COMMENT
JULY 1912
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.
THE Annual Convention of The Theosophical Society, a report
of whose proceedings is contained in this number of THE THEO-
SOPHICAL QUARTERLY, was reminded by the Chairman of the
Executive Committee that The Theosophical Society is the
spiritual organ of humanity. The members were asked to keep in mind
that we had Mme. Blavatsky's clear assurance, held with full conviction
by many, that The Theosophical Society is an expression and an instru-
ment of the Theosophical Movement; and that this Movement is a
continuous spiritual force, a continuing spiritual effort, which has had
its differing outward expression in a long series of past centuries, and
is destined to express itself, in some fitting instrument, in all future
ages.
If we recognize the truth and justice of this, if we take Mme.
Blavatsky's statement not so much as a dogmatic assertion but rather
as a most illuminating guide and clew, and look into the matter for
ourselves, we shall be prepared to realize that, in each century the
Theosophical Movement has had its proper activity and expression, has
formed its own instrument, exactly adapted to the need and character
of that age.
The records are defective; in many cases, those who have had the
handling of them and who have not yet realized the benign purpose and
destiny of the Theosophical Movement, have not so dealt with the
records as to make them easy to decipher. Perhaps there has even
been voluntary mutilation and confusion. And there has been another
power at work, whose importance we are singularly well placed to real-
2 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
ize, since in our own time its influence has been overcome, for the first
time in many centuries.
We have been told by Mme. Blavatsky, and many of us, taking her
word as guide, have verified the law for ourselves, that, in the last
quarter of every century the eternal Theosophical Movement finds its
outer expression, its instrument, through which the spiritual powers
work, to meet the spiritual need and hunger of the time. And we have
likewise been told that, century after century, under the pressure of the
closing cycle of the years, that expression, that instrument, has been
broken, going to pieces altogether, or remaining like a wreck on the
shoals and sandbanks of time. In our day, for the first time in many
centuries, in spite of storms and tempests and hurricanes, in spite of
wars and convulsions and attacks, the outer organ and expression has
held together, thanks to the blessing of the spiritual powers, to the
increasing spirituality of mankind, and to the advance of cyclic time,
which has brought this victory as divine first fruits of still greater vic-
tories to come.
In a certain sense, all the great spiritual religions of humanity are
expressions of the Theosophical Movement. Mme. Blavatsky made this
convincingly clear, in an article reprinted in the last number of THE
., THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY. They are that, and something more, as
f **f* }Q they are the expression of deep spiritual forces and powers lying at the
very heart of things, and concentrated and brought through to our world
by the DIVINE MEN, the Avatars, who, having long ago safely forded
the river of death, have in their deep compassion, left the security of
the further shore, to return again through the river to this our world,
seeking to lead humanity through the dark, mysterious waters.
i
Each of the great spiritual religions, therefore, as Mme. Blavatsky
taught us, has the Divine Man, the Avatar, at its heart; and in this way
differs from all other and lesser manifestations and expressions of the
Theosophical Movement. But among these lesser expressions are to be
reckoned many efforts and impulses, made century after century, to
cleanse the great religions, and restore them to their pristine purity and
power. And, in the last analysis, these cleansing and restorative efforts
go back, in each religion, to the Divine Man, the Avatar, who stands at
the head and source of that religion, and of whose spiritual conscious-
ness it is intended and destined to become the expression and outward
embodiment.
Mme. Blavatsky and her august Eastern co-workers made this
abundantly recognized in the case of the religions in India. She showed
that Siddhartha the Compassionate bore his title of Tathagata, "he who
NOTES AND COMMENTS 3
has come like those before him," because he was indeed "the successor
of the Arahat Buddhas of old." The religious movement of which he
was the center was not a "new" religion; it was the return to the old
religion which inspired the Upanishads, the religion whose mystical
Masters were drawn from the race of the Red Rajputs, the Warrior-
Kings of the great plain of Western India. There was a single spiritual
current, largely fed by the aspiration and effort of that race, but having
its divine counterpart in the spiritual world, like the fable of "the
heavenly Ganges ;" and from this single stream were drawn the purifying
waters of life, for which the Buddha labored, with such splendid suc-
cess, to create a great and enduring reservoir.
We also learned, from Mme. Blavatsky and her august fellow-
workers, that the effort, of which the historical founding of Buddhism
was an expression, by no means ceased when Siddhartha was translated,
but was and is a continuing effort, the spiritual powers of which are
symbolized by what are known as the divine re-incarnations in Tibet,
the series of which Tsong-ka-pa has been cited as the greatest and
most completely successful. There have been, and will continue to be,
other movements to conserve and purify the spiritual life of Buddhism,
in each of the great Buddhist lands: in Burma, Siam, Ceylon, China
Korea, Mongolia, Japan. And each of these has had, and must ever
have, one defined purpose and goal: to bring the spiritual thought of
that time and land closer to the first ideal, to the continued spiritual
vision of the Divine Man, the Avatar, who first gave it birth.
We cannot consider Mahommed to have been an Avatar of the
stature of the Buddha, nor was his teaching a mystical and spiritual
revelation in the fullest sense. Yet he and his teaching had their divine
elements, their vision of the invisible: most of all, their valiant accept-
ance of the Will of God. Islam means the peace of acceptance, the
divine peace that passes all understanding. But we can see the working
of the hidden power, the bursting forth of the hidden streams of life,
in many mystical movements which arose within the boundaries of Islam,
even though they were not logical outgrowths of Mahommed's thought
and life. There have been such outgrowths in many of the lands of
Islam, in Arabia, in Persia, among the Moslems in India and even
China, and in our own day there are signs of such a movement among
the Turks.
Take, for example, the mystical movement of the Sufis, the most
spiritual, perhaps, that Islam has yet produced. The conquering Mos-
lems overthrew the old Persian kingdom and banished the Zoroastrian
faith, with its ancient mystical life which goes back to the same source
as the Vedic hymns of Ancient India. The Moslems almost perfectly
4 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
succeeded in destroying and burying the old Persian wisdom-religion,
and filling its place with the new teachings of the Koran. But Zoroas-
trianism had its revenge. Like captive Greece, it led captive its rude
conqueror. The spirit of the vanished religion breathed itself into the
conquering faith, giving to Mahommedanism a mystical lining which
has vivified it ever since.
One might find a parallel in the way in which, in the so-called Neo-
Platonism, the ancient wisdom-religion of Egypt sought to breathe its
life into third-century Christianity, which threatened to become too nar-
row, too dogmatic, too much a return to older Judaism, and to fall too
far short of the living ideal of its Avatar- Founder. And one might
point to many elements and inspirations in these first teachings which
are the very life and spirit of most ancient Egypt, and had their antetype
in that far earlier Avatar and Divine Man whom we know as Osiris.
In one sense, the teaching of Jesus was a new outbreathing of the pris-
tine wisdom of Egypt, just as the teaching of Siddhartha the Buddha
was a new expression of the earliest divine teaching of the King-
Initiates of India. And in one sense we may say that one mystical
movement after another, of those that sought to purify Christianity
from the corruptions of the times, was a new outbreathing of the first
ideal spirit, a movement of return toward the Avatar, the Divine Man,
its source.
So, in many ways, from many lands, in many ages, we seek to
illustrate the working of the vast, world-old, world-wide Theosophical
Movement: the spiritual current in human life. And we do this, in
order to understand and define more clearly the true and magnificent
function of The Theosophical Society, which is intended and destined
to be the effective instrument of that spiritual current; to be, therefore,
the spiritual organ of humanity. If time and space permitted, and our
knowledge of cyclic law and the great rhythmic harmonies of the races
sufficed, we could show in detail, with reference to century after cen-
tury, to one epoch and phase of civilization after another, that the same
want never exactly repeats itself, the same spiritual need never arises
twice, in just the same way. It follows from this, first, that the Theo-
sophical Movement is never called on to repeat itself, to do a second
time exactly the same thing in just the same way; it follows, in the
second place, as cyclic change brings ever new needs, as the great
treasure of human consciousness brings forth things old and new, that
a repetition of an old curative and restorative process, to meet a wholly
new need and condition, would be not only ineffective but impossible.
The need calls forth the required expression of the Theosophical Move-
ment. The spiritual demand directs the spiritual supply.
NOTES AND COMMENTS 5
We have suggested that the present is different from all past cen-
turies in this: that the organ created by the Theosophical Movement
in that period of external expression which began in 1875, has survived
into the new century, and continues to gather new life, to make healthy
and inspiring progress. This was not the case a century ago, with the
movement inaugurated by Martinez Pasquales, St. Germain, Cagliostro
and Louis Claude St. Martin. The instruments they sought to create,
whether Masonic or mystical, broke to pieces in their hands; broke so
completely, that only distorted fragments of their history remain, from
which harsh, unjust, wholly misleading conclusions are too often drawn.
But, where the movement of the eighteenth century, like so many
of its predecessors, failed, the movement of the nineteenth century has
succeeded. The Theosophical Society, the organ formed by that move-
ment, survives, grows, gathers strength, manifests its genuine life and
power. As the spiritual organ of humanity, it has a high destiny: first
to discern, and then to supply, from year to year, nay, from hour to
hour, the instant needs of mankind, and first of all, as the key to all,
the spiritual needs, the needs of the spiritual man. Each century, each
quarter-century, each decade, each year, each day, has its own special
import, its own special want. It is the high destiny of The Theosophical
Society, as the spiritual organ of humanity, first wisely to discern these
changing needs, and then valorously to supply them.
During the last three months The Theosophical Society has lost by death
two valued and esteemed members, Dr. W. A. R. Tenney and Mr. J. D. Bond.
Dr. Tenney was for years one of the most active, self-forgetting and effective
members of the Cincinnati Branch, one of those who, at a critical time, infused
new energy into the Branch, and gave it a new lease of life. Dr. Tenney was
justly esteemed, and held a high place in the life of his community; he had the
gifts and tastes of a student ; he was wholly forgetful of himself, when he saw
an opportunity to help another. Mr. J. D. Bond, a veteran of the Civil War,
died full of years and after a long term of service in the ranks of The Theosophical
Society. He was one of the builders and inspirers of the Branch at Fort Wayne,
and the gentleness of his character, his impersonal serenity, his clear devotion
to the highest principles, left a permanent impress on the work, and on the
hearts of his fellow-workers. In later years, Mr. Bond travelled much, living in
California, in the Hawaiian Islands, even making a tour round the world, by way
of New Zealand and Ceylon, so that many had an opportunity to learn and value
the sweetness and fine serenity which were the dominant qualities of this old and
esteemed worker. C. J.
FRAGMENTS
MEN have been taught to regard religion as set over against
the world, and that the world and the things of the world
must be surrendered; making of life a dual thing. Theoso-
phy insists upon essential unity; declares that all duality
is an appearance only one of the snares of Mara and though never
attempting to deny the appearance on the contrary, accepting it on its
own plane, and allowing and providing for it there asserts that life is
misunderstood until this fundamental truth is fully accepted. Its realiza-
tion belongs to the second birth, "the birth from above," when the
mortal has put on some measure of immortality, and so may have con-
sciousness of the laws and conditions of an immortal world.
Personal life, when mistaken or sinful, has to be given up in many
of its expressions, until those expressions, purified and understood, can
be experienced as expressions of the soul. This giving up, however, is
in reality only temporary, and in order that we may possess more fully
and truly later on.
The Master did not come to take things away from us, but to give
them to us; "I am come that they might have life, and that they might
have it more abundantly." He set the sword of His division between
the world and the spirit, until such time as man shall see that the world
is but an expression of the spirit; that happiness personal happiness
lies in obedience to the laws of the spirit; until, in other words, the
Kingdom of God shall come in our hearts. Then there is peace ; and man
enters again the Garden of Eden from which disobedience drove him
forth. Then the lion and the lamb shall lie down together, and the
desert shall blossom as the rose; and he who has become as a little child
shall live in the midst. Dear vision of Paradise! Man has never
lost it and never shall, until some day its reality is ours, when by the
path of obedience we return whence we came.
All that God created was "good," and He created all things, in
Heaven above and in earth beneath, and in the waters under the earth.
Therefore Nature in all her phases is divine, an expression of God, an
incarnation of God, because essentially one with the spirit of God, and
perfectly obedient to His law. But only to the pure in heart is the
vision of God assured.
FRAGMENTS 7
The attainment of self-consciousness, God's greatest and last gift
to man, necessitates the action of free will; and so man experiments
with Nature, misunderstanding and degrading and befouling her, and
then turns in wrath upon the deformities he has created. It is, however,
only in the sphere where his limited degree of consciousness operates,
that this has occurred; great Nature herself remains uncontaminated,
and in time filters even his evil to the sweetness of her own eternal
purity.
For evil has no existence of itself, even as mind has no existence
of itself. Mind is the creator of evil, and both are essentially non-
existent the great delusion. Mind is but a point in consciousness,
consciousness limited rather than universal. The man's mind marks
the content or limitation of his consciousness; so that while the action
of the mind on this plane is positive, it is, in and of itself, negative,
and can be made truly positive only as it becomes an expression of spir-
itual will. For Occultism defines mind as the resultant of the action and
re-action of the spiritual will (Buddhi) upon the various planes of the
psychic world, and maintains that man has to travel by the law of cyclic
progression, along the pathway thus cleared, back to consciousness
itself; self-consciousness having been gained in the process, since con-
sciousness has seen itself reflected in the mirror of the lower worlds.
One may travel the way to the Path by means of knowledge,
for knowledge will lead to love. But he who can love is on the Path
already, since God is Love, and in loving we hold God by the hand.
CAVE.
THEOSOPHY AND SECULAR
LITERATURE
VIII
THOMAS CARLYLE
"The hero is he who lives in the inward sphere of things,
in the True, Divine, and Eternal, which exists dlways, unseen
to most, under the Temporary, Trivial."
IN Christ's parable of Dives and Lazarus, the rich man, in torment,
beseeches the All-ruling Father to send Lazarus on an errand of
mercy back into the world in order that the brothers of Dives may
be converted from their sins. The All-Father makes an unqualified
refusal to the prayer: "If they hear not Moses and the prophets,
neither will they be persuaded, though one rose from the dead." The
wisdom of Father Abraham's refusal has significant justification in our
own day. Our perverse Western generation is like those children of
the Jewish market-place who would neither dance with the pipers nor
lament with the mourners. It has distorted past credibility its own
natural religion I mean Christianity. It superciliously refuses to re-
ceive from the meditative East the teaching which makes Western
ambitions seem so petty. It brands as outworn garments, "Mediaeval-
ism," those sporadic appearances of the true faith among monks and
nuns and kings of the European realms. It asks for some one to rise
up and teach in a dialect that is understandable of the people, less alien
to Western thought than the form in which Eastern teachings are
clothed. It asks for some prophet who will take the West as it is, and
lead it by its prejudices, through them, to truth. Thomas Carlyle is just
such a prophet. In his case, Father Abraham would seem, for once, to
have relented, in order to send to men just the teacher they could fol-
low. Carlyle speaks to the matter-of-fact West in no outlandish jargon.
He has no fine dogmas of Karma and Reincarnation for which he is
proselytising. He does not startle the busy West by telling it to stand
still in order to contemplate and behold the power of God. He does
not glorify a distant East that seems squalid at the expense of a present
West that knows itself luxurious. He speaks to his contemporaries and
to us in exactly our own terms. He drives us, who are absorbed in out-
ward action, more energetically into action: he does not say stop work-
ing, but he says "man's actions here are of infinite moment to him, and
never die or end at all." And with all sincerity, he urges men to act
vigorously : "Produce ! Up ! Up ! Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do,
THEOSOPHY AND SECULAR LITERATURE 9
do it with thy whole might." Yet his generation does not heed him.
And Father Abraham grimly repeats the old words : "neither will they
be persuaded though one rose from the dead."
One would think that those who halt at Carlyle's message, might,
at the least, believe him "for the very works' sake." By works, I mean,
of course, the great aggregate that is made up of many single acts and
words and thoughts a man's life. Who, but those wilfully blind, can
behold, unmoved, the fascinating picture of Carlyle's life, and the splen-
dor of his achievement? Carlyle rubbed away at the dull facts of actual
environment until through them he made the Ideal shine. His life is
thus a tissue shot with gold. His biography shows the commonplaceness
of life heightened to romance. What humor plays around the affection-
ate mother, who takes two days from her milking and washing to write
her admonitory letter to the son in Edinburgh. "Mind your chapters,
Tom," she writes, "and when you have finished the Bible, read it over
again." What a catastrophe when Tom, that darling boy, makes a short
trip to the dreadful French capital ! Margaret Carlyle closes the blinds,
and darkens her house, represses all laughter and levity in the family,
and the little Scotch cottage enters upon fasting and prayer for Tom's
preservation from Parisian wickedness. Carlyle felt a little squeamish
about sending home the translation of Wilhelm Meister; but his mother
was too saturated with Old Testament harlotries to balk at modern
Aholahs and Aholibahs. How quaint that family circle assembled to
determine "Tom's" future. The child at seven had been reported "com-
plete in English" by the Ecclefechan Mentor, and the family was rash
enough to deliberate before taking the next step for the boy. Relatives
and village friends shook heads and fingers, for the parents' words and
looks, guarded as they were, showed desire, on their part, that the lad
should have more "learning;" which the gossips of Ecclefechan declared
would ruin him. But the prayerful father and mother gain their desire,
and start the boy on the pathway of "learning" that leads to the Kirk.
How brave the ninety mile walk of that thirteen year old boy to "learn-
ing" to the university at Edinburgh, on home-made cheese and bread!
There is an impulse in all of us that drives some backward to a
far-off Golden Age in the Past, while others it sends afield, to seek in
alien lands, fairer manners and purer customs. Thus, if we are Ameri-
cans, we turn away from present-day noise and vulgarity, to follow the
lure of milder life in Italy or England. Or, if we are middle-aged, and
life is prosaic, we turn, with longing and regret, to the romance of
childhood, reading children's books with delight in fairy lore. But if
we succeed in reaching the ivoried satin of Elizabeth's England and
Lorenzo's Firenze, we discover that the companions we have long
sought, and to whom we have now joined ourselves, are, in their turn,
aloof from their fellows, and are journeying backward toward a
remoter past and to vanished treasure. "The age of the Saints," we
io THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
exclaim, thinking of Dante and Francis and Catherine. Yet, Dante, in
anguish, mourns for the time before Constantine made the "great dona-
tion." Skeptics and scoffers call this impulse "the fallacy of tne else-
where." But it is genuine aspiration, not fallacy. And, in time, if we
are persevering, we discover that the "elsewhere" we seek, though it
untravell'd world, whose margin fades
For ever and for ever when we move,
is, nevertheless, close at hand, and that the entrance lies within us,
through gates of gold. So, too, with the romance of childhood. We feel
as we read those enchanting books, that it is not actual childhood that is
pictured and that these books are not for any children we know; for
the children we know all desire to be "grown up." If our longing for
enchanted youth is sincere and deep, the truth comes to us that our
true ideal childhood is a thing not past but of the future, when we shall
have returned from exile to the happy home-circle of our Father. Car-
lyle's experience at Edinburgh illustrates this universal truth. Some of
us, to-day, wonder at the superficiality and stupidity of American educa-
tional institutions; we can find very little in their methods and curricula
that justifies the name educational. With eyes directed across the water
we allude to riper and wiser culture. Yet Carlyle's words about the Uni-
versity of Edinburgh, a century ago, startle by their similarity to the
words that some of us are now saying about American universities.
"We boasted ourselves a rational university; in the highest degree, hos-
tile to mysticism ; thus was the young vacant mind furnished with much
talk about progress of the species, Dark Ages, prejudice and the like."
Yet, because he sincerely desired wiser teaching than that given by the
university, Carlyle found it within him; as we may all find our Golden
Age or ideal (whatever it is) within the spacious inner realm.
Until 1830, Carlyle's outer life was a testing and a struggle. Inwardly
he had already won victories. But he was not able to bridge over the
inner and outer life until he set to work upon Sartor Resartus. In the
years up to 1830 he tried school-mastering, law, and finally magazine-
writing. For a time the "Kirk" had seemed his aim; but the deepening
of his religious life led him away from it, and finally, through an omis-
sion to leave a written sermon and a candidate's fee with some theo-
logical secretary, his postulancy ended. There was no scandal or heresy
complaint. He quietly dropped from the ranks, unnoticed save by those
at home. He struggled successfully against poverty and almost constant
ill-health. He read much in French literature, and from that began to
study German, led by Mme. de Stael's book L'Allemagne. He made the
acquaintance of Jane Welsh, directed her reading and thinking, and
later married her. His acquisition of the German language and litera-
ture became his stock in trade, and for ten years brought him in what-
ever money he had. For magazine editors and publishers, he made trans-
THEOSOPHY AND SECULAR LITERATURE 11
lations of German Romances, and wrote biographies of German authors.
In a period of temporary prosperity he was married to Miss Wels-h who
admired and loved him. They tried life in Edinburgh, but finally, were
driven by the "wolf" back to a dreary little moorland estate that Miss
Welsh had inherited from her father. Here he continued to write arti-
cles, helped along in their publication by Jeffrey of the Edinburgh
Review who was a relative of the Welsh family. The thing that attracted
Carlyle in German literature was the mystical element especially the
symbolism of Goethe's Faust. In his essays he endeavored to direct
the attention of his countrymen to this spiritual content of the German
writers. His realisation of the inward sphere of things, his belief in the
infinite nature of duty, all his teaching is found in these early essays.
But it is not expressed in the characteristic and vivid form that he later
made for himself. His style is still, from the editor's point of view,
perfectly "safe." But his writing would be "safer," if the expression
of that mysticism were qualified, if the religious ardor were modified,
if greater regard were given to the political interests of the hour. Jef-
frey was going to retire from the Review. His recommendation would
be sufficient to place his successor. He felt very friendly toward Car-
lyle. Carlyle was miserably poor. Jeffrey told Carlyle of his good
intentions, and advised Carlyle to place his great talent at the service
of the party that controlled the Review. To persist in writing about
mysticism, Jeffrey urged, would be mere selfishness. Similar offers,
temptations, came to Carlyle later, always at periods of great financial
strain. His reply was always the same: "If I had but two potatoes in
the world and one true thought, my duty would be to exchange one
potato for ink and pens, and to live on the other till my thought was
written."
Sartor Resartus was Carlyle's task from 1830 to 1833, first to get
it written, then to get it published. Essentially, it is as clear as any other
writing on spiritual wisdom, and, also, just as unintelligible. The fact
that many deem it "mad" is due to Western methods of education,
which give to all people the ability to recognize written words while they
remain altogether ignorant of the truths which those words symbolize.
Like other spiritual treatises, the book Sartor Resartus is concerned with
two things: to set forth the wonder and beauty and immortality of the
inward sphere of things and to point out to aspirants the path that
leads thither. It is written from the heart, it is the experience of one
who had travelled the path. It is, therefore, profoundly religious, and
will illumine for any one who studies it with sincerity the two great
duties of life toward God and one's neighbor. But, though the ground-
thought and plan of Carlyle's work is familiar and simple, one very
large element of the book makes it, to many not only obscure, but also,
offensive. This element is its humor. Carlyle "is a humorist from his
inmost soul; he thinks as a humorist, he feels, imagines, acts as a
12 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
humorist." Sport is the element in which his nature lives and works.
During the period of preparation, he had written sober and serious
essays that could shock not even the gravest of men. But with the
attainment of full vigor there comes mirthful frolic. He takes those
facts of spiritual science which he wishes to communicate, and embales
them in the most fantastic wrappage. He frolics with tumultuous, gro-
tesque pleasantry.
It was his own progress and mishaps along the Path that Carlyle
wished to describe. At first, he tried to put this experience in the form
of a novel, but, after a few chapters, that plan was abandoned. Then
he wrote a long essay, calling it Clothes, "a mad thing glancing from
heaven to earth in satirical frenzy." His strange title was suggested
by a simile in one of the Psalms: "They shall perish, but thou shalt
endure : they all shall wax old as doth a garment ; and as a vesture shalt
thou change them, and they shall be changed; but thou art the same,
and thy years shall not fail." That essay was unacceptable. He took it
back from editors, revising and enlarging it. The present Book II of
Sartor Resartus is the autobiographical material that was to have
formed the novel. It describes Carlyle's struggle and victory. In Book
III, there are set forth his beliefs about government, nature, society,
the Church, in a word, man's duties. The first book serves as intro-
duction, and is a piece of delicious foolery. Carlyle is well known as a
critic and biographer of German authors. In this capacity, he makes
mention of a queer volume that has come to him from Germany, pre-
sented by its author, a book that treats of The Philosophy of Clothes.
Carlyle gives many extracts from the book, some grave, some whimsical,
to show what an unusual volume it is. These extracts are interspersed
with his reminiscences of the author who is a "Professor" of "Things
in General" at a German university. Carlyle's own comment on the
Professor and the book runs playfully along with these extracts and
reminiscences. He takes the reader into his confidence, and acknowl-
edges that the larger part of the book is mere rubbish, "a mad banquet,
wherein all the courses had been confounded, and fish and flesh, soup
and solid, oyster and sauce, lettuces, Rhine-wine and French mustard,
were hurled into one huge tureen or trough." Nevertheless a vein of
gold runs through the waste, and Carlyle undertakes to dig out this gold
for others. But, as he proceeds in the study of the volume, its con-
tents grow more difficult, almost enigmatical, and he feels that for
further understanding of the work, some knowledge of the Professor's
life is needed. Just at this point, certain biographical material, promised
by a friend of the Professor arrives from Germany and comes into Car-
lyle's hands. But to his great disappointment and perplexity, this bio-
graphical material is nothing but unarranged scraps of notes, bundled,
without any arrangement into six paper bags, that are marked with
Zodiacal signs.
THEOSOPHY AND SECULAR LITERATURE 13
Thus ends the first book which is introductory. The second book
is Carlyle's spiritual autobiography. The bare outward facts of. mate-
rial existence are not given. Instead, there is the much more interest-
ing record of what he made of outward facts their spiritual import.
Take the matter of birth, for example, and the genealogical data therein
involved in an ordinary biography. Carlyle makes his birth a much
deeper thing than that : it is not a thing of flesh and blood but a separa-
tion and descent, as it were, from the true Father in Heaven; it is a
loan to foster parents (our foster mother, earth, Wordsworth says)
and will in time be required back again with recompense or penalty.
This descent of spirit into matter he symbolizes in the child Gneschen
who is left by the mysterious stranger in the home of Andreas and
Gretchen. A second chapter is entitled 'Idyllic." It pictures the period
and condition that Wordsworth has familiarized, when the soul sees its
own celestial light reflected from all things. Carlyle drew in, as Words-
worth had done, the beauty and wonder of the divine world of Nature
through the outward forms of meadow, tree and brook. "Thus encir-
cled by the mystery of Existence; under the deep heavenly Firmament;
waited on by the four golden Seasons, did the child sit and learn.
Nevertheless, I were, but a vain dreamer to say, that even then my
felicity was perfect. I had, once for all, come down from Heaven into
the Earth."
The mysterious child Gneschen must go to school. So he leaves
the paternal village, its sunsets, orchards, swallows, and stage-coach, and
goes, as the boy Tom had gone, to hide-bound Pedants and mechanical
Gerund-grinders. "They knew syntax enough," he writes; "and of the
human soul thus much: that it had a faculty called Memory, and could
be acted on by appliance of birch-rods." While still at school, Purga-
torial discipline began for the boy, with the death of foster-father
Andreas. It continued through many years. The boy, grown man, had
to surrender his god of tradition, had to surrender his faith in human
friendship, to acknowledge that the flower-gilt earth of his childhood
was an ash-heap, and man a desolate waif; not until he had thus aban-
doned trust in every created thing, did he at last find God and a world
of sunshine. The pressure and strain which leads up to complete renun-
ciation form The Sorrows of Teufelsdrockh. It is a dark period and
full of pain, but even that gloom, as in the case of Job's testing, is shot
through with rays prophetic of light: "Never till this hour had he
known Nature, that she was One, that she was his Mother and divine.
And as the ruddy glow was fading into clearness in the sky, and the Sun
had now departed, a murmur of Eternity and Immensity, of Death and
of Life stole through his soul ; and he felt as if Death and Life were one,
as if the Earth were not dead, as if the Spirit of the Earth had its throne
in that splendor and his own spirit were therewith holding communion."
With renunciation, the fierce struggle ends in joy. "Sweeter than
14 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
Dayspring to the shipwrecked in Nova Zembla; oh! like the mother's
voice to her little child that strays, bewildered, weeping in unknown
tumults; like soft streamings of celestial music to my too exasperated
heart, came that Evangel." Splendor and radiance again shine from
earth. Earth is not a charnel house with spectres. The Universe is
not a machine; but Godlike, and my Father's. From the god of tradi-
tion Carlyle has come close to God, and stands ready to enter within
the gates of the "Sanctuary of Sorrow."
The third book of the Sartor, is a return to the original German
volume on the Philosophy of Clothes, which, now, thanks to the illu-
mination shed by the facts from the life of the author, is more intel-
ligible to an English public. That scheme is a play of Carlyle's humor.
The third book is really Carlyle's convictions about things in general.
It is the view of the universe and man's place therein that opens before
him, after his conversion. Thus a chapter on "Church Clothes" sug-
gests that the religions which at various periods appear in the world
are only vestures that are worn by the immortal Body of Religion. The
thirty-nine Articles of the Prayer Book, he calls articles of wearing
apparel. Then a chapter on Symbols suggests that all visible things are
but types and symbols of real things unseen that the Universe is one
vast symbol of God. So through this third part, in which Carlyle's
humor plays as freely as it does in the other parts of the book, he sets
forth, with much eloquence, and varied illustrations, his central teach-
ing that all forms whereby spirit manifests itself to sense, whether
outwardly or in the imagination, are clothes. "These limbs, whence
had we them; this stormy force; this life-blood with its burning pas-
sion? They are dust and shadow; a shadow-system gathered round
our Me; wherein, through some moments or years, the Divine Essence
is to be revealed in the flesh."
The simplicity and clearness of Carlyle's volume must be evident.
Briefly the first division is an incentive, it awakens curiosity and desire.
Then in a very artistic way, that curiosity and desire are prolonged,
while being, in a measure, gratified, by the picture of the soul in its
struggle along the way. Finally, in the closing section, the soul has
brought itself to look fixedly on Existence, till one after the other,
earthly hulls and garments have all melted away and the interior celestial
Holy of Holies lies disclosed.
The directions Carlyle gives for advancement along the path are
very simple and very familiar. In fact, it is their simplicity and a cer-
tain antediluvian character that makes them unattractive to many mod-
erns they are harsh to the pruriency of curious ears. In the first
place, he says that man's first duty is Obedience, and that in all questions
of Obedience it is safer to err by excess than by defect: "too early we
cannot be trained to know that Would, in this world of ours, is as mere
zero to Should, and for most part as the smallest of fractions even to
THEOSOPHY AND SECULAR LITERATURE 15
Shall." And he adds that without obedience no one can be free. What
more unpopular teaching could be given to men and women who glory
in asserting their own independence of all things? When the primary
lesson of Obedience is learned, man is already on the path with an
infallible guide leading onward step by step. He has only to obey,
to accept the duty that is nearest, that he knows to be a duty. In doing
that his second duty will become clear. Then, Carlyle thinks, man will
be ready for the lesson of Renunciation with which Life, properly
speaking, can be said to begin. By renunciation he means exactly what
is meant in ancient teachings, in the Katha Upanishad, for example.
It is not the surrender of all things to blankness ; it is merely giving up
one thing in order to gain a better thing a point of light to win the
illumination of a whole ray. Renunciation means only the wise choice
of "the better" in place of "the dearer." "There is in man a higher
than love of happiness : he can do without happiness, and instead thereof
find blessedness."
Carlyle's convictions, after his conversion, about things In general
are interesting even though these, too, have a certain ancientness about
them, and are not at all novel. History, he believes, can only be under-
stood in connection with Theosophy and from the standpoint of Theoso-
phy. "Facts," he says, "are engraved Hierograms, for which the fewest
have the key" a sentence that brings to mind Emerson's dictum that
"Time dissipates to shining ether the solid angularity of facts." Carlyle
knows that in the case of the individual, outward facts are merely les-
sons arranged for the soul's learning. And when individuals form a
nation, history arises ; it is the essence of innumerable biographies. The
bigger facts of nations and races are in no sense fortuitous, but are the
footprints of Him who moves before his creation guiding it home. The
unit of events which makes up a nation's life, and which men of mate-
rialistic beliefs, study as political history, religious history, history of
manners and customs, of art and science, will never be understood
through mechanical analysis and division. The truth of those events will
be revealed in one way only: that is, though it seems audacious to say
it, by seeing history as God sees it, by becoming one with the silent soul
and sharing its knowledge.
Carlyle's attitude toward religion has already been suggested when
it was said that he regards the world religions as vestures worn by the
unmanifest spirit of Religion; "some, with a transient intrinsic worth;
many with only an extrinsic." His feeling toward the religions of
which he knew anything is splendidly theosophical ; it is not only toler-
ance, it is sympathy and admiration. No one has gone so deep into
Dante's heart as this Scotch dissenter. Who else has so pushed through
the alien and repulsive elements of Mahometanism to the sincere heart
of the Prophet who in his day found out God. "That gross sensual
Paradise of his ; that horrible flaming Hell ; the great enormous Day of
16 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
Judgment he perpetually insists on: what is all this but a rude shadow,
in the rude Bedouin imagination, of that grand spiritual Fact, and
Beginning of Facts, which is ill for us too if we do not all know and
feel: the Infinite Nature of Duty? That man's actions here are of
infinite moment to him, and never die or end at all; that man, with his
little life, reaches upwards high as Heaven, downwards low as Hell,
and in his three-score years of Time holds on Eternity fearfully and
wonderfully hidden." Then Thor and Odin and all the Hyper-Brob-
dignagian business of the North! how vivid Carlyle makes that "strange
island Iceland, burst up by fire from the bottom of the sea; towering up
there, stern and grim, in the North Ocean ; with its snow jokuls, roaring
geysers, sulphur-pools and horrid volcanic chasms." Carlyle makes
that far-off half-savage life humane and gentle of heart. Because he
was truly tolerant, and was genuinely sympathetic with the heart of
truth enclosed in the shells of foreign religions, he was entirely loyal
to that form of religion in which he was born, and a zealous defender
of it as the natural and best religion for the Western world. To him
Christianity is the vesture in which the Eternal Religion has mani-
fested itself to the Western world. It would be folly and error to
attempt to substitute that natural manifestation by some other Religion
that is, in its turn, natural to and suited for certain conditions and races,
but is alien to the races of the West. Carlyle knew the difference between
organic and mechanical unity, and was never led astray into futile efforts
to construct a geometrical brotherhood of man. Difference of material
and style in coat and trousers does not hinder brotherliness between
individuals of a family; they do not need to wear machine-made gar-
ments cut out of the same piece of cloth. Neither does a difference of
style in the religious vesture cause separateness. Therefore Carlyle, as
he did not endeavor to force his style of coat upon others, likewise did
not endeavor to put on their coats instead of his own, which was just
as well made, and just as good a fit as theirs. He was a devout Chris-
tian, was content, and proud of his creed. "Various enough have been
such religious Symbols, what we call Religions. If thou ask to what
height man has carried it in this manner, look on our divinest Symbol:
on Jesus of Nazareth, and his Life, and his Biography, and what fol-
lowed therefrom Higher has the human thought not yet reached: this
is Christianity and Christendom; a Symbol of quite perennial infinite
character ; whose significance will ever demand to be anew inquired into,
and anew made manifest."
It is Carlyle's convictions in regard to things political that turn
most men away from his teachings. Something of his beliefs in regard
to the reality of the unseen world they might share. But his attitude
toward movements in the outer world casts doubt upon the validity of
his religious doctrines. Other men have differed from the leaders of
thought and action in the affairs of this world. But Carlyle differs so
THEOSOPHY AND SECULAR LITERATURE 17
diametrically, so unreasonably, that his views seem only madness; and
the religious teaching that one might have accepted as the vision of a
seer becomes discredited as the hallucination of a maniac. There was
not one of the "progressive" movements of his century for which Carlyle
had any word but censure. The democratic Paradise on the other side
of the ocean seemed to him an illustration of his words that "Democ-
racy is a self-cancelling business with the net result of zero." Parlia-
mentary deliberation was only national palaver. Slave emancipation, the
great boast of the century, brought him no glow of feeling. He actually
was mad enough and shamelessly inhumane enough to say he did not
disapprove slavery. He is a destructive critic; he condemns political
systems and reforms, yet he can suggest no improvement upon existing
conditions except a vague sort of hero worship that centers upon an
ideal and altogether undiscoverable ruler. That is the usual verdict upon
Carlyle as a statesman. It is not fair. Carlyle is not outspoken as to
his beliefs, but he is not therefore vague. Indeed his very silence may
be full of meaning if one can, through sympathy, divine his thoughts.
On the subject of government he says "numerous considerations, point-
ing toward deep, questionable, and indeed unfathomable regions" present
themselves. He resolutely abstains from speaking of such unfathom-
able things. He suggests that the true ruler will be a King, an able
man "to whose will our wills are to be subordinated, and loyally sur-
render themselves, and find their welfare in doing so." Such a rela-
tionship, between King and people, would seem that between an aspirant
or disciple and his Master. Carlyle was a great student and scholar.
Is he thinking of old stories he may have heard of days and lands
where Kings were Adepts who were guiding humanity toward its goal?
If he had those old, old days in mind he is surely even more behind
his times than his most virulent opponent would declare.
It was a saying that Carlyle often repeated that great men are, at
heart, alike ; they are powers. The form they take in the world is accord-
ing to the needs of the epoch. The vesture does not limit the power.
Thus, the Poet is Politician, Philosopher, Warrior as well as Poet, and
could, if necessary, shine in any of those capacities. Carlyle has pre-
sented several aspects of greatness the prophet, poet, priest, man of
letters, etc. If the endeavor were made to class him under any one
aspect there would be difficulty. For he is prophet and poet, he is a
man of letters and also a priest. Perhaps some would say he is too large
to come under any single aspect of greatness, and would prefer to
think of him quite plainly as the Hero, one who lives in the inward sphere
of things. C.
LETTERS TO FRIENDS
IV
DEAR FRIEND:
I HAVE your letter. Truly, as you say, it is not very consecutive,
and yet I think I understand better than you believe. Let me see
if I can make my understanding clear.
You were disappointed yesterday. It had not been easy for
you to come. You had had to plan and contrive and sacrifice to make
the time. But your problems pressed heavily, and you felt you had to
come. So you came, and came with gladness and hope and gratitude
in your heart that there were friends to whom you could come and whose
counsel you could trust. But, having come, you found others came also,
and instead of the intimate talk you had hoped, and the inspiration you
had many times received, you found now only what seemed to you the
trivialities of social intercourse.
You felt your need was plain and must be known. Again and again
it seemed to you there were opportunities which might have been taken
to give you the time alone with your host which you craved, or at least
to lead the conversation to deeper and more vital themes. But no such
lead was followed; and at last, weary, disappointed, pent-up and con-
strained, you left, saying to yourself that of course it had to be so, but
in your heart feeling that it might have been, and that it ought to have
been quite otherwise. And as you went home, your problems still un-
solved, this feeling grew within you, and with it some bitterness and
resentment. Your mind began to talk to you and question. It told
you you were a fool to trust in others, or to look outside yourself for
help. It pointed to all the sacrifices you had made, and asked to what
profit they had been. And wearily you listened, and thought it was
clear that you must work out your own salvation, and that it was meant
your need should not be met.
Your letter says none of this. But is it not what was in the shadows
of your mind as you wrote?
