadows who saw 
us would be regarded as visionary folk or liars except by shadows with 
intuitive comprehension ! 

This illustration which I have paraphrased and, perhaps, presented 
too argumentatively, satisfied my engineer as rational and as bringing 
out why we have such difficulty in accepting the fourth dimension. 
When he told it to me and quoted the Professor as using the closed room 
analogy I was filled with joy for it seemed to give at once a scientific 
explanation to what my brief incursion into the field of Theosophy had 
trained me to accept on faith : a "The same day at evening, being the first 
day of the week, when the doors were shut where the disciples were 
assembled for fear of the Jews, came Jesus, and stood in the midst, 
and saith unto them, Peace be unto you" (St. John xx, 19). 

It may be asked: Why, if this power to function in the fourth 
dimension exists, is it not more often used. Between my recollection 
and the help given me an answer has evolved which has given me 
comfort, which is my excuse for offering it to others. The Helpers 
want to help us in what counts and in what only and alone counts the 
development of our Souls. It is, practically speaking, axiomatic that it 
does not help to do for another the things that he should do for himself. 
Modern sociology and wise philanthropy recognize that it is ever hurtful^ 
never helpful, to pauperize. Pauperization of another is unfailingly 
harmful, be it on physical, mental, moral, or spiritual plane. As Light 
on the Path says: "A man who desires to live must eat his food 
himself: this is the simple law of nature which applies also to the 



SOME ASPECTS OF THEOSOPHY 345 

higher life. A man who would live and act in it cannot be fed like 
a babe with a spoon; he must eat for himself." 

A few years ago a broken bone was kept indefinitely in splints. 
Nowadays we have gone back to Nature and have adopted the "ambu- 
latory treatment," another name for self-help, to assure complete recov- 
ery. Gardeners do not support plants as they once did; the idea now 
is to develop stamina and cellulose by forcing the plants to be as self- 
supporting as possible. I hope I am a loving parent, yet I deliberately 
allowed my little ones to fall again and again while they were learning 
to walk and to run. Only yesterday the littlest one fell and actually 
drove gravel into his face and I laughed (outwardly that is, as he 
saw it) in order to help him in self-control. 

Now if we finite and most unwise beings have common (sublime?) 
sense enough to seek to develop "self-help" in plants, in pedagogics and 
in paupers (to use three alliterative illustrations out of a possible ple- 
thora) why should we arrogantly and egotistically deny to the Masters 
the possession of wisdom and common sense at least equal to our own ! 
May it not be significant that when Jesus did use His four dimensional 
power (the "body celestial" or spiritual) it was when his disciples were 
huddled together in fear and, presumably, in doubt, after His apparent 
defeat? It would seem to be a fair presumption that they were in 
doubt because for nearly 2,000 years the Western world has found great 
difficulty in being able to recognize that the refusal to use physical force 
in spiritual development (for on such would a temporal Kingdom of 
Christ have rested) was the very acme of Christ's wisdom in working 
for us and in our behalf. 

I am not wandering as far afield as some critics may think. I am 
seeking, and seeking with humility, I hope, firm only in the consciousness 
that I am being helped, to suggest to others the real comfort it has been 
to me to know that the Masters are trying to help me and are giving 
me all the help that I can stand and that I am ready for and that this 
conviction, this assured knowledge on my part, is not a dream, a 
phantasy, an imagined ideal, but is a hard, cold, every day fact and fact 
of Nature, with a satisfactory scientific base for the refractory minded 
to find comfort upon. 



This is my present state of mind, definitely reached by logical steps, 
as it seems to me. But I too pondered how could the Master speak 
to me, one of the countless children of His care ? How could the "Voice 
in the Silence" come to me? Prof. Elihu Thomson helped me on the 
road to some comprehension of this phase of occultism when I once 
asked him whether it was true that any receiving station anywhere 
within the radius of action of a wireless telegraph instrument could 



346 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

receive, or whether there was, so to speak, a "jump-spark" from one 
individual station to another and to no other. With the simplicity that 
marks his explanations of the most erudite problems he asked me if 
there was a church bell near my home. When I answered "Yes" he 
asked, "You can hear it two miles away to the south on a calm day?" 
"Yes." "Or two miles to the north? the east? the west? If there 
were men at each of these points they would all hear the bell, would 
they not? And would not each of the thousands you could get within 
the radius of the bell sound hear it if none of them was deaf?" 

So, it seems to me, may the Master work. He sends us His mes- 
sage ("seek, and ye shall find") and if we be not "dead" but are 
"attuned" we will receive it and translate it from its mystic code or 
spiritual significance into the language of our physical mind or terms 
of the third dimension. If a young Italian can accomplish the once- 
deemed scientific impossibility in the physical world of making etheric 
waves do work across 4,000 miles why should I doubt the power of 
Christ to reach me through any distance; against any difficulties? 
I know that no other Individuality in the western world's history has 
ever shown equal power. Starting His work on earth in a distant 
corner of the great Roman Empire; in a falling nation; in a decadent 
age; with a few obscure and seemingly ignorant men for his chosen 
disciples; He has yet been able to revolutionize the world and dominate 
the centuries. What if by the blindness of men His teachings have been 
obscured; the results He sacrificed Himself for not yet fully attained; 
did He not nevertheless demonstrate unequalled power: and if Marconi 
has triumphed as he has why should we question the power by which 
Christ tries to help us onward and to reach our hearts ? 



At first it is heart-rending to the beginner that what he can see so 
clearly he cannot express to another. Soon he realizes the wisdom and 
mercy of this law. For instance, in his ignorance, however enthusiastic 
and well-meaning he may be, he might be of hurt to another through the 
over expression of a single aspect of some manifold truth, giving the 
wrong emphasis or even the wrong impression. Besides, in occultism 
it is the immutable law that one must learn for oneself. Light on the 
Path has expressed this conclusively: ". . . the adepts in life and 
knowledge, who, seemingly giving out their deepest wisdom, hide in 
the very words which frame it its actual mystery. They cannot do 
more. There is a law of nature which insists that a man shall read 
these mysteries for himself. By no other method can he obtain them." 

The thought of this law comes back to me in connection with this 
effort to express something of what has been given me regarding the real 
"physical- fact" that the Masters do, and do because they actually can, 
communicate with us. 



SOME ASPECTS OF THEOSOPHY 347 

To present another aspect of the explanations I have obtained of 
how this communication may be established I am going to quote Prof. 
Thomson again (and again, I should say, without his permission). He 
once said that it is the present hypothesis among scientists that only the 
focus of the alternating current travels along the wire in an electric 
circuit. How comforting a thought this may be to the primary grade 
occultist I shall endeavor to show. 

While it is practically impossible for us to imagine ourselves func- 
tioning in the fourth dimension, yet it has been helpful to the newest 
student to believe that the theme or basic-expressed-ideal in a dynamic 
(inspirational) book is one of the "wires" carrying the focii of the 
currents alternating, or flowing from and to the Higher Powers and 
ourselves. Does this savor of "magic"? Be honest, is it any more 
"magical" than the magnetic hoists handling tons of pig iron by the use 
of a secondary force induced by a primary force which even the generator 
designers themselves do not pretent to understand truly? Which is the 
more reasonable to consider that Abraham Lincoln was inspired by the 
Masters or that "a poor white" self-generated his own genius? Certain 
combinations of words make up Light on the Path or Fragments. To 
one person they are uninteresting ; even meaningless : to another inspira- 
tional. To the latter they actually grow and glow that is live. Whence 
their power; if from themselves, why not then be inspired by the same 
words in a dictionary? Was it the ignorant actor or the busy courtier 
who wrote Shakespeare? What difference, why waste time in arguing 
before we decide whence came the inspiration? It is the current, not the 
wire that drives the motor. Explain a poet like Keats rationally tell 
me the real why that Wellington's mediocrity overcame Napoleon's 
genius; Grant's persistence Lee's strategy. After all what is simpler 
and truer and easier to accept than "the Voice in the Silence" ? 