I remember when, very many years ago, such a disappointment had
first been mine. It happened to me not once but continuously, day
after day for weeks. And all that your mind has whispered to you,
my mind had told to me, treacherously and covertly, always ready to
deny what it had spoken, but leaving its poison none the less. I felt
myself overburdened and alone, my need unanswered and my prayer
unheard. Then one day there came to me a friend, who comes and goes
unannounced, and stood and looked at me. His eyes have a strange
power. For as he looks you seem to look with him, and to see with his
18 *
LETTERS TO FRIENDS 19
vision rather than your own. They are very calm eyes, still and dark,
but in their depths there is flame, and this flame lights all he looks upon,
and one sees beneath the shadows. So he stood and looked, and I
looked with him till I could bear no more. Then he sat and talked
with me.
I do not remember what he talked of first; for the lesson that his
eyes had taught me still held my thought. We can ourselves know but
little of our own need, blind as we are to what lies within our hearts
and in the background of our minds. But this we can know : To those
who have sight and hearing no need is unseen, no prayer unheard or
unanswered.
"O ye of little faith ! " The past weeks came before me, each day
an accusation. Persistently the very substance of my prayer had been
offered me and as persistently refused, because it was the substance and
not the form of my imagining. Within the form of the denial the gift
itself had been made. Day by day there had been acted out for me the
solution of my problem, while day by day the deliberate denial, I had
thought due to circumstance, was pressing me from my wrong attitude
toward it. Could I only have seen! Why had I not seen?
Here, once again, I met my friend's eyes. And again the answer
was plain. I had not believed, nor trusted. I had been absorbed in self,
though to my thought my care had worn a different guise ; and I had been
so sure of the kind of answer that my prayer demanded, that I would
take none other. I had been like a beggar, spurning gold who had asked
for copper, and who knew not the measure of his own need for lodging
and for food.
Then my friend smiled, and rose to go. But with his smile the
last vestige of my self-pity left me. The windows had been thrown
wide and the clean air and wholesome sunshine let in. I, too, smiled
and told him I had not heard one word he said. But I knew, as
I spoke, that neither then nor through all the past weeks had there
been any need for words. The difficulty and obscurity had not lain in
my problem, but in the mists of fear and doubt rising from my anxious
brooding on it.
Now the point of this story is not that we never have need of
words. Very often we have. And when we have, or when we think
we have, then we should ask quite simply and directly for what we want.
But if our request be denied, or if circumstances make it impossible
of fulfilment, then we should look within the denial and within the
circumstance for their guidance and their lesson. Circumstances are
never barriers, but always opportunities, and denial can never go deeper
than form.
In the deepest and truest sense the occultist must always be an
opportunist. The "small old Path that leads to the Eternal" lies
through circumstance at every step. As Emerson has said, he who
20 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
travels in it "is like a ship in a river; he runs against obstructions on
every side but one; on that side all obstruction is taken away, and he
sweeps serenely over a deepening channel into an infinite sea."
Far inland and hedged about as our lives are, we forget that it
is the river's banks which keep the channel open. Without denial our
aspiration would be too shallow to bear us to its goal.
But I mean far more than this when I say that if we are to travel
in the Path of Discipleship we must become opportunists, in a sense in
which that word is rarely used but for which it may stand for lack of
a better. We have to get away from the thought of barriers of any
kind, or the possibility of denial. We have to see all things as oppor-
tunities, and learn the spiritual alchemy which transmutes the humblest
and the basest metals into gold; which takes the common incidents of
daily life, pain and gladness, work and play, success and failure, the
smile of a friend or the slight and injury of an enemy, and distils from
each and all food for the soul's growth, wisdom for its training, and
power for its work. We have to learn to see circumstance and all that
comes to us as coming from the Master, bearing the gift of his love for
us, shaped to meet the need to whose depths he sees and for whose ful-
filment we have prayed. We have to learn to recognize in circumstances
the answer to our prayers.
I should like to make this as plain as I can. Once we have given
our hearts to the Master, and have prayed that we should be guided
and led along the Path he has blazed for us, then we are taken at our
word. Our prayer is registered and remembered, and upon the circum-
stances of our lives its answer is imprinted. Our days sift to us through
the Masters' hands. They are the Lords of Karma. Through them the
Law is fulfilled. But through them also is fulfilled the Love which
underlies the Law. Our Karma is of our own making; the present, the
outgrowth of the past, and the future, the outgrowth of the present. But
the Law by which this growth takes place, by which one effect and not
another follows from a given cause, is not of our own making. Nor is
it mere blind retributive justice; an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a
tooth, as in the old scriptural legalism of the Jews. Rather is it the
law of life which brings the lymph to the wound; always healing, always
making for health and growth and betterment. It is the outward work-
ing of the indwelling principle of Love, of that Spirit of Love which
animates all law and which draws each atom of the universe through life
after life towards the Divine.
Therefore it is that the Masters are the Lords of Karma, working
with it, not against it. When we give our lives to them they do not
break the chain of cause and effect, or alter at once all our circumstances.
They take our Karma as we have made it. But they take, too, the
power of our aspiration and our prayer; and the answering power of
infinite compassion is woven by them as a golden thread throughout
LETTERS TO FRIENDS 21
the fabric of our days. It is this golden thread we have to learn to see
in all things. It runs through all circumstances, however tangled. It is
the thread of our teaching, of the lessons the Masters would have us
learn. And it is the clue to our lives.
Do you understand now what I mean when I say that circum-
stances are never barriers? That each contains a gift to us from the
Masters' hands, the answer to our prayers? The trouble is that it is
we who forget our prayers, as those to whom we pray do not. We-
pray for opportunity; but when our prayer is answered we resent it
as a burden.
Another trouble is our inattention. We are not so blind as we are
self-absorbed and inattentive. Like a man, bent upon pressing affairs,
brushing through a crowd and passing by his friends unnoticed, so we,
absorbed in self and driven by self-will, push through the incidents of
our day and miss the gifts which each one held for us.
Have you never travelled or camped with a man of one idea?
The kind of man, I mean, that will set his mind upon a given climb or
expedition for the morrow, and then, if the weather is bad or some
untoward accident prevents, will do no one of the hundred other things
that are open to him (all of which he means sometime to do), but will
only sit and mope and grumble and complain, because on this one day
he cannot do the one thing he had planned for it? It is the way most
of us go through life. When we learn its folly we learn the truth of
Christ's teaching: "Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the
earth." Or, as it is in the French: "Blessed are the debonair." And
for myself I like this latter version better, for it seems more expressive
of the disciple's "serene gaiety of heart."
Attention, recollection, detachment. These are our great needs.
They are rooted in faith. But as we make them our own our faith
becomes rooted in experience. Perhaps we have no less need of cour-
age. For "This is the condition of the battle which man that is born
upon the earth shall fight; that if he be overcome, he shall suffer as
thou hast said: but if he get the victory, he shall receive the thing that
I say."
Faithfully yours,
JOHN GERARD.
Why were the saints, saints? Because they were cheerful when
it was difficult to be cheerful, and patient, when it was difficult to be
patient; and because they pushed on when they wanted to stand still,
and remained silent when they wanted to talk, and were agreeable when
they wanted to be disagreeable. That was all. It was quite simple and
always will be. Book of Echoes.
THE BENEDICTINE RULE
ITS HISTORICAL IMPORTANCE
IN the first Epistle to the Corinthians, St. Paul teaches us that "the
foolish things of the world hath God chosen, that He may con-
found the wise: and the weak things of the world hath God
chosen that He may confound the strong." As we look back over
the history of men's souls since earliest times, we find periods when the
callous materialism, self-indulgence, and deliberate wrong-doing of gen-
erations of men seemed to open the flood-gates to forces for evil ; and all-
powerful tides appeared to be engulfing the last remnant of the faithful
who were clinging to the Light which had been entrusted to them. At
such a time, a man appears, or remembering St. Catherine of Siena
and Jeanne d'Arc should we not rather say a soul appears, and, by the
self-sacrificing strength of its convictions, by an example of simple and
unswerving loyalty to principle and to truth, this soul becomes a center
of spiritual force, becomes endowed with that subtle power that makes
a leader irresistible, and is the instrument whereby the sons of men
can with renewed vigor press on their pilgrimage to become the Sons
of God. It might almost be said that history resolves itself into the
biographies of such souls as these, because in an extraordinary way they
become the keystone upon which future generations can proceed to build.
The life-work and times of St. Benedict of Nursia were critical in the
history of the early European Christianity, and it is difficult to estimate
the importance of this famous Father of Monastic life; so a study of the
conditions in which he built up his order is a necessary preliminary to
any real understanding of the Rule itself.
Around the year 480, when St. Benedict was born, the last blows
were being dealt to the once supreme political edifice started by Augustus
Caesar ; and Latin Christianity was tottering under the savage and scorn-
ful persecutions of the hordes of barbarians who were overrunning
Europe. In the East, theological disputes, which made desolate the
sanctuary, were being settled by force of arms; while Zeno, a tyrant
who thoroughly dishonored the throne at Constantinople, made no effort
to defend his possessions against the barbarians, but robbed and
despoiled right and left. Without cessation for thirty- four years, there
followed a period of bloody and miserable strife; until finally Justin I
in 518 obtained some semblance of order.
In the west, in 476, Odoacer, the leader of the Herules, had torn
the Imperial purple from the shoulders of Augustulus, the last Roman
Emperor. Successive masses of wild, rapacious barbarians overran Italy,
terrorizing the people, and splitting the country into localized communi-
THE BENEDICTINE RULE 23
ties, strong enough to hold up their heads against the storm. It is inter-
esting to note in passing that a well-built Benedictine Monastery was
always defended by outer walls, and contained a fort and other neces-
sary prevision for self-defense. The nobles headed those localized com-
munities, and were little better than robbers; licentious, unscrupulous,
and devoid of any real religion. Germany was entirely pagan, as was
Great Britain, where the first Christianity had been stifled by the Angles
and the Saxons. France was invaded in the north by Franks; while
only a portion of the south was still held fast by the Arian Christians.
Spain was completely ravaged by the Visigoths, the Sueves, the Alans,
and the Vandals; and though these tribes were becoming Christianized,
it was still but a case of pagan beliefs and mythology given a new
terminology; for the spiritual significance of the Master's teaching was
not yet recognized by such crude and untamed peoples. Christian
Africa had also been desolated by Arian Vandals, who, in the name of
Christ, and under the leadership of Humeric (478) and his successor
Gundamund (484), slaughtered and tortured every Catholic Christian
that they could find.
Monasticism had already been introduced into Italy; indeed semi-
monastic and eremetical living had existed from earliest Christian times.
Jewish history is filled with allusions to hermit life, and life consecrated
to God. Moses lived as a shepherd and hermit for forty years, and then
for another forty as leader of a people whom he ruled by the laws
which God himself gave to them through him, a tribal religious com-
munity. One of these laws deals specifically with those who "shall make
a vow to be sanctified, and will consecrate themselves to the Lord,"
setting forth that "they shall abstain from wine," from shaving their
heads, and such like strictures. The Essenes, too, lived a fully organized
and closely secluded monastic life, having the strictest kind of a rule,
requiring labour, chiefly agriculture, and having many practices strikingly
similar to the later Christian orders. Modern scholars commonly
believe, however, that these pre-Christian realizations of the monastic
idea had little influence on its later extraordinary development. Con-
sidering that a tradition susceptible of considerable circumstantial proof
exists to the effect that Christ himself was educated an Essene, and that
therefore his private teachings of which we know so little must have taken
this monastic idea into consideration, it is possible that there was more
influence and authority for solitary, contemplative, and ascetic life than
has been supposed. Certain it is that asceticism early became prominent
in Christian history and that men and women abstained from marriage,
from meat-eating, and all intoxicating drink; giving themselves over to
prayer, religious exercises, and charitable works. This they did at first
in their homes, not in any way withdrawing from their families or avoca-
tions. But as the Empire broke up, as the religious persecutions
became more severe, we find a tendency towards solitary retirement
24 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
becoming more and more universal with those who wished sincerely to
devote themselves to discipleship ; and by the middle of the third century,
especially in Egypt, there were many thousands living in the caves and
wildernesses. St. Anthony is commonly called the first Christian hermit,
and after living for twenty years a life of absolute seclusion, he came
forth to teach clamorous followers his way of truth. There was no
organization under St. Anthony, nor any rule; the monks living a semi-
eremetical life, and having full freedom to govern themselves as the
individual conscience dictated.
St. Pachomius, St. Anthony's famous disciple, was the first to rein-
troduce a cenobitic or properly monastic community; it being his idea
that a confined and secluded life was a bar to man's natural vocations
and ability to gain "salvation by works." Provided that these "works"
are safe-guarded against self-indulgence and other evils which might
arise from them, he advised his monks to take up some regular and con-
genial task. In order that such a community might run smoothly he
introduced a Rule, which tradition tells us was dictated to him by an
angel. The story has every mark of verisimilitude, and it is pleasant
to believe in such direct inspiration and instruction. Pachomius was
sitting in his cell when the angel appeared to him saying, "Since thou
hast completed thy discipleship it is unnecessary for thee to dwell here;
but come, and go and gather together unto thyself those who are wan-
dering, and be thou dwelling with them, and lay down for them such
laws as I shall tell unto thee." The angel here gave Pachomius a
tablet on which were written six rules, which had none of the severely
ascetic quality so characteristic of the oriental monachism, or even of
some of the post-Benedictine orders. The monks might eat, drink, or
fast as they pleased, and were to be left entirely without pressure as to
their choice. Vigorous and healthy monks were to work, but the weak
only according to their ability. The monks lived three together in a cell,
and all ate together in common. They slept sitting, with "support" for
their heads; and their clothes were prescribed. The angel also ordered
that no man be admitted into the monastery until he had passed through
a novitiate of three years, during which time he labored for the monks.
It can be seen that this Rule was liberal, and gave each individual plenty
of liberty to live his own inner life and to regulate his conduct as he
pleased. But Pachomius himself was imbued with the austerely ascetic
ideal and he threw all his influence on the side of extreme asceticism.
For instance the monks' faces were screened by cowls, and silence was
required of them at their common meal times. They were also expected
to recite Psalms and Scripture while working alone, and to partake of
the Eucharist on Saturdays, and Sundays. No check was given to the
most severe self-discipline, and encouragement was given to those who
wished to absent themselves from the common meal by providing bread,
water, and salt in the cells. In fact the atmosphere soon became that of
THE BENEDICTINE RULE 25
ascetic rivalry, in which the individual could go as far as he liked. The
failure of this early form of monasticism in Europe at that time was
undoubtedly due to the return to an exaggerated severity which was
impossible to the western temperament and climate, and was also, be it
noted, in direct opposition to the spirit of the Rule as dictated by the
angel.
St. Pachomius' institution lacked entirely any bond of common feel-
ing, any "esprit de corps," which was so strongly emphasized by St.
Benedict. When he died in 346, he left nine monasteries for men and
two for women. His influence was largely felt in Africa and in parts
of Asia Minor up through the fifth century, when the invading bar-
barians, and after them the newly zealous Mohamedans completely
dispersed his followers.
In Asia Minor St. Basil laid down a Rule and founded many monas-
teries, the first in 356. His Rule is practically confined to methods of
ascetic living, as a guide to the monks. He upholds the Bible as the source
of all his teachings; much of the Rule consisting of quotations from it
with explanations and comments. He believed that a monk's first duty
was penance, and he advocates a life of terrible rigor. St. Basil trusted
to tradition to establish the discipline of his monasteries, and showed
great prudence and wisdom in leaving all details to the superiors, an
idea that St. Benedict thought of the greatest importance. Gradually
nearly all the Eastern monasteries accepted the Rules of St. Basil, and
down to our present times their inner life has remained extraordinarily
stationary; unaffected by the changes in the west, so that through fifteen
hundred years practically no modifications of the original mode of living
have been introduced.
Coming now to the earliest western monachism, we find St.
Athanasius accompanied by two monks Ammon and Isidore, traveling
to Rome in 340. All three were disciples of St. Anthony, and they propa-
gated the Vita Antonii by translating it into Latin. Asceticism of the
Egyptian model became common throughout Italy, parts of Gaul, and
North Africa; following the Antonian tendency towards isolation and
severe bodily austerities. The more rigorous climate and the utterly
different racial temperament rendered this Oriental manner and prac-
tice of monasticism unattainable, and by the end of the fifth century
the whole monastic institution in western Europe, and especially in Italy,
was completely disorganized. The very natural result of an attempt to
impose methods contrary to the racial spirit of the West, was that dis-
cipline relaxed, the monks became discontented and corrupt, and all the
higher ideals were discarded and forgotten. When finally St. Benedict
appeared shortly after the year 500, monasticism was practically
unknown in Italy, a few insignificant and independent monasteries, each
with its own collection of rules depending largely on the Abbot of the
moment, being all that remained of St. Athanasius' mistaken effort.
26 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
This lack of uniformity caused restlessness amongst the undisciplined
monks, the weaker ones exchanging a conscientious Abbot for one more
lenient, by moving to neighboring monasteries.
Amidst the savage disorder and almost universal darkness of the
time we see in the center of Italy a young noble fleeing in disgust, alike
from the licentiousness of Rome and the barrenness of the schools.
Into the wilderness he went, burying himself for three years in a moun-
tain gorge, there to prepare himself for his unsuspected mission of
revivifying and making possible for the newly developing European, a
higher and truer Christian life. There is something majestic in the
picture of this solitary boy of twenty becoming by his act of faith a
power to move mountains of unbelief and ignorance; yet by means of
such can the Lodge continue to pour its benefits on thankless humanity.
In founding a monastic order St. Benedict had both tradition and
example to draw upon; and it is certain that his Rule, as we have
it, was written after many years of experiment. His first monastery
contained but twelve monks, and his Rule, which must have appeared
later, provides for Deans to assist the Abbot if his flock be too numer-
ous. Then, too, those who wash the dishes might have assistants under
similar circumstances; and twelve platters and mugs are surely no inor-
dinate task for a healthy monk to wash in one day! The founding of
the large monastery of Monte Cassino in about 530 probably marks the
date of the completion of the Rule in its present form. It is certainly
true that St. Benedict had ample opportunity to study all the records
of previous orders, but too much weight can be given to this influence,
which probably had less effect on him than is generally believed. St.
Benedict must have relied chiefly on his own spiritual guidance and
instruction, else how could he have infallibly chosen the best from the
preceding systems, without ever using an idea that would not have 1
appealed to his peculiar conditions? Subsequent results alone have
proved the boundless wisdom and insight of his Rule. That he did
derive some modifications from a study of the earlier institutions is,
however, undoubted.
If St. Benedict of himself had deliberately set out to found a suc-
cessful monastic system under all these adverse conditions, he would
probably have failed From the ordinary standards of human judgment
he had an impossible task to perform; a characteristic, by the way, of
the work accomplished by such special souls and Lodge emissaries. The
people to whom he must make his appeal were crude, unbridled, and
of a very undeveloped mentality ; while the monks, and those who already
professed religion, were either corrupted or disgusted by the failure of
the religious institution to realize their ideal. What Church there was
had long been divorced from any of the inner spirit of Jesus by unend-
ing controversies and persecutions. Faith itself was dying out. St.
Benedict did not under these circumstances try to give any new idea to
THE BENEDICTINE RULE 27
the world, he simply took what already existed and made it over, breath-
ing into it the life-giving breath of Truth. He made the same appeal
that his forerunners had made to the two great prime instincts in
humanity, of mysticism and asceticism, but he presented them free from
mental distortion, clear, from above. He fortified his appeal by himself
setting the example of unswerving obedience to his vision, and he exacted
a like obedience from his disciples. This obedience is the key-note of
his success, for St. Benedict established his first monastery only after
the greatest amount of urging on the part of his followers, and with
considerable reluctance on his own part to leave the seclusion and retire-
ment of his cave. He had no thought of creating a new order, and must
indeed have been surprised and delighted at the growth that followed
his foundation. He was the leaven that leavened the whole religious
world of western Europe, and just the type of faithful disciple that St.
Paul tells us God uses to confound the "wise" and "strong."
THE PRINCIPLES OF THE RULE
St. Benedict's first idea, once he had consented to legislate a monas-
tery, was to reform the abuses and the scandalous laxity of the existing
orders, and hence his insistence on complete renunciation of self-will
in all its forms. Obedience was to him the virtue of virtues by which
the disciple should reach the Heavenly Kingdom. Obedience, however,
did not in any way necessitate bodily austerities, and especially not the
spirit of rivalry that had crept into the oriental systems with their
ascetic practices. In fact St. Benedict perceived that such asceticism
was merely a subtler form of self-will and self-indulgence; taking ex-
pression, to be sure, in painful and revolting form, but pacifying under
this guise the conscience that would not permit of a more agreeable self-
gratification. So St. Benedict forbade singularity of any kind and laid
great emphasis on humility. Further to strengthen this position and in
order to make a positive and creative attitude in the minds of his fol-
lowers, St. Benedict introduced a great sense of family spirit, a love
for the particular community of brethren to which the monk bound
himself ; and commanded that there should be a sinking of the individual
in the community. In other words the monk is professed for his
monastery, and not merely for his order. This was indeed striking at
the root of the whole subject, and St. Benedict shows his true appre-
ciation of the higher principles involved. It also shows his genius in
being able to make out of the defects in the other systems, points of
strength for himself.
The two salient characteristics of St. Benedict's Rule are said to
be Obedience and Labor, but Labor is but the logical expression of a
perfect and comprehending obedience. Heaven is not a quiescent state,
and we are put in this world to work out our salvation, to accomplish
with the particular talents given us the work apportioned to us. Inner
28 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
Obedience cannot mean living in a manner foreign to natural law. And
St. Benedict knew that, having started the discipline of Obedience in the
heart and mind, physical idleness would be its ruin; so he called upon
the greatest disciplinary force for human nature, external labor. This
labor could be either manual or intellectual, as best suited the needs and
requirements of the monk. In the Prologue to the Rule, a sort of
"hortatory preface," he declares his purpose to be the bringing of the
individual back "by the labor of obedience to Him from whom thou
hast departed through the sloth of disobedience. To thee, therefore,
my words are now addressed, whoever thou art that, renouncing thine
own will, dost take up the strong and bright weapon of obedience, in
order to fight for the Lord Jesus Christ, our true King." The "strong
and bright weapon of obedience," what a splendid, stirring phrase!
What a strong man's way of looking at a quality too often ignored by
the modern individualism.
St. Benedict's expressed intention, then, is "to establish a school
of the Lord's service, in the setting forth of which we hope to order
nothing that is harsh or rigorous. But if anything be somewhat strictly
laid down, according to the dictates of sound reason, for the amendment
of vices or the preservation of charity, do not, therefore, fly in dismay
from the way of salvation, whose beginnings cannot but be straight and
difficult (something which many beginners would do well to consider).
. . . Our hearts, therefore, and our bodies must be made ready to
fight under the holy obedience of His commands; and let us ask the
Master to supply by the help of His grace what by nature is not possible
to us."
These are the key-notes of the Rule, the basis on which St. Benedict
planned to order the routine of monastery life. It must be distinctly
remembered, however, that St. Benedict wrote his Rule for, and ad-
dressed it to, the layman and not the cleric. His Rule, therefore, can
be accepted, at least in principle, by anyone who so chooses, making
such natural and necessary modifications as readily appear advisable
for life at home or in the world. Better training by far can be acquired
by most in their homes than in the carefully sheltered and guarded life
of a monastery. And life in a home governed by such principles as
Obedience and Humility will "acquire merit" in direct proportion to the
difficulties overcome.
Voluntary submission is the corner-stone of discipline, and there is
nothing final in the engagement that bound the Benedictine monk
to his brethren. After eight months of trial and examination, and if
the novice persevered in his intention to enter the community, he is
instructed to draw up in writing in his own words, and proclaim before
the assembled monks his "promise of stability, conversion of life, and
obedience, in the presence of God and His Saints, so that if he should
ever act otherwise, he may know that he will be condemned by Him
THE BENEDICTINE RULE 29
whom he mocketh." This is the only vow to obey the Rule. "If any
brother, who through his own fault departeth or is cast out of the
monastery, be willing to return, let him first undertake to amend entirely
the fault for which he went away ; and then let him be received back into
the lowest place, that thus his humility may be tried. Should he again
depart, let him be taken back until the third "time, knowing that after
this all return will be denied him." In this way every chance is given
to the aspirant not only to make him feel self-reliance and responsibility,
but to force him into the position of choosing freely between obedience
and faithlessness. If the Rule were too strict, if the outer bonds were
too tightly drawn, the monk could not exercise his will to the same
extent, and he would lack opportunity to test himself, or to be tested.
Perhaps the severest trial of a religious organization governed by
the practice of absolute obedience is that of restraining those in com-
mand, and on this head St. Benedict dwells with great minuteness. It
had been the custom for the diocesan Bishop to appoint some Abbot
to take charge of the monastery within his charge; often an outsider,
who ruled according to personal interests or passions. St. Benedict has
the Abbot chosen from amongst the brethren of each community. "In
the appointing of an Abbot, let this principle always be observed: that
he be made Abbot whom all the brethren with one consent in the fear
of God, or even a small part of the community with more wholesome
counsel, shall elect. Let him who is appointed be chosen for the merit
of his life and the wisdom of his doctrines, even though he should be
the last in order in the community." This is in direct accord with St.
Benedict's ideal of solidarity, besides the fact that it again throws all
results on the free determination of the monks. They choose the man
to whom they submit in voluntary obedience.
The Abbot holds the place of Christ; and if his government is to
be spiritual, he must show in his own person the qualities of a father.
He must not only rule, he must heal; not only guide, but support; not
only punish, but make himself the servant of all whom he governs,
obeying all while each obeys him. The exercise of his absolute au-
thority is limited in that he must consult all the monks assembled upon
any important business. St. Benedict specially enjoins that the youngest
be asked their advice in addition to the elders, because the Master often
reveals His wishes to them. For lesser matters the advice of the prin-
cipal members of the monastery is sufficient; but the Abbot can never
act without advice, though the right of final decision is reserved for him.
An Abbot is elected for life unless evidently unworthy, in which case
the Bishop of the diocese can interfere.
St. Benedict then proceeds to point out in the clearest words the
tremendous responsibility of an Abbot for his flock, and reiterates that
he is always and ever responsible to God, whose steward he is. He
reminds the Abbot that the power put into his hands comes from God,
30 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
like all power His attitude of mind should be that he is the servant of
the brethren, to labor for them and to benefit them by both his sweetness
of affection and his strength in correcting. "Especially let him observe
this present Rule in all things" is St. Benedict's final exhortation a
significant reminder. The ideal of the Abbot that St. Benedict holds is
exceedingly high because it requires of a man supreme obedience, not
merely the obedience to the will, but the will to obey. The latter can only
be brought to perfection through love, and so St. Benedict enjoins that
the brethren must be won by love rather than by fear, and that the
way to win the love of others is first to love them. Without this power
he may be able to win their intelligences, but he cannot succeed in per-
suading their wills Nowhere is there a finer description, not only of
the ideal Abbot, but of the ideal disciple. This one soul, having attained
already a certain proficiency in human actions, a certain understanding
of the divine life, becomes the center of a community concentrated
towards one sole end; and an irresistible force from the union of these
wills purified by the spirit of sacrifice, is under his single hand. No
wonder that the Benedictine cloister, under St. Benedict and his imme-
diate successors, turned the tide against the profligacy of the Empire
and the anarchy of barbarian conquest. The whole power of Rome
rested upon perfect obedience and discipline, and the Roman Legion is
famous for these qualities. Exactly those countries which discipline
won for Rome, were reconquered and newly bound together by the
Benedictine Rule of Obedience, after corruption and self-indulgence
had broken all restraint and demolished the former institution.
THE RULE
The Rule itself, comprising seventy-three chapters and a prologue,
can be classed under two main heads: matter pertaining to the spiritual
life of the monks, and rules as to the organization, maintenance, and
daily routine of the order. Chapters 2, 3, 27, and 64 deal with the
Abbot ; chapters 4 to 7 contain a list of seventy-two precepts called "The
Instruments of Good Works," and minute instructions as to obedience,
silence, and the practice of true humility. Chapters 8 to 20 lay down
regulations for the celebration of the canonical office, which St Benedict
calls "the divine work," his monks' first duty, "of which nothing is to
take precedence." Faults and punishments are considered in chapters
23 to 30; the cellarer and property of the monastery in 31 and 32;
community goods in 33 and 34; various officials and daily life in 21,
22, and 35 to 57; reception of monks and initiation of novices in
58 and 61 ; while miscellaneous regulations are treated in the remaining
twelve chapters. Concerning the detail of the Rule we can have little
to say beyond the statement that it displays discretion, humanism, and
the combination of common sense practicality with the highest prin-
ciples of spiritual living and idealism. The consistency of St. Benedict
THE BENEDICTINE RULE 31
accomplishes as much as any single other quality. There are no weak
links in his chain, so the chain has held for nearly fourteen hundred
years.
As compared to the extreme oriental systems, he is liberal in his
consideration of weak human flesh. Restricting the use of meat to the
sick, he permits a pound of bread daily, together with two dishes of
cooked food at each meal, of which there were two in summer and one in
winter. He concedes also an allowance of wine (about a pint a day)
to those whose life habit makes it a necessity, but states that it is not
properly a monk's drink, and encourages total abstinence if possible.
His principle was that the body should be in complete subjection, but
should retain its full powers of vigor and usefulness. Many of the
Egyptian ascetics ate only two or three times a week, a severe contrast
certainly. As to clothing, St. Benedict's provision that habits were to
fit, to be sufficiently warm, and not too old, was in great contrast to the
poverty of the Egyptian monks, whose clothes, according to Abbot
Pambo, should be so poor that if. left on the road no one would be
tempted to take them. St. Benedict also ordered from six to eight
hours unbroken sleep a day, with an additional siesta in summer; and
permitted two blankets, a mattress, and pillow. The whole spirit and
aim of St. Benedict's Rule seems to have been to keep the bodies of
his monks in a healthy condition by means of proper clothing, sufficient
food, and ample sleep, so that they could be more fit for the due per-
formance of the Divine Office, and be freed from all that distracting
rivalry in asceticism that has already been mentioned. There was, how-
ever, no desire to lower the ideal or to minimize the self-sacrifice entailed
by entering on this system of monastic life, but rather the intention of
bringing it into line with the altered circumstances of Western environ-
ment. The wisdom and skill with which St. Benedict did this is evident
on every page of the Rule. Bossuet, the celebrated French bishop, who
lived in the latter half of the i/th century and who therefore had the
fullest historical evidence on which to base his criticism, calls this Rule
"an epitome of Christianity, a learned and mysterious abridgement of
all the doctrines of the Gospel, all the institutions of the Fathers, and all
the counsels of Perfection."
As has been said, the practice of obedience is the very essence of
the Rule, and this obedience is a weapon both of attack and defense.
St. Benedict compares the spiritual life to an "art or handicraft," and
the monastery to a "workshop in which the spiritual craftsmen are
busily engaged." In addition, then, to one whole chapter on obedience,
St. Benedict gives a list of seventy-two "Instruments of Good Works,"
which the monk should learn to become skilled in using, and be able
to apply when need arises. These instruments deal mainly with interior
and exterior mortification, prayer, and charity. Interior mortification
includes not murmuring one of the first expressions of self-will. Ex-
32 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
terior mortification not only requires the negative do not do this or
that, but says "love fasting," and "love chastity," a very constructive
and positive task to accomplish.
Carrying out his idea of obedience to its fullest extent, St. Benedict
devotes Chapters to such considerations as "If a Brother be commanded
to do impossible things," and "That the Brethren be Obedient one to the
other," "That no one presume to defend another in the monastery," and
"that no one presume to strike or excommunicate another." In the first,
St. Benedict says that if a task be altogether beyond the ability or
strength of the monk, he may then "seasonably and with patience lay
before his Superior the reasons of his incapacity to obey, without
showing pride, resistence, or contradiction. If, however, after this the
Superior still persist in his command, let the younger know that it is
expedient for him; and let him obey for the love of God, trusting in
His assistance." For the older monks to be expected to obey the
younger brethren is also an indication of the radical extent to which
St. Benedict carried out this cardinal principle. "Not only is the excel-
lence of obedience to be shown by all to the Abbot, but the brethren must
also obey one another, knowing that by this path of obedience they shall
come unto God. . . . But if a brother be rebuked by the Abbot, or
any of his Superiors, for the slightest cause, or if he perceive that the
mind of any Superior is even slightly angered or moved against him,
however little, let him at once, without delay, cast himself on the ground
at his feet, and there remain doing penance until that feeling be ap-
peased, and he giveth him the blessing. And if anyone should disdain
to do this, let him either be subjected to corporal chastisement, or, if he
remain obdurate, let him be expelled from the monastery." No uncer-
tain terms, these; and a characteristic sample of the direct, perfectly
plain, uncompromising straightforwardness of St. Benedict's literary
style. The defence of another monk is prohibited, no matter how his
motives may be misunderstood, or his actions misjudged. It can readily
be seen that objections to the authority of those in command could never
be permitted; besides being harmful to the subject, whose trials would
be increased by the knowledge that others considered his punishments
unfair or unjust.
These examples should give an idea of the comprehensive way in
which St. Benedict covers the field of obedience. There are no loop-
holes left for escape, no equivocation possible. Perfect obedience leads
to true humility, which verily opens the way to the Master Himself.
"Having, therefore, ascended all these degrees of humility, the monk
will presently arrive at that love of God which, being perfect, casteth
out fear; whereby he shall begin to keep, without labor, and as it were
naturally and by custom, all those precepts which he had hitherto
observed through fear no longer through dread of hell but for
the love of Christ, and of a good habit and delight in virtue, which
THE BENEDICTINE RULE 33
God will vouchsafe to mainfest by the Holy Spirit in His labourer,
now cleansed from vice and sin." This is the high water mark of St.
Benedict's aim and ideal for his monks, and in his treatment of the fruits
of obedience, under the general heading of Humility, he indicates the
spiritual path of the monk, and the heights to which he should strive
to reach. Chapter 7 is given to an exhaustive analysis of the steps of
humility, which St. Benedict for greater clarity divides into twelve de-
grees. The above quotation is the summing of the twelfth. "We go up
by descending," says St. Benedict, and he uses Jacob's Ladder as a
simile; the ascending and descending angels signifying that we descend
by self-exaltation, and ascend by humility. The first seven degrees
instruct the monk as to inward humility, or humility of the soul; the
last five as to exterior or outward manifestations, or humility of the
body. Following is a summary of these degrees.
First Degree. Recollection and fear of God's nearness and watchful-
ness. We must check all sinful desires.
Second Degree. We must give up to God our own wills, and deny our
will. We must check all desires. Pride arises from lack of self-
control, so we must gain control first.
Third Degree. We must submit to and obey, for love of God, all those
placed over us in command. We must positively give over the
very faculty of desire or self-will.
Fourth Degree. We must bear suffering, injury, injustice, and harsh
treatment gladly, and "embrace" trials.
Fifth Degree. We must confess temptations and sins to our Director,
in order to obtain help, advice, and to "create a new heart."
Sixth Degree. We must be content with the "meanest and worst of
everything." We must think ourselves unfit for any good service
or undertaking.
Seventh Degree. Self-abasement in attitude and in speech. We must
believe that we are inferior to everyone.
Eighth Degree. We must avoid singularity or self-expression by doing
nothing outside of the Rule, follow the beaten track.
Ninth Degree. We must love" and practice silence, together with total
self-effacement. This degree is the positive aspect of the eighth.
Tenth Degree. We must shun immoderate mirth, and be "not easily
moved" to laughter.
Eleventh Degree. We must speak (when spoken to) gently, gravely,
quietly, humbly, and with few, well-chosen words.
Twelfth Degree. We must in all our actions comport ourselves as poor
sinners, convinced of our unworthiness, with downcast demeanor to
show true humility of soul, and ready at all time to humble ourselves
in another's eyes.
34 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
The monk who can pass through these degrees, arrives at a complete
dependence on the Master, who is drawn to him by his great self-abase-
ment; and he will be able to run the "way of life," in love and great
peace. There is absolutely no reason why these degrees of humility
should be confined to the purely monastic life, and every disciple will
find them worth attention and study. There is nothing rigorous
or hard about this "way of salvation"; and especially are the earlier
steps within easy reach of any man. This is the heart and soul of St.
Benedict's Rule, and it has the strongest appeal in that it leads the
religious straight to the Master Himself. In our day of unbelief and
absence of faith it is well to remember that these primitive Christians
aimed at no lower ideal than union with the Master, and that they
realized their ideal by living just this same Rule. Daily and hourly
must be the effort, for only so can the crisis when it arrives be success-
fully faced and passed. St. Benedict lays great stress on this steadiness
of endeavor, especially in regard to prayer. He says that in order really
to pray at the specially appointed hours, we must maintain "remote"
and constant preparation during the entire day. Without this prepara-
tion we are unable to bring all the power and feeling into play that should
go into heartfelt prayer. In the "Instruments" he gives these rules:
(i) To keep guard at all times over the actions of one's life; (2) To
know for certain that God sees one everywhere; (3) To dash down at
the feet of Christ one's evil thoughts the instant they come into one's
heart; (4) And to lay them open to one's spiritual Father; and (5) To
listen willingly to holy reading. The ability to exercise these forms of
prayer is fostered by the care of the "heart" on which St. Benedict so
often insists, and the heart is saved from the dissipation that would
result from social intercourse, by the habit of mind that sees Christ
Himself in every one. Thus we have a consecration not only of the life
as a whole, but of the daily and hourly divisions of that life ; and added
to these individual efforts, we have the consecration of the community
as a whole in the Opus Dei, the public worship, praise, and adoration
of the Father and of the Son. In private prayer, St. Benedict lays down
no rule. "If any one wishes to pray in private, let him go quietly into
the oratory (set apart for that purpose) and pray, not with a loud voice,
but with tears and fervor of heart" (chapter 52). "Our prayer ought
to be short and with purity of heart, except it be perchance prolonged
by the inspiration of divine grace" (ibid 20). This is all that he says,
and it is because the whole condition and mode of life secured by the
Rule, and the character formed by its observance, lead naturally to the
higher states of prayer.
This, then, is an outline of St. Benedict's Rule for the first steps
of discipleship. He himself called it the "least of all Rules," and writes
in conclusion, "Whoever, therefore, thou art that hasteneth to thy heav-
enly country, fulfil by the help of Christ, this little Rule which we have
THE BENEDICTINE RULE 35
written for beginners; and then at length thou shalt arrive, under God's
protection, at the lofty summits of doctrine and virtue of which we
have spoken above." For guidance in these higher states the saint refers
to the holy Fathers. The Rule is meant for every class of mind and
every degree of learning. It can be studied by souls advanced in per-
fection; and it also organizes and directs a complete life which is
adapted for simple folk and for sinners, for the first gropings after
light and for "a beginning of holiness." St. Benedict had deep and wide
human feeling, and for this reason he appeals to the wavering multi-
tudes of men who would like to be religious, but who lack the courage to
commit themselves irrevocably. He does not ask too much at the start,
but with infinite skill he opens higher and higher vistas to the progressing
disciple, keeping clear before him the vision of the Master as his end
and aim.
That such an appeal could not fail to be universal in its effects is
obvious. No higher testimony as to the inherent excellencies of this
Rule can be adduced than the results it has achieved in Western Europe ;
and no more striking proof of its inner life is exhibited than its adapt-
ability to the ever-changing requirements of time and place since St.
Benedict's day. For fourteen centuries it has been the guiding light of
a numerous family of religious, both men and women; and to-day there
are over 20,000 Benedictines, supporting 114 secondary schools, and
influencing the lives of over 20,000 boys and girls. The essential prin-
ciple of manual labor alone has produced many of the superb cathedrals,
churches and abbeys scattered over Europe, especially in England.
"Benedictine erudition" has become a by-word, resulting from the work
accomplished in the cloisters.
As to the immediate effect that St. Benedict's work had on the
history of his own day, too much cannot be said. The re-establishment
of a potent, vital, and sincere ideal, which at the same time was adapted
to the race-genius of the West, gave a new direction to the energy of
the people. A real religion sprang up within the religious shell of the
Church, and an inspiring guide to lead men back to Christ. The result
was that many a genuinely religious or spiritually minded man became a
Benedictine, because under that Rule opportunity was given him to
develop in whatever direction best suited his particular character. The
secular clergy were the first to be benefitted by this influence, and they
were so purified and strengthened that for a time they seemed to be iden-
tified, in the minds of the people, with the monks, a curious tribute.
In St. Benedict's life-time, as after his death in 543, the sons of
the noblest families in Italy, and the best of the converted barbarians,
went in multitudes to Monte Cassino. As years went by missionary
monks went forth all over the west, spreading both by doctrine and
example, peace, faith, a knowledge of the scriptures and secular learning ;
and above all, the way of light and life as preached by the Master.
36 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
Less than a century after the death of Benedict the dismembered prov-
inces of the destroyed Empire were reunited, not by a political machine,
but by the bonds of a common faith and a common belief. All the
native strength of the invading peoples was turned from destruction into
construction, from a purely physical channel into a spiritual channel.
St. Gregory the Great was a Benedictine, giving away all his immense
wealth to endow six new monasteries in Sicily. St. Augustine and his
companions left a Benedictine monastery to convert England, and carried
their monasticism with them, laying the foundations for the future
tremendous Benedictine institution, that was not even entirely broken
by Henry the Eighth a thousand years later. Hundreds of monasteries
and thousands of monks spread over all the countries of western Europe,
influencing the courts and the people, leading the thought and culture
of the period. The conversion of the Teutonic races to Christianity
can properly be called their achievement. Scandals and failures there
have been, but wherever the principles that guide men's conduct are
founded on a love and longing for the Master, there a vitality exists, that
rises above weaknesses, and turns back from evil ways to the only true
and satisfying source, to the Master.
JOHN BLAKE, JR.
WHY I JOINED THE
THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY
4 4 S X NCE bodies were offered to flames for man's uplifting.
I I Now souls are bared that men may see the way to grow."
\^__S It is easy to believe that no one is converted into Theosophy.
To tell why one joined The Theosophical Society seems to
involve much intimate history of the events which make such a step
not only possible but inevitable.
I learned of Theosophy during my first year in Boston. I came in
touch with a group of women who take religion as life, comfortably and
largely from the aesthetic standpoint. From a maze of elaborate vege-
tarian luncheons, Temples of Silence, and Swamis, certain fundamental
ideas detached themselves and were implanted in my impressionable
young mind. The person who had undertaken to "finish off" my
education was gravely concerned over my fantastic inclination and
discreetly diverted my mind into the more recognized channels of Brown-
ing and Emerson. At the end of two years of desultory study I realized
that instead of being finished my education had not begun. I had
absorbed a number of excellent but ill-assorted ideas in that city of
spiritual microbes. My mind felt the need of direction and tempering
that cleancut thought would give it. I entered a large university. If I
had expected to learn how to study, and how to apply to living the flood
of facts and theories that were poured into my bewildered brain I was
grievously disappointed. Now and then I would breathlessly consider
that if I could only have time to think I could sort out this heterogeneous
mass and it would assume a coherent and vital significance. I knew a
number of the instructors outside the classroom. The prudent formal
theories, backed by weighty authorities, which they droned out in their
lectures did not tally with the set of views which they held for them-
selves. Few fitted the world of thought to the world of fact as I had
so vainly imagined. My limited experience in the orthodox church had
been the same. Its clergy preached from the expected viewpoint. Per-
sonally they had not the faith that brought their hearers together for
the message of hope and inspiration that comes from him of profound
conviction in the force and reality of the inner life. If then the church
and schools stultified themselves one could only build up his code of
living from firsthand experience.
After finishing my course at the university I took my place in the
world. I soon learned that the coin in greatest circulation was "to
amuse" and "to be amused" and that ideals did not pass current. It
37
38 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
did not take me long to overdraw my account. With ragged nerves I
began a querulous search for health. While in California the life of the
resort hotels became intolerable. I had heard of restful quarters for
the accommodation of the public adjoining the community of the Uni-
versal Brotherhood at Point Loma, and although I had not since my
early schooldays heard Theosophy spoken of except in the sensational
terms of the press I had always retained certain ideas from that earlier
period ideas which I had accepted as finally as the law of gravitation.
To make these clearer to the mind seemed imperative. Like so many
"reasonable" persons I was unreasonably superstitious. I sought this
place expecting my position to be immediately sensed and that I should
be given Theosophy in all its pristine clarity. My quest was not
fruitful.
After another year of spendthrift diversion I went bankrupt. Mine
was the usual experience of bitterness and disappointment in not finding
in the world of people and things what I sought. It finally came to
me to consider the meaning of
"Lo, all things fly thee, for thou fliest Me ! "
It might be well to sound the possibilities within myself. I could not find
myself more disappointing than others had been. I went into the country.
Ranch life, however, is not one of idle reverie. The chastening effect of
dealing with one's fellow ranchmen of disarmingly guileless exterior, the
wonder of growing life, the combined working of hand and brain, all
brought about a normal state of mind and body. But to what purpose?
One could accumulate more facts, acquire more accomplishments, gain
a clearer insight into the traits, especially the weaknesses, of one's
fellows, and by avoiding these in oneself, could gain a certain small
degree of power. But again to what purpose? With a simplification
of life and an elimination of desires one's sense of values changes.
Dependence upon others in times of stress had long since been given
up. I knew I had reached the limit of my vision. Continued effort
along the same lines would be but revolving about in a circle. That
there were far reaching vistas beyond one's present power to discern was
evidenced by individuals about one and in the occasional message found
in the world of books. There must be some route by which these
persons gained the loftier outlook. What could be more worth while
than to seek out the way and learn the terms by which one might attempt
the ascent!
Notwithstanding their irrational exposition, I had seen a new and
powerful force enter into the lives of more than one adherent of the
so-called New Thought movement. I decided that it had been inade-
quately presented on account of the lack of systematic training of so
many of its exponents. I determined at any violence to the intelligence
to put myself in the required receptive attitude. I was unable to remain
WHY I JOINED THE THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY 39
there long. There was something revolting in the prostitution of
spiritual powers by the stress put upon material gain. I caught, how-
ever, a gleam of gold. The few grains I picked up on the very surface
held out a dazzling inducement of the possibilities of mining in the
solid reef below the mind. I determined to prospect on my own account.
One day I mentioned to a friend that I was studying at philosophy and
was at a loss how to gain reliable information relating to Oriental
Philosophy the schools ignored it and the charlatans traded upon it.
I was immediately referred to a small group of persons who were
making a serious study of Theosophy. I sought them out and was most
graciously given such explanation as I could grasp, a number of books,
and the address of a more advanced student if I wished further enlight-
enment. For months my sole interest lay in Theosophical reading.
With my varying mood I changed from the expository to the devotional.
I daily expected a reaction to follow: that I should reach the limit of
the teachings and the same revulsion of feeling would follow that I had
always felt for persons and things when their apparent possibilities were
exhausted. The revulsion did not come as I had expected. The limi-
tations I found only in myself to follow where the teachings lead.
To each new student, Theosophy, embodying as it does, the sum
total of Divine Wisdom, must of necessity present some special phase
of its teachings with peculiar force and clarity. Not only must the
particular aspect strike the individual with a force all its own, but it
must take on the color of his own state of consciousness as the channel
through which it flows. In my own case I cannot confess to any reve-
lations of truths through the medium of ecstatic emotion. I was forced
to a logical recognition of love or selflessness as a universal, unerring
law. I saw that obedience to this law to a greater or less degree was
the mark of the great ones who had attained the higher levels which I
had discerned when I began my quest; and that it was not only possible
for the meanest individual to follow this Path upwards, but that even-
tually he must do so.
When I say that through reason alone specific truths were made
clear by Theosophy I am confining myself to the states of mind with
which I am familiar. That there were greater and more potent forces
I have not a doubt, but any presumptive speculation on my part would
be futile to older students and beginners alike.
To each new and earnest miner in Theosophical doctrines the
unearthing of each new nugget of truth must come as a rare discovery.
Similar and greater nuggets that have gone through the melting pot, are
being given in these pages and in other Theosophical literature by more
experienced miners, so I will resist exhibiting other newly found
treasures.
There must be many who have spent years of vain regret that
they cannot feel the burning ardor of the Christ's love for humanity,
40 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
yet recognize it as the highest goal. To such, Theosophy holds out the
courage and the means by which the journey may be at least attempted.
When once the start has been made, the conviction must follow, that
"when things begin they finish."
It would seem that to the sceptical and judicious Theosophy would
make a strong appeal. It asks for no submission to authority greater
than one's Higher Self, nor for belief in that which one cannot verify
for himself. It offers knowledge of the doctrine to him that lives the
life. And the life is to actualize those ideals that have been an integral
part of the religious training in all times and among all peoples. Unlike
the religious of most cults and creeds the student of Theosophy finds
that he is neither restrained nor encouraged by arbitrary rules or set
conditions. Rather by an acceptance and utilization of the circumstances
and duties nearest at hand does he, through the free power of the will,
seek to effect in himself that which the church has so long sought to
accomplish through organization and authority. He seeks "to stand
still amid the jangle of the world, to preserve stillness within the turmoil
of the body, to hold silence amid the thousand cries of the senses and
desires, and then, stripped of all armor and without hurry or excitement,
take the deadly serpent of self and kill it."
To glimpse, even faintly, the significance of "Measure your life by
loss and not by gain, not by wine drunk, but by wine poured out," would
seem a magnificent achievement; this the teachings of Theosophy make
possible of comprehension alike to the simple, and to the erudite.
To gain an ever clearer perception of "I, who saw power, see now
love perfect too" is, I believe, why I joined The Theosophical Society.
L. V.
THE GREAT PARADOX*
PARADOX would seem to be the natural language of occultism.
Nay more, it would seem to penetrate deep into the heart of
things, and thus to be inseparable from any attempt to put into
words the truth, the reality which underlies the outward shows
of life.
And the paradox is one not in words only, but in action, in the very
conduct of life. The paradoxes of occultism must be lived, not uttered
only. Herein lies a great danger, for it is only too easy to become lost
in the intellectual contemplation of the path, and so to forget that the
road can only be known by treading it.
One startling paradox meets the student at the very outset, and
confronts him in ever new and strange shapes at each turn of the road.
Such an one, perchance, has sought the path desiring a guide, a rule of
right for the conduct of his life. He learns that the alpha and the omega,
the beginning and the end of life is selflessness; and he feels the truth
of the saying that only in the profound unconsciousness of self-forget-
fulness can the truth and reality of being reveal itself to his eager heart.
The student learns that this is the one law of occultism, at once the
science and the art of living, the guide to the goal he desires to attain.
He is fired with enthusiasm and enters bravely on the mountain track.
He then finds that his teachers do not encourage his ardent flights of
sentiment; his all- forgetting yearning for the Infinite on the outer plane
of his actual life and consciousness. At least, if they do not actually
dampen his enthusiasm, they set him, as the first and indispensable task,
to conquer and control his body. The student finds that far from being
encouraged to live in the soaring thoughts of his brain, and to fancy he
has reached that ether where is true freedom to the forgetting of his
body, and his external actions and personality he is set down to tasks
much nearer earth. All his attention and watchfulness are required on
the outer plane; he must never forget himself, never lose hold over his
body, his mind, his brain. He must even learn to control the expression
of every feature, to check the action of each muscle, to be master of
every slightest involuntary movement. The daily life around and within
him is pointed out as the object of his study and observation. Instead
of forgetting what are usually called the petty trifles, the little forget-
fulnesses, the accidental slips of tongue or memory, he is forced to be-
come each day more conscious of these lapses, till at last they seem to
poison the air he breathes and stifle him, till he seems to lose sight and
touch of the great world of freedom towards which he is struggling, till
Reprinted from Lucifer.
42 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
every hour of every day seems full of the bitter taste of self, and his
heart grows sick with pain and the struggle of despair. And the dark-
ness is rendered yet deeper by the voice within him, crying ceaselessly,
"Forget thyself. Beware, lest thou become self-concentrated and the
giant weed of spiritual selfishness take firm root in thy heart; beware,
beware, beware ! "
The voice stirs his heart to its depths, for he feels that the words
are true. His daily and hourly battle is teaching him that self-centred-
ness is the root of misery, the cause of pain, and his soul is full of
longing to be free.
Thus the disciple is torn by doubt. He trusts his teachers, for he
knows that through them speaks the same voice he hears in the silence
of his own heart. But now they utter contradictory words; the one,
the inner voice, bidding him forget himself utterly in the service of
humanity; the other, the spoken word of those from whom he seeks
guidance in his service, bidding him first to conquer his body, his outer
self. And he knows better with every hour how badly he acquits him-
self in that battle with the Hydra, and he sees seven heads grow afresh
in place of each one that he has lopped off.
At first he oscillates between the two, now obeying the one, now
the other. But soon he learns that this is fruitless. For the sense of
freedom and lightness, which comes at first when he leaves his outer
self un watched, that he may seek the inner air, soon loses its keenness,
and some sudden shock reveals to him that he has slipped and fallen
on the uphill path. Then, in desperation, he flings himself upon the
treacherous snake of self, and strives to choke it unto death ; but its ever-
moving coils elude his grasp, the insidious temptation of its glittering
scales blind his vision, and again he becomes involved in the turmoil of
the battle, which gains on him from day to day, and which at last seems
to fill the whole world, and blot out all else beside from his consciousness.
He is face to face with a crushing paradox, the solution of which must
be lived before it can be really understood.
In his hours of silent meditation the student will find that there
is one space of silence within him where he can find refuge from thoughts
and desires, from the turmoil of the senses and the delusions of the mind.
By sinking his consciousness deep into his heart he can reach this place
at first only when he is alone in silence and darkness. But when the
need for the silence has grown great enough, he will turn to seek it even
in the midst of the struggle with self, and he will find it. Only he must
not let go of his outer self, or his body; he must learn to retire into this
citadel when the battle grows fierce, but to do so without losing sight of
the battle; without allowing himself to fancy that by so doing he has
won the victory. That victory is won only when all is silence without
as within the inner citadel. Fighting thus, from within that silence, the
student will find that he has solved the first great paradox.
THE GREAT PARADOX 43
But paradox still follows him. When first he thus succeeds in thus
retreating into himself, he seeks there only for refuge from the storm
in his heart. And as he struggles to control the gusts of passion and
desire, he realises more fully what mighty powers he has vowed himself
to conquer. He still feels himself, apart from the silence, nearer akin
to the forces of the storm. How can his puny strength cope with these
tyrants of animal nature?
This question is hard to answer in direct words; if, indeed, such
an answer can be given. But analogy may point the way where the
solution may be sought.
In breathing we take a certain quantity of air into the lungs, and
with this we can imitate in miniature the mighty wind of heaven. We
can produce a feeble semblance of nature : a tempest in a tea-cup, a gale
to blow and even swamp a paper boat. And we can say: "I do this;
it is my breath." But we cannot blow our breath against a hurricane,
still less hold the trade winds in our lungs. Yet the powers of heaven
are within us; the nature of the intelligences which guide the world
forces is blended with our own, and could we realise this and forget
our outer selves, the very winds would be our instruments.
So it is in life. While a man clings to his outer self aye, and
even to any one of the forms he assumes when this "mortal coil" is cast
aside so long is he trying to blow aside a hurricane with the breath
of his lungs. It is useless and idle, such an endeavour; for the great
winds of life must, sooner or later, sweep him away. But if he changes
his attitude in himself, if he acts on the faith that his body, his desires,
his passions, his brain, are not himself, though he has charge of them,
and is responsible for them; if he tries to deal with them as parts of
nature, then he may hope to become one with the great tides of being,
and reach the peaceful place of self-forgetfulness at last.
"FAUST."
DO WE THINK IN FOUR
DIMENSIONS?
SOMEONE said the other day, of Boris Sidis, the Wunderkind of
Cambridge, Mass., that he can think in four dimensions. This
interested me not a little. For I have long held the belief that,
not merely a Boston prodigy, but even a common mortal, may and
does think four-dimensionally, just as soon as his thinking reaches a
certain depth and clearness, with something of the quality of detachment.
It is with no desire to lessen the honors of the young phenomenon, but
rather to hearten the rest of us, by showing that we may stand on the
same high and inspiring level, albeit born far from the banks of the
Charles, that this study is undertaken. Let me, therefore, illustrate
what I mean.
Think of a tea-cup. That is a simple beginning, such as Horace
recommends in his art of poetry, and should not startle even the timid
heart of an old maid; nay to such, a tea-cup should make a special ap-
peal. Very well, then; think of a tea-cup; a plain, ordinary tea-cup
will do perfectly well; we are not driven to Dresden ware or Sevres.
Think of said tea-cup held up before your face, at the comfortable dis-
tance of a foot or two, and, for the sake of argument, with the inside
of the tea-cup turned toward your eyes. Visualize your tea-cup. Make
as clear a mind-image of it as you can, so that you see it before the mind's
eye very much as if it were held in your hand, and held up before your
bodily eyes. This power to make a clear mind-image, and to see it
clearly, is what I meant, a little while back, by the quality of detachment.
The mind-image must detach itself a little from the mind, and stand out
clear, like a visible object.
Now, having got our tea-cup properly created in space, and I pass
over the miracle of that creation, we are ready to go ahead. Think of
the tea-cup, as we said, with the inside turned toward your eyes. Now,
quickly, think of the bottom of it. Though it is turned away from your
eyes, yet you can see it just as well as you see the inside of the tea-cup.
Indeed, you can see both inside and outside at the same time, looking at
your mind-tea-cup from two opposite directions. And you can do it
without the least difficulty. Indeed, you have done that sort of thing
ever since you were conscious of thinking, of considering mind-images,
at all.
So far so good, and not at all frightful. Now let us take courage,
and try again. Think of a box. Any box will do. Bring your own
box with you. Choose your box. Only it must have a lid. We cannot
DO WE THINK IN FOUR DIMENSIONS 45
get on without that; a box at the theater, or even the opera, will not
serve our turn. Think, then, oh reader, of a box. Let it stand out, as
before, in front of your mind's eye, or eyes, as the case may be. The
particular box which I happen to be thinking of, is a brown wicker-work
receptacle, lined with quilted silk; a square basket, perhaps, rather than
a box. But it will serve. Now you can think of this brown wicker
work-box, set in front of your eyes, a couple of feet away; and, for
the moment, please think of it with the lid up, so that you can see into
the inside; see, in fact, the quilted silk lining, with a pair of scissors
lying at the bottom. Now, with your mind's hand, so to speak, for it is
just as sensible to speak of a mind's hand as a mind's eye; with your
mind's hand close the lid of the box. You can now see the brown wicker
top of the lid, as well as the front side of the box. But you can also
see the back, and the bottom. Nay, you can also see, and just as well,
the inside, with the pair of scissors still lying on the quilted silk. You
can see that box inside and out, upside and down, from every point of
view; and all this, without thinking of yourself as walking round it, or
as turning it over, or opening it again.
Still so far so good. Let us take our courage in both hands, and
try again. Think of a room. Do not jump; I mean a perfectly ordi-
nary room; any room; the kind of room you are in now, or that very
room. A hall-bedroom will do just as well as a Louis XIV boudoir.
Very well, you are thinking of a room. Quite easy, is it not? And not
a bit startling or uncanny. Now think of another room, your office, if
you happen to have one. Very well. We have got our two rooms.
Now how long does it take you, in thought, to get from the one to the
other? to think of yourself first in the one and then in the other? Not
very long. Half a second, perhaps; perhaps, if you have one of those
quick-acting minds, you can think yourself from one to the other in even
less than half-a-second. But that is not indispensable. The great thing
is, that you can make the journey ; can think of yourself first in one room
and then in the other, and then back again, without the slightest particle
of difficulty.
Now let us try again. And this time you may jump, if you wish;
for I am going to propose something very dreadful ; no less a thing than
four-dimensional burglary. I did not venture to let that out before.
I have been leading up to it gradually; breaking it gently to you, so to
speak. Now, are you ready? and for this kind of burglary you need
neither jemmy nor dark-lantern. That is where the full knavishness of
its four-dimensionality comes in. So be prepared. Think of a safe.
The safest kind of safe you can think of. There is no patent restriction
on mind-pictures, so don't be afraid. Spare no expense in your safe;
get the best that money can buy, and don't pay for it. Well, you have
thought of your safe. Very good. Begin with it wide open, its grey
46 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
insides exposed to your inquisitive view, just as the work-box was, a
little while back.
Now look into your safe. Clearly picture the inside. And now
lay upon its floor, on a cushion of satin, if you will, a tiara of fine
diamonds, big, white, sparkling stones, that would make Shylock's eyes
water; add a handful of rubies; add a thousand fifty-dollar gold certi-
ficates, done up in ten packets of a hundred each, such as you see at
the bank, once in awhile. If so inclined, add a bundle of stocks and
bonds, avoiding carefully those affected by the recent slump. But I
am not going to make a point of that. I prefer gold certificates, rubies
and diamonds. Get them all nicely placed in the safe. Now close the
door, carefully, as befits the magnitude of the treasure within; close the
door, get the lock properly fixed, and forget the combination.
That at least is perfectly, even fatally, easy. The more so, in this
case, as we did not think up a combination, before closing the safe. So
the safe is closed, closed for keeps. And now, be prepared for necro-
mancy. For, even now your safe is closed, locked, and the combination
forgotten; even though its sides be six inches thick, of toughened steel,
stubborn as the ribs of a Dreadnought; you can yet see inside of it;
can see the aforesaid tiara of sparkling diamonds, handful of rubies, and
bundles of gold certificates, peacefully lying on its floor, with or without
the bundle of stocks and bonds, as the case may be. Lying peacefully
inside; peacefully, but not safely; for you now stretch forth your mind's
hand, and yank that boodle out of the safe, and lay it on the table before
your depraved and greedy eyes. That, by the way, is a four-dimensional
personality. Perhaps I should make a four-dimensional apology? Most
willingly. I apologise.
But the fact remains. You, the aforesaid reader, did feloniously
and burglariously rob the aforesaid safe, of aforesaid tiara, notes and
rubies, with or without bonds and stocks. You are caught with the
goods. They are there, on the table before you. But that is not the
worst of it. You did it without opening the safe, which still remains
closed, its melancholy grey insides blinking at you in the twilight. So you
are guilty of four-dimensional robbery, with but one extenuating circum-
stance: that the property stolen belonged to yourself, at least if there
be property in mind-images.
Well, you will say, and I shall not contradict you, there is nothing
extraordinary in all this; nothing that you have not done a thousand
times before. The thinking, I mean, not the safe-breaking; though
many a good man has mentally done that. There is nothing extraor-
dinary in the thinking, you say; and I agree. It is just the kind of
thing you do all the time, though you be not a Boston prodigy, or an
infant phenomenon from the Charles river. Exactly. It is what we
do all the time. That is half my thesis. Now I come to the second
part; to prove that this kind of thing is four-dimensional. Be not
DO WE THINK IN FOUR DIMENSIONS 47
affrighted. The worst is past. If you have followed me so far, do not
desert me now. The wicked part is over. We shall not burgle any
more.
Now, to begin with, imagine a flat man. You cannot? Well, let
me try to help you. Imagine an ordinary man of normal proportions.
Imagine him laid on the floor. Now imagine the Pres I mean,
imagine some gentleman of great weight and dignity sitting upon him;
sitting so effectually as to flatten him out completely. Between our-
selves, I do not think there would be any impropriety in thinking of the
flattened gentleman as -having the features of Uncle Cannon. That may
help some Middle- Western imaginations. But the point is, to get him
so completely flattened out, that he has no more thickness than a figure
cut out of paper. Indeed, if you wish, you can imagine him cut out of
paper, if so be that you get him flat enough.
Very well. Imagine your flat man so permanently flattened, that
he can only crawl along the surface of the table, or the floor, perhaps
we had better say. Yes, let us have him crawl about on the floor. That
will be quite pleasant and nice, for us. Possibly not for him. But who
would consult the feelings of a flat man? Not a janitor, certainly.
This, perhaps, is a four-dimensional joke. If so, and we are not quite
certain, we apologise again. But let us have our flat man crawl about
the carpet, or even on the bare boards. Perhaps that would be best
of all.
Well, you notice that, when he comes to a line in the carpet, or the
crack between two boards, he can only see the side of the line, or the
crack, which is nearest to him; to see the other side he has to crawl
round, and look at it from the opposite direction. But you and I, oh
reader, not having been flattened out, can look down upon the line or
the crack, and see both sides of it at once. Well? Does the secret
begin to dawn? Let us help ourselves out by the simple expedient of
counting. We shall not go far; just one, two, three, and, perhaps, four.
The perfectly flat man, I avoid saying simply the flat man, because
Harlem has her susceptibilities, and they must be humored; the per-
fectly flat man, then, being kept to the level of the floor, can only disport
himself in two directions; in the length and breadth of the floor, that is.
He cannot go in for the third direction ; that is, height. He is too com-
pletely flattened out for that. Now it is the fashion, among infant
prodigies and Bostonian sages, to speak of these two directions as dimen-
sions. So they would call our flat and crawling citizen a two-dimen-
sional man. But we, who can also soar, who can add height, the third
direction, to length and breadth, are in like manner called three-dimen-
sional ; because we can disport ourselves in three directions.
And, just because we are thus masters of three directions or dimen-
sions, we can look down from above on the line or crack in the floor,
and see both sides of it at once. But, even though we do thus spread
48
ourselves in three directions, or, to use the modish term, even though we
are three-dimensional, we cannot so look at a tea-cup as to see both sides
of it at once; that is, the outside and the inside. We can hold the
tea-cup in front of us, and look at the outside; or we can turn it over,
and look at the inside ; but we cannot take a point of vantage, from which
we can see both sides at once. We can, though, in one way; by holding
it up before a mirror, whereby we do become able to look at it from two
directly opposite points at the same time, and so we see both the inside
and the outside at once. But in no other way, in no direct physical way,
can we do such a small thing as see the outside and the inside of a
tea-cup at the same moment. If we could find a new direction, a point
of vantage such as we have, when compared to the flat man, in looking
down from above on the crack in the floor, then we could see both sides
of the tea-cup at once. We simply need a fourth direction, in addition
to length, breadth and height. And a fourth direction is exactly the
same as a fourth dimension. So if we could find a fourth direction, or
take advantage of the fourth dimension, we could see both the inside
and the outside of the tea-cup at once. But that is exactly what we can
do, with our think-tea-cup. Therefore, in doing so, we are using the
fourth dimension; in our thoughts, that is. Or, in other words, we do
think in four dimensions. Quod erat demonstrandum. Next, please.
Next came the square basket. Now, for our friend, the flat-man,
who is still crawling about the carpet, a square pattern on the carpet
would be equivalent to a square basket. More than that, if the square
was complete, he could never get inside it, or imagine how anyone else
could get inside it. Or, perhaps, he might just be able to imagine it, if
he had begun to have three-dimensional thoughts, to think about height
as well as length and breadth, though, of course, he would be convinced
that there never was such a thing. Well, he could never get inside the
four-square pattern on the carpet. For him, it would be a closed box.
But we can see inside his closed box, simply by looking down on it from
above; that is, by taking advantage of an additional direction, or dimen-
sion, besides the two known to him. By analogy, if we could take
advantage of a new direction or dimension, in addition to the three we
ourselves move about in, we could see into the inside of one of our own
closed boxes ; see the scissors on the lining at the bottom, without lifting
the lid. If we could use the fourth dimension or direction, we could do
just that. But we can do just that in thought; did, in fact, do it quite
easily a little while back ; therefore in so doing, in so thinking, we were
thinking in four dimensions. Once more: quod erat demonstrandum.
Then again, for our flat and crawling friend, the nearest equivalent
idea to a room would be a bigger square pattern on the carpet. If such
a square were completed, and he inside it, he could never get out. It
would be a dungeon for him, an issueless prison. Or, if outside, he
could never get in. Yet, if very imaginative, he might dream of the
THE BENEDICTINE RULE 33
God will vouchsafe to mainfest by the Holy Spirit in His labourer,
now cleansed from vice and sin." This is the high water mark of St.
Benedict's aim and ideal for his monks, and in his treatment of the fruits
of obedience, under the general heading of Humility, he indicates the
spiritual path of the monk, and the heights to which he should strive
to reach. Chapter 7 is given to an exhaustive analysis of the steps of
humility, which St. Benedict for greater clarity divides into twelve de-
grees. The above quotation is the summing of the twelfth. "We go up
by descending," says St. Benedict, and he uses Jacob's Ladder as a
simile; the ascending and descending angels signifying that we descend
by self-exaltation, and ascend by humility. The first seven degrees
instruct the monk as to inward humility, or humility of the soul; the
last five as to exterior or outward manifestations, or humility of the
body. Following is a summary of these degrees.
First Degree. Recollection and fear of God's nearness and watchful-
ness. We must check all sinful desires.
Second Degree. We must give up to God our own wills, and deny our
will. We must check all desires. Pride arises from lack of self-
control, so we must gain control first.
Third Degree. We must submit to and obey, for love of God, all those
placed over us in command. We must positively give over the
very faculty of desire or self-will.
Fourth Degree. We must bear suffering, injury, injustice, and harsh
treatment gladly, and "embrace" trials.
Fifth Degree. We must confess temptations and sins to our Director,
in order to obtain help, advice, and to "create a new heart."
Sixth Degree. We must be content with the "meanest and worst of
everything." We must think ourselves unfit for any good service
or undertaking.
Seventh Degree. Self-abasement in attitude and in speech. We must
believe that we are inferior to everyone.
Eighth Degree. We must avoid singularity or self-expression by doing
nothing outside of the Rule, follow the beaten track.
Ninth Degree. We must love and practice silence, together with total
self-effacement. This degree is the positive aspect of the eighth.
Tenth Degree. We must shun immoderate mirth, and be "not easily
moved" to laughter.
Eleventh Degree. We must speak (when spoken to) gently, gravely,
quietly, humbly, and with few, well-chosen words.
Twelfth Degree. We must in all our actions comport ourselves as poor
sinners, convinced of our unworthiness, with downcast demeanor to
show true humility of soul, and ready at all time to humble ourselves
in another's eyes.
34 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
The monk who can pass through these degrees, arrives at a complete
dependence on the Master, who is drawn to him by his great self-abase-
ment; and he will be able to run the "way of life," in love and great
peace. There is absolutely no reason why these degrees of humility
should be confined to the purely monastic life, and every disciple will
find them worth attention and study. There is nothing rigorous
or hard about this "way of salvation"; and especially are the earlier
steps within easy reach of any man. This is the heart and soul of St.
Benedict's Rule, and it has the strongest appeal in that it leads the
religious straight to the Master Himself. In our day of unbelief and
absence of faith it is well to remember that these primitive Christians
aimed at no lower ideal than union with the Master, and that they
realized their ideal by living just this same Rule. Daily and hourly
must be the effort, for only so can the crisis when it arrives be success-
fully faced and passed. St. Benedict lays great stress on this steadiness
of endeavor, especially in regard to prayer. He says that in order really
to pray at the specially appointed hours, we must maintain "remote"
and constant preparation during the entire day. Without this prepara-
tion we are unable to bring all the power and feeling into play that should
go into heartfelt prayer. In the "Instruments" he gives these rules:
(i) To keep guard at all times over the actions of one's life; (2) To
know for certain that God sees one everywhere; (3) To dash down at
the feet of Christ one's evil thoughts the instant they come into one's
heart; (4) And to lay them open to one's spiritual Father; and (5) To
listen willingly to holy reading. The ability to exercise these forms of
prayer is fostered by the care of the "heart" on which St. Benedict so
often insists, and the heart is saved from the dissipation that would
result from social intercourse, by the habit of mind that sees Christ
Himself in every one. Thus we have a consecration not only of the life
as a whole, but of the daily and hourly divisions of that life; and added
to these individual efforts, we have the consecration of the community
as a whole in the Opus Dei, the public worship, praise, and adoration
of the Father and of the Son. In private prayer, St. Benedict lays down
no rule. "If any one wishes to pray in private, let him go quietly into
the oratory (set apart for that purpose) and pray, not with a loud voice,
but with tears and fervor of heart" (chapter 52). "Our prayer ought
to be short and with purity of heart, except it be perchance prolonged
by the inspiration of divine grace" (ibid 20). This is all that he says,
and it is because the whole condition and mode of life secured by the
Rule, and the character formed by its observance, lead naturally to the
higher states of prayer.
This, then, is an outline of St. Benedict's Rule for the first steps
of discipleship. He himself called it the "least of all Rules," and writes
in conclusion, "Whoever, therefore, thou art that hasteneth to thy heav-
enly country, fulfil by the help of Christ, this little Rule which we have
35
written for beginners; and then at length thou shalt arrive, under God's
protection, at the lofty summits of doctrine and virtue of which we
have spoken above." For guidance in these higher states the saint refers
to the holy Fathers. The Rule is meant for every class of mind and
every degree of learning. It can be studied by souls advanced in per-
fection; and it also organizes and directs a complete life which is
adapted for simple folk and for sinners, for the first gropings after
light and for "a beginning of holiness." St. Benedict had deep and wide
human feeling, and for this reason he appeals to the wavering multi-
tudes of men who would like to be religious, but who lack the courage to
commit themselves irrevocably. He does not ask too much at the start,
but with infinite skill he opens higher and higher vistas to the progressing
disciple, keeping clear before him the vision of the Master as his end
and aim.
That such an appeal could not fail to be universal in its effects is
obvious. No higher testimony as to the inherent excellencies of this
Rule can be adduced than the results it has achieved in Western Europe ;
and no more striking proof of its inner life is exhibited than its adapt-
ability to the ever-changing requirements of time and place since St.
Benedict's day. For fourteen centuries it has been the guiding light of
a numerous family of religious, both men and women; and to-day there
are over 20,000 Benedictines, supporting 114 secondary schools, and
influencing the lives of over 20,000 boys and girls. The essential prin-
ciple of manual labor alone has produced many of the superb cathedrals,
churches and abbeys scattered over Europe, especially in England.
"Benedictine erudition" has become a by-word, resulting from the work
accomplished in the cloisters.
As to the immediate effect that St. Benedict's work had on the
history of his own day, too much cannot be said. The re-establishment
of a potent, vital, and sincere ideal, which at the same time was adapted
to the race-genius of the West, gave a new direction to the energy of
the people. A real religion sprang up within the religious shell of the
Church, and an inspiring guide to lead men back to Christ. The result
was that many a genuinely religious or spiritually minded man became a
Benedictine, because under that Rule opportunity was given him to
develop in whatever direction best suited his particular character. The
secular clergy were the first to be benefitted by this influence, and they
were so purified and strengthened that for a time they seemed to be iden-
tified, in the minds of the people, with the monks, a curious tribute.
In St. Benedict's life-time, as after his death in 543, the sons of
the noblest families in Italy, and the best of the converted barbarians,
went in multitudes to Monte Cassino. As years went by missionary
monks went forth all over the west, spreading both by doctrine and
example, peace, faith, a knowledge of the scriptures and secular learning ;
and above all, the way of light and life as preached by the Master.
36 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
Less than a century after the death of Benedict the dismembered prov-
inces of the destroyed Empire were reunited, not by a political machine,
but by the bonds of a common faith and a common belief. All the
native strength of the invading peoples was turned from destruction into
construction, from a purely physical channel into a spiritual channel.
St. Gregory the Great was a Benedictine, giving away all his immense
wealth to endow six new monasteries in Sicily. St. Augustine and his
companions left a Benedictine monastery to convert England, and carried
their monasticism with them, laying the foundations for the future
tremendous Benedictine institution, that was not even entirely broken
by Henry the Eighth a thousand years later. Hundreds of monasteries
and thousands of monks spread over all the countries of western Europe,
influencing the courts and the people, leading the thought and culture
of the period. The conversion of the Teutonic races to Christianity
can properly be called their achievement. Scandals and failures there
have been, but wherever the principles that guide men's conduct are
founded on a love and longing for the Master, there a vitality exists, that
rises above weaknesses, and turns back from evil ways to the only true
and satisfying source, to the Master.
JOHN BLAKE, JR.
WHY I JOINED THE
THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY
4 4 S "v NCE bodies were offered to flames for man's uplifting.
1 I Now souls are bared that men may see the way to grow."
V^__X It is easy to believe that no one is converted into Theosophy.
To tell why one joined The Theosophical Society seems to
involve much intimate history of the events which make such a step
not only possible but inevitable.
I learned of Theosophy during my first year in Boston. I came in
touch with a group of women who take religion as life, comfortably and
largely from the aesthetic standpoint. From a maze of elaborate vege-
tarian luncheons, Temples of Silence, and Swamis, certain fundamental
ideas detached themselves and were implanted in my impressionable
young mind. The person who had undertaken to "finish off" my
education was gravely concerned over my fantastic inclination and
discreetly diverted my mind into the more recognized channels of Brown-
ing and Emerson. At the end of two years of desultory study I realized
that instead of being finished my education had not begun. I had
absorbed a number of excellent but ill-assorted ideas in that city of
spiritual microbes. My mind felt the need of direction and tempering
that cleancut thought would give it. I entered a large university. If I
had expected to learn how to study, and how to apply to living the flood
of facts and theories that were poured into my bewildered brain I was
grievously disappointed. Now and then I would breathlessly consider
that if I could only have time to think I could sort out this heterogeneous
mass and it would assume a coherent and vital significance. I knew a
number of the instructors outside the classroom. The prudent formal
theories, backed by weighty authorities, which they droned out in their
lectures did not tally with the set of views which they held for them-
selves. Few fitted the world of thought to the world of fact as I had
so vainly imagined. My limited experience in the orthodox church had
been the same. Its clergy preached from the expected viewpoint. Per-
sonally they had not the faith that brought their hearers together for
the message of hope and inspiration that comes from him of profound
conviction in the force and reality of the inner life. If then the church
and schools stultified themselves one could only build up his code of
living from firsthand experience.
After finishing my course at the university I took my place in the
world. I soon learned that the coin in greatest circulation was "to
amuse" and "to be amused" and that ideals did not pass current. It
37
38 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
did not take me long to overdraw my account. With ragged nerves I
began a querulous search for health. While in California the life of the
resort hotels became intolerable. I had heard of restful quarters for
the accommodation of the public adjoining the community of the Uni-
versal Brotherhood at Point Loma, and although I had not since my
early schooldays heard Theosophy spoken of except in the sensational
terms of the press I had always retained certain ideas from that earlier
period ideas which I had accepted as finally as the law of gravitation.
To make these clearer to the mind seemed imperative. Like so many
"reasonable" persons I was unreasonably superstitious. I sought this
place expecting my position to be immediately sensed and that I should
be given Theosophy in all its pristine clarity. My quest was not
fruitful.
After another year of spendthrift diversion I went bankrupt. Mine
was the usual experience of bitterness and disappointment in not finding
in the world of people and things what I sought. It finally came to
me to consider the meaning of
"Lo, all things fly thee, for thou fliest Me ! "
It might be well to sound the possibilities within myself. I could not find
myself more disappointing than others had been. I went into the country.
Ranch life, however, is not one of idle reverie. The chastening effect of
dealing with one's fellow ranchmen of disarmingly guileless exterior, the
wonder of growing life, the combined working of hand and brain, all
brought about a normal state of mind and body. But to what purpose?
One could accumulate more facts, acquire more accomplishments, gain
a clearer insight into the traits, especially the weaknesses, of one's
fellows, and by avoiding these in oneself, could gain a certain small
degree of power. But again to what purpose? With a simplification
of life and an elimination of desires one's sense of values changes.
Dependence upon others in times of stress had long since been given
up. I knew I had reached the limit of my vision. Continued effort
along the same lines would be but revolving about in a circle. That
there were far reaching vistas beyond one's present power to discern was
evidenced by individuals about one and in the occasional message found
in the world of books. There must be some route by which these
persons gained the loftier outlook. What could be more worth while
than to seek out the way and learn the terms by which one might attempt
the ascent!