It may also prove helpful to consider the analogy of wireless teleg- 
raphy. Religious feeling, devotion, self -sacrifice, prayer, the arousing 
of the higher nature, in placing us in communication with the Masters, 
may be considered as similar (and this is certainly the easier of the two 
to understand) to the "tuning" of a wireless receiver. The whole of the 
second "Comment" in Light on the Path will reward critical reading in 
seeking a better comprehension of this analogy. It is hard to omit 
quoting it all but I do want to quote one of its many prophetic pas- 
sages "... I hold that scientific men are the pioneers of modern 
thought. The days of literature and of art, when poets and sculptors 
saw the divine light, and put it into their own great language these 
days lie buried in the long past with the ante-Phidian sculptors and 
the pre-Homeric poets. The mysteries no longer rule the world of 



348 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

thought and beauty; human life is the governing power; not that which 
lies beyond it. But the scientific workers are progressing, not so much 
by their own will as by sheer force of circumstances, towards the far line 
which divides things interpretable from things uninterpretable. Every 
fresh discovery drives them a step onward. Therefore do I very highly 
esteem the knowledge obtained by work and experiment." And this was 
written down thirty years ago when wireless and radium, with all that 
they involve of progress towards the "far line" were not even figments 
of scientific imagaination ! 



It has also been taught me that there is a further rough analogy 
between our translating the Voice into thought and action and the effect 
of music upon us. A certain combination of notes in a certain order, 
force and time, when reproduced, will suggest to the hearer definite 
thoughts; paint visualizations upon the mind; inspire him to action, be 
it only the keeping of time with a tapping foot. This force has been 
recognized and utilized most effectively in those two most ancient sur- 
vivals of early Organization the Church and the Army. Even to a 
tone-deaf and musicless man certain airs will call up to him certain 
definite moods, feelings, recollections. Are the Masters more impotent 
than a fiddle or a drum? To the musically trained an improvisor can 
practically talk through notes and phrases, for he certainly can express 
what he wants to convey better than many people can with spoken words. 
Is Paderewski working with musical vibrations any easier to comprehend 
with full understanding than a Master speaking to us from afar? 



Still another rough analogy is the "reading" or receiving of a 
telegraph message. Morse designed his instrument to be read from lines 
traced on paper tape, but it soon proved that the dots, dashes and spaces 
were being "read" by ear. Next it was found that the letters were read 
as single mind-images and not as a group of detached sounds, and in the 
Phillips' code I am told that expert Associated Press operators now read 
and typewrite whole phrases without being conscious of the translation. 



Frankly, it is less wonderful to me to consider that Christ may 
communicate with me (if I will only let Him) than it is to review all 
that is involved as I now write, when, as a result of early teaching, later 
reading and experience, more teaching, giving me a vocabulary, I was 
eventually prepared to understand in part these teachings and to assimi- 
late them in some degree, and finally have sub-consciously directed my 
fingers to take up my pen and write these words down. Because all 



SOME ASPECTS OF THEOSOPHY 349 

this is commonplace is it any the less extraordinary? Considered wisely 
and widely does it strain credulity less than to believe that every impulse 
for good is an "impulse" from the Divine? Radio-activity is seemingly 
miraculous but after all is it any more wonderful in fact than the homely 
illustration of the smell of cheese reaching a mouse? 

Review the cases of mother-love and mother-sacrifice that you have 
known : remember the individuals involved as personalities commonplace 
on the whole were they not? Yet if such average, commonplace people 
could do so much for love why doubt what the Masters do or what we 
could do if only we would listen to the Masters. 

A young lady came to New York this winter from Europe. Wire- 
less telegraphy was a commonplace; aviation an old story; the telephone 
a fact accepted so early in life that she cannot remember a world without 
it and automobiling as natural as dressing. None of these were to be 
remarked upon. What did interest her, however; what was truly mar- 
vellous to her was the New York horse car last survival of an era 
almost forgotten by her host, who yet could recall the to him recent days 
when each of her accepted factors of ordinary, every day life was con- 
sider a "physical impossibility," a poet's fancy or a child's fairy tale. 

What is the fixed standard of the wonderful? 

Consider with clinical thoroughness a political meeting, a patriotic 
gathering, or even a mob, and try to explain all that happens and just 
why also ask yourself what it is fundamentally that causes any given 
individuality to respect any other. Am I getting too involved? I fear 
so, yet I cannot reproach myself too severely for my latest failure, for 
in this case, perhaps it will prove to the advantage of tyro readers (in 
the same stage as myself!) to work out these problems for themselves. 
I have found it helpful to struggle with them may it so prove to others 
and may they succeed where I fail. 

And it is now suggested to me to close with yet another analogy: 
"A small and insignificant key may open a large and important door; 
and, if the door be locked it cannot be opened without injury until the 
key be found and used." Perhaps this means that we must avoid in our 
studies a lower mind sense of proportion "and do our work as it comes 
to us, but be sure we do do it or the key may never be found." 