Notwithstanding their irrational exposition, I had seen a new and
powerful force enter into the lives of more than one adherent of the
so-called New Thought movement. I decided that it had been inade-
quately presented on account of the lack of systematic training of so
many of its exponents. I determined at any violence to the intelligence
to put myself in the required receptive attitude. I was unable to remain
WHY I JOINED THE THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY 39
there long. There was something revolting in the prostitution of
spiritual powers by the stress put upon material gain. I caught, how-
ever, a gleam of gold. The few grains I picked up on the very surface
held out a dazzling inducement of the possibilities of mining in the
solid reef below the mind. I determined to prospect on my own account.
One day I mentioned to a friend that I was studying at philosophy and
was at a loss how to gain reliable information relating to Oriental
Philosophy the schools ignored it and the charlatans traded upon it.
I was immediately referred to a small group of persons who were
making a serious study of Theosophy. I sought them out and was most
graciously given such explanation as I could grasp, a number of books,
and the address of a more advanced student if I wished further enlight-
enment. For months my sole interest lay in Theosophical reading.
With my varying mood I changed from the expository to the devotional.
I daily expected a reaction to follow: that I should reach the limit of
the teachings and the same revulsion of feeling would follow that I had
always felt for persons and things when their apparent possibilities were
exhausted. The revulsion did not come as I had expected. The limi-
tations I found only in myself to follow where the teachings lead.
To each new student, Theosophy, embodying as it does, the sum
total of Divine Wisdom, must of necessity present some special phase
of its teachings with peculiar force and clarity. Not only must the
particular aspect strike the individual with a force all its own, but it
must take on the color of his own state of consciousness as the channel
through which it flows. In my own case I cannot confess to any reve-
lations of truths through the medium of ecstatic emotion. I was forced
to a logical recognition of love or selflessness as a universal, unerring
law. I saw that obedience to this law to a greater or less degree was
the mark of the great ones who had attained the higher levels which I
had discerned when I began my quest; and that it was not only possible
for the meanest individual to follow this Path upwards, but that even-
tually he must do so.
When I say that through reason alone specific truths were made
clear by Theosophy I am confining myself to the states of mind with
which I am familiar. That there were greater and more potent forces
I have not a doubt, but any presumptive speculation on my part would
be futile to older students and beginners alike.
To each new and earnest miner in Theosophical doctrines the
unearthing of each new nugget of truth must come as a rare discovery.
Similar and greater nuggets that have gone through the melting pot, are
being given in these pages and in other Theosophical literature by more
experienced miners, so I will resist exhibiting other newly found
treasures.
There must be many who have spent years of vain regret that
they cannot feel the burning ardor of the Christ's love for humanity,
40 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
yet recognize it as the highest goal. To such, Theosophy holds out the
courage and the means by which the journey may be at least attempted.
When once the start has been made, the conviction must follow, that
"when things begin they finish."
It would seem that to the sceptical and judicious Theosophy would
make a strong appeal. It asks for no submission to authority greater
than one's Higher Self, nor for belief in that which one cannot verify
for himself. It offers knowledge of the doctrine to him that lives the
life. And the life is to actualize those ideals that have been an integral
part of the religious training in all times and among all peoples. Unlike
the religious of most cults and creeds the student of Theosophy finds
that he is neither restrained nor encouraged by arbitrary rules or set
conditions. Rather by an acceptance and utilization of the circumstances
and duties nearest at hand does he, through the free power of the will,
seek to effect in himself that which the church has so long sought to
accomplish through organization and authority. He seeks "to stand
still amid the jangle of the world, to preserve stillness within the turmoil
of the body, to hold silence amid the thousand cries of the senses and
desires, and then, stripped of all armor and without hurry or excitement,
take the deadly serpent of self and kill it."
To glimpse, even faintly, the significance of "Measure your life by
loss and not by gain, not by wine drunk, but by wine poured out," would
seem a magnificent achievement; this the teachings of Theosophy make
possible of comprehension alike to the simple, and to the erudite.
To gain an ever clearer perception of "I, who saw power, see now
love perfect too" is, I believe, why I joined The Theosophical Society.
L. V.
THE GREAT PARADOX*
PARADOX would seem to be the natural language of occultism.
Nay more, it would seem to penetrate deep into the heart of
things, and thus to be inseparable from any attempt to put into
words the truth, the reality which underlies the outward shows
of life.
And the paradox is one not in words only, but in action, in the very
conduct of life. The paradoxes of occultism must be lived, not uttered
only. Herein lies a great danger, for it is only too easy to become lost
in the intellectual contemplation of the path, and so to forget that the
road can only be known by treading it.
One startling paradox meets the student at the very outset, and
confronts him in ever new and strange shapes at each turn of the road.
Such an one, perchance, has sought the path desiring a guide, a rule of
right for the conduct of his life. He learns that the alpha and the omega,
the beginning and the end of life is selflessness; and he feels the truth
of the saying that only in the profound unconsciousness of self-forget-
fulness can the truth and reality of being reveal itself to his eager heart.
The student learns that this is the one law of occultism, at once the
science and the art of living, the guide to the goal he desires to attain.
He is fired with enthusiasm and enters bravely on the mountain track.
He then finds that his teachers do not encourage his ardent flights of
sentiment; his all- forgetting yearning for the Infinite on the outer plane
of his actual life and consciousness. At least, if they do not actually
dampen his enthusiasm, they set him, as the first and indispensable task,
to conquer and control his body. The student finds that far from being
encouraged to live in the soaring thoughts of his brain, and to fancy he
has reached that ether where is true freedom to the forgetting of his
body, and his external actions and personality he is set down to tasks
much nearer earth. All his attention and watchfulness are required on
the outer plane; he must never forget himself, never lose hold over his
body, his mind, his brain. He must even learn to control the expression
of every feature, to check the action of each muscle, to be master of
every slightest involuntary movement. The daily life around and within
him is pointed out as the object of his study and observation. Instead
of forgetting what are usually called the petty trifles, the little forget-
fulnesses, the accidental slips of tongue or memory, he is forced to be-
come each day more conscious of these lapses, till at last they seem to
poison the air he breathes and stifle him, till he seems to lose sight and
touch of the great world of freedom towards which he is struggling, till
Reprinted from Lucifer.
42 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
every hour of every day seems full of the bitter taste of self, and his
heart grows sick with pain and the struggle of despair. And the dark-
ness is rendered yet deeper by the voice within him, crying ceaselessly,
"Forget thyself. Beware, lest thou become self-concentrated and the
giant weed of spiritual selfishness take firm root in thy heart; beware,
beware, beware ! "
The voice stirs his heart to its depths, for he feels that the words
are true. His daily and hourly battle is teaching him that self-centred-
ness is the root of misery, the cause of pain, and his soul is full of
longing to be free.
Thus the disciple is torn by doubt. He trusts his teachers, for he
knows that through them speaks the same voice he hears in the silence
of his own heart. But now they utter contradictory words; the one,
the inner voice, bidding him forget himself utterly in the service of
humanity; the other, the spoken word of those from whom he seeks
guidance in his service, bidding him first to conquer his body, his outer
self. And he knows better with every hour how badly he acquits him-
self in that battle with the Hydra, and he sees seven heads grow afresh
in place of each one that he has lopped off.
At first he oscillates between the two, now obeying the one, now
the other. But soon he learns that this is fruitless. For the sense of
freedom and lightness, which comes at first when he leaves his outer
self unwatched, that he may seek the inner air, soon loses its keenness,
and some sudden shock reveals to him that he has slipped and fallen
on the uphill path. Then, in desperation, he flings himself upon the
treacherous snake of self, and strives to choke it unto death; but its ever-
moving coils elude his grasp, the insidious temptation of its glittering
scales blind his vision, and again he becomes involved in the turmoil of
the battle, which gains on him from day to day, and which at last seems
to fill the whole world, and blot out all else beside from his consciousness.
He is face to face with a crushing paradox, the solution of which must
be lived before it can be really understood.
In his hours of silent meditation the student will find that there
is one space of silence within him where he can find refuge from thoughts
and desires, from the turmoil of the senses and the delusions of the mind.
By sinking his consciousness deep into his heart he can reach this place
at first only when he is alone in silence and darkness. But when the
need for the silence has grown great enough, he will turn to seek it even
in the midst of the struggle with self, and he will find it. Only he must
not let go of his outer self, or his body; he must learn to retire into this
citadel when the battle grows fierce, but to do so without losing sight of
the battle; without allowing himself to fancy that by so doing he has
won the victory. That victory is won only when all is silence without
as within the inner citadel. Fighting thus, from within that silence, the
student will find that he has solved the first great paradox.
THE GREAT PARADOX 43
But paradox still follows him. When first he thus succeeds in thus
retreating into himself, he seeks there only for refuge from the storm
in his heart. And as he struggles to control the gusts of passion and
desire, he realises more fully what mighty powers he has vowed himself
to conquer. He still feels himself, apart from the silence, nearer akin
to the forces of the storm. How can his puny strength cope with these
tyrants of animal nature?
This question is hard to answer in direct words; if, indeed, such
an answer can be given. But analogy may point the way where the
solution may be sought.
In breathing we take a certain quantity of air into the lungs, and
with this we can imitate in miniature the mighty wind of heaven. We
can produce a feeble semblance of nature : a tempest in a tea-cup, a gale
to blow and even swamp a paper boat. And we can say: "I do this;
it is my breath." But we cannot blow our breath against a hurricane,
still less hold the trade winds in our lungs. Yet the powers of heaven
are within us; the nature of the intelligences which guide the world
forces is blended with our own, and could we realise this and forget
our outer selves, the very winds would be our instruments.
So it is in life. While a man clings to his outer self aye, and
even to any one of the forms he assumes when this "mortal coil" is cast
aside so long is he trying to blow aside a hurricane with the breath
of his lungs. It is useless and idle, such an endeavour; for the great
winds of life must, sooner or later, sweep him away. But if he changes
his attitude in himself, if he acts on the faith that his body, his desires,
his passions, his brain, are not himself, though he has charge of them,
and is responsible for them; if he tries to deal with them as parts of
nature, then he may hope to become one with the great tides of being,
and reach the peaceful place of self-forgetfulness at last.
"FAUST."
DO WE THINK IN FOUR
DIMENSIONS?
SOMEONE said the other day, of Boris Sidis, the Wunderkind of
Cambridge, Mass., that he can think in four dimensions. This
interested me not a little. For I have long held the belief that,
not merely a Boston prodigy, but even a common mortal, may and
does think four-dimensionally, just as soon as his thinking reaches a
certain depth and clearness, with something of the quality of detachment.
It is with no desire to lessen the honors of the young phenomenon, but
rather to hearten the rest of us, by showing that we may stand on the
same high and inspiring level, albeit born far from the banks of the
Charles, that this study is undertaken. Let me, therefore, illustrate
what I mean.
Think of a tea-cup. That is a simple beginning, such as Horace
recommends in his art of poetry, and should not startle even the timid
heart of an old maid; nay to such, a tea-cup should make a special ap-
peal. Very well, then; think of a tea-cup; a plain, ordinary tea-cup
will do perfectly well; we are not driven to Dresden ware or Sevres.
Think of said tea-cup held up before your face, at the comfortable dis-
tance of a foot or two, and, for the sake of argument, with the inside
of the tea-cup turned toward your eyes. Visualize your tea-cup. Make
as clear a mind-image of it as you can, so that you see it before the mind's
eye very much as if it were held in your hand, and held up before your
bodily eyes. This power to make a clear mind-image, and to see it
clearly, is what I meant, a little while back, by the quality of detachment.
The mind-image must detach itself a little from the mind, and stand out
clear, like a visible object.
Now, having got our tea-cup properly created in space, and I pass
over the miracle of that creation, we are ready to go ahead. Think of
the tea-cup, as we said, with the inside turned toward your eyes. Now,
quickly, think of the bottom of it. Though it is turned away from your
eyes, yet you can see it just as well as you see the inside of the tea-cup.
Indeed, you can see both inside and outside at the same time, looking at
your mind-tea-cup from two opposite directions. And you can do it
without the least difficulty. Indeed, you have done that sort of thing
ever since you were conscious of thinking, of considering mind-images,
at all.
So far so good, and not at all frightful. Now let us take courage,
and try again. Think of a box. Any box will do. Bring your own
box with you. Choose your box. Only it must have a lid. We cannot
DO WE THINK IN FOUR DIMENSIONS 45
get on without that; a box at the theater, or even the opera, will not
serve our turn. Think, then, oh reader, of a box. Let it stand out, as
before, in front of your mind's eye, or eyes, as the case may be. The
particular box which I happen to be thinking of, is a brown wicker-work
receptacle, lined with quilted silk; a square basket, perhaps, rather than
a box. But it will serve. Now you can think of this brown wicker
work-box, set in front of your eyes, a couple of feet away; and, for
the moment, please think of it with the lid up, so that you can see into
the inside; see, in fact, the quilted silk lining, with a pair of scissors
lying at the bottom. Now, with your mind's hand, so to speak, for it is
just as sensible to speak of a mind's hand as a mind's eye; with your
mind's hand close the lid of the box. You can now see the brown wicker
top of the lid, as well as the front side of the box. But you can also
see the back, and the bottom. Nay, you can also see, and just as well,
the inside, with the pair of scissors still lying on the quilted silk. You
can see that box inside and out, upside and down, from every point of
view; and all this, without thinking of yourself as walking round it, or
as turning it over, or opening it again.
Still so far so good. Let us take our courage in both hands, and
try again. Think of a room. Do not jump; I mean a perfectly ordi-
nary room; any room; the kind of room you are in now, or that very
room. A hall-bedroom will do just as well as a Louis XIV boudoir.
Very well, you are thinking of a room. Quite easy, is it not? And not
a bit startling or uncanny. Now think of another room, your office, if
you happen to have one. Very well. We have got our two rooms.
Now how long does it take you, in thought, to get from the one to the
other? to think of yourself first in the one and then in the other? Not
very long. Half a second, perhaps; perhaps, if you have one of those
quick-acting minds, you can think yourself from one to the other in even
less than half-a-second. But that is not indispensable. The great thing
is, that you can make the journey ; can think of yourself first in one room
and then in the other, and then back again, without the slightest particle
of difficulty.
Now let us try again. And this time you may jump, if you wish;
for I am going to propose something very dreadful ; no less a thing than
four-dimensional burglary. I did not venture to let that out before.
I have been leading up to it gradually; breaking it gently to you, so to
speak. Now, are you ready? and for this kind of burglary you need
neither jemmy nor dark-lantern. That is where the full knavishness of
its four-dimensionality comes in. So be prepared. Think of a safe.
The safest kind of safe you can think of. There is no patent restriction
on mind-pictures, so don't be afraid. Spare no expense in your safe;
get the best that money can buy, and don't pay for it. Well, you have
thought of your safe. Very good. Begin with it wide open, its grey
46 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
insides exposed to your inquisitive view, just as the work-box was, a
little while back.
Now look into your safe. Clearly picture the inside. And now
lay upon its floor, on a cushion of satin, if you will, a tiara of fine
diamonds, big, white, sparkling stones, that would make Shylock's eyes
water; add a handful of rubies; add a thousand fifty-dollar gold certi-
ficates, done up in ten packets of a hundred each, such as you see at
the bank, once in awhile. If so inclined, add a bundle of stocks and
bonds, avoiding carefully those affected by the recent slump. But I
am not going to make a point of that. I prefer gold certificates, rubies
and diamonds. Get them all nicely placed in the safe. Now close the
door, carefully, as befits the magnitude of the treasure within; close the
door, get the lock properly fixed, and forget the combination.
That at least is perfectly, even fatally, easy. The more so, in this
case, as we did not think up a combination, before closing the safe. So
the safe is closed, closed for keeps. And now, be prepared for necro-
mancy. For, even now your safe is closed, locked, and the combination
forgotten; even though its sides be six inches thick, of toughened steel,
stubborn as the ribs of a Dreadnought; you can yet see inside of it;
can see the aforesaid tiara of sparkling diamonds, handful of rubies, and
bundles of gold certificates, peacefully lying on its floor, with or without
the bundle of stocks and bonds, as the case may be. Lying peacefully
inside; peacefully, but not safely; for you now stretch forth your mind's
hand, and yank that boodle out of the safe, and lay it on the table before
your depraved and greedy eyes. That, by the way, is a four-dimensional
personality. Perhaps I should make a four-dimensional apology? Most
willingly. I apologise.
But the fact remains. You, the aforesaid reader, did feloniously
and burglariously rob the aforesaid safe, of aforesaid tiara, notes and
rubies, with or without bonds and stocks. You are caught with the
goods. They are there, on the table before you. But that is not the
worst of it. You did it without opening the safe, which still remains
closed, its melancholy grey insides blinking at you in the twilight. So you
are guilty of four-dimensional robbery, with but one extenuating circum-
stance: that the property stolen belonged to yourself, at least if there
be property in mind-images.
Well, you will say, and I shall not contradict you, there is nothing
extraordinary in all this; nothing that you have not done a thousand
times before. The thinking, I mean, not the safe-breaking; though
many a good man has mentally done that. There is nothing extraor-
dinary in the thinking, you say ; and I agree. It is just the kind of
thing you do all the time, though you be not a Boston prodigy, or an
infant phenomenon from the Charles river. Exactly. It is what we
do all the time. That is half my thesis. Now I come to the second
part; to prove that this kind of thing is four-dimensional. Be not
DO WE THINK IN FOUR DIMENSIONS 47
affrighted. The worst is past. If you have followed me so far, do not
desert me now. The wicked part is over. We shall not burgle any
more.
Now, to begin with, imagine a flat man. You cannot? Well, let
me try to help you. Imagine an ordinary man of normal proportions.
Imagine him laid on the floor. Now imagine the Pres I mean,
imagine some gentleman of great weight and dignity sitting upon him;
sitting so effectually as to flatten him out completely. Between our-
selves, I do not think there would be any impropriety in thinking of the
flattened gentleman as having the features of Uncle Cannon. That may
help some Middle- Western imaginations. But the point is, to get him
so completely flattened out, that he has no more thickness than a figure
cut out of paper. Indeed, if you wish, you can imagine him cut out of
paper, if so be that you get him flat enough.
Very well. Imagine your flat man so permanently flattened, that
he can only crawl along the surface of the table, or the floor, perhaps
we had better say. Yes, let us have him crawl about on the floor. That
will be quite pleasant and nice, for us. Possibly not for him. But who
would consult the feelings of a flat man? Not a janitor, certainly.
This, perhaps, is a four-dimensional joke. If so, and we are not quite
certain, we apologise again. But let us have our flat man crawl about
the carpet, or even on the bare boards. Perhaps that would be best
of all.
Well, you notice that, when he comes to a line in the carpet, or the
crack between two boards, he can only see the side of the line, or the
crack, which is nearest to him; to see the other side he has to crawl
round, and look at it from the opposite direction. But you and I, oh
reader, not having been flattened out, can look down upon the line or
the crack, and see both sides of it at once. Well? Does the secret
begin to dawn? Let us help ourselves out by the simple expedient of
counting. We shall not go far; just one, two, three, and, perhaps, four.
The perfectly flat man, I avoid saying simply the flat man, because
Harlem has her susceptibilities, and they must be humored; the per-
fectly flat man, then, being kept to the level of the floor, can only disport
himself in two directions ; in the length and breadth of the floor, that is.
He cannot go in for the third direction ; that is, height. He is too com-
pletely flattened out for that. Now it is the fashion, among infant
prodigies and Bostonian sages, to speak of these two directions as dimen-
sions. So they would call our flat and crawling citizen a two-dimen-
sional man. But we, who can also soar, who can add height, the third
direction, to length and breadth, are in like manner called three-dimen-
sional ; because we can disport ourselves in three directions.
And, just because we are thus masters of three directions or dimen-
sions, we can look down from above on the line or crack in the floor,
and see both sides of it at once. But, even though we do thus spread
-CA
48 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
ourselves in three directions, or, to use the modish term, even though we
are three-dimensional, we cannot so look at a tea-cup as to see both sides
of it at once; that is, the outside and the inside. We can hold the
tea-cup in front of us, and look at the outside; or we can turn it over,
and look at the inside ; but we cannot take a point of vantage, from which
we can see both sides at once. We can, though, in one way ; by holding
it up before a mirror, whereby we do become able to look at it from two
directly opposite points at the same time, and so we see both the inside
and the outside at once. But in no other way, in no direct physical way,
can we do such a small thing as see the outside and the inside of a
tea-cup at the same moment. If we could find a new direction, a point
of vantage such as we have, when compared to the flat man, in looking
down from above on the crack in the floor, then we could see both sides
of the tea-cup at once. We simply need a fourth direction, in addition
to length, breadth and height. And a fourth direction is exactly the
same as a fourth dimension. So if we could find a fourth direction, or
take advantage of the fourth dimension, we could see both the inside
and the outside of the tea-cup at once. But that is exactly what we can
do, with our think-tea-cup. Therefore, in doing so, we are using the
fourth dimension; in our thoughts, that is. Or, in other words, we do
think in four dimensions. Quod erat demonstrandum. Next, please.
Next came the square basket. Now, for our friend, the flat-man,
who is still crawling about the carpet, a square pattern on the carpet
would be equivalent to a square basket. More than that, if the square
was complete, he could never get inside it, or imagine how anyone else
could get inside it. Or, perhaps, he might just be able to imagine it, if
he had begun to have three-dimensional thoughts, to think about height
as well as length and breadth, though, of course, he would be convinced
that there never was such a thing. Well, he could never get inside the
four-square pattern on the carpet. For him, it would be a closed box.
But we can see inside his closed box, simply by looking down on it from
above ; that is, by taking advantage of an additional direction, or dimen-
sion, besides the two known to him. By analogy, if we could take
advantage of a new direction or dimension, in addition to the three we
ourselves move about in, we could see into the inside of one of our own
closed boxes ; see the scissors on the lining at the bottom, without lifting
the lid. If we could use the fourth dimension or direction, we could do
just that. But we can do just that in thought; did, in fact, do it quite
easily a little while back; therefore in so doing, in so thinking, we were
thinking in four dimensions. Once more: quod erat demonstrandum.
Then again, for our flat and crawling friend, the nearest equivalent
idea to a room would be a bigger square pattern on the carpet. If such
a square were completed, and he inside it, he could never get out. It
would be a dungeon for him, an issueless prison. Or, if outside, he
could never get in. Yet, if very imaginative, he might dream of the
ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 65
jector. "What business had St. Michael, supposing there was such a
person, to use his wisdom on behalf of the French and against the
English? Would you take that as an instance of occult practice?"
"Why not? You must admit the possibility (I should say the cer-
tainty) that he was not acting 'against' the English, but quite as much
for them as for the French. As I see it, nothing but moral disaster
could have resulted to the English if they had been permitted to remain
in possession of France. They, of course, saw their defeat as a disaster.
That was natural. Human nature, unregenerate and blind, always sees
defeat of its own self-will as 'hard luck,' or as the work of evil spirits,
or as God's lack of attention to His duty. In the nature of things those
who see spiritually see further. St. Michael, if we recognize him as an
agent of Masters, could not have helped the French against the English
unless it had been for the ultimate advantage and happiness of both
nations. But this law should be observed in business as much as in
occultism. There can be no greater folly commercially than for one man
to sell to another something which the latter will not be able to use to
his own profit. A good salesman should sell for the benefit of the
buyer. If he is not able to do this conscientiously, it will be more
profitable in the end to wait until he can offer an article which he knows
will give satisfaction. It does not matter whether he is handling bonds
or gas-engines or potatoes. Suppose he represents a bank, and that he
approaches a man who has money to invest. Suppose that by means of
lying and persuasion he sells to the investor some bonds on which interest
is not paid. The investor will not buy again from that bank. Further,
he will do what he can to discredit it. If, on the other hand, the sales-
man really believes in the value of the bond he is selling, and is content
with a fair profit, he benefits his customer by selling it to him; and is
justified in using all his ability to present the truth as he sees it in such
a way as to overcome preliminary objections. It is folly to call business
dishonest. Often it is conducted dishonestly. But that is true of the
professions. It is true of every activity of men. In itself, business is
the means of supplying others with such things as they need for their
physical well-being and which they can obtain most easily and profit-
ably with your assistance.
"If that be understood, it follows that an occultist could conduct a
business successfully while obeying in all respects the fundamental prin-
ciples of occultism. More: it follows that it is only by obedience to
occult principles that business can be made successful permanently. Con-
sequently, every business man needs occult training needs, in other
words, to become a man in the highest and most complete sense of the
word. Success which is obtained is due to the development of some one
or more of the manly qualities ; and the greatest of modern business men
(those who tower above the rank and file) in every case possess charac-
66 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
teristics and faculties which are superb, or which would be, if the
motive directing them were as highly developed as the faculties exercised.
"Your effort is, as I understand it, to reduce occult training to
terms of manliness, or of womanliness, as the case may be. Think,
then, how essential self-control is to success in war or in business, as in
occultism. And I mean more than control of the body and nerves: I
mean control of the mind, so that facts and things and persons and
situations can be studied with unimpassioned and impersonal delibera-
tion, or so that the intuition can act without the distortion which the
undisciplined mind invariably gives to it. Then surely we must include
in our ideal of manliness in our desire for ourselves a fiery, indomita-
ble, but perfectly controlled energy. Of what use would be understand-
ing without the force to give effect to it! Cool judgment and quick
intuition must be backed by lightning rapidity of action, or, when there
is need, by steady, persistent, sledge-hammer drive. And perhaps, under
the head of force, we should include fearlessness the kind of fearless-
nessness that will face ruin rather than do a mean thing, and that will
refuse business in direst need rather than swerve from principle. A
king who will risk his kingdom rather than plunge his people into a
war worked up by demagogues, shows the same kind of courage. He
is a man, and he remains a man, whether he lose his kingdom or not:
and all the gods in heaven love him.
"Yet, under this head of force, we must not forget that a man of
real force invariably is gentle. Bluster is the opposite of force. There
must be no sputter of irritation to mar the quality of his strength.
"Next, we must include in our ideal a serene and cheerful heart.
If it be our fate to go into battle, let us hope we may do so with
that sort of radiant gladness which inspires the weak and steadies the
headstrong. Though making light of nothing, we must bring light-
heartedness to the most serious of tasks.
"Above all things we must be men, and must never forget the dig-
nity of our manhood. There is a true pride as well as a false ; and dig-
nity is the child of self-respect. For this reason we owe it to ourselves
to be courteous in manner and in speech, and it would be a poor ideal
indeed which did not include the utmost polish of both. Who would
not wish, also, that his movements, instead of being noisy and gawkish,
might be rhythmical and harmonious, agreeable to others instead of
distressing. For this, quietness of heart and of nerve is necessary. So
quietness of heart and of nerve we must have!
"Then there is something called charm. Its more exact definition
escapes me. I think it is made up of humility and kindliness. Is there
a man anywhere who would not wish to possess it? And yet, if it be
lacking, how can it be obtained except by self-abnegation, by stern sup-
pression of self-assertiveness, and by the cultivation of sympathy and
gentleness ?
6;
"Unselfishness there must be, if a man truly is to be a man. What
can be less manly than self-love, self-broodings, self -preoccupation! And
a man should be generous in unselfishness. Is it not Faber who speaks
of 'the grace of kind listening' as well as of kind speaking? Generosity
is not limited to the giving of things. Nothing less than the gift of
oneself should really be counted as generous.
And a man must be uncomplaining of his fate. The grumbler, the
creature who whines, is not a man. More than that, to be truly man, he
must accept his fate gladly, positively determined to use it, not to be
used by it; to ride on and by means of crest and hollow, success and
failure, joy and sorrow, always to victory. One of the differences
between a weak man and a strong, is that the former when knocked down,
feels himself worsted, while the strong man thinks only of the advan-
tage to be gained from his position and of his next move forward.
"Finally, what man, to be a man, can be less than loyal and faithful?
There are men who boast of their infidelities ; but they have not reached
the human kingdom. They are the brothers of apes. ... I said
'finally,' but I have hardly scratched the surface of so vast a subject.
An ideal of manhood! Could we omit absolute cleanliness of mind as
of person; a conscience sensitive to the least departure from honour,
from uprightness, from duty? For how else can a man be relied on
fcr his sense of responsibility, and what less manly than a man who has
none? To live as though he had a mission from God, though it were
only the proper cleaning of windows or the drilling of troops or the
manufacture of chairs and tables that would be to live as a man should
live; and perhaps most of it is summed up in that way. . . . You
protest? Well, I am taking it for granted that a man with a mission
from God would need to be god-like: and the gods are never revolu-
tionary.
"How about women?" asked the Objector. "Would you suggest
that a woman, to be a saint, needs only to be more thoroughly a woman ?"
"Needs to be more ideally womanly, would express it better," re-
plied the Sage. "But this is dangerous ground. Perhaps the Philos-
opher will enlighten us."
The Philosopher turned to the Recorder: "To be continued in our
next," he said, and left the room.
T.
ELEMENTARY PAPER
ARE THEOSOPHISTS PRACTICAL?
44% "IT T HAT are you Theosophists doing for the world ? We
%/%/ should have an awful city if we all lived as you do."
T T These are the words of a woman who was very much in
earnest, and I must confess that they shocked me. This
is not all that she said, for I had to confess when pressed that I did
not know of any Theosophist who was taking an active part in the
philanthropic and reform societies of the city except myself. Here again
she made me admit that I did not represent the Theosophists but a
Christian Church. I pleaded that we were few in number and had our
own work to do, and were trying to do good in other ways; that we
were interested in all these problems, and that our central belief was
Universal human brotherhood. With something of scorn she wanted
to know what it could profit the world for us to devote all our time to
the study of these theories, and even intimated that we were living selfish
lives. "Here are Methodists, Presbyterians, Baptists, Anglicans, Con-
gregationalists, Catholics, Unitarians, Jews and others, all trying to relieve
the poverty and misery of the city, all working together in harmony,
why don't the Theosophists join in?"
Now this may be an unjust judgment as I protested that it was,
but it will do us no harm to face these questions. I was attending a
meeting in the Convocation Hall of the University, a meeting which was
intended to give information and to awaken a greater interest in the
care and treatment of the feeble-minded by the city and by the Govern-
ment. The meeting was representative of all classes of citizens, includ-
ing the Mayor and Aldermen of the city, Government officials, lawyers,
judges, ministers of religion of all denominations, teachers, merchants,
artisans and others all of whom seemed to be deeply interested in the
welfare of these defective classes. All through the meeting this woman's
words remained with me; and I was led to ask myself in all seriousness
whether we were really spending our time in studying Karma, Reincar-
nation, and Universal Brotherhood without doing anything to apply this
knowledge in everyday life to help our fellows : whether we are devoting
time and energy to our own psychical and spiritual development and
giving no time to the rescue and guidance of our brothers and sisters in
bonds. If so, is not this simply another form of selfishness?
ARE THEOSOPHISTS PRACTICAL 69
As I looked over the charts presented by one of the speakers show-
ing the family history of a number of boys and girls in our State Insti-
tution, I was greatly impressed with the opportunity and the responsi-
bility of the Community for these unfortunate ones. Of course it would
have been easy to criticise the lecturer, easy to say, "Yes, there is some
truth in what you say, but your theory of heredity is very defective and
Theosophy would help you to a better and more complete knowledge of
how a man is indebted to his parents, and to his general ancestry for
his physical, psychic, and moral qualities." But the thought came back
to me, "What are we, with our superior knowledge, doing to instruct the
public to solve these difficult problems of practical life?
If the lecturer had been familiar with the teaching of the Secret
Doctrine he would not have said some things he did say, nor would he
have left without a word of explanation the fact that in some of these
families there was only one defective child, while there were four or
more normal children with the same parentage and environment. He
would have learned from the Secret Doctrine that there are three distinct
streams of heredity flowing into man. The physical heredity he could
plainly see and prove by his own methods, but the mental heredity, while
as plainly seen, is not susceptible of proof by the same methods. Yet by
another kind of evidence it can be shown that the assimilated results of
personal conscious experiences are carried forward by the Ego, or per-
sonal experiencer; and this is mental heredity. Each soul brings over
from its own past the good and bad qualities it has gathered through
experience in past lives, but these qualities are more or less modified by
the race and family in which it incarnates. In one life he may be a
Caucasian, and in another a Negro, or an Indian; the dark or light
complexion and features of one life being changed or modified by the
new blood introduced by reembodiment in another race.
The scientists have modified somewhat their ideas of heredity during
recent years. They no longer believe that diseases are transmitted from
parents to offspring (except in special cases), but it is generally agreed,
following the curious and partially correct theory of Professor Weiss-
mann, that the taint of weakness is stamped upon certain cells giving
them a tendency to yield to certain diseases, or the inability to withstand
the attack of these diseases. In some families there seems to be a ten-
dency to cancer, consumption, typhoid or other diseases, and in one
family an attack of one of these diseases is nearly always fatal, while in
another the attack is generally of a mild character. In like manner we
find in one family a tendency to manifest certain passions, appetites, and
desires, or to commit certain crimes or vices, and these tendencies are
transmitted from parent to child through several generations. So also
certain deficiencies of brain and nervous centers are apparently trans-
mitted in the same way. Yet, according to Theosophical teaching, while
there seems to be a yielding to the thought of the parents in reproducing
70 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
these undesirable physical peculiarities and mental traits, the real fact is
that these tendencies are brought over from a past life and the parents
only give the vehicle for their physical expression, or else the same
parents would not have both good and bad children. The Theosophical
theory alone can account for the differences in character between chil-
dren of the same parents.
The most important stream of heredity is that which the soul in-
herits from its own past. Racial, national, and family heredity are but
the karmic relations between us and our past. We are reaping exactly
what we have sown, and have come back to earth with that character,
whether lovely or unlovely, that we have ourselves created. If a child
is born with a tendency to a disease which cripples its mentality or leads
it to insanity or imbecility, that is not the result of fate, or chance, or the
accident of birth. Under the law of cause and effect the soul returns
with its powers crippled or expanded by its own actions alone. We
Theosophists have got all this clearly fixed in our minds; but surely we
do not think that these brothers should be left in their darkness to
struggle unhelped. The fact that when left alone they become a scourge
to society is proof sufficient that it is our duty to care for them. The
neglect of one family (as the Jukes family in New York State) has
often cost a state tens of thousands of dollars and many lives. While
these feeble-minded ones are unmoral they have no moral judgment
their influence is often fearfully immoral. For example take a common
case of a sexual pervert in a public school, and scores of children are
made morally unclean in a short time.
What can we do? Under favorable conditions and with the help
of stronger souls the Ego may win in this struggle with its physical
vehicle and succeed in stamping its own characteristics on the body. If
it is not possible to liberate these unfortunates in this incarnation,
perhaps we may so help them that they may be free in the next. In
this department alone there is great opportunity for all compassionate
souls. Three per cent, of all the pupils in the public schools of the
United States and Canada are feeble-minded, and taking the whole popu-
lation there is an even greater proportion of defectives. I believe three
per cent, is a low estimate for our schools, as the few that I have been
able personally to investigate have a higher percentage than that given
above. During the last twenty-five years considerable progress has been
made in classification, care and treatment of defectives, and the new
methods now adopted for the separate training of backward pupils will
give an opportunity to thousands who to-day are not cared for. About
ninety per cent, of such children can, by special care and training, be
made self-supporting, but not self-controlling. Very few of them can
be lifted to the plane of self-direction, but they can be taught habits of
cleanliness, and under the care and guidance of others can be taught to
earn their own living.
ARE THEOSOPHISTS PRACTICAL 71
In addition to these defectives there are thousands of other children,
naturally bright, but living in such depraved surroundings that they
almost necessarily drift into vice and crime. They are found in all our
cities, living in crowded tenements and slums in which drinking is
common, poverty universal and the virtues of honesty and truth-telling
rare. Where the children play, men and women are working, swearing,
fighting, and drinking, or sleeping off the effects of past horrible indul-
gences, or else making preparation for some new break. In these places
children generally swarm in astonishing numbers, but what future can
we expect for children who are brought up in such conditions? Of
course there is a great deal of sickness and suffering here and we are
not surprised if those who seek to relieve these conditions lose patience
with the indifference of good people to the work they are try-
ing to do. In all except our very largest cities these conditions are
changing rapidly for the better. Our City Health department is con-
demning over-crowding; our Playground Associations, Children's Aid
Societies and compulsory education laws are destroying these unhealthy
conditions and giving these hitherto unfortunate ones a chance to breathe
pure air and also to come into contact with a purer moral atmosphere,
giving them a vision of nobler ideals.
The Theosophist should seek to come into sympathy with all that
lives, and this divine sympathy will be an inspiration to unselfish service.
When the sense of human brotherhood takes full possession of us we
shall be anxious to serve all mankind. We shall no longer be influenced
by desire for pleasure, nor by fear of pain, for we shall have come under
a new law the law of sacrifice. The law of sacrifice is the law of life-
evolution, and this is the lesson the Wise Ones are trying to teach us.
Gradually we have been taught by our religious teachers to sacrifice the
lower for the higher, to conquer the body for the sake of the mind, to
regulate its activities by directing them into useful channels. Obedience,
reverence, charity, and kindness to all have been demanded, and slowly
men have been helped to evolve heroism and self-sacrifice until they have
joyfully given up life itself for the sake of others. When we come still
higher and cease to ask what reward we shall receive for what we do,
and associate ourselves with the law of sacrifice as the law of life, and
give ourselves in joyful surrender to be channels of love to the world,
we shall understand what is meant by the joy of sacrifice and by a life of
bliss. For all of us there are opportunities of service, and in no way
can progress be made so rapidly and the latent powers of the monad be so
quickly awakened as by the understanding and practice of the law of
sacrifice. We are told that a Master called it, 'The law of evolution for
man." Therefore the Theosophist should be first and foremost in all
works of practical charity and helpfulness, and in this work should use
the knowledge and the discrimination which come from his study of the
Great Law. JOHN SCHOFIELD.
Speculum Anima, by W. R. Inge. Some of us have grown accustomed to
hear clergymen declare that Christ's message has not yet been apprehended.
When we hear such a statement we feel confident that a sermon on socialism
is to follow. But when the statement comes from the devout writer of the
Bampton lectures on Christian Mysticism it stirs hope. "We cannot suppose,"
says Dr. Inge, in one of four addresses delivered at Cambridge (England), "that
the forms which Christianity has so far assumed Jewish Christian Messianism,
the paganised Christianity of Western Catholicism, the fossilised Christianity of
the East, the disrupted and fissiparous Christianity of the North are any better
than caricatures of what Christ meant His Church to be." What does Dr. Inge
suggest that will bring Christianity, as we have long known it, nearer to the
Source of all religion, the Wisdom Religion, from which it has almost cut
itself off, trickling away in desert sand?
Happily, he is uncompromising toward all modern psychic shams that min-
ister to sleek well-being: "It is the blasphemy of Christian Science and kindred
movements to deny the Cross. And in our soft, self-indulgent age, it is shame-
fully felt to be a greater difficulty in the way of belief in God that men should
suffer than that men should sin. This timid, pain-dreading temper is thor-
oughly unchristian." His suggestions and recommendations are very simple.
He tells his hearers to end their considerations about religion and to get into
religion. He recommends habits like those of the old Carthusian, Brother Law-
rence exercise in prayer inward prayer, not oral "in every place, but not
openly to be seen of men; in walks for recreation, in intercourse with others,
in silence, in reading, in all rational pursuits." These words from Dr. Inge sound
singularly like others that I have heard repeated, and that come from the ancient
and distant East. Such practice, I have heard said by those who are familiar
with the Vedanta philosophy, constitutes chelaship. Dr. Inge declares that such
Practice of the Presence of God raises one to the sphere of true realities, into
the unseen real world.
Dr. Inge has certainly found some method of life for himself quite different
from what is known as "orthodox Christianity," for he takes for granted in man
a principle which does not and cannot consent to sin and which is the point of
contact with the Divine. All else than this divine principle in man he calls "the
false self," and he writes this striking sentence that brings back golden words
of the Gita: "The worst shadows that hide the sun from us are those which we
make ourselves by standing in our own light, by putting the swollen and lumpish
image of the false self between the hidden man of the heart and his God." He
seems further to think that Christianity, essentially, is a "way" (as it was called
by the early disciples) of bringing the lower false self into subjection to the
higher true self ; for he quotes that old saying of Athanasius : "Christ became
man that we might become Gods."
I rub my eyes as I read such words. "Which is Theosophy," I ask myself,
"Christianity or my doxy?" Is it possible that Moliere's joke on the good-natured
REVIEWS 73
bourgeois Mons. Jourdain, is lurking somewhere around. Has Christianity been
talking Theosophy all its life and we have not known it? I indignantly repudiate
the thought. And I take down a volume on Christian Dogmatics published in
1866 "in the good old days." This is the real stuff. This is orthodox Chris-
tianity, quite denuded of the purple patches, borrowed from Egypt and India, to
hide its foulness. Here are the three Lord Shaftsburies and all the other
machinery of their petty universe. I open at total depravity and original sin:
"Although man, in virtue of his actual will, may fall from God, according to his
essential will, in the innermost kernel of his freedom, he is indissolubly united
to the divine X6yo$." That is not satisfactory. I do not like "innermost kernel
of his freedom" and "indissolubly united to the divine A.d^oj;" it sounds like
the Secret Doctrine. Let's try Baptism. "Baptism is not only the ground-work
of a new consciousness, but of a new life, not only of a new faith, but of a new
man, who is more than the self-conscious man. The hidden point of life is the
mystery of baptism." That is not satisfactory either. It sounds esoteric. Let's
try Transubstantiation. "The Eucharist is not only an aliment for the soul but
an aliment for the whole new-man who is germinating and growing in secret."
That is more esoteric. "Par ma foi, il y a plus de quarante ans que je dis de la
prose, sans que fen susse rien."
ALFRED WILLISTON.
The Coming Order, by Lucy Re-Bartlett. This is a book which should be
read by the anti-suffragist to clear her thinking and by the suffragist to test her
point of view. For it is written from the standpoint of both, by a woman who
shares with them a profound belief that only as Woman (with a capital W) solves
the problem of her own higher development will the race be saved.
It consists of twelve essays with an allegorical preface. Two "Woman"
and the "Position of Women" were written for Italians in the Rassequa Contem-
poranea and the Vita Femminile Italiana, and one "Sincerity in Social Life" for
the modern Englishman in the Contemporary Review of April, 1911. Whether
the others have appeared before is not indicated. They are written with much
clearness and conviction by a woman who is a practical worker in philanthropic
fields and whose heart and soul is evidently set on finding a solution of the
hideous problem which seems eternally to bar human progress.
Signora Re-Bartlett's subject is the relations of men and women and she
takes it at once on to very high ground. She believes that the development of
woman depends upon her development of a power peculiar to her which she calls
her intuition. This power is latent in all women but is to be roused to conscious-
ness by her rigid adherence to her highest ideals, by her purity, her self-forget-
fulness.
"It is when woman forgets herself loses all sense of her womanhood and
its possible limitations in an ideal which brooks no obstacle it is then that she is
most essentially a woman, and most womanly. For she is lifted above her bodily
nature with all its weaknesses and becomes a purely spiritual force an inspira-
tion. And this is her destiny, and in its fulfilment she attains her power. . . .
For such women do not represent competition, nor conflict with men. They
have educated their intellects certainly, but in points of detail they recognize
a wider grasp and a longer experience in men, and they are content on such
points to be silent. They speak only to bring their note of insight and intuition
regarding some great under-current which the male intellect has insufficiently
perceived, and when they so speak they are listened to. ... "It is an error
to believe that it is the man who has impeded or who impedes woman's progress
in the deepest sense it is always the woman herself. She has not developed
sufficiently the power which gives her royal progress whenever she uses it the
74 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
power of inspiration." And again "Christ said to His disciples 'be ye perfect.'
The great Master did not hesitate to impose the idea of perfection because He
doubtless knew the immediate attainment to be impossible." This is the note
which women today have got to catch. They have got to do away with low
standards and low demands they have got to demand for society, purity. And
together with an infinite patience for incomplete attainments, must go a ruthless
demand for complete endeavour. "It is the spirit of aspiration, and faith and
struggle which makes any society sound its absence which makes it corrupt.
Low standards are infinitely more perilous than low attainment. With women
lies the duty of fixing social standards where they should be."
"But it behooves woman if she would serve her world today to ...
learn to preach with her whole self, not only with her intuition. With the develop-
ment of her intellect she must improve her power of utterance, and with her
life she must justify it." The power which woman must oppose to the Evil
which figures as the Beast in the allegorical preface, is her purity, which, of
course, is the condition of her intuitional power. But it is best to again let
Signora Re-Bartlett speak for herself. . . . "And it is in the light of this
general definition of purity that we would ask woman to comprehend her rela-
tion to man. She has got to stand with the things which liberate him never
with the things which bind him. She has got to give him /wwself rather than
herself. And for the accomplishment of her most difficult task she has got to
realise that this gift of his own spirit is a far higher gift only so will she have
strength to achieve.
"For woman's weakness lies in her heart her impulse to give it so strong
that she can only control it if she substitute for one giving a higher giving.
The Spartan mothers knew something of this the wives and mothers of today
have got to relearn the lesson in wider form. They too have got to make their
sacrific to the 'State,' but it is a 'state spiritual' and its establishment will bring
a greater gain to the men who share in it than any earthly state of old could
bestow."
These sentences from the first essay on "Woman" indicate Signora Re-Bart-
lett's point of view one which makes a demand very different and far beyond
that of most advanced modern women. In the essays that follow she fearlessly
pursues her subject to its roots.
She scores the woman who accepts things as they are. She pleads for clear
thinking, for the preservation of a high ideal, for the belief in and practice of
absolute purity. She defines purity in the relations of young girls with men,
in the relations of men and women of the world, of wives and husbands, and
parents and children.
In her chapters on "Maternity" and "Marriage" she shows how false and
slovenly are the current ideas on these great subjects, how often they ignore
the mental and spiritual sides of our threefold nature and are based on a purely
physical interpretation of human needs.
She writes with much sureness of touch, often with a tone of authority.
She sees the evil, she explains the causes, she suggests the cure. It is in her
perception and description of what is wrong that the value of the book lies.
She points out the confusion in most people's minds between sensuality and
passion, and shows that while the one is the force that beyond any other degrades
humanity "passion in its nobler forms is, at this stage of evolution, the force
that best can elevate it." She shows "that passion in its essence is simply intensity
and those who are afraid to be intense never do great things."
In the chapter on "Passion as a Spiritual Force," she has really found the
REVIEWS 75
solution but from her habit of mind as a working philanthropist she swings back,
in her later chapters, to the search for practical remedies; for recipes to hand
out to her aspiring sisters in their eager (and complacent?) desire to fill the role
which she offers them of saviours of the race.
For in spite of the high demands which this little book makes of human
nature, one closes it with the disappointed sense, that almost in spite of herself,
and of a knowledge of spiritual law which she undoubtedly possesses and
applies, Signora Re-Bartlett has made her appeal to Woman as Woman, and not
to Truth itself.
Of her own method of finding truth she gives us a hint in an article signed
by herself, called "Divine Promptings" in the Hibbert Journal for April 1912;
and reading it one finds oneself asking what are the implications of the guidance
she has discovered to be so blessed and so illuminating a fact? To listen
quietly to a "prompting" which may reach you at any unprepared moment, to
obey quickly, fearlessly, in spite of any consequences of fatigue or pain; to learn
by such "listening" and such obedience to be very sure of the "Voice," very sure
of the Path along which it leads you, this surely is very different from arranging
set programmes by which Woman, possessed in virtue of her womanhood of her
secret power, may, by the faithful exercise of it, raise fallen man to his divine
self!
Signora Re-Bartlett does not contend that this high power inheres in woman
herself; she is simply when she has emptied herself of her lower nature its
channel. She is the means to the great end of raising men who can only be
raised by and through her. Surely this offers her a great role one which should
be very sympathetic to the modern woman whose aspirations are a mixture of
passionate assertion of her human "rights" and passionate pity for the wrongs of
both her working and fallen sisters.
To change these aspirations from their purely personal standpoint to show
women that to save others is a nobler ambition than to save themselves is, per-
haps, a step in the right direction and lifts the "Woman Question" from its acute
personal stage one plane higher, but does it get the whole subject any nearer the
truth? The popular teaching of the day is that we are all "Channels;" so near
the divine that we have only to sit still and realise our divinity to make actual
all sorts of physical, mental and spiritual potentialities. And the Signora's help-
ful and suggestive little book savours just a little of this modern fallacy. Woman !
to be sure she must first save herself but having done that she is to be the
means of salvation to the rest of the world; and all the time not unconscious of
her mission, of the power and prestige of it! But do not the facts point the
other way? Have we ever been saved by a programme? Is there any solution
to the rotting sores of society other than the solution which each human soul
must find for his own sores? Any solution other than the one the Signora has
found for herself? She does not hint at the source of the promptings beyond
the use of the word "divine." She does not speak of discipleship, but she lays
much stress on obedience and what she describes are the first stages of the
jWay to the Gates of Gold. By these Gates alone can woman enter to her
freedom.
J. B. P.
^OBESIIONS
SMI
ANSWERS
QUESTION 138. What is the meaning of the words in Matthew xi, n, "Among
them that are born of women there hath not risen a greater than John the Baptist:
notwithstanding, he that is least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he"?
ANSWER. There is a legal maxim which says, "The least of that which is
greatest is greater than the greatest of that which is least." Jesus eulogises John
as a great prophet but intimates that he belonged to a lower dispensation that was
about to pass away. John stood for law, judgment, vengeance; he preached
repentance, not regeneration flee from the wrath to come, cut out self-indulgence.
His ideals were secular not spiritual : the ax was his symbol, and he thought of
Christ as a destroyer not as a Savior. He would have been disappointed with the
sermon Jesus preached at Nazareth when he said, "He hath sent me to heal the
broken hearted, to preach deliverance to the captive, the recovering of sight to the
blind, to set at liberty them that are bruised," for of mercy and compassion John
seems to have had little conception. So that while he was great as a reformer and
a destroyer he that was least in the new kingdom of the spirit, was greater than he.
J. S.
ANSWER. John the Baptist was a "yogi" a great and wonderful and splendid
man, but not "twice-born" in the technical occult sense. He had not been "born
from above." He was a Messenger; but he had not attained that degree of
initiation which gives permanent life in the Kingdom of Heaven. He had vision;
but he had not gained full consciousness of himself as an Immortal.
E. T. H.
QUESTION 139. Is there such a thing as scorn on the Spiritual Plane? For
instance, when Christ drove the money changers from the Temple in that high-
handed way, was he acting spiritually?
ANSWER. Was not the Master acting a parable? Is not this shown by the
fact that "money-changers in the temple" is now as much a proverb as the good
Samaritan? C. J.
ANSWER. Is not Unity the essence of life on the spiritual plane? Can
unity scorn any part of itself, find any smallest section of the great whole worthy
of scorn? The sense of separateness is essential to the very notion of scorn.
Our Protestant habit of finding justification for every desire in some passage from
the Bible leads us into many surface absurdities that would be impossible but
for that heedless habit. No one could imagine that a great general would lead a
batallion of his army into an engagement that would result only in giving him the
personal satisfaction of driving the enemy for once out of a position that he was
sure to .re-occupy immediately. Yet we can seriously consider whether a Master
of Life might give way to a resentment that was personal in its expression and was,
in this interpretation, directed against people who merely followed a custom of the
times, and would continue the next day to do the same thing, in the same way.
QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS 77
Surely Conservation of force must apply to the spiritual planes, making further
impossible such action as that suggested. - A. C. B.
ANSWER. There is no answer to this question except Find out! It is useless
to deliver ex cathedra opinions. Argument and reason do not apply. Only experi-
ence of spiritual things can give understanding of what is and of what is not
spiritual. Live the life and you will know the doctrine. Obey a Master's com-
mandments and you will understand him. Incidentally you will discover that while
spirituality makes scorn of persons impossible, scorn of wrong-doing and of evil
is not incompatible. X. Y. Z.
QUESTION 140. I am a mother with several small children and a household
to look after. My life is full of distractions and I am so tired by the end of the
day that I find it almost impossible to study and very difficult to meditate or to
pray. Yet I should dearly love to draw nearer to Masters and to give myself to
their work so far as my duties allow. The trouble is that I have nothing to give
except worn-out nerves and an exhausted mind, although at the best of times I
have no mind worth talking about. What can I do?
ANSWER. There is no reason why you should not, because of the very things
which you regard as obstacles, become as great as any of the saints. The obstacles
exist in your mind, not in fact. Actually they are your opportunities. In the first
place, that you have no mind, or think you have none is an immense advantage.
Most people imagine that they have minds, and convert themselves into a stew of
messy mental processes, the result of which is to shut them off from the light
which stillness would enable them to receive. The mind is an idiot, and remains
an idiot until it has become the obedient servant of the soul. Secondly, duties are
the equivalent of prayers, if they are performed in the spirit of prayer: if each
act be offered up on the altar of the heart; if the result of all acts be sacrificed
to Masters; if we do all that we have to do as in the presence of Masters. If
your duties occupy so much of your time that none is left for prayer and medita-
tion, the probability is that earlier to bed and earlier to rise would give you half
an hour in the morning which you could use for this purpose. But if every
earnest effort to gain a half hour for that purpose should prove futile, accept your
deprivation as proof that your path for the present lies in the dedication of all acts
to God or to the Higher Self, or to the Master, whichever may seem nearest and
easiest for you. As it is, you find your duties exhausting. This shows in itself
that you do not perform them with Recollection; for from Recollection springs
Detachment, and that means eternal peace. Recollection must be acquired; and
this can be done by selecting certain hours during the day later, each hour and
half hour for particular recollection in the midst of what you are doing. An
ejaculation of prayer a few words in your heart words that express your hope
and purpose will serve as piers which, brought closer and closer, finally become
continuous as meditation and, therefore, continuous as inner communion. Your
outer life will then be no more and no less than the expression of your spiritual
existence. You will live and move and have your being with Masters, no matter
where you are or what you are doing. And this, not as the result of intellectual
processes, but because you will give yourself as you are, without reserve or quali-
fication will give your fatigue and your impatience and your limitations, simply
and with faith, trusting, not in your own ability to achieve, but in the .ability of
Masters to convert nothing into something, and to raise the lowest and the least
to divine at-one-ment. E. T. H.
QUESTION 141. Some people speak as though self-assertion were wrong.
How would it be possible to overcome evil practices or evil opinions, without
insisting on better ones? Have not great men always asserted themselves?
78 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
ANSWER. In the introduction to The Song of Life are given three tasks of
the awakened soul. One of these is to second the will of the radiance in others
even against their lower selves, and we are told that in so doing we shall draw
forth wonder and willing help. This is the direct antithesis of self-assertion, and
a little experience of life will show that it is true. By putting ourselves in sympa-
thetic understanding with others we gain their cordial response and cooperation.
Imaginative sympathy is a term which has been happily applied to this attitude
of mind. It is akin to the teaching of Emerson : Trust men and they will
be true to you. Treat them greatly and they will show themselves great
I once attended a course of lectures on the history of philosophy. The lecturer
began at the very dawn of historic Greek thought. Each philosopher that he
presented to us, we, the listeners, in turn, thought was his intellectual master,
the main points of each system were so sympathetically and forcibly brought out.
Finally he said: "The pre-requisite of all criticism is a sympathetic under-
standing of what your man is driving at." Then we saw why the mustiest of
antiquated systems had become vital and suggestive in his hands. They had
yielded their secrets to the touch of imaginative sympathy.
But if love begets love, sympathy sympathy, it is equally true that self-
assertion and opposition beget self-assertion and opposition. The seeds are in
the hands of the sower, and according as he sows will be the crop which is
reaped in this as in all things.
But how be tolerant of intolerance? If you meet intolerance with intoler-
ance you get the first intolerance returned to you twofold. The opposite force
in greater measure overcomes its opposite. Evil is overcome with good, not with
more evil; darkness with light, not with more darkness; dryness with wetness,
not with more dryness. A soft answer turneth away wrath, not more wrath.
Or to put it differently: Sometimes we think our self-assertiveness is justified
because we have honestly faced the facts on both sides of a question, and, there-
fore, have more right to judge than our intolerant neighbor who refuses to see
more than one side. Nevertheless we must not forget that our self-assertiveness
impresses him in his walled-in mind as intolerance, and according to perfectly
invariable law produces fruit after its kind. He becomes more intolerant, we
grow really intolerant, and the coming of the Kingdom of God is deferred. Rea-
sonableness is not enough. We must attain to that "sweet reasonableness" which
Matthew Arnold set forth as the very essence of the Christian spirit.
The beauty of the theosophical conception of spiritual life is that it is
verifiable at each step. This is because it is based on law and is as legitimate a
subject of experiment as any other of the facts of nature. There is nothing up
in the air about it, as some think who have never tried verification. Therefore
if you doubt that tolerance and "sweet reasonableness" are the best antidote for
the poison of self-assertiveness, try both tolerance and self-assertion in turn, and
as many other means as suggest themselves to you. After at least half a dozen
experiments of each method sum up your results.
Another objection to self-assertiveness which will appeal to some is that it is
vulgar. In the very nature of it, it is crude, unrefined, and unsocial. Carlyle
puts it bluntly enough in the following passage from Sartor Resartus. "Shall
Courtesy be done only to the rich, and only by the rich? In Good-breeding, which
differs, if at all, from High-breeding, only as it gracefully remembers the rights
of others, rather than gracefully insists on its own rights, I discern no special
connection with wealth or birth: but rather that it lies in human nature itself, and
is due from all men toward all men. Of a truth, were your Schoolmaster at
his post, and worth anything when there, this, with so much else, would be
reformed. Nay, each man were then also his neighbor's schoolmaster; till at
QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS 79
length a rude-visaged, unmannered Peasant could no more be met with, than a
Peasant unacquainted with botanical Physiology, or who felt not that the clod
he broke was created in Heaven."
I remember an analogy of George Eliot which bears in the same direction.
She likens the man who monopolizes the conversation to one who would seize
and devour all the food at a feast. Moreover everyone knows that a good listener
is a great social asset.
But surely, it is objected, this is too strong. Self-assertion is nothing more
than the expression of individuality. Self-expression, without which no worthy
work could be done, no art developed; nay the very worlds would not have
come into being.
Hardly a paradox, I think. Let us give the last word to our own Emerson.
"Insist on yourself," he says. "Never imitate." But again : "It is easy in the
world to live after the world's opinion; it is easy in solitude to live after our
own; but the great man is he who in the midst of the crowd keeps with perfect
sweetness the independence of solitude." L. E. P.
ANSWER. It is not assertion that is wrong but ^//-assertion. One must learn
to assert the higher not the lower self. Very often I feel that a certain result
can best be brought about in a certain way. Some one questions or disputes that
way, and suggests another. I then become positive that the way I propose is the
only way. But sometimes the other person's way is adopted. After some weeks
I discover that I had been eager, not to accomplish the desired end in the best way
but to do it in my way. That is self-assertion. It is wrong.
SPENSER MONTAGUE.
ANSWER. Were evil practices and evil opinions ever overcome by self-
assertion? Yes, if we use the words "self-assertion" in their truly occult meaning.
For what except the assertion, the domination, of the real self can ever bring
about a lasting change? But there is nothing noisy, nothing personal, nothing
aggressive about such assertion. It consists in being the higher self, quietly,
continuously, not in shouldering one's way to the front. Truly great men have
certainly "asserted" something of this higher self. For some of them this crowning
experience came when they were unknown to the world, came in the quiet of
the inner life. They were not always able to maintain that connection when
the world, recognising this genuine power, called them out to do it service.
Sometimes they forsook the substance for the shadow. Looking on with sym-
pathetic understanding, we ought to be able to distinguish between the life lived
from above, for the soul, and that lived from below, for personal gratification.
Aggression is of the very essence of personality, it never could make a man
great. I. E. P.
QUESTION 142. What, briefly, is the Theosophical attitude toward the life of
the soul after death?
ANSWER. A prolonged experience of our Society's endeavors has taught me
that no one would be justified in stating the particulars of the Theosophical atti-
tude toward any single question. The Constitution of the Society defines its
attitude in a broad way, as that of unprejudiced, tolerant and therefore impersonal
inquiry. The moment anyone of us undertakes to state the Theosophical attitude,
he comes so near dogmatising that whatever the correctness of his statement his
answer contains an element endangering the very essence and raison d'etre of the
whole Theosophical movement. But I can state with some confidence the view
that is held by many members of the Society, and which I also share. To my
mind, we must not allow our imaginations to set any barriers between the life of
80 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
the soul before and after death. The entire thing with its ebb and flow, its
manifest and its invisible conditions, must be taken as a whole. The soul forever
goes through an infinite variety of experience, running the chromatic scale of
consciousness, every sharp and flat, every minor and major key of which is the
best adapted to afford the soul an opportunity for growth and for final glorifi-
cation. After death we may be radiantly and fully conscious, or torpidly half
conscious, we may be happy or miserable, during protracted periods or only in
glimpses; and all this for the simple reason that the life of the soul after death
must be at least as varied as our present individual lives. Yet one law governs
all destinies and regulates all relations; the strict appositeness of cause and effect.
This is the all-seeing eye of Providence. This is Karma. In life and after death
we are never too far from this law for its immediate operation and we are never
isolated enough from each other for our influence on each other not to be as
immediate and as inevitable. V. J.
QUESTION 143. What, briefly, is the teaching of Buddha about the states after
death; and where way an authentic account of that teaching be found?
ANSWER. In speaking of "the states after death" the questioner does not
make it quite clear whether the states immediately following physical death are
meant, or the final state, Nirvana, which represents the ultimate conquest and
goal.
In either case, the question is rendered very difficult by two factors: first, the
far-reaching failure of a large section of the followers of the Buddha to under-
stand the teachings of their Master, just as large bodies of those who call them-
selves Christians are far from understanding the ideals and purposes of the
Christ; secondly, the further distortion and materialization of these already dis-
torted teachings, by Western students whose minds were full of eighteenth cen-
tury materialism, and who saw the Buddha's teachings through the twofold mists
of European skepticism, and the materialism and nihilism of the Southern
Buddhists. The truth is, that the work of interpreting the teachings of Buddhism
will have to be done all over again.
As to the teaching of Buddhism concerning the states immediately following
death, a good deal of information will be found in Schlagentweit's book on Tibetan
Buddhism. Schlagentweit mentions Devachan, the paradise between two lives,
some half dozen times, and explains that "Devachan" means, in Tibetan, "the
blissful," corresponding to the Sanskrit Sukhavati. A further description of this
"blissful state" is found in the Sukhavati-vyuha, a Sanskrit Buddhist text dis-
covered in Japan, and translated in the 49th volume of the Sacred Books of the
East. This description strongly recalls that of the New Jerusalem, in the
Revelation of Saint John, the same symbolism, based on the significance of precious
stones and their colors being used.
The states of punishment after death, the hot and cold hells, and so forth,
which are really states of consciousness (sometimes entered in nightmares,
delirium and so on), are described in many Buddhist books; for example, in the
Temiya Jataka, in which the Buddha describes certain states of punishment and
purification which he himself had passed through.
As to the ultimate state of Nirvana, the subject is too great to enter on, here.
It must be approached through an understanding of the spiritual development of
India, and of the race from which the Buddha came: the red Rajputs. The best
approach to this subject, on the part of a Western scholar, is that in The Creed
of Buddha, which the present querent is strongly urged to study.
C. J.
i T-S-ACUVTOS I
THE ANNUAL CONVENTION
OF THE THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY
The Annual Convention of The Theosophical Society was held at the Brevoort
Hotel, New York City, on April 27, 1912.
MORNING SESSION
The Convention, having been called in accordance with the Constitution, was
declared to be in session at 10.35 A. M., by Mr. Charles Johnston, Chairman of
the Executive Committee.
TEMPORARY ORGANIZATION
On motion of Mr. Hargrove, Mr. Johnston was chosen as temporary Chair-
man and Mr. J. F. B. Mitchell as temporary Secretary.
On motion the Chair appointed a Committee on Credentials consisting of the
Secretary, Mrs. Ada Gregg; the Treasurer, Mr. H. B. Mitchell, and Miss Perkins
of New York.
While the Committee on Credentials was preparing its report Mr. Johnston
welcomed the delegates.
ADDRESS OF WELCOME
It is the privilege of the Chairman of the Executive Committee to welcome
the members of the Convention. During many years, there has never been a
Convention which has so filled me with hope, a Convention which has so definitely
pointed forward to a splendid future.
As it has been my duty, year by year, to utter words of warning and counsel,
so it is my privilege now to speak of splendid hopes and luminous vistas opening
before us. I shall, in the report of the Executive Committee, give a more detailed
account of the visits, which the last Convention authorized me to make, to numer-
ous Branches in the Old World and the New, but I may anticipate that report
so far as to say that at every point I found clear evidence that we are face to
face with opportunities greater and richer in promise than at any time in the long
and troublous history of The Theosophical Society, opportunities such as have
rarely fallen to the lot of mortals. "Prophets and kings have desired to see the
things that we see, and have not seen them."
Our chief concern should be to fit ourselves to meet this splendid opportunity,
careful lest any shortcoming or obtuseness of ours, any failure clearly to discern
and wisely to perform, should stand between us and our hope, between the design
of the Founders of The Theosophical Society and its accomplishment. We must
ever keep in heart and mind Mme. Blavatsky's wise words of warning in The
Key to Theosophy: "I spoke rather of the great need which our successors in the
guidance of the Society will have of unbiased and clear judgment. Every such
attempt as the Theosophical Society has hitherto ended in failure, because, sooner
62
THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
or later, it has degenerated into a sect, set up hard-and-fast dogmas of its own,
and so lost by imperceptible degrees that vitality which living truth alone can
impart. You must remember that all our members have been bred and born in
some creed or religion, that all are more or less of their generation both physically
and mentally, and consequently that their judgment is but too likely to be warped
and unconsciously biased by some or all of these influences. If, then, they cannot
be freed from such inherent bias, or at least taught to recognize it instantly and
so avoid being led astray by it, the result can only be that the Society will drift
off on to some sandbank of thought or another, and there remain a stranded
carcass to moulder and die."
We must recognize that The Theosophical Society should be the spiritual
organ of humanity; that its destiny is, at each epoch, at each hour, to discern
and meet humanity's instant need ; to supply the spiritual impulse, the spiritual
sustenance, which that hour requires; to form the channel through which there
shall be, for each day, its supernatural bread.
The sense of our obligation and responsibility should fill us with awe, with a
new sense of consecration, and we should humbly determine in our hearts that no
tolerated sin of ours shall stand in the way of this high mission and destiny.
REPORT OF THE COMMITTEE ON CREDENTIALS
The Committee on Credentials then reported that it had examined and ap-
proved the credentials submitted. Some expected foreign proxies were missing
and were believed to have been lost on the Titanic. But the following 31 Branches,
entitled to cast a total of 235 votes, were represented by delegates or proxies.
Aurora, Oakland, Calif.
Blavatsky, Washington, D. C.
Blavatsky, Seattle, Wash.
Brehon, Detroit, Mich.
Cincinnati, Cincinnati, O.
Dayton, Dayton, O.
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, Calif.
Providence, Providence, R. I.
Queen City, Seattle, Wash.
Shila, Toledo, O.
Southern, Greensboro, N. C.
Stockton, Stockton, Calif.
Toronto, Toronto, Canada.
Virya, Denver, Colo.
Unity, Indianapolis, Ind.
Venezuelan, Caracas, Venezuela.
British National Branch.
The T. S. in Norway.
The T. S. in Sweden.
Berlin, Berlin, Germany.
North Berlin, Berlin, Germany.
Dresden, Dresden, Germany.
Flensburg, Flensburg, Germany.
Munchen, Munchen, Germany.
Neusalz, Neusalz, Germany.
Suhl, Suhl, Germany.
On motion the report was received and the committee discharged with thanks.
PERMANENT ORGANIZATION
On motion of Mr. Griscom, Mr. H. B. Mitchell of New York was unanimously
elected permanent Chairman and the temporary Secretary was made permanent
Secretary.
Mr. H. B. Mitchell then took the chair.
On motion the Chair appointed the following committees:
Committee on Nominations:
Mr. C. A. Griscom, Jr., Chairman.
Miss Hohnstedt of Cincinnati.
Mrs. Regan of Providence.
Committee on Resolutions :
Mr. E. T. Hargrove, Chairman.
Mrs. Gitt of Washington.
Mrs. Moulton of Toledo.
T. S. ACTIVITIES 83
Committee on Letters of Greeting:
Dr. C. C. Clark, Chairman.
Mrs. Sheldon of Providence.
Mrs. Allison of New York.
These committees were instructed to meet and report at the afternoon session.
The Chair then called for the reports of the officers of the Society.
REPORTS OF OFFICERS
Mr. Charles Johnston, Chairman of the Executive Committee, presented the
REPORT OF THE EXECUTIVE COMMITTEE
FOR THE YEAR ENDING APRIL 27, 1912
The Executive Committee has to make a report full of good tidings and of
hope. First, to put on record that, as far as the organization of our parts is con-
cerned, we have at last completely regained the Constitutional status originally
laid down for us, as an international Federation of self-governing Branches. At
the beginning of this year, four Branch Charters were issued, which clearly illus-
trate this restored status. One was to a Branch in the North of England, which
had been a part, first of the old separate National Society, and later, of the
English National Branch. It is now a direct Branch of the International Society.
A Charter was issued to a Branch in Norway, and another to a Branch in Aus-
tria, with exactly the same significance; and, finally, a Charter was issued to an
added Branch in South America, showing the growth of new Branches direct
from the original stem.
Last year, the Convention directed the Executive Committee to make provi-
sion for visits to the different Branches of the Society, in both hemispheres. These
visits were paid, in the course of the "summer and autumn, by the Chairman of
the Committee, who met Branches in Bavaria, Austria, Saxony, Prussia, Norway,
Sweden and England, and met members in other parts of Europe also. In every
country, the visitor was conscious of new fields ripe for the reaper, of still
untouched riches waiting to be drawn upon.
In November, visits were made to Branches in Ohio, Indiana, Michigan and
Canada, and everywhere the same marvellous situation was evident. There are,
on all hands, those ready and eager for what we have to give. It is our most
responsible privilege to see to it that we are able to give just what they need,
in the best conceivable way. We have a superb opportunity to meet or to mar.
Let this great opportunity be greatly met. Let us see to it that the Light shall
shine in our hearts ; let us be filled with the living water. Above all, let us guard
against the danger, so eloquently pointed out by Mme. Blavatsky: the danger
of becoming ossified, of losing our living perception of living needs, with the
living power to supply them.
Great is our responsibility, high our destiny; let us humbly, selflessly, rever-
ently fit ourselves to meet it.
CHARLES JOHNSTON, Chairman.
On motion of Mr. Hargrove, seconded by Mrs. Griscom, the -report was
accepted and the thanks of the Convention were extended to Mr. Johnston.
Carried unanimously, the delegates standing.
The Secretary of the Theosophical Society, Mrs. Ada Gregg, then reported
as follows :
REPORT OF THE SECRETARY
FOR THE YEAR ENDING APRIL 27, 1912
New Branches and Members
The Secretary begs to report that during the preceding year diplomas have
84 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
been issued to 112 new members, as follows: In the United States, 39; in South
America, 25; in Canada, 4; in Germany, 32; in England, 3; in Scotland, 3; in
Norway, i; in Sweden, 7. Total, 114.
During the same period the Society has lost by resignation 23 and by death 6.
Since the last Convention charters have been issued to three (3) new Branches,
as follows:
The British National Branch, Newcastle, England, chartered January i, 1912.
Aurvanga Branch, Christiania, Norway, chartered January i, 1912.
Aussig Branch, Austria, chartered January I, 1912.
Correspondence
The arrival of the postman is always eagerly anticipated at the Secretary's
office as it indicates the most urgent work of the day. It all appeals to the Sec-
retary's heart whether letters of inquiry about Theosophy and The Theosophical
Society, or how to become a member, or asking advice for study or inquiries
whether there is a Branch or Branch members near the writers to whom they can
apply for help in their studies or letters expressing interest in our united work
or letters of gratitude for the inspiring and sustaining bond of fellowship, of
which the earnest member daily grows more conscious, and which finds its expres-
sion in communicating and sharing his newly found joy with others. They are
all interesting because of their varied character, coming from all parts of the
world and suggesting a harmony and an inner unity of purpose and a loyal
willingness to give all possible help.
The Book and Magazine Department
The business department of our work the search for and the supplying of
books the care of the stock the keeping accounts of the books sold the cor-
respondence and necessary work in the distribution of the QUARTERLY, are all
steadily increasing and consequently demanding more of the Secretary's time and
strength. It is a very willing service which makes new friends and extends the
influence of our literature as well as yielding satisfactory results financially.
It is very gratifying to record that the sale of books exceeds the number
sold in any previous year the demand being principally for the text books of
the Society on Science and Religion, but especially for the devotional books of
all Religions, and books that have been favored by the review department of the
QUARTERLY.
The Secretary has been abundantly rewarded for the time and effort expended,
in assembling the magazines published during the early years of the Society, and
which contain so much that is instructive and inspiring the thought of the East
responding to the call of the West in its search for light and help in solving the
problems of life.
One complete set of these magazines Path, Lucifer and Theosophist sub-
stantially bound, forms the nucleus of an extensive library for the enterprising
members of Berlin.
Two complete sets of these old magazines are nearing completion and are
longed for with a great degree of impatience by the two members who ordered
them.
Two extra sets of the Path have been supplied to private libraries, and cor-
respondence with two other collectors of these magazines justifies the hope of
supplying other sets of this legacy left to us by W. Q. Judge and his helpers. I
trust that all members who can aid in the assembling and distribution of these
valuable records will communicate with the Secretary.
The Theosophical Quarterly
THE THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY the crowning work of our endeavor next
T. S. ACTIVITIES 85
claims our attention. Through the continued interest and faithful co-operation
of Branches, individual members, and friends of the QUARTERLY, the circulation
has greatly increased. We are encouraged by the renewal of subscriptions by
many of the libraries and the appreciation expressed by them and their readers.
Many who chance upon the QUARTERLY for the first time find that it appeals to
them, and its reading is followed by an application for information regarding The
Theosophical Society and the conditions of membership therein. Such messages
daily coming to the attention of this office convince the workers there that no
better work can be done for Theosophy than by placing the QUARTERLY upon the
tables of the libraries an encouraging work of vital interest to every member.
From the comment of our exchanges we also find the same note of apprecia-
tion. A new applicant for this favor assures us that the QUARTERLY should be
widely circulated, "for it is always filled with interesting and learned contribu-
tions to Theosophical Literature."
Other magazines are praying for the privilege of translating and publishing
its articles into various languages, thus enlarging its field of usefulness as an
educator and helper.
The Secretary is constantly besieged with requests that readers be made
acquainted with the contributors to the QUARTERLY who have awakened their
minds, nourished their souls, or who have brought peace, hope and joy and aroused
the desire to share in the work of building higher ideals and uniting all who are
isolated into closer bonds of fellowship. It seems evident that the spirit of its
pages has entered into the hearts of its readers.
Bound sets of the QUARTERLY are continually being asked for and to supply
this demand has been, and continues to be, quite a problem, as many numbers
are out of print. It has been made possible sometimes by the response of members
where more than one copy has been sent to the same family. The Secretary is
very grateful for the response and forbearance to so many requests in this direc-
tion, and she expresses the earnest hope that all members who have broken sets
of the QUARTERLY will kindly report them.
A Word of Gratitude
In reviewing the work of the year I gladly acknowledge the valuable help
given me by one of our devoted members, Mrs. Margaret T. Gordon, who has
shared the duties and pleasures coming to us each day, and is a witness to the
many words of appreciation little kindnesses which reach the heart letters of
encouragement, that inspire and sustain us in our work. I also desire to acknowl-
edge continued, constant and helpful advice and assistance from my faithful asso-
ciates in office.
Respectfully submitted,
ADA GREGG, Secretary.
In presenting this report the Secretary asked permission to read an extract
from a letter, typical of many received, showing the high value of THE THEO-
SOPHICAL QUARTERLY to isolated members.
"Mrs. Ada Gregg, Secretary Theosophical Society.
"DEAR MADAM:
"It has been some time since I have written you and my neglect has caused
me considerable annoyance when I recall the kindly helpfulness which your cor-
respondence gave me. I can only plead weakness as the cause; and regret my
inability and lack of time to give the work more attention and assistance. * *
"The magazines have been a source of much comfort and instruction and I
will continue to study them. Having no students to consort with my progress
86 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
is necessarily slow, but through it all I see a great and noble work and I hope to
become better acquainted with it.
"The 'Letters to Friends' articles seem to have been written for my special
benefit, and I am coming to realize my weakness and moral cowardice, along with
my strength, as I have never before realized them. * * *"
On motion of Mr. Griscom, carried unanimously by a rising vote, the sincere
thanks of the Society were extended to Mrs. Gregg for her untiring devotion and
most efficient work.
Mr. Johnston expressed the thanks of the Society to Mrs. Gordon for her
able assistance to the Secretary.
Mr. Johnston then took the chair while the Treasurer, Mr. H. B. Mitchell,
reported as follows:
REPORT OF THE TREASURER OF THE THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY
APRIL 29, 1911, to APRIL 26, 1912
Receipts Disbursements
Dues $703.10 Secretary's Office $278.20
Contributions 512.60 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY (3
THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 337-82 issues) and printing 918.56
Balance, April 28, 1911 681.60 Toward Expenses of Delegates
to Visit Foreign Branches.. 200.00
Balance, April 26, 1912 838.36
April 27, 1912.
$2,235.12 $2,235.12
[Signed] H. B. MITCHELL, Treasurer.
In presenting this report the Treasurer called attention to the fact that only
three issues of THE THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY had been charged against the
year's disbursements, as the bill for the April issue had not been presented.
Estimating this at $300, the net balance would appear as $538.36, or about $150
less than that with which the year was started.
Comparing the present statement with that of a year ago, it would be noted
that the contributions had fallen from approximately $850 to $512. This the
Treasurer attributed to a reduction in the receipts from the Mite-boxes. Unless
these boxes were frequently renewed a certain percentage of them would be
torn or lost; and unless reminded of them members would forget. The Treas-
urer had made no effort to solicit contributions, or to urge the continued use of
the boxes. It was his opinion that so long as the moneys received were sufficient
to meet the Society's expenses it was best to hold the pressing of the mite-box
collections in reserve for a time of crisis or for special needs.
The Treasurer desired in closing to express his grateful sense of indebted-
ness to Mr. Karl D. Perkins and Miss Isabel E. Perkins for their constant and
self-sacrificing assistance in the work of the Treasurership.
Upon motion the Report of the Treasurer was accepted, and a unanimous
vote was passed expressing the thanks of the Society for the services of the
Treasurer and his assistants, Mr. and Miss Perkins.
On motion the Convention adjourned until 2.30 P. M.
T. S. ACTIVITIES 87
AFTERNOON SESSION
On reconvening, Mr. Griscom, Chairman of the Committee on Nominations,
presented the following names in nomination.
ELECTION OF OFFICERS
For the Executive Committee, to fill two vacancies :
Mr. Charles Johnston to succeed himself.
Mr. E. T. Hargrove to succeed Mr. Birger Elwing.
For Treasurer: Mr. H. B. Mitchell.
For Secretary : Mrs. Ada Gregg.