SERVETUS. 



POSTSCRIPT 

It is some time since I wrote the foregoing. It comes to me 
that in my endeavor to give to others something of what has been given 
to me I shall have failed utterly if I have placed too much emphasis 
upon the rationalism overlying the conviction that the mighty yet loving 
Helpers do help us daily; that the "Voice in the Silence" is real and 



350 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

potent. I have just changed to "overlying" the word "underlying" I 
first wrote. Perhaps this change, in a way, expresses exactly what I 
want to say in this Postscript. It was once said to me, "Remember 
always that before you can understand anything in occultism you must 
first believe it." If I have ranked reasonableness ahead of faith, as I 
can now see, I have not transmitted my teaching. Yet it is only to-night 
that I appreciate at all the significance of the warning; only now do I 
sense its truth. Apparently no one can take one step in Theosophy 
without faith. Reviewing the men of great intellect, strong reasoning 
powers and wide, true and thorough learning who are among the most 
active members of the T. S. I had lost sight of the fundamental point. 
I was in danger of ranging myself with those of whom it was said 
"O ye of little faith." To appreciate the emphasis placed upon faith as 
the fundamental by the great Master we Christians worship, look at 
the number of citations to the New Testament under the word "faith" 
in a Biblical Concordance. While Theosophy is founded upon Law; is, 
indeed, the Law itself all-including; the true union of purest science 
with serenest Religion, nevertheless, it seems to be the Law that the 
first step in it shall be Faith. You can not prove Mathematical Axioms 
but all proof of mathematics rest upon their acceptance. That great 
Theosophist, St. Paul, it comes to me, has summed this up for us in 
Galatians ii, 16: "Knowing that a man is not justified by the works 
of the law, but by the faith of Jesus Christ, even we have believed in 
Jesus Christ, that we might be justified by the faith of Christ, and not 
by the works of the law: for by the works of the law shall no flesh 
be justified." 

SERVETUS. 



THEOSOPHY AND SECULAR 
LITERATURE 



VII 

EMERSON'S JOURNALS 

"That which I cannot yet declare has been my angel from childhood 
until now. It has separated me from men. It has watered my pillow, it 
has driven sleep from my bed. It has tortured me for my guilt. It has 
inspired me with hope. It cannot be defeated by my defeats. It cannot 
be questioned, though all the martyrs apostatise. It is always the glory 
that shall be revealed; it is the 'open secret' of the universe; and it is 
only the feebleness and dust of the observer that makes it future, the 
whole IS now potentially in the bottom of his heart. It is the soul of 
religion. Keeping my eye on this, I understand all heroism, the history 
of loyalty and of martyrdom and of bigotry, the heat of the Methodist, 
the nonconformity of the Dissenter, the patience of the Quaker." 

EMERSON'S position, in the world of letters, is debatable. His 
Essays are found on every American bookshelf, even the small- 
est, as, we are told, Macaulay's writings are in Australia, be- 
cause he is thought to represent the American ideal and the 
aim of American practice: "His essential teaching," says Professor 
Norton, "has become part of the unconsciously acquired creed of every 
young American of good and gracious nature." The typical American, 
practical, school-educated, complacent, skims a few paragraphs, occa- 
sionally a whole essay, and draws thence ample justification for his 
utmost independence of thought and manner. On the other hand, a 
large number, the literary folk, those who know, and therefore wish to 
instruct, would refuse any consideration whatever to a claim made for 
Emerson in the world of letters; "A random pensman of the obvious," 
they would say, "uttering with provincial crudeness commonplaces of 
morality." Yet a few others, some reverent Quaker, or devout soul 
among the sects, finds Emerson's sentences luminous with wisdom and 
gentle with love; and in that rare worshipper's retreat, Emerson's head 
is hung on the wall along with Tauler's St. Teresa's, George Fox's, 
and Dante's. 

Three quarters of a century almost after the first delivery of his 
lectures, Emerson's Journals are now published. They bring the man 
and his work back as a subject of conversation, and offer opportunity 
for re-casting and correcting opinions about him. Perhaps the least 
presumptuous way of approach toward a right judgment of Emerson's 

351 



352 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

work, though it may appear the most presumptuous, will be in putting 
aside literary, and all other worldly standards, and in endeavoring to 
view his life as it appeared to the Master. Only by so doing, can a 
theosophist, at least, hope to get any ray of truth. 