On motion of Mr. Michaelis the Secretary was instructed unanimously to
cast one ballot for the above nominees. On this being done they were declared
elected and the Committee on Nominations was discharged with thanks.
REPORT OF THE COMMITTEE ON RESOLUTIONS
Mr. Hargrove, Chairman of the Committee on Resolutions, introduced the
following :
Resolved, That Mr. Charles Johnston, as Chairman of the Executive Com-
mittee, is requested hereby to reply to the messages of greeting from foreign
branches in the name of and on behalf of this Convention ; and to extend to the
Conventions of the European branches our fraternal greetings and good wishes.
And:
Resolved, That this Convention of the Theosophical Society hereby requests
and authorizes visits of the officers of the Society to branches in Europe and
America.
Mrs. Gitt of Washington spoke of the desire of the Blavatsky Branch to
have the older members visit them, and in particular Mr. Hargrove.
Mr. Hargrove in reply expressed the earnest desire of all in New York to
visit the other branches, all of which were doing such splendid work. Although
immensely difficult to take such trips it was hoped that it would be possible
next fall.
These resolutions were then carried unanimously and the thanks of the Con-
vention extended to the Committee.
REPORTS OF DELEGATES
BLAVATSKY BRANCH, WASHINGTON, D. C.
Mrs. Gitt spoke of the harmonious spirit of the Blavatsky Branch, Wash-
ington. Weekly meetings and two lectures, followed by discussion, had been held.
The subjects, sometimes Scriptural, such as "My sheep hear My voice," are
advertised and had drawn a number of Church people. It is one aim of the
Blavatsky Branch to reconcile its members to their own Churches, interpreting
their ritual and beliefs in the light of Theosophy. Mrs. Gitt mentioned the
religious unrest among the women of Washington and their desire for more light.
She suggested that study classes with open discussion would be of great value
to the Churches, in both increasing their membership and arousing the clergy.
CINCINNATI BRANCH
Miss Hohnstedt reported a very active and harmonious year for the Cin-
cinnati Branch, the work this year having been better than for many past. The
present membership is 32. Public lectures, with advertised subjects, are held
weekly, with discussions which are of great interest and value. A study class
also meets weekly and there is a monthly class in which members meet visitors.
There is a circulating library of 200 books and the QUARTERLY is placed in eight
libraries and with one newsdealer.
88 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
H. P. B. BRANCH, TOLEDO. O.
The report of Mrs. Moulton, President of the H. P. B. Branch at Toledo,
showed a most gratifying spirit of energy and activity there. With a membership
of 27, meetings are held weekly on Sunday afternoons, open to the public except
once a month. A class meets on Thursdays to study the Secret Doctrine, and on
Wednesdays a class studies the Key to Theosophy. On Tuesdays members are
privileged to use a library of 72 volumes. Five new members were gained during
the year and two lost through removal from the city.
Mrs. Lang, a member of the Toledo Branch from 1892 to 1898 but not since
then a member of the Theosophical Society, delighted the delegates with her
story of the man who described the chief doctrines of Theosophy as "Karma and
Recrimination." Mrs. Lang recommended an Emerson study class as a means
of getting new members.
PROVIDENCE BRANCH
Meetings open to the public are held every Sunday night with an average
attendance of 15 to 20. Mrs. Sheldon referred to the difficulty of forming a
branch and to the lack of outside interest. They hold to the teaching of Karma,
Reincarnation, Brotherhood and Solidarity, as presented in the writings of Madame
Blavatsky. A study class meets weekly.
MlDDLETOWN BRANCH
It was inspiring to hear from Mrs. Gordon of the work of the Middletown
Branch, whose blind President, Mrs. Roberts, is a center of spiritual light in
her community. Semi-monthly meetings are held, at which sometimes only two
were present, but the meetings were always regularly opened and closed as though
many were present. The new members are very enthusiastic.
FORT WAYNE BRANCH
Mr. Michaelis spoke of the pleasure and inspiration which a recent visit to
the Fort Wayne Branch had given him.
A MEMBER AT LARGE
The power of the theosophic spirit was interestingly illustrated in what
was said by Miss Richmond. Although there is no branch at her home and her
friends did not even know the word "Theosophy," two of them felt that she had
something that they wanted to have also, and asked that they might study it.
Miss Richmond spoke also of the great joy that comes from the work.
STOCKTON BRANCH
The greetings of the Stockton Branch were presented to the Convention by
Mrs. Hopkins.
THE NEW YORK BRANCH
Upon motion, the Chairman was asked to speak to the Convention as Presi-
dent of the New York Branch and upon its work.
Mr. Mitchell said that though he was the President of the Branch, Mr. Har-
grove was the Chairman for its meetings, and would be able to speak of its work
better than he himself could. Perhaps the members of no other Branch of the
Society were engaged in more widely varying forms of theosophic activity, and
for this reason it was peculiarly difficult to report upon their work. Formally,
as a Branch, meetings were held fortnightly with an average attendance of about
twenty or twenty-five. A printed syllabus of topics had been followed, but this
syllabus gave only the sequence of topics, without assigning a definite date to
each. In this way the Branch was free to dwell for a number of meetings in
T. S. ACTIVITIES 89
succession upon a single subject. This often proved to be very advantageous, as
it gave opportunity for full discussion and more thorough consideration of the
questions raised. The topics chosen were all expressive of some aspect of
Theosophy, and had given rise to very interesting meetings. They were as
follows :
I. Theosophy and the Individual.
(1) Theosophy and Karma.
(2) Duty in the light of Theosophy.
(3) Theosophy as related to Joy and Pain.
(4) Theosophy as an Attitude.
II. The Social Aspects of Theosophy.
(1) Theosophy, the Home, and Social Obligations.
(2) Theosophy and Education.
(3) Theosophy and Modern Business.
(4) Theosophists in History.
III. Theosophy and Modern Science.
IV. Theosophy and Christianity.
(1) Their Origin.
(2) Their larger Interpretation of each other.
(3) Their Goal.
V. Theosophy as a Spiritual Synthesis.
In addition to the formal Branch meetings, there were a great number of
informal activities, which could not properly be regarded as Branch work but
which were expressive of the work of the Theosophic Movement. Such was the
work of the local members for THE THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY, the giving of
addresses before different religious or educational bodies, contributions to secular
magazines and the like. They were impossible to enumerate but Mr. Mitchell
hoped that many of the visiting delegates might remain long enough in New
York to become personally acquainted with some of them.
Mr. Mitchell believed that the work in New York might be described as the
effort to carry the spirit of Theosophy and the light of Theosophy into all
departments of the members' lives, and to demonstrate by practical example the
dynamic power of this spirit and the value of this light. It was a work of most
profound interest and far reaching effect.
The membership of the Branch was now 51, having considerably Increased in
the last year.
The Chair then called upon Mr. E. T. Hargrove, the Chairman of the New
York Branch.
Mr. E. T. Hargrove then said:
"Speaking on behalf of the New York Branch of The Theosophical Society,
perhaps the most important feature of our work is the effort to make it clear
to all visitors that Theosophy does not consist of a new set of dogmas, but that
it is the light of Truth itself which can be used to illuminate all attempts to
express the truth. Theosophy means Divine Wisdom. The Theosophical Society
is a free platform, and the only free platform in the world, where people can
meet without prejudice, no matter what their views or preconceptions, for the
discussion of the truth as they personally see it. A number of members, myself
included, have found in the writing of Madame Blavatsky and of Mr. Judge
immense help in the formulation of the truth as we are able to recognize it. We
owe them more than I, for one, can ever express. But it would be a fatal mis-
take to suppose that the writings of those two famous members have authority
in the Society as such. It was not their purpose to add a new creed to the list of
creeds with which the world is already over-burdened. No one would have been
90 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
more horrified than they, if, instead of the spirit, the dead letter of what they
wrote had been regarded as authoritative or final. If we would be loyal to them,
we should ask ourselves not so much what they said twenty years ago in this
book or that, but what would they say today if they were alive and working
with us outwardly? Not that Truth itself ever changes; but of one thing we
may be certain that those who know the Truth, speak it in response to the
needs and understanding of their hearers; and it would be absurd to suppose
that the world has stood still since 1875. To maintain that would be to main-
tain, incidentally, that the work of Madame Blavatsky and of Mr. Judge was a
failure. It was not. It was a marvellous success. Consequently, if they were
physically with us today, they would no longer speak as to a Kindergarten, but
as to those whom they had helped to pass from that low grade to a higher.
'There is no revelation but the ever-continuing.' That was said of Christianity
by Robertson of Brighton a famous clergyman of his day. And if that obviously
be true of the Christian religion, surely we would not have it less true of
Divine Wisdom, or of those who tried to remind us that it exists and can be
found not in any book or in any collection of books, but in the great book of
Life and by communion with the spirit of life which is also the spirit concealed
within the heart of each one of us."
THE THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
The Chair asked Mr. Griscom as Editor of THE THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
to report upon its work.
Mr. Griscom stated that while it was a great pleasure to report upon THE
THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY to the Convention, he always felt that he could but
repeat what he had said many times in the past. The thing most on his mind
was gratitude to the friends who contributed most of the articles and did the
major portion of the work, and of these, without making any invidious com-
parison, he would single out Mr. Johnston for his articles and Miss Isabel E.
Perkins, who had done yeoman service in proof-reading and many other ways.
The circulation of the magazine has increased steadily, and it now goes to
nearly every country in the world, and the office is continually in receipt of very
comforting and admiring letters of commendation.
One of the things of interest about the magazine is that hardly in its history
has the editor known a month before publication what the forthcoming number
would contain, and never once has he had sufficient material on hand to get
out two numbers.
The new series of articles called "Letters to Friends" has been especially
appreciated, some five or six letters having been received within the last few days
from different parts of the world, and in each the writer said that he felt that
these letters had been especially directed to him, or her, for several of the
writers were women.
The past year has seen the completion of Mr. Johnston's notable translation
and commentary of the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, which, Mr. Griscom was glad
to say, would soon be accessible in book form, adding one more to the already
considerable number of standard editions of Eastern scriptures which have first
appeared in THE THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY.
On motion of Mr. Michaelis an enthusiastic vote of thanks was unanimously
given Mr. Griscom for his brilliant and untiring work in the editorship of THE
THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY.
The Chair then called for
ADDRESSES BY LOCAL MEMBERS
Mr. Maine spoke of Dr. Holmes' poem on the chambered nautilus, compar-
T. S. ACTIVITIES 91
ing it with the growth of the soul. So every living organization or society must
outgrow its shell and continually "build more stately mansions."
Mr. Perkins said that ever since last year's Convention he had been looking
forward to this one and to the pleasure which seeing again the friends then made,
would bring him.
Mr. Perkins was followed by Mr. Russ, Mr. Alden, Mr. J. F. B. Mitchell
and Mrs. Allison, who spoke of the concrete application of Theosophy as a spirit;
first, in the spirit of detachment and then in the revivifying by this Spirit, of the
old forms.
REPORT OF THE COMMITTEE
ON LETTERS OF GREETING AND REPORTS FROM BRANCHES.
The Committee on Letters of Greeting, through Dr. Clark, its Chairman,
reported the receipt of telegraphic greetings from Mr. Hjalmar Julin on behalf
of the Branch at Arvika, Sweden, and from Dr. Keightley on behalf of the
English members.
In addition, the Committee submitted the following Letters of Greeting and
Reports :
BRITISH NATIONAL BRANCH
London, England.
To the Theosophical Society, in Convention Assembled.
DEAR FELLOW MEMBERS:
On behalf of the members of the British National Branch I forward greet-
ings to you in your Convention and heartiest wishes for your successful and
prosperous deliberation. The work of the Society goes slowly and quietly, but
the influence of the Theosophical Movement is spread far and wide. The one
difficulty that we have to contend with is to preserve constantly before our
eyes the spiritual ideal. We can see on every hand the influence of this move-
ment, but unfortunately, the lack of the spiritual ideal has caused the external
movement to degenerate into a materialized form, and this degeneration can but
result in the movement losing touch with the real benefit to mankind.
If your deliberations can but suggest some effective means by which those
who are touched by the Theosophical movement may become obedient to the
true principles of the Wisdom religion a great and lasting good will have been
accomplished.
With renewed good wishes,
Yours fraternally,
ARCHIBALD KEIGHTLEY,
General Secretary British National Branch.
THE THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY IN NORWAY
Christiania, Norway.
The Theosophical Society in Convention Assembled.
COMRADES :
Among the many questions that, at the time of the Annual Convention,
attract our attention and claim a deeper consideration, perhaps that of the
best way of accomplishing our work, of fulfilling our duties as members of The
Theosophical Society, is the one that is most prevalent in our minds. We examine
our past work in order to learn in what way we have failed, and we consider
what we ought to do in the future. This we are doing as a Society, as Branches
and as individuals. We are aware of mistakes, of moments of slackened devo-
tion, or of lost opportunities, etc., etc. We feel that, in our daily life, we have
not been thorough in practising silence, prudence, temperance and compassion.
92 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
And having become conscious of our shortcomings, we try to understand their
meaning and to learn from them; and by so doing we gather wisdom and strength
for our future work. And having thus learned the lessons of the past year well,
we are making a fresh promise, a solemn vow in which we put all our strength,
to do better in the future.
When our work in the past year is ended in this way, a real step towards
the Path has been taken, and we can have fair hope of being able to take a longer
stride in the coming year.
Are we to grieve and to think that we have accomplished small things only?
Is it not that we have accomplished just that much, which we were able to do?
Is it a small thing to add something to the experience of the Soul, and to its
power of manifesting itself in the outer world? Verily, to the Soul it is a
great thing, since the step taken is just the thing wanted for its further prog-
ress; it is a great thing, because a barrier in our way has been removed.
This understood, we should, after every such revisal of our lives, rejoice as
Members, as Branches and as a Society, ever rejoice, remembering these words
of Cave: "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 up within."
Therefore: "Let us lay aside every weight and press toward the mark."
A greeting of sympathy and thankfulness from your Norwegian Comrades.
Fraternally, THOS. KNOFF.
BERLIN BRANCH
Berlin, Germany.
The most important event which has occurred during the past year was the
union of our three branches : Berlin, North Berlin and Steglitz-Berlin. The good
results of the combined forces showed themselves directly. Our public lectures
and study classes were very well attended, in spite of the fact that no advertising
was done as formerly. Our financial condition was so much improved that we
were able to renovate our Society rooms and make them more comfortable and
attractive. The public lectures were attended on an average by 70 persons, the
study classes by 45. Several lecturers were not members of The Theosophical
Society and we are highly indebted to them for their interesting remarks. Sev-
eral members have done effective work by mailing programmes and pamphlets,
where some interest was surmised. The social meetings of members were a great
success. While enjoying a cup of coffee or chocolate prepared and served by
the ladies of the Branch, the events of the day that were connected with the
Theosophical movement were discussed. Reports of lectures given by other
societies, which had been visited by the members, proved especially interesting.
The meetings were interspersed with music and humor.
Berlin Branch has a membership of 127 at present. During the year 13 new
members, not belonging to any of the former Branches, have been admitted.
Those of us who believe in the spiritual basis of the Theosophical Society
and in the Masters are conscious of the fact that inner progress is true success.
None of us can measure this progress, only the Masters are capable of doing so,
for this inner progress is the result of the united forces of the whole Theo-
sophical Movement all over the earth, of which we are only a very small part.
PAUL RAATZ, President.
SANDOR WEISS, Secretary.
MUNICH BRANCH
Munich, Germany.
To the Members of the Theosophical Society in Convention Assembled.
The Theosophical Society, Branch Munich, is sending best brotherly greet-
T. S. ACTIVITIES 93
ings. It is impossible for any of the members to be present, but in our spirit of
Theosophy we are gathered together. May the Master grant his help and bless-
ings to the conference and resolutions of our brethren.
Branch Munich is working in its simple ways and is delighted to help the
growth of Theosophy in favour with God and man.
With brotherly greeting,
HANS FROHLICH,
Secretary of Branch Munich.
SCHRECKENSTEIN BRANCH
Schreckenstein, Austria.
To the Members of the Theosophical Society in Convention Assembled.
DEAR FRIENDS AND FELLOW MEMBERS:
You are met here, not only to carry out works of organization, but also to
do a much higher work, to gather the clearest rays of the spiritual part of the
heart from every single member, assembled here, in aspiration after the union
with the Over-Soul.
Every one will give his best and this union of the clearest spiritual individual
powers will be a help for the totality as also for the individuals. Every one will
offer all the highest of his heart and every one will receive much more. May
the Masters crown this assembly with a spiritual diadem, and give you their peace,
that all the glory, magnificence and love of God may extend over you through
them. And may every one be endowed with new strength for the fight in his
practical life.
Though we are outwardly separated from you at this time, yet we shall be
with you in heart and soul.
We wish your deliberations all success, and are, with cordial greetings,
Ever yours,
HERMANN ZERNDT.
VENEZUELAN BRANCH
Caracas, Venezuela,
To the Members of the Theosophical Society in Convention Assembled.
In the course of the years 1911 to 1912 the Theosophic movement has re-
mained bright in Venezuela. This result has been obtained from the constant
diffusion of books and by the interest realized by each member of the Branch
in behalf of the Eastern ideas. It is clearly understood that we should have
reached better success if the notable review, THE THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY,
could be read in the Spanish language. Its articles, full of life and spirit, are
scarcely known by the very reduced number of the readers of the English lan-
guage. It is the same with authors of works in our Society. They are almost
ignored. "Letters that Have Helped Me" and "Echoes of the East," by Mr.
W. Q. Judge, and the "Memory of Past Births," by Mr. Charles Johnston, only
are known. In consideration of such difficulty, arisen from the difference of
idiom, some friends have determined to translate, by little and little, the works
of our writers of North America, so that by that way they may realize the nature
of the work and the integrity and purity of the doctrine founded in the West
by the Masters, H. P. B. and W. Q. J.
Notwithstanding the difficulties above mentioned, the "Venezuela" Branch is
augmenting every day the number of its members. In a very short time it already
reckons more than one hundred associates and very soon the brethren of Alta
gracia de Orituco will form new Branches, with study hall and library, and also
those of Cindad Bolivar and San Carlos. The movement assumes a clear form,
94 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
definite and concrete, in organizing and multiplying its active centers in sundry
places of the Republic. It is probable that on the formation of the Branches
above mentioned, others will follow.
During the last autumn some differences arose in our Branch respecting the
T. S. and Theosophy. Those differences surged from the ignorance of its spirit.
Some argued that Adyar, Madras, was the seat of the Society, and that the exist-
ence of various Societies could not answer to the principle of the universal fra-
ternity. And they added that the division excluded the union. They wondered
that those who preached the ideals of tolerance and love, were not able to practise
them. But then there was a fervent change of ideas, when they clearly noted the
reasons which moved the great W. Q. Judge, to declare with all solemnity the
purity of the doctrine at the Convention of 1895, repeating the case of Paul con-
cerning the Church of Peter. Mr. Judge, the most modest, the most earnest,
patient and self -abnegating of the fellow-labourers of H. P. B. in the foundation
of the Society, saved the universal conception of Theosophy, showing that it
appertains to all places on the earth and not only to Adyar, as the sincere Chris-
tian saves the universal conception of Christ, redeeming it from the restrictions
of Rome. Thus the Convention of Boston freed the work of the Masters from
two dangers that threatened its existence; from sectarianism in its form, and
from dogmatism in its doctrine. Since then Theosophy does not constitute the
patrimony of one man or an assemblage of men, neither the privilege of a nation :
it goes through every way of humanity: and it exists where love exists, where
abnegation exists, or self-control and permanent sacrifice in behalf of the evoiu-
tion of man. The "Venezuela" Branch is now translating, for publication the
admirable article of Mr. Henry Bedinger Mitchell about The Theosophical Society
and Theosophy.
We are glad to bring to the knowledge of the Convention that one of our
efficient associates, in a tour of the neighbouring Republic of Columbia, found some
very earnest students, who may ask for their incorporation in the T. S. This
incident opens a new perspective towards another American State, and it seems
to promise well for the whole of South America.
The "Venezuela" Branch send a fraternal greeting to their brethren assembled
in Convention; and send their most sincere wishes for the success of their labours.
F. DOMINGUEZ ACOSTA, President.
VIRYA BRANCH
Denver, Colorado.
The Virya Branch of Denver, Colorado, has held monthly meetings during
the fall and winter. The Yoga Sutras, as published in the THEOSOPHICAL QUAR-
TERLY, have been studied and have been found very interesting so far as the class
has progressed. The attendance this winter has been more regular, and larger
than heretofore. As a Branch our work is confined to the meetings, but individual
work is carried on by members, covering a larger field.
BERTHA L. GORICH, Secretary.
CINCINNATI BRANCH
Cincinnati, O.
I will endeavor to write a brief letter of Greeting to the Annual Convention
of The Theosophical Society which will be held in New York City, April 27, 1912.
I have been confined in my home since the first of February, with an attack of
pneumonia and am still unable to be out, although I am slowly improving I men-
tion this personal matter merely to explain the cause of my inability to write an
unabbreviated communication.
T. S. ACTIVITIES 95
I realize more fully every day the greatness of the Theosophical message
given to the world by Madame H. P. Blavatsky, as the fully qualified instrument
of the Masters. To me it has been the one great revelation of Truth concerning
the nature, origin and principles involved in the Cosmos and Man the Macrocosm
and the Microcosm. I have seen this message permeate Science, Philosophy and
Religion and revolutionize modern thought from a materialistic tendency to a
contemplation of spiritual and soul realities.
There is no movement or activity synthesizing the man-made subdivisions of
Truth classified as Science, Philosophy and Religion which is all-inclusive except
the Theosophical Movement. Its three objects adopted and declared by its
founders in 1875 are as wide as life. They are big enough to include all Truth
and exclude all error, could we understand them as they are. Many fragmentary
efforts to give Truth to the world have been attempted in recent years, such as
New Thought, Eddyism, Emmanuelism, Natural Philosophy, Bahaism, etc., but
when the message given by the Masters through H. P. B. is fully comprehended,
intuitionally, it will be found to include all these and a great deal more. Com-
paratively few living persons have studied and even partially understood what
H. P. B. communicated in I sis Unveiled, the Key to Theosophy and the Secret
Doctrine. Some have appropriated to their personal credit ideas contained in
H. P. B.'s works in books they have published without giving any credit to the
source of their information.
I consider that the leaders of The Theosophical Society have a mission to
perform of which there has been none of greater moment to the spiritual unfold-
ment of humanity and the illumination of the soul. Its mission being to enlighten
those who are karmically ready, as to the spiritual laws to be followed in order
self-consciously to awaken to the immortality of the Soul.
One only has to read the THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY to realize that the leaders
of the Theosophical Movement are worthy instruments through which the great
movement backed by the Masters is proceeding. The members of the Cincinnati
Branch are fully appreciative of what is being done by the unselfish editors and
writers for the QUARTERLY, and desire that I should express in this letter of
greeting, their heartfelt gratitude.
Mr. Manning, our Secretary, has sent you a report of the Cincinnati Branch.
While it shows that we have not grown in nominal membership, it shows also that
our Branch is in a healthy, harmonious condition, and that we are doing a good
work here in keeping Theosophical ideas in operation.
I would like, above everything else, to attend the Convention and mingle with
those present in such a way as to partake of the altruistic, brotherly spirit which
I know will prevail; but my karma has settled it otherwise; so I shall have to
accept the situation with resignation and be with you in spirit but not in person.
Believing and trusting that Theosophy will ever find worthy exponents I
extend to the Convention my soul's fullest greeting.
W. A. R. TENNEY, President.
*+.
PACIFIC BRANCH
Los Angeles, Calif.
To the Members of the Theosophical Society in Convention Assembled.
GREETING :
The members of Pacific Branch, of the extreme west Pacific coast, send fra-
ternal goodwill to the members of the Atlantic coast in their assemblage at the
Annual Convention of The Theosophical Society, and pledge their unfaltering
support to the great work of the Society, coming to them as a heritage from the
96
Lodge of the Masters, in the cause of all humanity, in the furtherance of Universal
Brotherhood and man's identification with Immortality.
^Sincerely and Fraternally,
ALFRED L. LEONARD, Secretary.
UNITY BRANCH
Indianapolis, Ind.
The Unity Branch sends its heartiest greetings and fraternal goodwill to the
members of The Theosophical Society in Convention assembled, and expresses
its concurrence in all the acts of the Convention.
Our Branch is closing a year of earnest effort, and we all feel that we are
laying a firm foundation for some efficient future work. We follow a simple
plan for the conduct of our meetings; issuing each month in print a syllabus of
interesting subjects for discussion, and reserving the first meeting in each month
for our general "Question Evening." We also try to make a "Social Moment"
one of the best features of our meetings.
We are now in our new home. We have a fine, large room in a building
centrally located, which will comfortably seat fifty or more persons, and which
we have leased and neatly furnished. Our general attendance is very good, an
average of seventy-five per month. We now have a membership of twenty-two,
having acquired five new members and lost, by resignation, three.
MRS. HELEN FAULKNER, President.
CLOSE OF THE CONVENTION
With the reading of the Letters of Greeting and Reports from Branches the
formal business of the Convention was completed.
Mr. H. B. Mitchell, as President of the New York Branch, expressed the great
pleasure which it had given the Branch to receive the visiting delegates and to
have been permitted to be the hosts of the Convention. On behalf of the Branch
he extended its cordial invitation to the delegates to attend the regular Branch
Meeting which would be held that evening and at which "Methods of Theosophic
Work" would be discussed.
On motion of Mr. Johnston a unanimous vote of thanks was given the Chair-
man and Secretary of the Convention for their services.
On motion of Mrs. Gitt, a vote of thanks was extended to the New York
Branch for its hospitality.
On motion the Convention adjourned, at 5.25 P. M.
EVENING MEETING OF THE NEW YORK BRANCH
In the evening there was the regular meeting of the New York Branch
attended by the delegates to the Convention as well as by other visitors. Mr.
Hargrove opened the meeting by an address on "Methods of Theosophic Work,"
which was then made the subject for general discussion.
PUBLIC LECTURE
On Sunday, April 28th, the day following the Convention, a public lecture was
given in the Convention Hall, by Mr. E. T. Hargrove upon "Theosophy," Mr.
Charles Johnston being in the chair, and the audience overcrowding the hall.
J. F. B. MITCHELL,
Secretary of the Convention.
COMMENT
OCTOBER, 1912
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.
THE ART OF JOY
WE live, they say, in great days; days of rare discoveries and
wonderful doings. We have reached the North Pole and the
South, and every one who has read of these fine and hazard-
ous adventures, and who, in the wide, wide world, has not
heard of them, in these days when telegrams penetrate to inland China,
through darkest Africa, and among the islands of the sea? everyone,
then, who has read of these world-searching conquests has felt his heart
glow with satisfaction, as though he himself had won a goal, even paid
a long outstanding, imperative debt. Perhaps we should say "her heart"
also, for are not these great days also for feminine, or rather feminist,
adventure ?
So the Poles are found, and our spirits are, to that extent, assuaged.
And future philosophers will note that, in the same year that the
North Pole was discovered, lame Bleriot, hindered by his infirmity from
daring deeds on ice and snow, threw aside his crutches, climbed on his
aeroplane, and flew, bird-like, or, even more, dragonfly-like, across the
English Channel : the first great spectacular air-victory, grown from the
solider, more prosaic flights of the Dayton heroes. We all soared in
thought with Bleriot, as we strained and shivered to the Poles, with
Peary and Amundsen.
We have talked, too, across oceans and mountain-ranges with
Marconi : not, perhaps, in our proper persons, but that is not necessary,
thanks to the solidarity of mankind, and our imaginative power. We
have lived, too, to see music put up in little boxes and sent about by post ;
pictures that move, and, in actual colors of life, like those wonderful
ones of the Durbar scenes in India, make the very souls of things march
98 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
and countermarch for us on the screen. The depths of the sea, too, are
visited. We can shoot torpedoes from beneath at mighty, but all too
vulnerable battle-ships; we can rain projectiles on them from the sky.
Truly, wonderful days.
Who shall fitly write of that great wonder of our age, the revolt of
woman? Whose heart has not been stirred at the parades of many
colors, but all with like heroic hearts? Who has not felt a pang of
wonder, a glow of abashed surprise, when hatchets have been flung by
silk-gloved, gentle hands at English prime-ministers, when Secretaries
of State have been cuffed by irate martyrs at festal functions, when
theaters have been inflamed, to be a torch to light mankind, or as a
beacon-warning, at least, to that half of mankind which, hitherto, has
held a precarious, flimsy superiority? Is it not, indeed, a wonderful
age?
We see, too, with like feelings of wonderment and amaze, the
coming revolt of the children. If woman be liberated, shall not the
child, too, go free? Away with leading strings, with spankings and
oppression. The cradle is the true home of political and social wisdom.
Let the bonds be broken; let the children vote! They should, too,
be amply supplied with money and other luxuries ; are we not all citizens
together? Why these injurious discriminations and distinctions, merely
on account of age? It would be well, also, if, to carry throughout the
spirit of our age, masters should more conscientiously and continuously
obey their servants; the foolish should command and guide the wise;
the vicious should instruct the righteous in virtue.
Perhaps you are reproaching me for writing in a spirit of levity,
a whimsical humor, of things very grave and of deep import? But did
not Rosalind say that it is better than swearing? One must speak
humorously of these things, lest one grow wrathful and indignant.
That there is cause for real and deep indignation, let the following
extract show, taken from a newspaper of the day.
The Kings County Grand Jurors, says the recorder, who have just
finished a session lasting through July and August, suggested in a
presentment handed to Judge Dike in the County Court yesterday that
the heads of the various religious organizations give more time to
missionary work right at home. The jury declared in its presentment:
"We have noted with deep regret the number of young men and boys
who have just commenced a life of crime brought about by idleness and
improper associates. Especially brought to our attention has been the
number of minor girls who have gone astray from a virtuous life by
apparent laxity or inability of parents or guardians to give their coming
and going from their homes proper watchfulness.
NOTES AND COMMENTS 99
"The remedy for these conditions is a subject that should receive
the attention of the authorities and the various religious denominations
of this borough. This Grand Jury would suggest that if the head
representatives of the various denominations were invited to attend a
session of the County Court on arraignment days they would see for
themselves what is actually going on, and then instead of paying so much
attention to foreign missions they would better understand the maxim
that 'charity begins at home.' "
The writer of sensational headings in the true spirit of the day
labels this: "Jury objects to Missions," which is a gross distortion of
its real purpose, but more likely to tickle the reader's palate, and there-
fore not only pardonable but praiseworthy. A gross distortion, we say.
For the point is, not that there are too many missions, but that there is
too little discipline, too little obedience. Who, after all, is directly and
immediately responsible for these unhappy boys who, through evil com-
panionship, fall into dishonesty, these far more unhappy girls who fall
into impurity and shame?
First of all, their mothers. Would these not be better employed in
attending to this, their primal and holy duty, than in crying out for votes
and political activities? They have not taught their children to obey;
have not compelled obedience, as they should have done, from earliest
childhood. Having sowed the wind of anarchy, for to permit dis-
obedience where obedience is due, is anarchical, they now reap the
whirlwind of sorrow and desolation and shame for their children, the
boys branded as thieves, the girls stained and disgraced.
This toleration of disobedience where obedience is due, is their
foolish, often well-meaning tribute to the spirit of the age, to the idols
of liberty and democracy. They are afraid to compel obedience, lest
their own children, in the name of liberty, reproach them and call them
tyrannous. So the children get their way, and it takes them swiftly
to the devil. Missions, in the sense suggested by the Kings Grand Jury
would not avail. A change of ideal is needed, a new world-view, based,
not on self-indulgence and self-assertion, but on obedience and humility.
We spoke, a little while ago, of the feminist parade, the cry of
"Votes for Women." Women should consider well how much of mere
self-indulgence and self-assertion expresses itself in that cry, how little
it springs from the pure desire of service. They should consider, too,
how servile, parrot-like, monkey-like is this longing to imitate the mere
symbols and symptoms of the political activities of men. For a vote
is but a symbol, the label of a hard-earned reality, the indication that
there is a power there, a real political force, an ability to build, to serve.
Through long, toiling, warring, suffering centuries, men have gained a
ioo THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
certain power to build and keep together large communities. The power
is everything. The label, the vote, is nothing. It is distinctly a
masculine power; a power wholly developed by the toil and conflict of
men. The vote cannot confer it, nor could the withdrawal of the vote
take it away.
It was with a genuine sense of amusement that we read the follow-
ing passage in The Nineteenth Century and After, a day or two after
writing the above paragraph. It is taken from an article on the Failure
of Feminism in Finland. The writer, Edith Sellers, says: "Since
female suffrage came into force, a fairly large section of town-dwelling
Finnish women have lost considerably in what one might call 'sweet
reasonableness.' They are now so keenly alive to their own rights that
they are apt to forget that other folks have rights, and that they them-
selves have duties. They have lost in balance, too ; politics are for them
now the be-all and end-all of life ; they have not a thought in their heads
for any other subject, excepting perhaps feminism. They seem never
quite happy unless at a public meeting, listening to political discourses,
or, better still, delivering them. No political question is too complex
for them to deal with in their present frame of mind ; they will produce
at a moment's notice solutions for problems that have baffled statesmen
for years; and will start off on lecturing tours on the slightest provoca-
tion. They are much more eager to be out in the world than in their
own houses; home-life, indeed, has lost all attraction for them. . . .
They are practically never at rest ; early and late they are on the go, to
the detriment, of course, of their nerves, and through them of their
health, and much besides."
It is the passion for self-assertion, for self-indulgence, that inspires
the shrill cries of the feminist paraders. Their victory, should they
gain one, will be the gravest defeat womankind could possibly suffer.
One is tempted to say: Let me, as an archaeological study, write a
treatise on the Influence of Woman; let me glean the facts before they
vanish altogether, as our bureau of ethnology collects the customs, the
languages, the arts, of dying aboriginal races. The triumph of the
feminist movement will mean the death of the influence of woman.
Why? Because it will be a triumph of self-assertion and self-
indulgence; and these are fatal to all alike; fatal to men, more fatal to
women, most fatal, as the Kings Grand Jury showed, to children, to
the boys who become thieves, the girls who fall into impurity and shame.
As a last word on the feminist question; if I am wronging the seekers
of votes for women, if their real desire is not self-assertion but service,
I shall be delighted to have it so proven, but if their desire is to serve,
NOTES AND COMMENTS 101
why not serve? Why wait for a vote? Why not begin by inquiring
what it is that really needs to be done?
But, the women reply, with that age-old love of answering back,
that the men are as bad and worse; that they are corrupt, dishonest in
political action, venal through and through, always ready to sell them-
selves for a dollar or a drink. Look, for example, at the condition of
things revealed during the summer months in New York; the almost
unthinkable corruption and dishonesty, penetrating in every direction,
with ramifications innumerable.
Yes, let us look and consider. What of these revelations? A gam-
bler is waylaid and shot in the street. His murderers escape, but the
car in which they flee is recognized, not by the police, but by a citizen
who is bullied and locked up for giving the information. Then come
arrests, confessions, accusations. The chief penitent declares that a
high police officer ordered the murder, threatening to bring false charges
against his tools, and to send them to penal servitude on trumped-up
charges and manufactured evidence, if they refused to kill his victim,
who, once his partner, had become his enemy. Then revelations came
thick and fast. It was alleged that this murder was no casual, detached
happening, but the almost inevitable outcrop of great layers of dishonesty
and blackmail. The confessing accuser, declaring that he himself had
for years assisted to collect it, estimated this blackmail at two and a half
million dollars each year, for the protection of gambling alone.
Immediately on the heels of this came the report of a committee
for the suppression of vice; by vice, meaning impure sexual self-indul-
gence. This committee disclosed many horrible details of a horrible
traffic ; but, to confine ourselves to one only, they estimated the blackmail
paid for the toleration of this evil at some three million dollars yearly,
for the one city, New York.
The present writer has been told, on excellent authority, that, in the
same city, liberty to break the law against the sale of intoxicants on
Sunday, paid, until quite recently, a tax of like amount, three million
dollars every year. Let us say, then, ten million dollars yearly for the
protection, by the police, of unlawful pandering to the evil passions of
men; and this in a single city.
A frightful arraignment, without doubt. Who is to bear the blame ?
It is, of course, quite easy, and also quite just, to reprobate officers and
men of the police force who grow rich on blackmail, and who will not
stick at murder, to protect their evil lives and evil gains. It is easy, too,
to reprobate the vile race of professional gamblers and panderers, guilty
of all imaginable meanness, treachery and dishonesty, who pay blackmail
to secure immunity in evil doing. It is likewise easy to condemn the
102 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
political organizations, which, claiming to make themselves responsible
for government, not only permit, but in all likelihood fatten upon, evil
and abominable conditions such as these.
But, when we have thus condemned, have we done complete justice?
Hardly. For consider the matter thus: Ten millions of tribute for
blackmail is but a part, whether it be a tenth, or a fourth or a half,
matters not, of the taking of the gamblers and panders and sellers of
liquor under illegal conditions. It stands to reason that they do not give
up all their takings for protection in evil. If they did, they would starve.
Much sticks to their fingers; at least, much passes through their hands.
Let us say that their tyrants compel them to disgorge one-half of their
plunder. That would mean that twenty million dollars a year are paid
by men, in one city alone, for the gratification of evil passions and
appetites under conditions forbidden by the law, and leaving wholly out
of account the evil gratification which the law tolerates. Incidentally, one
may suggest, this sheds a somewhat lurid light on the wisdom and virtue
of "the people," whose inherent rectitude, we are told, when freely
applied to government, is to lead in a new golden age.
But let us go back to our point. Twenty millions, on the lowest
estimate, paid each year by the men of a single city for the gratification
of evil passions under conditions forbidden by the law; passions, too,
which are wholly morbid, which are as damaging to physical and mental
well-being as they are contrary to wholesome natural life. Here is
material from which the upholders of the feminist movement may draw
very damaging morals, concerning man's political competence and
claimed superiority.
Let them draw the true moral, however. That moral, we take it,
is this. These evil and abominable conditions arise, not from govern-
ment by men, but from the logical and inevitable working of a false ideal
which at present vitiates that government: the ideal of self-assertion
and self-indulgence, which is none the less destructive, because it wears
the fair name of "liberty and the pursuit of happiness."
We are coming now to the theme which gives the title to these
NOTES AND COMMENTS: the Art of Joy. The whole evil lies, if we be
right, in that very ideal, the pursuit of happiness. Happiness should
never be pursued; if pursued, happiness is never captured. Ask the
gamblers, ask the panders, ask the fools upon whom these fatten,
ask the wretched women who are sacrificed to them, whether they are
happy. They will cry out and wish to tear you to pieces, for the bitter,
merciless irony of your question. Why is it so many of them, as has
been shown, use opium and alcohol ? Because their misery is intolerable,
and they seek at any price to forget it. The passionate thirst for sensa-
tion, which the victims of gambler and pander are trying to assuage, is
NOTES AND COMMENTS 103
not happiness, it is misery, a misery almost intolerable. Dishonesty is
misery, too, whether it be the stealing of mites or millions, the sneaking
pilfering of petty thieves and pickpockets, or the wholesale theft of great
corporate bodies, which corrupt the sources of government and law that
they may steal unpunished ; and no gilding of political or social vanities
will make it less miserable.
Here, then, is the true moral, so far as feminism is concerned.
If self-assertion and self-indulgence in men have borne such evil fruit,
how dangerous these must be, as the motive-forces of the "emancipation"
of women, how certain to end in disaster. To end, also, as they begin,
in miserable unhappiness. For there is no pain equal to the sting of
self-assertion and self-indulgence, and the thirst for sensation which
engenders these.
Thus, from considering its opposite, we come to the art of joy.
Let the direct truth be told. It is false to say that we are born free and
equal, with a right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. We are
really born bound hand and foot by past Karma, by old, unatoned sins.