What then is the significance of Emerson's life in the great scheme 
of things "the coming of the kingdom"? What did he do, between 
1830 and 1850 to hasten or retard it on earth? The Journals now 
published, make these questions less difficult to answer than do the formal 
writings. 

By 1830, the last ripples from the Lodge force of 1775 would seem 
to have spent themselves. Scott, Shelley, Keats, Wordsworth, Schiller, 
Goethe, had ended their work, practically, though several, Wordsworth, 
for example, had not yet ended their days. And splendidly had they 
done their work ! 

"They spoke, and loosed our heart in tears. 
They laid us as we lay at birth 
On the cool flowery lap of earth, 
Smiles broke from us and we had ease; 
The hills were round us, and the breeze 
Went o'er the sun-lit fields again; 
Our foreheads felt the wind and rain. 
Our youth return'd; for there was shed 
On spirits that had long been dead, 
Spirits dried up and closely furl'd, 
The freshness of the early world." 

They had gained knowledge of the inner world within the veil of 
sense and had learned that entrance to it lay through, and, also, 
away from, the world of Matter. Through the literary sense they 
had been led to the realities of life; magic and mystery which 
the rational mind of the eighteenth century had flouted, were again 
potent. Both in prose and verse, in Hoffman, Coleridge, and Richter, 
the supernatural and mysterious imagination peopled space with goblins, 
fairies, elves, demons and angels. Turning in weariness from the light 
of common day, these poets and prose authors had all aspired toward 
some other light "that never was on land or sea." Like Alastor, they 
had roamed and wandered to the bounds of space, to find the mild eternal 
radiance: and then, more fortunate than that unattaining youth, had 
discovered that the light they so eagerly and painfully sought, was al- 
ready shining every moment about them shining within and through 
the light of common day. And some of them, like Wordsworth, were 
able to accept the "meanest tasks of life" as opportunities through which 
the star of their souls could shine. Scarce one of them escaped the 
contagion of the French Revolution. They began with socialistic or 
anarchistic dreams of political reform, but, where death did not cut short 



THEOSOPHY AND SECULAR LITERATURE 353 

the development, all grew away from that early heat to recognise the divine 
necessity of ordered government, and that real reform is always of the 
heart. In spiritual content, the writings of the English group are the 
most noteworthy among the secular literature of England. 

Thus the Lodge force of 1775 had splendidly wrought! What can 
we see in movement in 1830, tending forward to 1875? First, the 
beginning of that earnest endeavor which was to revitalise the whole 
Anglican Church, leading it back from the intellectual realm of Protest- 
antism to the spiritual treasures of Catholicism. That movement took 
its initial impulse, so far as anything may be said to have an initial 
impulse, in a little volume of verse, published in 1827, John Keble's 
Christian Year. Keble the "hermit spirit" had distinguished himself 
as the most brilliant of a brilliant group of young scholars at Oriel 
College. When his period of residence there closed, he refused to con- 
sider the academic honors that were all within his reach, went down into 
a country parish as his father's curate, re-read his Greek poets, and the 
verses of Wordsworth and others, and began to write down verses of 
his own, inspired by the symbology of the Church. Keble was all his 
life a "hermit spirit." Yet his friends, who were all their lives waging 
conflicts with opponents, acknowledge that he was the real leader of the 
High Church or Oxford Movement. Newman, later, tells of the indebt- 
edness of his generation to Keble's verse. I quote Newman's passage 
entire, because it gives so vivid a picture of conditions within the Church 
in 1830. 

"Now the author of the Christian Year found the Anglican system 
all but destitute of this divine element, (poetry) ; a ritual dashed upon 
the ground, trodden on, and broken piece-meal ; prayers, clipped, pieced, 
torn, shuffled about at pleasure, until the meaning of the composition 
perished, and offices which had been poetry were no longer even good 
prose; antiphones, hymns, benedictions, invocations, shovelled away; 
Scripture lessons turned into chapters; heaviness, feebleness, unwieldi- 
ness, where the Catholic rites had had the lightness and airiness of a 
spirit; vestments chucked off, lights quenched, jewels stolen, the pomp 
and circumstances of worship annihilated; a dreariness which could be 
felt, and which seemed the token of an incipient Socinianism, forcing 
itself upon the eye, the ear, the nostrils of the worshipper; a smell of 
dust and damp, not of incense; a sound of ministers preaching Catholic 
prayers, and parish clerks droning out Catholic canticles ; the royal arms 
for the crucifix; huge ugly boxes of wood, sacred to preachers, frown- 
ing on the congregation in the place of the mysterious altar; and long 
cathedral aisles unused, railed off, like the tombs (as they were), of what 
had been and was not; and for orthodoxy, a frigid, unelastic, inconsist- 
ent, dull, helpless dogmatic, which could give no just account of itself, 
yet was intolerant of all teaching which contained a doctrine more or a 
doctrine less, and resented every attempt to give it a meaning, such 
was the religion of which this gifted author was, not the judge and 
denouncer (a deep spirit of reverence hindered it,) but the renovator, 

3 



354 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

as far as it has been renovated. Clear as was his perception of the 
degeneracy of his times, he attributed nothing of it to his Church, over 
which he threw the poetry of his own mind and the memory of better 
days." 

Thus, in 1830, within the Church, was sown the seed of a true 
Catholicism, a movement of which Pusey was the great champion, a 
movement still progressing. What was actually accomplished by Pusey 
and his friends is often lost sight of in questions about ritual, etc. that 
are subordinate. The great thing is that Pusey returned in doctrine, 
practically, to the Athanasian position, which holds of the Incarnation 
and Atonement that "He became man in order that we might become 
gods." * 

If we pass from Oxford to Cambridge, we find a second great 
movement of preparation, the scientific. From 1828 to 1831 Darwin 
was passing his Lehrjahre in the laboratories at Cambridge, and in 1831, 
he started in the S.S. "Beagle" on that long world voyage during which 
he collected, and observed, and pondered his hypothesis. The Catho- 
lic movement of Oxford and the scientific movement of Cambridge, 
came into antagonism later. But those antagonisms were personali- 
ties between the men who unconsciously worked for the great prepara- 
tion. The Masters behind the screen attained their end, notwithstanding 
animosities between men who dealt to one another the opprobrium of 
"irreligious." 

Thus much that is important can be seen in its incipiency in the 
third decade of the century. The actual conditions, however, seemed not 
encouraging. 

"Liberalism prevailed; it was the appointed force to do the 
work of the hour; it was necessary, it was inevitable that it should 
prevail. But what was it, this liberalism? It was the great middle- 
class liberalism, which had for the cardinal points of its belief the 
Reform Bill of 1832, and local self-government, in politics; in the social 
sphere, free-trade, unrestricted competition, and the making of large 
industrial fortunes; in the religious sphere, the Dissidence of Dissent 
and the Protestantism of the Protestant religion." 



* "He left us, but to be closer to us; He left us in Bodily Presence, but to be present 
still more nearly in Spirit; not without us any longer, as Teacher, Guide, Comforter, but, 
through that other Comforter, within us; withdrawn from our bodily sight, to fill our souls; 
no longer to be touched or handled by our hands, that His Spirit might be made manifest to- 
our spirit, that we might touch Him with the hands of our heart, feed on Him with the 
cravings of our spirit, see Him with the eyes of our mind, be enlarged to receive Him, and, 
being expanded, be filled with Him. and be one with Him and He with us." 

"Seek we Him in our thought, words, and actions. So, in all things, seeking Him, 
shall we at length find Him, and ourselves be found in Him; yea, He, who shall manifest 
Himself, more fully then, shall, according to His most true Promise, in earnest thereof, 
while hidden from the world, manifest Himself to them who are also hidden from the world 
in Him. He shall impart to us more of our true life, even Himself." 



THEOSOPHY AND SECULAR LITERATURE 355 

A modified form of Revolutionism, enlarged suffrage, etc., etc., filled 
the air with cries. Landor, the most important man in the literary arena 
was publishing the iconoclastic Conversations, flouting and buffooning 
Kings, Ministers and Priests, save the random few whom his capricious 
mind led him, in some queer way, to adore. Carlyle, toiling and moiling 
with the Sartor had not yet achieved success. 