We are born unequal in all things, except the need of mercy and redemp-
tion. We had rights once, as an eloquent preacher said, but we sinned
them all away. We have now neither rights nor privileges, but debts
and duties only: the duties of humility and obedience. And so far as
the pursuit of happiness is concerned, nothing is more instantly and
completely fatal to happiness than that pursuit. We can no more over-
take happiness than we can stand on the heads of our own shadows,
when the sun is near the horizon. Swiftly as we may run, the shadows
escape as swiftly. Happiness likewise eludes us, if we are unwise enough
to pursue her. If you still doubt, ask the gamblers and panders, their
victims and their tyrants. They are all pursuing happiness. Ask them
whether they have overtaken their quarry.
There lies the fundamental folly and mistake. Happiness is not
a goal, but a result: the necessary, the inevitable result of obedience to
spiritual law, and of complete self-surrender, in order that obedience
may begin. There is no misery, no evil, like self-will; and the art
of joy consists in surrendering self, that we may obey the wise and just
and holy Law. When our foolish, unhappy age has run its course, when
the dregs of the "pursuit of happiness" have been tasted, when the false
idols of self-assertive "liberty" are broken and deserted, when the search
for a material paradise based on the maximum of self-indulgence is
abandoned, then may the long lost clue of happiness be found, the
mysterious, hidden secret recovered of the forgotten art of joy. That
clue will lead to a shrine, over which is written, in golden letters :
"Joy comes only, and comes inevitably, through self-
surrender and obedience."
FRAGMENTS
YOUR situation is fraught with difficulties, but you can see
what it is doing for you, and that makes it easier. You have
brought all this upon yourself by your own ardour and the
working of the inner fire. School yourself as you are doing;
preserves your clearness of vision, for mental confusion would be
fraught with danger. Keep faith, and, as far as possible, serenity.
Here are your present lessons, fitting you for greater work. . . .
In the stillness of these days let your heart grow, living with nature
which you love. These times of quiet are needed to draw in deep
draughts of peace and harmony. This is your trust; and, keeping
it faithfully, from your convent stillness will go forth a power to aid
the world. You have the wish of your heart, what I have always
read there, to work behind the scenes, distributing blessings which
those who receive know not of. But have patience when the other
demands come. There are reasons for it all, and you will trust me. . . .
Dear Child, I pity you, and yet the way is clear enough. Again
the darkness gathers and the struggle comes: but what of that?
Another turning point in the journey; another lesson learned. Take
heart and battle on. Much, much is there to try you ; but much, much
have you to learn. Do not fear and fight yourself so. Too much
struggle; too little faith and calm. Can you not rest on the eternal
verities? Knowing the great depths below, consider not the ripples
on the surface of the water ? Great pain ! I know your pain, but also
your great privileges. I know you mean to be true and do rightly,
whatever the cost. Do it then; and remember, it will cost something;
that is inevitable. Also you do not need more instruction, but to
live by what you know. You have that within which brings you in
close contact with truth and knowledge, from which you can learn
all : only the brain stands between, and that you can conquer
by purification. These matters all of personality especially, you
will understand bit by bit. Meditation will do it. Do not strive so
after it: let it come. . . .
You see how help given another, returns to you. Loving, unselfish
thought expended returns as inspiration. I know you. had no thought
FRAGMENTS 105
of reward, that is just the point: merely an intense desire that the
good should be accomplished. Follow these impulses always. The
angels garner them like lilies, transplanting them to heaven where
they bloom in immortal beauty for the joy and healing of the nations.
Kind deeds are helpful. So are kindly words, as all men know. But
kindly thoughts and wishes are more helpful still: most helpful are
our prayers. . . .
A holy light and a blessing surround you to-night from which
you may gather strength and comfort in the darkness through which
you are struggling. Open your heart to these influences and drink
them in as a flower the dew in the quiet hush of the night. Fear not,
oh ! suffering heart, oh ! wilful, struggling nature. I know your pain
and burden, and the heavy pressure of life upon you. But in time
you shall understand better, and meanwhile, courage and patience. . . .
We do not need to see our way ahead ; we only need to see our
next step. If you could see your way ahead to-day, you would be
far more bewildered than you are. What use is information to a
man who cannot transform it into knowledge, and that knowledge
into wisdom? More often he is blinder than before; sometimes it
destroys him. Look at your modern education (forbid the word in
such connection !) : how many souls has it drawn forth from per-
sonal and material life to flourish in the world of light and reality?
And by such harvests shall you judge of things, as must all who
believe in Immortality. Efficiency? yes, that is a test. But efficiency
in what? In muscle? in brain? or in spirit? Which of these three
witness more than one short earthly span? We who are builders,
not of time but of Eternity, and who therefore keep mastery of
time, can have but one reply. Are not these eternal verities? Rest
in them.
And for the knowledge which leads to wisdom meditate, medi-
tate, meditate: all lies in that. Melt all experience in the crucible
of the heart; brood over it there in peace, and bring it forth again
pure gold of vision and inspiration. The whole Universe is waiting
to reveal itself to you; the mysteries of nature need only your open
Sesame, for you to become partaker of their deepest secrets. There-
fore seek purity, without which there is no vision ; obedience, without
which there is no power ; courage, without which there is no advance.
And so good night, and my blessing. CAVE.
LETTERS TO FRIENDS
V
DEAR FRIEND:
WHY are you so troubled and depressed? Simply because
you cannot write as you would wish? What would your
answer be if I were to tell you that that is vanity? That
the greater part of these fine tragic self-reproaches of
yours are nothing but the hysterics of your spinster emotions,
indulged, forsooth, because their precious vanity has cut its finger?
I wish I were there to shake you and after the shaking really to
hurt your vanity by showing it to you. Let us imagine the conversa-
tion:
I (after administering the shaking) : Well?
You: I cannot write.
I: Well?
You: I have to write.
I : Then write.
You: I cannot.
I : If you must you can you know that as well as I.
You: I cannot. I sit for hours before blank paper. I write
endless beginnings. My floor is littered, carpeted, with first sheets to
which there are no seconds. They
I: Why are there no second sheets?
You: Because the first are sheerest drivel. Chose any two at
random and I wager you will vow each is worse than the other.
When I try to sleep they rise from the floor the torn and scattered
fragments reassemble from under the table, from the scrap-basket,
the ash-cart and the four winds of heaven and the sentences dance
before my eyes a dance of delirium, a St. Vitus's dance of meaning-
less mental twitchings. Starting in one direction they sheer violently
into another, or pause and waver in mid-career in obvious forgetful-
ness of their initial purpose and in patent pained surprise at the dis-
covery of their own position. I have no ideas, no will, nothing but
I : Nothing but an imagination. Why were there no second
sheets?
You: No human being could write a second sheet to one of
those beginnings.
I : That is not true.
You: Not and keep his self-respect.
I: At last the truth appears. You mean that the thought of
yourself as writer outweighed the thought of your purposes in writ-
toe
LETTERS TO FRIENDS 107
ing. Beginning badly you were unwilling to continue. Your vanity
paralyzed your will.
What would you say to that?
Dear friend, I know what you would say; and it is true. You
would tell me that you had not looked upon this writing as for
yourself but for one to whom you owed the best that was in you
that you felt nothing but your best was worthy to enter into your
service of the Master and that you knew this was not your best,
so that you began again and again to try to do it better. This is
not vanity, but such a feeling as everyone who loves must know.
And yet, as it manifested itself in you, it was a barrier, a sin, even
when stripped of the vanity which was mingled with it, and the sin
was the sin of non-acceptance.
Suppose, instead of tearing up each sheet as it was written
instead of resenting the fatigue of your mind and the dissonance of
your mood you had accepted them quite simply and humbly, and
had offered them in your heart to the Master for whose service you
sought to write. Could you not have trusted him to make good
even your poor workmanship? What would have been the result?
You have proved it in your own experience many times. You would
have gone on to the second sheet and the third; and many sheets
would have been written where now there are none at all. Even if
badly done they would have been better than nothing. But they
would not have been badly done. You know that with each page
you wrote you would have written better your mood would have
changed with the steady pressure of your will the current of your
thought would have gathered strength and volume in the new
channel you were cutting for it. And when you had reached the
end you would have found there the power to begin. Then you
could have gone back and rewritten easily and quickly what had been
done amiss.
But, as it was, you permitted yourself to fret and to fume, and
lashed your mind till it lost all power to understand what was asked
of it. I have seen brutal drivers fall into such a temper with their
horses, and whip and jerk them first here and then there till the
poor beasts could only pant and snort and plunge aimlessly and
ineffectively. You have been told to treat your mind as a child
to lead it gently and firmly where you would have it go. And here
you have been abusing it as you would let no animal be treated.
Now if this does not give you something with which really to
reproach yourself if you still persist in the attempt to cover your
true fault with self-pity and self-abuse for imaginary evils I have
yet another prescription to offer you. Take down the first volume
you published and reread it aloud to me, whom you are to imagine
io8 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
there beside you. And when you come to the passages which you
had laboured most upon, which were finally couched in the fine
poetic imagery, and balanced form you sought, and which pleased
you mightily at the time, just imagine my eyes upon you and have
the decency to blush for them. You will blush I know, for you have
grown since those early days, and can see now in retrospect, what I
could never make you see at the time, that what was of value in
your work was not its form but its spirit and its substance. Is this
less true now than then? Are you still seeking to produce prose
masterpieces? Or are you trying to show forth the light that has
been put into your heart : to speak the message that it has been
given you to speak? Oh, vanity, vanity, how subtlely do you change
your countenance and steal upon us in the guise of our best and
truest friends. For has the labourer any better friend than the will
to do his work as perfectly as in him lies?
But do not think that I am even yet done with your scrupulosity.
When the torture of this reading is over I purpose that you should
take me for a walk more, a climb. We are to leave your garden,
with its shade trees and flowered walks, and clamber down the hill-
side through the vineyards, by the little path behind the house. It
is something of a descent to the village in the valley, and as you look
back, your hill-top seems to loom mountainous above it. But we are
not to stop here ; otherwise there would be no use for those clumsy
hobnailed boots of yours. They were made for the heights, and to
the heights we are bound: to the real mountain that rises sheer
from the far side of the village, cutting off the north winds and
letting your roses bloom even in March. When we have reached
the first and lowest of its great ridges I shall let you stop and look
down on what we have left. You know the view well ; and I too have
been there with you, learning to breathe again the air from the snows
and to rest on its wide horizons our tired myopic vision.
Look down now upon your hill top and see it merged into the plain.
The steeply terraced vineyards are flattened out. Your great shade
trees are but patches of darker green. But all is beautiful, lying
there far beneath us in the sunlight, with the shadows of the clouds
sweeping silently, caressingly across it. All is beautiful. And from
this height this lowest of the mountain's peaks all is holy.
Dear Friend, if you and I can so see the fields in which our lives
are lived our hill-tops and depressions how do you think they lie
beneath the Master's gaze? Do you think the hills are dearer to
him than the valleys? The vineyards than the corn lands? For
each soil produces its own crop ; and this bare face of stone, where
not even a rockfern can cling, provides the radiating heat and shelter-
ing wall that let your roses live. Is not the secret of all this hus-
LETTERS TO FRIENDS 109
bandry, of all this varied usefulness and varied beauty, acceptance?
And if we are thus wise in physical things, shall we be less wise in
the things of the spirit? Did not our way to this height lead us
first into the meadows? And if we are to climb further toward the
snows must we not again descend from the ridge where we now
stand? Fie upon you, mountaineer and gardener, to have learned so
ill the lessons of your crafts.
I wonder when we shall really learn the lesson which all crafts
and all nature teach : that humility is a power ; that great things are
done by little ; and that acceptance is the fulcrum which Archimedes
sought, (and sought in vain because he looked outside himself) by
which to move the world, by which Faith and Love do move the
world. Look down again upon this scene, and see it, not as now
from this great height, but as you remember it close at hand. No-
where is there waste. There is in all its wide extent no barren
neglected ugliness. And the reason is, as you yourself have often
told me, that it is a poor land of peasant tenantry. Each little patch
of soil means life and love and home. It is its tenant's all, and so,
simply and humbly, he works upon it till all is fruitful all beautiful.
How would it be, do you think, were it in the hands of one of your
western speculators, with western notions of "improving property,"
dreaming dreams that here should be a state metropolis, and putting
up pretentious villas separated from one another by vacant, weed
grown lots? "Seekest thou great things for thyself? Seek them
not."
Do you remember one of the verses in Stephen Crane's "Black
Riders"? I have not them by me here, and so cannot quote verbally.
But it tells of meeting one, upon the road of life, who looked at him
with kindly eyes and bade him show his wares. One by one they
were brought forth. One by one the stranger laid them at one side
and said of each : "It is a sin." At last he cried "I have none other."
Then grew the stranger's eyes more kindly still. "Poor soul," he said.
Suppose that you and I could realize this of ourselves: That
there is no one thing in us, least of all that upon which we pride
ourselves the most, which, measured by the standards of the life we
seek to follow, is not a sin. What would we do? What could we do?
Rebellion, grief, self-reproach would be of no avail. We are not
other than we are, and have only what we have and this a sin. I
know what you would do. You would fall upon your knees and hide
your face before the Master. One by one you would take your sins
and lay them at his feet. And prostrate there before him, your face
buried in your hands, would sob out the last vestige of yourself, till
you were empty of all. Then in that abyss of nothingness, in that
empty silence which had been your heart and self, you would find
i io THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
his hands upon your head, his heart within your own. . . But,
strangest of all, when he bade you rise and go, you would take back,
one by one from his hands, the sins which you had laid at his feet,
no longer to be used as sins but as powers; as his gifts to you with
which to serve him; or as the soil, rock strewn and overgrown with
thorns and thistles, which you were to make fair and fruitful, and
where you were to live your life, his tenant.
Within all sin there are life and power. We who have so long
suffered sin's dominion know that well. And all life and power are
in essence drawn from the Divine. They are the Father's gift to us
from his own life. It is only we ourselves who give to life its appear-
ance of duality, or to sin and evil their appearance of separate exis-
tence. It is only man that makes the sin and evil, by separating in
thought and use the gift of life and power from its source. When
we take it back whence it came, give it back to the Master who first
gave it us, then again it becomes wholly good.
Choose what sin you will, little or big, and look deep into its
heart, and lay your hands upon its inmost essence and the power
by which it lives, and turn this power to the Master, and you will
find it but a part of your love for him; but an instrument for the
doing of his will. Choose that vanity which paralyzed your effort
when you tried to write. It was vanity and sin when directed to
yourself and coloured by the thought of yourself. But directed to
the Master it is but part of your love for him and a part which will
make you think no pain too great to serve him as perfectly as in
you lies. Choose the power of absorption in your occupations, which
now makes you sin daily against Recollection and Detachment. Turn
the power of this absorption to the Master and it will keep you ever
at his side, for yours will be the power of the great contemplatives.
Sin is always prostitution; and is sin because what it prostitutes is
holy.
Could we learn to see thus into the heart of things, and recognize
the sin in our virtues and the virtue in our sins; could we see all
things in us and in Nature as nothing of themselves but as drawing
their life from the one great Source of Life, we should learn both
acceptance and humility. And with these, our lives would be trans-
formed. Now we touch reality and beauty and service of the Master
in but widely spaced moments. We offer him only what we deem
the hill-tops of our lives, where the grape can grow and yield its
wine which intoxicates our love of self. The broad valleys we leave
rank and untilled; though they should be the corn-lands yielding
daily bread. But if we were humble of heart we would see the truth.
Each moment of our lives, each mood, each feeling, each circum-
stance or duty, yes, each sin, has in it the power of a gift to him not
LETTERS TO FRIENDS in
less dear because we deem it small. What is ours in each moment
is in truth our all in that moment, and being our all it is all we have
to give. If we will give it, it will be made beautiful. And thus,
beautifying each moment, all will be beautiful, all fruitful, all fair
and all useful.
All that I have tried to say to you, you know. Bring.it back to
your heart and memory; and make it live in you and give you poise
and evenness of walk. Take down your volume of "Fragments" and
read again the words you once told me were the wisest counsel that
you knew.
"You must learn to accept with patience the circumstances of
your life. It is not for you to attempt to alter them, but to accept
them quietly, and bring out of them all the good possible for your-
self and for others. The circumstances really do not matter, since
in any we can accomplish our destiny.
"You must not be overborne by discouragement; that arises when
results are sought for, and results are not your affair.
"People are like circumstances, you cannot make them over.
Accept them. The only way in which you can hope to influence
them is by what you are. Accept that also. In other words, dis-
regard all these things, as having to do with the two factors which
do not concern you, circumstances and results; then work cease-
lessly, zealously, with endless love and sympathy for all the good
you can see. . . .
"And when I say 'accept/ I mean no passive condition, but
rather what St. Paul implied, when he said, 'Let us lay aside every
weight and press toward the mark.' "
Faithfully yours,
JOHN GERARD.
Let not thy peace be in the tongues of men; for whether they
interpret well or ill of thee, thou art not therefore another man. . . .
And he that neither careth to please men nor feareth to displease them
shall enjoy much peace. Thomas a Kempis.
SAINTLINESS AND BUSINESS
TO-DAY, unquestionably, business in its broadest sense holds
the centre of the stage, and absorbs the attention of the great-
est men of our time. It is therefore interesting to consider
business in relation to and in comparison with other great
activities of human beings.
A broad survey of the last twenty-five hundred years shows, I
think, that the chief activities of the human race may be divided
roughly into seven main categories : War, Religion, Art, Philosophy,
Literature, Science and Business.
All of these, and others which I have not enumerated, are present
to a greater or lesser extent, at all times, in all developed races. But
the history of different races and different epochs shows that differ-
ent characteristic activities are dominant from time to time.
The ancient Greeks were famed for art and philosophy. A few
centuries later, among the Romans, war and business were the chief
expressions of the racial activity. Beginning with about the year
one thousand the human spirit found its most notable collective
expressions in religion and business. The fruit is witnessed in the
Crusades and in the founding of the great medieval religious
orders: the Cistercians, the Franciscans and the Dominicans.
But side by side with this religious revival went the won-
derful commercial development of the Genoese and Venetian
Republics. Then came the artistic and literary activities which
were the characteristic notes of the Renaissance, followed shortly
by another religious revival animating the fourteenth, fifteenth
and sixteenth centuries. This started with the German mystics of
the fourteenth century, and was carried on by the influence of St.
Catherine of Sienna, gradually leading up to the Reformation. This
religious epoch was followed by another great commercial period,
manifested by the rise of Portugal, Spain, and later of Holland, as
the leading bankers and merchants of the world.
A thread of war runs through these centuries, and there were
periods when war became the dominant keynote. Nor were philos-
ophy, literature and science entirely neglected. Each had its turn
in the sub-cycles.
A little later still we see the philosophical activity of the
eighteenth century, which bore fruit in most of the great modern
philosophical speculation, gradually leading up to and being followed
by great intellectual activity, which has been perhaps the dominant
note of the last one hundred and fifty years, as shown through science
SAINTLINESS AND BUSINESS 113
and literature ; until the impressive progress in the direction of com-
merce began again to assume the most prominent place in human
activity in the generation before this.
As a rule, the man who makes any one of these forms of dominant
activity his absorbing occupation has a more or less good natured
contempt for the unfortunate individuals who are content to occupy
themselves with the other pursuits. The artist scorns the business
man; the man of science is often genuinely sorry for what he con-
siders to be the time wasted on religion; while the man of war is
sure that his is the only occupation which actually makes its imprint
upon human history and accomplishes important results.
In its estimation of these various activities, the prevailing feeling
in the world as a whole is colored by those great individuals who
at the time are most expressive of its greatest genius. One. hundred
and fifty years ago a man of business in England, and to a lesser
extent in this country, had no social position whatever, and was
looked down upon by the more fortunate individuals who derived
their living direct from the soil. In this country, for instance, planters
of our Southern States, or those in the North who were ( fortunate
enough to have an inherited abundance, were accepted as aristocrats.
This feeling, which still survives to a certain extent but which is
rapidly disappearing, is characteristic only of a recent period of the
world's history. There never were a prouder and more aristocratic
lot of men than the great merchant princes of Venice during the
Middle Ages. And, as the wheel has turned, nowadays it is again
the business man who looks with contempt upon the artist, the writer,
the religious devotee, and even the soldier, and he excepts the scien-
tist from his list of drones only because of the latter's occasional use-
fulness in the sphere of business. It is the day of the business man,
and it is his opinion of others which is gradually becoming the
world's opinion, because he is the dominant power and holds the
stage.
What then is business? In the first place it is interesting to note
that it has nothing to do with being busy, which is what most people
seem to think. The word businesses derived from the old Anglo-
Saxon word bisynes, which means, to take pains, to take care or
trouble ; and many people think it is very well named. A survival of
this old meaning comes down to us in such an expression as "He
made it his business to help his friends," meaning that he took pains,
he took care and trouble to help his friends. In the loose way in
which the word is being used in this article, it is meant to include
all forms of trade or commerce.
Upon analysis all these forms may be found to be within one of
three classifications: buying; selling; and buying and selling com-
8
114 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
bined. In the past the esteem in which a business man was held
depended upon which one of these classes he belonged to. According
to this rapidly dying feeling, the man who was held in the highest
public estimation was the one who only bought things: the landed
proprietor, or he of inherited wealth and established position, and,
most recently, the man of business who has given up all activity
except buying. Next in estimation came he who only sold things
usually his services, as the soldier, the lawyer, the doctor and the
clergyman. While the lowest stage was occupied by the merchant
who both bought and sold, to which last class the manufacturer may
to-day be added.
If I am right in my main theme, that the human spirit does
express a dominant activity at different times in one or more of the
seven characteristic manners, it should follow, I think, that the par-
ticular qualities that bring success to individuals occupied in any
one of these great pursuits do not differ fundamentally, but, on the
contrary, are fundamentally the same, irrespective of their application.
In other words, and in order to focus the matter by using the
most seemingly divergent illustration, my point is that the funda-
mental qualities that make a great business man are precisely the
same qualities which make a great saint; hence my title.
If you take two individuals as types: a great saint like St.
Francis of Assisi, and a great business man like John D. Rockefeller,
and analyze the qualities which made those two men prominent in
their respective fields, you will find astonishing as it may seem
that their powers and their abilities and their faculties were prac-
tically the same. They both required faith in their ideal; they
required courage to carry it out; an indomitable will to surmount
all obstructions; a power over themselves that would sacrifice com-
fort and all forms of self indulgence ; a stern discipline of character
that controls all manifestations of self; endurance; patience; intelli-
gence; personal force; and constructive imagination.
So much is this so that I believe that neither St. Francis nor
Mr. Rockefeller would have become prominent in their chosen pur-
suits unless each had had something of all of the qualities of the
other, and the qualities which they both had to a supreme degree
were, to an astonishing extent, exactly the same.
The fundamental difference between the two men was not in the
dynamic powers which they possessed, but in the nature of their vision
and of their desire. This determined the direction in which their powers
were turned, and the results achieved: in the one case holiness, and in
the other money. But though differences of ideal are basic and far
reaching, we are not now concerned with the inherent worth or worth-
SAINTLINESS AND BUSINESS 115
lessness of the aims men seek, but rather with powers ; and my point is,
first, that to achieve either of these two ideals, the same great powers are
needed; and, second, that the ardent, whole-hearted pursuit of either
ideal develops those powers. I believe that if St. Francis had seen no
more clearly than Mr. Rockefeller, and had wished to become a great
merchant, with the same intensity with which he wished to become a
follower of Jesus Christ, he would have been one of the world's famous
business men; and that if Mr. Rockefeller could have had St. Francis's
vision and had chosen to devote his powers to the following of a religious
life, with the same comfort-sacrificing intensity with which he endeav-
ored to become a great business man, we should have had a great
modern saint.
Some months ago I had occasion to point out to some of my
subordinates what I considered to be some of the fundamental prin-
ciples upon which modern business should be transacted. I have
also been interested for some years in the lives of most of the great
saints and have read a great deal about them. I found to my aston-
ishment that in terms of modern business I was laying down rules
for the guidance of my subordinates which fundamentally did not
differ from the rules which, if I were an abbot of a monastery, I
would give to the monks who had confided their spiritual well-being
to my care. I must confess that when I realized this I felt that I
had made something of a discovery ; and since then I have from time
to time jotted down a number of rules which seem to me to embody
the fundamental principles of business, and which, with very slight
paraphrasing, would do for an individual who wanted to devote
himself exclusively to a religious life.
We hear a great deal nowadays from the Socialists of the im-
possibility of the application to business of the Golden Rule, and of
other moral and ethical precepts of the Christian religion; but this,
of course, is simply nonsense. The Golden Rule is constantly being
applied in business, as a decent business man does not expect to
receive any better treatment from others than he is willing to give
them, and he endeavors, within the limits of his ability, to act
according to his ideal, to accord to others that treatment which he
would like to receive for himself. In criticizing business and busi-
ness men from this point of view we must take into account the
limitations and difficulties of human nature, and should realize very
clearly that just as the average business man does not live up to
his ideals, so the average religious man does not live up to his.
Otherwise we would all be saints, and we know how few saints
there have been.
The trouble is with human nature, and not with the ideals. I
ii6 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
believe that the average of attainment, that is to say, the average
approximation to the ideal, is as great in business at the present
time, if not greater, than it is in any form of human activity. That
there is immense room for improvement is, of course, obvious. That
is what the human race is here for, and the fact that at the present
time its greatest examples are engaged in business is to my mind
very good evidence that it is in business at the present time that we
find the most fruitful field for the development of human character.
I append twenty-five rules. I shall not apologize for the col-
loquial form in which they are expressed, for they are written for
practical use in my own organization. If any one wants to take the
trouble to compare these rules with the "Imitation of Christ," or
with the writings of St. Francis de Sales or Archbishop Fenelon, he
will find them there, and indeed they may be found in any other of
the great religious books written for the spiritual guidance of man-
kind. They do not, of course, pretend to be complete.
1. Do the right thing regardless of what it seems will be the
result. Let Providence have some chance to work in your favor.
It cannot unless you work in consonance with it.
2. In modern business most men are afraid of an intelligent and
progressive assistant or subordinate. This is exactly contrary to the
correct principle, for you cannot expect promotion until you have
educated an assistant to take your place. It pays to help and to train
your subordinates so that they can replace you; then, when a
vacancy occurs higher up, you are most likely to be chosen.
3. Never "bluff." Always be prepared to make good on any
statement. Do not make any statement you yourself do not believe.
You may not know how you will make good, but you must believe
that you can and will if necessary.
4. If you want a thing done, do it yourself. Do not send or
write. Personal contact is a great force if you are backed by Univer-
sal Law, as you will be if you act conscientiously.
5. Do not be afraid to pray for what you want, always with the
proviso, "Nevertheless Thy will, not mine, be done," and go after it
hard. But be prepared to relinquish it, and all effort after it, the
moment you have reason to believe that you are working on the
wrong track. "Never give up while there is hope; but hope not
beyond reason, for that shows more desire than judgment."
6. Do not take "No" for an answer. People often say "No"
without meaning it. Do not take two "No's." But if you get three
decided refusals, then accept the refusal and do it so gracefully and
cheerfully that you make the man your friend, anxious to find some
SAINTLINESS AND BUSINESS 117
other way in which to do what you want. You can often wring
victory out of apparent defeat by such means.
7. Be attentive to details. Tie the last string tight. Many
important transactions fail, or become compromised and tangled,
because, at the moment of victory, when you have gained your main
point, you relax and, through good nature, or weakness, or false pity,
or any kind of sentiment, you fail to drive home your victory and
make it definite and complete. Do not be afraid to follow up and
insist upon that last little thing which should be done. It is better to
risk apparent complete failure than to compromise with victory for
fear you are going too far and using too much pressure, or asking
for too much. The trouble is that this last little thing is not insisted
upon with the same power and force used with the main point, and
your opponent, feeling this slackness in your will, at once gets aggres-
sive in the hope of retrieving his position.
8. Avoid procrastination. Avoid precipitancy. There is a
natural time when it is easiest to do anything. That time is usually
now. The general tendency is to postpone, especially if the task be
disagreeable or difficult.
9. Try to avoid thinking of duties as either easy or hard. They
are all merely duties and you should not care which you are doing,
or think whether it is easy or hard.
10. When you have finished one task and are ready to turn to
another, select the hardest one, or the one you least like to do. It
is usually the nearest duty. When in doubt always select the hardest.
11. Do not let your mind dwell on what you may have to do
tomorrow or at some future time. You may never have to do it.
Circumstances may change. Above all avoid anxiety. Anxiety is
seeking for results, and results are in the hands of God. We do not
know His plan, and can but do our best. It will be a better "best"
if we have not impaired our efficiency by anxiety.
12. Remember and act upon the old aphorism, "Be bold: be
bold: be not too bold." No great work can be accomplished by the
timorous man ; yet recklessness must be avoided.
13. Do not be afraid to be kind, generous and obliging. The
man you favor may be ungrateful, but others will repay you a hun-
dredfold.
14. Back up your subordinates, and treat their mistakes, if
honest mistakes, so leniently that they will always come to you and
confess. They must have faith in you, in your fairness, in your
justice. But be strict. Do not allow any slackness of rules you have
ii8 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
laid down. Jump on the very first infraction of them. It is easier
to do it then than at any future time. Postponement because of
a dislike of trouble, or of a scene, always leads to greater trouble and
a worse scene.
15. No man is fit to command who has not learned how to
obey. Never promote an unruly or fractious man. He will disorgan-
ize his department.
16. You cannot expect the respect of your subordinates unless
you are worthy of respect. You cannot deceive them for long. You
must be the thing before you can teach it to others.
17. Pay attention to manners; your own first and then your
subordinates. An office takes its tone from its chief. Many an
important sale has been made because the buyer was more impressed
by the good manners of the salesman than by the merit of the article
he came to sell; and no sale was ever lost through being well
mannered.
Do not interrupt.
Sit straight.
Listen attentively.
Keep your hands out of your pockets and your cigar out of your
mouth.
Show deference to your seniors.
Be good tempered, patient and good humored.
18. Remember that there is no such thing as "Bad news," as
"Failure." Things seem so to us because we know only a few of the
facts. You can see for yourself that most of the things you tried
and failed to do, would have turned out disastrously if you had suc-
ceeded in doing them.
19. Be careful and neat in your dress. Avoid extremes. It is
better to be under dressed than over dressed. The ideal costume
for a business man is one that is not noticed at all.
20. Be controlled in speech, but appear to be careless. Do not
volunteer information save for a definite purpose and do not give
more information than is asked for or expected.
21. Always talk the language of your hearer. This involves a
sympathetic appreciation of your auditor and his peculiarities, and
may be done without lowering your own dignity or tone.
22. Do not offer more than the buyer wants at first and do
not offer more than he is able to dispose of, or use, or pay for.
Always look ahead five years when selling anyone anything and
negotiate from that point of view.
SAINTLINESS AND BUSINESS 119
23. "Patience and diligence, like Faith, remove mountains."
(Penn).
24. "As many hands make light work, so many purses make
cheap experiments." (Penn).
Do not try to make all the profit: Let others have their chance
and their share; of both the cost and the results.
25. "He that loveth his life shall lose it. He that hateth his
life, for my sake, shall keep it unto life eternal."
To sum up, I believe that it is just as possible to become a saint
in the market place or in the stock exchange as it is in the cloister or
in the cell. I believe that all that is required is to do one's daily work,
whatever that may be, from a slightly different point of view, and
with a different ideal. I am convinced that this will not militate in
any way against what is known as worldly success, but, on the con-
trary, the carrying out of these ideals in business will lead directly
to increased worldly success, and that the modern business man
would be wise to realize that, if he chooses to do so, his ordinary
circumstances provide him with an exceptionally good oportunity to
become a saint as well as a captain of industry; and that success in
attaining the one rank may materially aid in attaining the other if
the right ideal be preserved and always observed.
C. A. G., Jr.
He who asks a question is good; he who asks seven is better,
fourteen, better still. So be that they are questions springing from the
heart, not idle ripples on the surface of a restless mind.
BOOK OF MEMORIES.
THREE BOOKS ON THE VEDANTA
1. The System of the Vedanta, by Prof. Paul Deussen.
2. The Philosophy of the Upanishads, by Prof. Paul Deussen.
3. Handbook of the Vedant, by Dr. R. V. Khedkar.
PROFESSOR PAUL DEUSSEN'S books on Indian Philosophy
are of high value, both from the character of their author and from
their literary and scholarly excellence. Dr. Deussen is a thorough-
going scholar, thoroughly trained and equipped. Though he is, in
a certain sense, a specialist in the study of Indian thought, he is a master
of the whole field of philosophical thought and study, and has, for many
years and with high distinction, held the chair of philosophy at Kiel
University. But we can best illustrate his breadth and depth of view
by quotation, from the Introduction to The System of the Vedanta:
"The thought that the empirical view of nature is not able to lead
us to a final view of the being of things, meets us not only among the
Indians but also in many forms in the philosophy of the West. More
closely examined this thought is even the root of all metaphysics, so far
as without it no metaphysics can come into being or exist. For if em-
pirical or physical investigation were able to throw open to us the true
and innermost being of nature, we should only have to continue along
this path in order to come at last to an understanding of all truth; the
final result would be Physics (in the broader sense, as the teaching of
physis, nature), and there would be no ground or justification for meta-
physics. If, therefore, the metaphysicians of ancient and modern times,
dissatisfied with empirical knowledge, went on to metaphysics, this step
is only to be explained by a more or less clear consciousness that all
empirical investigation and knowledge amounts in the end only to a
great deception grounded in the nature of our knowing faculties, to open
our eyes to which is the task of metaphysics.
"Thrice, so far as we know, has this knowledge reached conviction
among mankind, and each time, as it appears, by a different way, accord-
ing to conditions of time, national and individual character ; once among
the Indians, of which we are to speak, again in Greek philosophy,
through Parmenides, and the third time in the modern philosophy
through Kant.
"What drove the Eleatic sage to proceed beyond the world as
'to me on' to the investigation of 'the existent' seems to have been the
The System of the Vedanta (published by The Open Court Publishing Company, Ckicaj,
1912).
The Philosophy of the Upanishads (T. & T. Clark, Edinburgh, 1906).
A Handbook of the Vedant Philosophy and Religion (Kolhapur, 1911).
THREE BOOKS ON THE VEDANTA 121
conception, brought into prominence by his predecessor Xenopfranes, of
the Unity of Being, that is, the unity of nature (by him called theos),
the consequence of which Parmenides drew with unparalleled powers
of abstraction, turning his back on nature and for that reason also cutting
off his return to nature.
"To the same conviction came Kant by quite another way, since
with German patience and thoroughness he subjected the cognitive
faculties of mankind to a critical analysis, really or nominally only to
examine whether these faculties be really the fitting instruments for the
investigation of transcendent objects, whereby, however, he arrived at
the astonishing discovery that, amongst others, three essential elements
of the world, namely, Space, Time and Causality, are nothing but three
forms of perception adhering to the subject, or, if this be expressed in
terms of physiology, innate functions of the brain; from this he con-
cluded, with incontestable logic, that the world as it is extended in space
and time, and knit together in all its phenomena, great and small, by the
causal nexus, in this form exists only for our intellect, and is conditioned
by the same; and that consequently the world reveals to us 'appearances'
only, and not the being of 'things in themselves.' What the latter are,
he holds to be unknowable, regarding only external experience as the
source of knowledge, so long as we are restricted to intellectual faculties
like ours.
"These methods of the Greek and German thinkers, admirable as
they are, may seem external and cold, when we compare them with the
way in which the Indians, as we may assume even in the present con-
dition of research, reached the same concepts. Their pre-eminence will
be intelligible when we consider that no people on earth took religion so
seriously, none toiled on the way to salvation as they did. Their reward
for this was to have got, if not the most scientific, yet the most inward
and immediate expression of the deepest secret of being."
This quotation, I think, gives us a measure of Dr. Deussen's mind,
its accuracy, breadth and imaginative depth, and also of his thorough
training, his close and familiar knowledge of both Greek and modern
philosophy, as a preliminary to his study of the ancient texts and
philosophic thought of India. Let us now try to get a general idea of
his book, The System of the Vedanta.
For our purposes, we may consider the material of the Vedanta
as consisting of four elements. First, we have the Upanishads, and
especially the ten greater and older Upanishads, which go back far into
India's past, and which have come down to us associated with the four
collections of Vedic hymns. The central heart of the Upanishads con-
sists of spiritual or theosophic dialogues, generally having the form of
conversations between a Master and his pupil or pupils, but sometimes
bringing in divine personages, such as Yama, lord of death, as instructors
122 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
or initiators. The Upanishads contain many passages of singular beauty
and power, and are among the noblest and most inspired books in the
world; in them, the whole of the Indian wisdom is already contained;
later teachers could but expand and comment on them, but in no way
departed from this original treasure of wisdom.
The second element of the Vedanta store is the Bhagavad Gita, to
which, perhaps, certain other texts in the Mahabharata may be added,
such as the Anugita, translated in the Sacred Books of the East series.
The Bhagavad Gita gives a warm, personal coloring to the older wisdom,
by putting it into the form of a dialogue between the divine teacher,
Krishna, and his pupil, Arjuna, whom he initiates into his wisdom, his
consciousness and his very being. So full of religious feeling is this
book, that many earlier students, with the great German scholar Weber
at their head, were persuaded that its essence must have been drawn from
the New Testament. But this opinion has few or no supporters to-day.
The third element of the Vedanta is the book of almost cryptic
sentences known as the Vedanta Sutras, and attributed by tradition to
the sage Badarayana. It is soaked through and through with the spirit
of the Upanishads, taking them, indeed, as divine revelation and incon-
testable truth. The Bhagavad Gita also it accepts, but as holy tradition
rather than revelation. This strangely formed book, strange at least to
the Western mind, is one among half a dozen similar text-books, belong-
ing to half a dozen Indian schools of philosophy and psychology, of
which the Sankhya and, even more, the Yoga school, must be known at
least by name to many of our readers. It is divided into four books of
sutras, or thread-verses, which, taken together, sum up the whole system
of the Vedanta, resting always on the Vedic revelation, the Upanishads.
But, just as is the case with the Yoga system of Patanjali, these
sutras are practically unintelligible as they stand; no one, reading them
for the first time, taken by themselves, could make much out of them,
or at all determine the fulness of their meaning. Indeed, they seem to
have been composed in order that they might be unintelligible without
the help of a teacher, in possession of the living tradition and body of
knowledge out of which they grew, and whose essence they express;
they are, in fact, only for duly qualified pupils, accepted by a teacher,
who, from his own knowledge, adds to the meagre outline the warmth and
color which are needed to make the system intelligible, living, inspiring.
In the case of the Vedanta Sutras, or the Brahma Sutras, as they
are also called, this teacher is the great and luminous sage, Shankar-
acharya, one of the loftiest and clearest souls humanity has ever pro-
duced, a true master of masters. Shankaracharya had already com-
mented on the Upanishads, at least on the ten greatest of them, and on
the Bhagavad Gita, if, as the present writer supposes, the Commentary
on the Sutras was the crown and end of his work. He had also written
THREE BOOKS ON THE VEDANTA 123
short original works, in verse or prose, such as the Crest Jewel of
Wisdom, the Awakening to the Self, the Discernment between Self and
Not- Self, and several more. So at last, after having gathered together
and illuminated the whole body of older wisdom, on which the Sutras
rest, Shankaracharya turned to these, and wrote a continuous com-
mentary on them, which is, one may believe, the high water mark of pure
intellectual thought, the most perfect piece of reasoning, illumined by
high intuition and vision, that the world has ever seen. It is hardly
too much to say that the Commentary makes the Sutras; that, without
the Commentary, the Sutras would be dull and inert. Indeed, we
cannot think of the Sutras without the Commentary; they are but the
pegs on which Shankaracharya has hung his luminous disquisitions.