It was into this world that Emerson came in the winter of 1832-3, 
seeking a Teacher.* Those whom he purposed seeing were Coleridge, 
Wordsworth, Landor, Carlyle. Coming up from Sicily where New- 
man was, at the same time, seeking health and kindly light, Emerson 
saw Landor first at Florence, and then passed northward, finally reaching 
the desolate moorland home at Craigenputtock, "the first visitor since 
Noah's flood," Mrs. Carlyle said. The meeting of the two men, each 
has vividly described, and for each it meant much. The friendly admira- 
tion of Emerson brought cheer into Carlyle's lamp-black days. Yet 
Emerson's journal entry, at the end of his European sojourn, and on 
the eve of embarkation for America, shows that his sought Teacher 
had not been found. 

"I thank the great God who has led me through this European 
scene, this last schoolroom in which he has pleased to instruct me, from 
Malta's isle, through Sicily, through Italy, through Switzerland, through 
France, through England, through Scotland, in safety and pleasure, and 
has now brought me to the shore and the ship that steers westward. 
He has shown me the men I wished to see, Landor, Coleridge, Carlyle, 
Wordsworth; he has thereby comforted and confirmed me in my con- 
victions. Many things I owe to the sight of these men. I shall judge 
more justly, less timidly, of wise men forevermore." 

Two weeks later, however, while still at sea, there is another entry, 
of great significance. It is the passage extracted and placed at the 
beginning of this article. It shows Emerson's ascent to primary and 
aboriginal knowledge, his "passage from a remote station on the circum- 
ference to the center of the world, where, as in the closet of God, we see 
causes, and anticipate the universe, which is but a slow effect." 

Emerson came back into the States full of his discovery that "There 
is one mind common to all individual men" and that "every man is an 
inlet to the same and to all of the same." As lyceum lecturer he began 



* "After being cabined up sea and by land, since I left home with various little people, 
all better to be sure and much wiser than me, but still such persons as did not help me, 
how refreshing was it to fall in with two or three sensible persons with whom I could eat 
my bread and take my walk and feel myself a free man once more of God's universe. Still 
these last were not instructors, and I want instructors. God's greatest gift is a Teacher, and 
when will he send me one full of truth and of boundless benevolence and of heroic sentiments? 
I can describe the man. I know the ideal well, but where is its real blood- warm counterpart? 
I know whilst I write thus that the creature is never to dawn upon me like a sunburst. 
I know too well how slowly we edge along sideways to everything good and brilliant in life, 
and how casually and unobservedly we make all our most valued acquaintances." 



356 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

at once to bring that, his one, doctrine to the consideration of his fellow 
countrymen. He journeyed to and fro in the States year after year, 
lecturing and sermonising. From the lecture notes he made the two 
series of Essays which appeared in book form, the first series in 1841 ; 
the second in 1844. 

As we read the Journals, now at last given out, and find sentence 
after sentence that in golden rhythm has vibrated in the memory, and the 
familiar and precious paragraphs of the Essays and addresses, we are 
led to a certain surmise as to the author. The Journals are the log-book 
of a Chela; they are part of the riches gathered from "the Infinity of 
Wisdom that issues from Meditation." From them the lectures and 
addresses were made, in cold blood, by deliberate "filling in" between 
portions in which there is a certain continuity of topic. And as those 
public performances were deliberately composed (Emerson had none 
of the literary egotism which so blinded Wordsworth that he was totally 
unable to distinguish between inspired verses and such as Peter Bell) 
for the sake of casting upon public ground the precious grain from his 
own garden, so, I believe, we must look upon Emerson's life. It was 
the giving up of private, individual gain in order to place before others 
some portion of the Infinite Wisdom. It was the incarnation of a Chela 
to further his Master's work. "For us men and for our salvation" 
Emerson brought Vedantin treasure to the West, and was made an 
American. 

A very brief consideration of the "flesh" that Emerson took upon 
him may show the reason for such an incarnation. Emerson's New 
England was Puritanism in persona. It was the spirit of the American 
Revolution, in its final stage; "the dissidence of dissent and the Prot- 
estantism of the Protestant religion" in quintessence, the eighteenth cen- 
tury in its last distillation Unitarianism. Writing from Baltimore in 
1843, where he says he heard with much content, High Mass in the 
Cathedral,* he says, "The Unitarian church forgets that men are poets." 
Unitarianism is product and triumph of mind. It leaves out of its 
reckoning all the higher principles in man. This form of dissent held 



Baltimore, 1843, January 7. 

* "This morning I went to the Cathedral to hear Mass, with much content. It is 
so dignified to come where the priest is nothing and the people nothing, and an idea for 
once excludes these impertinences. The chanting priest, the pictured walls, the lighted altar, 
the surpliced boys, the swinging censor, every whiff of which I enhaled, brought all Rome 
again to mind. And Rome can smell so far! It is a dear old Church, the Roman, I mean, 
and to-day I detest the Unitarians and Martin Luther and all the parliament of Barebones. 

"January 8, 1843. 

"To-day I heard High Mass at the Cathedral here, and with great pleasure. It is well 
for my Protestantism that we have no Cathedral in Concord; E. H. and I should be confirmed 
in a fortnight. The Unitarian Church forgets that men are poets. 

"The Catholic religion respects masses of men and ages. It is in harmony with nature, 
which loves the race and ruins the individual. The Protestant has his pew, which of course, 
is the first step *o a Church for every individual citizen, a Church apiece." 



THEOSOPHY AND SECULAR LITERATURE 357 

the public eye of America in Emerson's day as the creed of the most 
enlightened portion of the commonwealth. It was the reef toward which 
drifted many devout souls whose religious moorings had been broken, 
and in whom there yet remained some loyalty to the Master. As they 
were genuinely devout, they were unable to throw over all of Christianity 
as a monstrous lie or legend. To such people, full of "intellectual diffi- 
culties," Pusey's revived Anglicanism was an impossible heaven it was 
only the Roman superstition under a new name. Starving with hunger 
they snatched the Unitarian crust, in a futile endeavor to satisfy the soul's 
craving for God by patriotic admiration of a distinguished member of 
the human race. 

It was to these souls, genuinely devout, that Emerson spoke, and 
led them away from the triumphs of modern civilization to the Lonely, 
Original and Pure.* He adopted American vernacular in order to point 
a few Americans away from the ash and lava fields of Americanism to 
the lovely vales of the spirit. His great Master had earlier used the 
familiar phrases and catchwords of the Jews in order from that Jewish 
multitude to gather together a small band of disciples who might study 
the mysteries of the Kingdom. So Emerson, with subtle wisdom, dealt 
out to protesting Americans their most obstreperous doctrines of self- 
reliance and independence, yet with such skill as to enclose a seed of true 
wisdom that might happily germinate. 

His writings are thus as esoteric as any Scripture. The larger 
number of his readers are as far from being his followers as Christians 
are from Christ's, and, in great measure, altogether lose Emerson's teach- 
ing. It is the limitations of his New England "flesh," his mental preju- 
dices, his Americanism, that form, as Professor Norton says, the ideal 
of American youth. Emerson's teaching, if it could be openly expounded, 
would be scornfully repudiated by Americans. For it is the old, old 
teaching of the Ancient East, the Orientalism which America is proud 
to have outstripped, the doctrine that strenuous outer activity alone is 
of no intrinsic worth since "we are begirt with spiritual laws which 
execute themselves." 

I have said that the familiar and precious sentences that Emerson 
joined together to make the Essays were, in good part, first written down 
in the Journals. But there is also much here that is unfamiliar. And 
there is the same felicitous, laconic, epigrammatic phrasing which made 
the old words unforgettable. I extract a few entries: 



* "The face of external nature teaches the same lesson with calm superiority. Nature 
will not have us fret and fume. She does not like our benevolence or our learning, much 
better than she likes our frauds and wars. When we come out of the caucus, or the bank, 
or the Abolition convention, or the temperance meeting, or the Transcendental club, into the 
field and woods, she says to us, 'So hot? my little sir.' " 



358 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

"Unpalatable must be always the argument based upon the text, 
'If ye do my Father's will, ye shall know of the doctrines,' and almost 
incapable of being used in conversation. It is felt as a personality." 

"To an instructed eye the universe is transparent. The light of 
higher laws than its own shines through it." 

"We are always getting ready to live, but never living," 

"He that has once pronounced intelligently the word 'Self-renounce- 
ment,' 'Invisible Leader,' 'Powers of Sorrow,' and the like, is forever 
bound to the service of the superhuman." 

"God brings us by ways we know not and like not into Paradise." 

"Blessed is the day when the youth discovers that Within and 
Above are synonyms." 

"Sects fatten on each other's faults." 

"The truest state of mind, rested in, becomes false. Tho