Now for Professor Deussen's part. He first made himself thor-
oughly familiar with the Upanishads, in the original, be it understood,
for Dr. Deussen is a fine Sanskrit scholar ; then he went on to the Sutras,
with the Commentary, and with wonderful skill, patience, knowledge
and philosophic depth, penetrated to the innermost meaning of both, at
the same time analysing and arranging the material of the Commentary,
tabulating, looking up and verifying quotations, counting words almost,
with marvellous fidelity, scholarly honesty, and exemplary intelligence.
Later, he published a continuous translation of the Sutras with the
Commentary, but in the present book he does what is, in reality, a much
harder thing: he takes the material of the Commentary, and to some
extent re-arranges it, in such a form as to make it more intelligible and
acceptable to our Western minds; he gives literal and most faithful
translations of the most vital passages; he adds much illuminating
comment of his own, comparing the Indian ideas with those of the West,
from the time of Plato to our own day ; and finally, he inserts the great
Upanishad passages on which the whole system rests, making his own
translations, which are as eloquent as they are faithful.
A necessarily brief review cannot, of course, convey the substance
of a book like this. It must suffice to say that the great divisions of the
work, after a long and valuable Introduction, are, first, Theology, or the
Doctrine of Brahman, the Eternal; second, Cosmology, or the doctrine
of the World; third, Psychology, or the Doctrine of the Soul; fourth,
Sansara, or the Doctrine of the Transmigration of the Soul, or, as we
should say, the teaching of Reincarnation; and, fifth, Moksha, or the
Teaching of Liberation.
In order to give a concrete example of Dr. Deussen's method, let
me quote a passage from the fourth part, substituting the word
"reincarnation" for "transmigration," as being more familiar to our ears :
The section is headed : "No Reincarnation from the Esoteric Stand-
point." Professor Deussen writes: "From what has been said it is
clear that, in the Theory of Liberation to which our last part will be
i2 4 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
devoted, we shall again meet with the twofold doctrine that we have
followed out in detail as the lower and higher knowledge in Theology,
and as the empirical and metaphysical standpoint in Cosmology and
Psychology; while in the present part, on the contrary, which deals with
reincarnation, we shall encounter only the lower, exoteric, not the higher,
esoteric, doctrine which puts precisely in the place of this pilgrimage of
the soul, the knowledge of the soul's identity with Brahman (the
Eternal), through which liberation is gained at once, so that from the
standpoint of the higher knowledge there can be no question of anything
like reincarnation. Accordingly the reality of the Sansara (the cycle
of rebirth) stands or falls with the empirical reality of the world; as
the latter is a mere illusion, so also are the ideas as to the former not so
much, as with Plato, eikotes muthoi, but rather a continuation of that
illusion into the domain of the transcendent; the question remains open,
however, how far our author's mind, deeply embued as it was with the
belief in reincarnation according to the general views of his people,
reached a clear scientific consciousness of the mythical character of the
doctrine of reincarnation."
Readers must bear in mind that, for Dr. Deussen, "mythical" means
"as real, or as unreal, as the visible world" ; for him, reincarnation is of
a piece with that world, and therefore real to the consciousness to which
the world is real. With this is to be contrasted the transcendental
reality of the soul, one with the Eternal.
We quote one more passage, that which concludes Professor
Deussen's Short Survey of the Vedanta System, a very valuable summary
of the book:
"Knowledge consists in the immediate intuition (anubhava) of the
identity of the soul with Brahman (the Eternal). The works of him
who has attained this and with it the conviction of the unreality of the
world of plurality and transmigration, are annihilated and in the future
cleave to him no more. This annihilation refers just as much to good
as to evil works, for both demand retribution and therefore do not lead
beyond Sansara (the cycle of rebirth). He on the other hand who has
attained knowledge has won the conviction 'that Brahman (the
Eternal) the nature of which is opposed to the nature, previously con-
sidered by me to be true, of agent and enjoyer, which is of its own
nature in all time, past, present and future, non-agent and non-enjoyer,
that Brahman (the Eternal) am I; therefore I never was agent and
enjoyer, and I am not so now, nor shall I ever be !' With the unreality
of activity the unreality of the body which exists as the fruit of works is
recognized ; therefore he who has attained knowledge is as little affected
by the sufferings of his own body as by the sufferings of another; and
he who feels pain, has verily not yet attained full knowledge.
"Even as for the man who has attained knowledge, there is no
THREE BOOKS ON THE VEDANTA 125
longer a world, a body or suffering, there is also no longer prescribed
action. But he will not therefore do evil; for that which is the pre-
supposition of all action, good and evil illusion has been annihilated.
It is a matter of indifference if he does works or not ; whether he does
them or not, they are not his works, and cleave to him no more.
"Knowledge burns the seed of works so that no material is at hand
to cause a rebirth. On the other hand knowledge cannot annihilate
works the seed of which has already germinated those from which the
present life is put together. This is why the body, even after the awak-
ening (prabodha) is complete, continues to exist for awhile, just as the
potter's wheel goes on revolving even when the vessel which it supported
is completed. This continuance is however a mere appearance; the
possessor of knowledge cannot destroy it, but it cannot deceive him any
more either; just so the man with diseased eyes sees two moons but
knows that in reality there is only one there.
"After the works whose fruit has not yet begun to appear have
been destroyed by knowledge, and after those, the fruit of which is the
present existence, have by completion of this present life come to an end,
with the moment of death full and eternal liberation comes to him who
possesses knowledge; 'his vital spirits withdrew not; the Eternal he is
and into the Eternal he is resolved.'
'As rivers run and in the deep
'Lose name and form and disappear,
'So goes, from name and form released,
'The wise man to the Deity.' "
So far Professor Deussen and the great Shankara. I feel that I am
doing them both grave injustice by this piecemeal quotation, which may
produce an impression of dryness almost, that the whole work would
completely remove. Shankaracharya is, for me, the greatest of all
Masters of the Mind; he has, indeed, conquered and circumvented the
mind at every turning, making a slave, nay, even a most effective servant
and ally of that power which, for so many teachers, has been ceaselessly
reprobated, as the Slayer of the Real. Shankara has shown how to draw
the grains of gold from the matrix of the mind, to make the mind the
door-keeper of the soul. And Professor Deussen is his prophet, a
worthy, enthusiastic and effective prophet, who has added every fruit
of thorough training and utmost effort to great natural and inborn gifts.
We come now to the second book on our list, also by Professor
Deussen. It is entitled The Philosophy of the Upanishads, and is one
volume of a complete series on "The Religion and Philosophy of India,"
which, in its turn, is the second part of Professor Deussen's "General
History of Philosophy." This is, in truth, Cyclopean building. Professor
126 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
Deussen has taken to heart, and acted on, the old Indian admonition:
"Follow Wisdom as though you were immortal and eternal; do your
duty as though Death already had you by the hair!" Therefore
Dr. Deussen has planned largely, and gone instantly to work.
The book which we have already noticed preceded by many years
this book on the Upanishads, and was, indeed, the first great achievement
of its author, which was the making of him as a student and an authority,
the foundation-stone of a great career, using the word in an entirely
worthy sense. It is the richer, fuller work, and, it seems to me, much
closer to the subject than the book on The Philosophy of the Upanishads;
but I speak here with many reservations, as one who has a view of the
theme in hand of such defined nature as, perhaps, in some degree to
unfit him for quite impersonal and objective judgment of another man's
work in the same field.
Frankly admitting this disability at the outset, let me try to make
clear in what way the work under consideration seems to me to be
limited. But first a word as to its great qualities. Professor Deussen
published, as we saw, an admirable translation of the Vedanta Sutras, with
the Commentary of Shankaracharya : a translation in every way adequate
and satisfactory. This is, as we saw, a work quite distinct from The
System of the Vedanta, though covering much of the same ground.
But he has done a great deal more ; he has translated the Bhagavad Gita,
and translated it with admirable fidelity and sympathy. There remains
an even greater work: his translation of the Upanishads, which is
beyond all praise, for accurate and adequate scholarship. It is the best
thing of the kind in any Western tongue, and the most trustworthy.
Strictly speaking, the book which we are now reviewing is a commentary
on that translation.
As such a commentary, it is, first, accurate, then sympathetic, then
lucid, and, best of all, enthusiastic. Those who are acquainted with the
older book, which we first noticed, will find in this newer work the same
familiar framework : the division into Theology, Cosmology, Psychology
and Eschatology, the last being the twofold teaching of Reincarnation
and Liberation. Here, it seems to me, we get the limitation of the work.
For this fourfold arrangement is not really the order which is inherent
in the Upanishads themselves; it is rather an order deduced from the
Vedanta Sutras with their commentary ; an order, that is, belonging not
to the Upanishads, but to the Brahmanical system of argumentative and
analytical philosophy which grew out of the study of the Upanishads
by Brahmans of logical and systematic habit of thought. But, if the
present reviewer be right, the Upanishads, at least the greatest of them,
are not Brahmanical at all, nor are they works of systematic philosophy,
or speculative works in any sense. I believe them to belong, not to the
Brahmans, but to the red Rajputs, and to be, not theological speculations,
THREE BOOKS ON THE VEDANTA 127
but dramatic books of the Mysteries; text-books of Mystery dramas, of
ceremonies actually performed, and having a deep and living significance.
Therefore the limitation of Professor Deussen's work on the
Upanishads, in the view of the present writer, which is put forth with
all due reservation, inheres in the fact that he does not clearly recognize
their character and source, the race from which they sprang, and the
genius of that race, which was mystical, of the will, and not speculative,
of the intellect. Yet Professor Deussen has more than an inkling of
the relation of the Brahmans to the Upanishads. Thus we find him
writing (p. 396-7) :
"The Upanishads (apart from the later and less important books)
have been handed down to us as Vedanta, . e., as the concluding part
of the Brahmanas and Aranyakas, which teach and expound allegorically
the ritual of sacrifice. They are nevertheless radically opposed to the
entire Vedic sacrificial cult, and the older they are the more markedly
does this opposition declare itself. "He who worships another deity
(than the Atman, the self) and says 'It is one, and I am another/ is not
wise. But he is like a house-dog of the gods. Just, then, as many
house-dogs are of use to men, so each individual man is useful to the
gods. If one house-dog only is stolen it is disagreeable, how much
more if many! Therefore it is not pleasing to them that men should
know this!" . . .
"According to these testimonies, which carry all the greater weight
because they have reached us through the Brahmans themselves, the
Brahmans had received the most important elements of the science of
the Atman first from the Kshatriyas, and then in course of time had
attached them to their own Vedic curriculum, so that the Upanishads
became what they now are, the Vedanta, ('end of the Veda')."
Here is the clue, but perhaps Professor Deussen does not see how
far it leads. He hardly sees that the difference between Brahman and
Kshatriya is something much more than a difference of caste or class ; it is
a difference of color, of race, of civilization, of spiritual ray and
pedigree.
But we need not press the point. Given this limitation, if we are
right concerning it, the book is excellent, trustworthy and illuminating,
and both author and translator (Rev. A. S. Geden, M.A.) are to be
congratulated.
We come now to the third book on our list, the Handbook of the
Vedant, by Dr. Khedkar of Kolhapur, in Bombay Presidency. It is
by no means such a weighty treatise as Dr. Deussen's two books, yet
it has both interest and value for the student of the Vedanta ; interest,
because it represents the thought of one of the direct lines of the Indian
pupils of Shankaracharya, and valuable, from its perfect sincerity and
128 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
earnestness. There are many things in this book which win one's heart ;
for example, the conviction, clearly stated, that the Vedanta is a religion
as well as a philosophy. Dr. Khedhar says :
"Unfortunately a very wrong impression is abroad that the Vedanta
is a dry philosophy and not a religion, so most people have hitherto
ignored it. We are ready to admit that it is their fault; but the actual,
moral and political changes which have occurred in India during the last
few centuries, the selfishness of some of the Mathas (colleges of philos-
ophy), religious societies and Vaidic Brahmans, and the heavy fetters of
caste principles have greatly to account for this misappreciation of the
value of the Vedant. . . . The principles of the Vedant philosophy
and religion, being of universal nature, impartial and definite, can be
followed out in any religion."
That, it seems to the present reviewer, is the best thing in the book.
What else can one expect to find there? It is not, strictly speaking,
a Handbook; that is, a book which will give, to one coming fresh to
the subject for the first time, a practical working knowledge of the
Vedanta philosophy. It is, far rather, a handbook of some terms and
important phrases of the Vedanta, with suggestive illustrative quotations,
in Sanskrit and in Devanagari character, which gives the book an aspect
likely to frighten timid readers.
The truth is, that Dr. Khedkar is far from realizing how deeply his
own mind and nature are saturated with the method of the Indian
philosophical schools, that genius for systematization which has been,
for many centuries, the great power of the Brahman culture. Dr.
Khedkar writes English so well that we may say he has a very thorough
Western training of a certain kind; he is also learned in Western
medicine, which means also some mastery of cognate sciences, like
chemistry. And his medical training crops out amusingly, as where,
speaking of religious observances, he writes (p. 17, part II), "A dualist
swallows the above pills of admonitions under the hope of future
rewards."
Yet under this surface of Westernism, Dr. Khedkar is deeply and
wholeheartedly Indian; so completely so, indeed, that this is likely to
make him a less effective interpreter of India and Indian thought to
Westerners, whose own thought and whose difficulties still remain outside
his consciousness. Yet the book is sterling, and of great interest and
value to every student of the Vedanta. C. J.
What the superior man is seeking is in himself; what the mean
man seeks is in others.
It does not afflict me that men do not know me; it does afflict me
that I do not know men. "Wisdom of Confucius."
THEOSOPHY AND SECULAR
LITERATURE
IX
TENNYSON AND BROWNING
TENNYSON and Browning have often been contrasted.
Tennyson, it is said, is an artist who delights with picturesque
effects. Browning is a philosopher, and supplies thought,
high and obscure. This is hardly fair either to philosophy
and art or to the two men. One would not like to think that philos-
ophers busy themselves with activities that are bare of the graces
we associate with life. What more catholic and passionate lover
of Beauty shall we find than Plato? And how Beauty shines from
all his writing! Or, the philosopher who is the hero of the New
Testament records his poetic symbols are so much a matter of
human-nature's daily food that the world has forgotten the truths
they veil the Bread of Heaven and Life-giving Water. Art and
Philosophy are not mutually exclusive. They are planes that con-
verge as they ascend; at the top, they meet and coincide. So it is
wrong to set Tennyson and Browning in sharp contrast, one as a
rhetorician and one as a thinker. Each aspired to be poet and phil-
osopher. In measure as they failed to attain their ideal their differ-
ences are striking. As poets and philosophers they sing the old
melodies in new keys they paint in new shades of the old colors.
Tennyson did what Milton and Wordsworth longed to do, and
what Mallory had done charmingly in prose he took the life and
death of King Arthur for the central work of his life. There are
many short, early lyrics that anticipate the Idylls, such as "The
Lady of Shalott." As a young man, Tennyson brooded over the fate
of "mythic Uther's deeply wounded son," and wrote some of his
loveliest lines to set forth the splendor and the beauty of Camelot.
At the same time that he was thus saturating himself with the heroic
legends of the Round Table, he was experiencing and was writing
of the pain and hopelessness that arise when a man is brought, before
the development of spiritual vision, to the necessity of observing the
changes and chances of life. But Tennyson's experience was not
that of Hamlet or of Matthew Arnold's hero, Empedocles. Both
those fictitious heroes are vanquished by Life; in its workings their
minds discover nothing but cruel caprice. Whenever Tennyson
approached the place of defeat, a voice, "a little whisper silver-clear."
made itself heard through the frenzy of his mind.
9 -139
i 3 o THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
Like an ./Eolian harp that wakes
No certain air, but overtakes
Far thought with music that it makes:
Such seem'd the whisper at my side.
Tennyson wrote frequently, though never very happily, of this keen
struggle of man with his mind, and of the final rescue by the awak-
ened soul. It is this struggle that is the subject of In Memoriam, a
series of lyrics that describe his experience during the years that
followed the death of his friend, Arthur Hallam. Over and over in
the poem the question is asked why death must come and what
life means. The mind has no answer. But in the end, a warmth
within the breast melts the freezing reason's colder part, and Tenny-
son attains to knowledge. The living Soul is flashed upon him ; in
communion with the Soul he is whirled to empyreal heights, and
catches the pulsations of the world. On that height the jarring dis-
cords of chance blend into the harmonies of Life.
JEonian music measuring out
The steps of Time the shocks of chance
The blows of death.
Tennyson's two subjects of study the splendor of chivalry, and
the struggle that goes on within man at last converged and united
in the Idylls of the King. Through inward experience he came to see
that the splendor of castle walls and snowy summits old in story is
the faintest shadow of Immortal Radiance ; and that shattering
trumpet and clanging battle-axe are symbols that present outwardly
the old Arjuna contest of the lower and higher natures. He pene-
trated to the true significance of the old legends, and rewrote them to
give little pictures* of the Soul in its arduous combat. His story,
Tennyson says, is an old imperfect thing, "new-old," and pictures
"Sense at war with Soul." Arthur, the King, is the Soul, the Deliverer
and Saviour of those who perish between the man and beast. The
lower nature hates the King, his friends and his ideals; for his
manners are different, sweet not bestial, and his triumph means the
defeat of the material self. So as the story shifts from the King and
his faithful knights to the opposing petty chieftains, one passes from
certain knowledge of the Soul as a divine power to mere rumor of
its existence and hatred of it as something baleful. At times, the
King is merely phantom, haze-girt; again, the solid earth becomes
as nothing while the King stands out in heaven crowned. The same
diversity of opinion exists in regard to the King's dwelling-place,
the city Camelot. Those who have sworn allegiance to Arthur, and
over whom there had fallen a likeness to himself, know how to come
together with him in his city, rich in emblems. Those who have
* Idyll is derived from the Greek eidolon, an image.
THEOSOPHY AND SECULAR LITERATURE 131
not entered through the strange gate, but abide without among the
cattle of the field, can see no such city nor King, but scoffingly call it
glamor and mist. It is the taking of the vows and entrance within
the gate that makes the difference. Approaching the gate, one comes
face to face with the Lady of the Lake, who stands upon a stone
carved as a rippling and ever-fleeting wave, and whose robes are as
flowing water ; water drops from her hands also. In one of them she
holds a sword, in the other a censer, and her arms, outstretched cross-
wise, support all the arch of the gate. Water, it has been said, sym-
bolises the spiritual element (the water that I shall give him shall
be in him a well of water springing up unto everlasting life) ; and the
symbology here would seem to be that of the Baptismal Service
that one enters into the Kingdom through the birth of the new man ;
enters under the cross, by means of the sword and the censer, combat
and prayer. The Lady of the Lake, as Spiritual Essence, seems to
be the emblem also of the Wisdom Religion. She dwells down in the
deep that is calm whatsoever storms may shake the world, and when
her lips move, the sound is as "the voice of many waters." It is she
who gives to Arthur his jewelled sword that bewilders heart and eye.
For on one side of the blade there is engraved, in the ancientest
language known to men, the motto "Take me," while on the other
side, in vernacular speech, is the contradictory command "Cast me
away !" That is an eloquent illustration of the Theosophical attitude
toward religion ardor, tolerance, detachment. The religion into
which we are born contains part of the ancientest wisdom known to
men. It is the sword with which we are to fight. It is not to be
surrendered until it has wrought its work; then, for all its jewelled
hilt it must be returned to its source, in the deep. The three Queens
who stand silent near the throne at Arthur's coronation, and who
conduct him to Devachan, may perhaps typify the higher spiritual
and super-spiritual forces, the Triad, as distinguished from the lower
Quaternary. The celebrated lines that describe the birth of Arthur
are as full of significance as of beauty. The night is one "in which
the bounds of heaven and earth were lost." The waves of the sea
are so great that the dragon ship on which the babe is carried seems
to move through the heavens, "so high it sails upon the deep." The
wave that bears the child to the shore "was in a flame" (this recalls
the Scriptual words about the birth from water and from fire).
The Idyl Gareth and Lynette, the first in order of the legends
Tennyson makes the Coming of Arthur and the Passing of Arthur
framework for the whole depicts the first test of the aspirant; it
is concerned with the vow of Obedience. Gareth, a noble youth,
chasing the deer in far-off forests, hears a vague rumor of Arthur's
court, and is filled with longing to travel thither, to leave his youthful
i 3 2 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
sport and find a man's work. His mother, reluctant to lose him,
craftily demands a proof of his obedience and love for her, before
he shall present himself to the King as an aspirant for knighthood.
She demands that he shall go disguised to Arthur's court, and shall
hire himself to serve for a year among the kitchen scullions without
any mention of name or lineage. To her surprise his aspiration was
genuine, and he promises compliance with her demands. ("He that
loveth father or mother more than me is not worthy of me. And
he that taketh not his cross, and followeth after me, is not worthy
of me.") He proceeds to the court, obtains a post in the kitchen and,
bow'd himself
With all obedience to the King, and wrought
All kind of service with a noble ease
That graced the lowliest act in doing it.
Freed, at last, from hateful kitchen vassalage, the King sets him his
first exploit that, if won, shall bring the accolade. This exploit is to
fight with four false knights, Morning Star, Noon Sun, Evening Star,
and Night or Death. It is "the war of Time against the soul of man."
Gareth overthrows the Morning and Evening Stars, and Noon, and
then faces Death.
High on a night-black horse, in night-black arms,
With white breast-bone, and barren ribs of Death,
And crown'd with fleshless laughter.
With one blow Gareth splits the skull; and suddenly there steps out
from all those ghastly trappings, a blooming boy "fresh as a flower
new born." Thus the first exploits end.
If we read on after the legend of Gareth and Lynette on the look-
out for other spiritual adventures, symbolically presented, we shall
be disappointed. Tennyson had not sufficient knowledge of the
Path to narrate the Soul's progress along it, point by point. He was
therefore unable to write an epic like Dante's or even a work as
satisfactory as Bunyan's. In the Idylls, we have not a record of
orderly advance along the Path, its pitfalls and victories, but glimpses
only. After Gareth and Lynette, most of the legends are void of
spiritual content. They contribute nothing to the great end Tennyson
set himself "Soul at war with sense," but serve only a dramatic
purpose, i. e., the downfall of the semi-historic Arthur through the
unfaithfulness of the Queen and Lancelot. Geraint and Enid, Lance-
lot and Elaine are pretty stories, well told ; but they have none of the
interest that fills the opening and closing poems and The Holy GraiL
In the Idyl of The Holy Grail, Tennyson again, as it were, remembers
his purpose, pulls himself together, and writes of the inward life.
The Holy Grail would be more satisfactory, if it could be detached
from its framework and read as something quite apart from the
THEOSOPHY AND SECULAR LITERATURE 133
stories that record Arthur's career. For in this idyl Tennyson tries
to bend spiritual truth to serve "party" purposes. He cannot distort
the truth, but his poem gets twisted. Tennyson here reaches the
point of setting forth the function of Meditation in the Soul's career.
That function, all the teachers of spiritual science declare, is to lead
the soul consciously into communion with the Master. Tennyson
symbolises Meditation under the quest of the Grail. Galahad finds
it, and with it, Heaven. He is crowned King in the spiritual city.
Thrice above him all the heavens
Open'd and blazed with thunder such as seem'd
Shoutings of all the sons of God.
Before the victorious consummation, however, Galahad experienced
many adventures. As he drew nearer to the object of his quest, his
power for activity became greater.
In the strength of this I rode,
Shattering all evil customs everywhere,
And past thro' Pagan realms, and made them mine,
And clash'd with Pagan hordes, and bore them down,
And broke thro' all, and in the strength of this
Come victor.
Such victories, one learns from spiritual teachers, always pro-
ceed from success in meditation; indeed, it has been said, all the
activities of the Christian Church, have been made possible through
the inner work done by the contemplative members of the Church.
So far, then, Tennyson gives a fresh illustration of universal truth.
But just here the unhappy twist gets into the idyl. During Tennyson's
period of work, the long contention between High and Low in the
English Church was acute. Doctor Pusey was doing his best to
restore to Protestantism much of what had been lost at the Reformation ;
he was teaching the invincible power of prayer, and was forming
little communities of women who desired to follow the religious life.
There were many upright and earnest men who could not see the
wisdom of Dr. Pusey's endeavors. It seemed a waste of time, a waste
of life, to devote one's energy to learning how to pray, when on all
sides in the world there was so much reform needing to be done. Some
of Tennyson's close personal friends, Frederick D. Maurice, for ex-
ample, were of the party opposed to Pusey and the Oxford men.
And Tennyson, unhappily, pictured this divided state of the English
Church, along with the deeper teaching of the old Grail legend. It
is this second purpose that makes the idyl unsatisfactory. The heroic
Galahad symbolises the High Churchmen of Oxford. Galahad is
successful, yet his success maims the King's Order. There is the
distortion which truth suffers on the mental plane. The mind cannot
see that prayer and meditation, instead of being withdrawal from
134 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
active work, are more effectual methods of work. What the idyl
awkwardly shows is that through meditation (true meditation) the
Soul's advance is thwarted a proposition contrary to all teaching.
Although it was Tennyson's purpose thus to show that Galahad's
victory hastened Arthur's defeat, all unconsciously, in the end, he
brings the King himself to acknowledge that failure results from con-
fidence placed in man rather than in God.
I have but stricken with the sword in vain;
And all whereon I lean'd in wife and friend
Is traitor to my peace, and all my realm
Reels back into the beast and is no more.
And the King's last words, as his mind clouds, are to beseech the
prayers of those who remain.
More things are wrought by prayer
Than this world dreams of.
For so the whole round earth is every way
Bound by gold chains about the feet of God.
Thus defeated, Arthur passes off into Devachan "the island valley
of Avilion." There he will heal him of his wound, then come again
into the world to continue his journey along the Path.
While there is unquestionably a mystical vein in Browning's
work, it is meagre. He was poet enough intuitively to apprehend
a real world lying within the world of appearance, but though its
splendor flashed at times upon him, it never kindled his will to
forsake the world and seek the Path. Consequently, it is scarcely
possible to speak of him as a spiritual teacher. The enormous bulk
of his writing has only intellectual interest. There are two or three
short poems, however, that show insight below the surface of the
intricate human relations in which he was usually absorbed. "Abt
Vogler" is one of those poems. The title is the name of an eighteenth
century musician, and Browning's poem represents him at the con-
clusion of an organ improvisation. In the improvisation, Vogler
succeeded in rising above his usual plane of consciousness, and in
entering for a time into the Immortal Realm. There he sees mighty
Presences whom he cannot name; he thinks they may be men
destined for some remote future age of the world when conditions
will be better than at present; or they may be the souls of the
wonderful dead. He doesn't know. The vision ends with the
music, but, when the wonder is gone, the musician still retains
belief in the reality of what he has seen. He is convinced that he
shall come again into that immortal world, and he returns to the
common duties of life ("The C Major of this life") as the best
preparation for approach to the Gates. In the poem, "Saul," Brown-
THEOSOPHY AND SECULAR LITERATURE 135
ing invents such living symbols for certain constitutive elements of
man that, as in many other writings, the symbols have been accepted
as reality itself. The poem, in truth, is not concerned with the his-
toric Saul and David, but with the lower and higher mind of man.
Saul sits moodily "more black than blackness," "drear and stark,
blind and dumb." David, the higher mind, tries to rouse Saul from
this gloomy lethargy, by setting before him the duties and achieve-
ments of human life. He succeeds only partially ; at last, in a moment
of inspiration, David sings of the divine, immortal life. This promise
of new life restores Saul, i.e., it effects the transfer of consciousness
from the Saul plane to the David plane. For, at the last song, Saul
disappears from the poem only David remains,
witnesses, cohorts about me, to left and to right,
Angels, powers, the unuttered, unseen.
Two other poems should be mentioned as proof that Browning
is not devoid of the spiritual element. These are "Rabbi Ben Ezra"
and "The Boy and the Angel." In both he teaches the profound
lesson that circumstances, however unfavorable they seem, are really
blessed opportunities for travelling the shortest way to God.
He fixed thee 'mid this dance
Of plastic circumstance.
This Present, thou, forsooth, would fain arrest :
Machinery just meant
To give thy soul its bent,
Try thee and turn thee forth, sufficiently impressed.
"The Boy and the Angel" is a charming little parable on the
same theme. Its central lines recall the familiar words of the Para-
diso "la sua volontade."
He did God's will; to him, all one
If on the earth or in the sun.
No Theosophist, I am sure, will find fault with a paradoxical
statement to the effect that the very meagreness of the spiritual ele-
ment in Browning's work has given him a larger influence than were
his teaching less incomplete. The bulk of his writing, The Ring and
The Book for example, furnishes material for ceaseless grinding out
by the argumentative mind. But, in the course of their reading,
Browning's devotees come upon poems like those that have now been
mentioned. They are too loyal to throw out these poems as
temporary aberration of their idol; they work over them, and the
meaning penetrates, sometimes deeply. Thus the teaching which
they have received in a small measure prepares many for deeper and
ampler instruction. And many have taken their first step away from
the world toward the threshold of the inner Kingdom through the
inspiration found in Browning's lines. C.
SOME ASPECTS OF THEOSOPHY
As SEEN BY A NEW MEMBER OF THE SOCIETY
VI
THE MATTER OF "MIRACLES," AND COROLLARY
TROUBLES
A THEN casual inquirer into Theosophy found his first interest
vicarious and not personal. He was interested, that is to say,
in the fact that certain remarkable people, whom he had always
respected and was beginning to learn to love, belonged to the
T. S. and were palpably putting its tenets into practice in their lives.
No especial interest was taken in the teachings of the Society except
as shown in the effect upon these active members. But with a surer
knowledge of what they were manifesting in their relations with the
world came a growth of admiration and a possibly natural curiosity to
know what it was that influenced them so patently and to such good
purpose.
Based on an unconscious desire, which was only consciously ex-
pressed by the curiosity to know more, the inquirer asked for some books
on the subject. He was not wise enough to ask for the oral instruction
he might have had and which has since been given him with a patience
and generosity upon which he is always tempted to dwell. He was still
arrogant in his egotism and in his confidence that he could decide for
himself. He was possibly aroused intellectually, but spiritually his facul-
ties were dormant, as he can now see.
Mr. A. P. Sinnett's The Occult World was recommended. This
opportunity for enlightenment was rejected, however, by an intellect that
was not only arrogant in its egotism but was stupid in its self-sufficiency.
Forgetting what he had seen of the Fellowship that the T. S. could pro-
duce, he left the book unfinished and his interest dropped because of the
attention given to the occult phenomena or "miracles" produced by
Madame Blavatsky and others. All interest in matters Theosophical
was gone for the time being a retreat now regretted and lamented as
a lost opportunity for advancement and (much more important) for
sharing this new found joy.
Death, the great Awakener to the need for Theosophy, Whose call
cannot be left unanswered, was sent into the life of the former inquirer,
and his lazy curiosity was metamorphosized, as it revived, into a hunger
for spiritual food. The first satisfaction came from Meditation, Light
136
SOME ASPECTS OF THEOSOPHY 137
on the Path and Fragments. This satisfaction has never ceased but
grows with each of many rereadings. And each reading brings out some
new aspect, some new treasure. Such books can never satiate the spirit-
ual hunger but, unless it exists, they were apparently better unread.
Similar has been the experience with The Occult World. It has been
read again and again. Out of the quotations it gives from the Master
K. H., fresh knowledge and fresh inspiration have been gained each time
they have been reread. Above all else has been the growth in love and
reverence for their Author, all inexplicably felt, from the very first, to
be a real, a gracious and a helping Friend, yet never seen or heard from
to his admirer's conscious knowledge.
At the first reading these quotations, now recognized as so marvelous
and so helpful, had not been reached when the attempt to read was
abandoned. Later they made little impression. It was not until the
stumbling block had been passed and, indeed, had been accepted as a
veritable stepping-stone that the full benefit from the book began to be
felt.
The stumbling block that stopped the first reading was, as has been
said, the matter of the "miracles" or occult phenomena produced by
Madame Blavatsky and others. Later these miracles impressed while
depressing the seeker. When the book was taken up anew the attempt
was made to skip them but they could not be avoided. They possessed
an uncanny interest as they irritated. With the sublime philosophy
gradually being unfolded through the gracious mercy and loving kindness
of an almost too patient preceptor it seemed so unnecessary, so unkind
that such a debatable minor proposition should keep cropping up. One
did not want to have to believe that such things could be done. Why
were they so obtrusive when belief in them was not proving necessary to
one's growing appreciation of the wonder and beauty and grateful truth
of the philosophy of Theosophy as the student would then have ex-
pressed it. It was later that he was to sense that Theosophy is "being,
not merely believing," and that this is why those most active in the T. S.
and most theosophical in their lives call themselves "students of Theos-
ophy" and never use the term "Theosophists" to describe themselves.
Since one digression has proved irresistible perhaps another will be
permitted. The new member had not then realized that the avowed prin-
ciples of the Society are literally applied in practice and that the tolerance
promised is actually extended. Persons who have an opportunity to
know the Society sometimes balk because of a curious misconception that
they must believe something other than what is set forth in the "Objects"
and in the Constitution. The T. S. enforces no beliefs upon its members.
The struggle with the matter of "miracles" was only a personal reaction
from one aspect of Theosophy. The experience is set forth here in
138 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
the hope that it may prove of interest and even of help to those passing
through a similar reaction.
If one wanted to, one could entirely ignore the whole question of
occult phenomena and still remain an active member, always provided
that one allowed others the same freedom of belief. It is this truly
Christlike but hardly conventionally-Christian attitude that may be one
explanation of why so many have found that their membership in the
T. S. has drawn them back into a church membership which they had
previously dropped.
In considering the vexing problem of occult phenomena the student's
first stage on the intellectual plane was to reject them flatly and in thus
dismissing them to say, "It is what Madame Blavatsky set forth that
counts not who she was or what she did." Her teachings in Theos-
ophy as a religious philosophy were seemingly unanswerable and cer-
tainly were soul-satisfying, enlightening and helpful. Why waste energy
over the non-essential? A one-armed gypsy boy might pull one out of
a bottomless slough would he not be as much of a rescuer as a whole
and reputable citizen?
An attempt was accordingly made to forget Madame Blavatsky
while joyously accepting the Blavatskian philosophy, as it might have been
called at that time. But, as has been found by many a person who has
never even seen her, the personality of Madame Blavatsky cannot thus be
ignored even to this day. It soon proved impossible to rest satisfied with
saying: "What earthly difference does it make whether she did or did
not 'precipitate' a tea cup under the roots of a tree or bring back Mrs.
Hume's missing brooch it is what she said and wrote that counts."
And, en passant, it may be said that this is true since joining the T. S.
the student has found many a true but unconscious student of Theosophy
who had never heard of the Society or of Madame Blavatsky but who has
possibly "carried over" intuitive knowledge from some former incarna-
tion and here again, it may be remarked this is a personal belief, there
being no official T. S. belief on this matter, or any other.
Unimportant as it had seemed, unnecessary as it had proved to
acceptance of Theosophical teachings, there soon raged over that miser-
able tea cup an internal storm reproducing that which swept over Anglo-
India in 1880. Even though not a test of membership in the T. S. yet
in the case of one seeker for light the point had been reached when the
storm must be braved and beaten down or else he would have to drop
back before it and out of the ranks of the T. S., with which he had just
begun to consider himself as aligned.
The question had to be faced: "Could such a thing be done?"
It was a long and a hard fight and it was, paradoxically enough, not a
conscious act of faith but a seemingly rational act of mental conscious-
ness that forced the utterance of a reluctant "Yes," a decision arrived at
SOME ASPECTS OF THEOSOPHY 139
after studying without prejudice those quotations from the Master K. H.
If only more "rationalists" would read them with open minds how much
easier it would be for the hard-minded to reach some understanding of
the common sense basis that actually underlies occult science. But this
is a vain regret. One must wait for interior readiness.
It was finally accepted by the student that one who had attained to
the higher powers latent in man could do seemingly miraculous things
without contravening the Law in other words they need not be consid-
ered any longer as "miracles" but rather as demonstrations of powers that
are strictly speaking natural, even if four dimensional and therefore
beyond our adequate conception.
The tea cup episode could not be dropped with any more impunity
than the tea cup itself could have been. Another reaction set in: "Why
were such powers so trivially used?" Here again rose doubt of Madame
Blavatsky and hesitancy about the T. S. in which the seeker had by then
begun to crave membership.
What is about to be confessed may prove shocking to some new
students (though it is hoped not), just as the acceptance of miracles as
a "scientific" possibility may have proved to others. In fact until
recently it would have been shocking to the student reporting. It is
because it proved helpful to him, and was one of the steps by which with
the help of the T. S. he was led back into the church, that the risk of
shocking fellow beginners is ventured upon.
The character and nature of Madame Blavatsky's occult phenomena
were not understood at all or accepted as right until a study had been
made of the Miracles of the great Master Who founded Christianity.
Then the answer as to the "triviality" was found.
To follow the progress of development another apparent digression
in the narrative becomes necessary. The very first studies in Theosophy
had brought a wanderer back to the old Church in which he had been
reared and from which he had turned in a stage of "rationalism," a false
growth cut out by the surgery of Sorrow and which had been merely a
manifestation of unconscious but ingrowing selfishness. Until the Bible
and the Book of Common Prayer were recognized as Theosophical they
had, as a matter of fact, made no real appeal. They had been read in
duty, used by rote and even enjoyed emotionally, but they had never been
the guides to the Path that they became when considered in the light of
Theosophy. Since then, there has been found in them, in almost every
phrase, pure Theosophical doctrine paralleling no, duplicating the
Theosophical doctrine in the Eastern Scriptures, such as the Bhagavad
Gita, which were also part of the beginner's early reading.
This is emphasized so strongly because the Christian aspect of
Theosophy, which has so rejoiced the student reporting, does not always
I 4 o THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
appear to those who would otherwise be attracted by the T. S. There
are those who use these great Theosophical books almost daily in Church,
and yet are obsessed by a conviction (to one churchman-student entirely
unexplainable) that Theosophy is unchristian. Whereas, to one who
makes even a cursory study of the various Scriptures and studies the
doctrine at all, it would seem unavoidable to conclude that Christ Himself
taught and teaches pure Theosophy of the highest, finest kind. To the
new member it sometimes seems as if the apparent failures of Christianity
have only been at such times as its so-called teachers and would-be
followers have departed from Theosophy and thereby from the funda-
mentals and indespensables in the teachings of the Master.
All this is not as far afield from the discussion of Madame Blavat-
sky's occult powers as it might appear. Somewhat hesitatingly, because
perhaps daringly, it has been said that an understanding of why they
were deliberately "trivial" came through the light of the records in the
New Testament. Have not all His followers at some time in their
spiritual development gone through the phase of wishing that Christ had
exercised His power and by marvelous deeds accomplished His Kingdom
on earth ? Yet, as we grow to see, thereby He would have defeated His
purpose of helping men would have thrown away the sacrifice of His
own Incarnation.
There would be no greater physical unkindness to a strong man than
to carry him through life on a feather bed. What he gained would be
but momentary a transitory feeling of ease hardly ephemeral but what
he would lose would be everything, beginning with his health. So would
it be on the higher plane if a soul were given too great ease there would
be no growth, according to all the teachings and, it would seem, as
each of us knows by intuition.
From help received in his own struggle, the student reporting ven-
tures the suggestion that we would have suffered had the Lord and
Master made our paths too easy. Has He not given us the Vision,
shown us the Goal, and is He not ever ready with His Help as we
struggle toward it, thereby permitting our (real) selves, our Souls, to
develop? It is true that He wrought what we call miracles, from the
limitations of our Western studies into Nature and her Laws, but were
they not all suggestive and never conclusively demonstrative? Even
when He raised from the dead was He not merely suggestive, for, having
shown what He could do, He did not exercise His powers to give the
supreme and conclusive demonstration by declaring Himself a temporal
King of the Jews and saving His own body from an ignominious and
painful death?
Perhaps now it will be clearer why it began to seem to the beginner
that may be the revival of Theosophy by Madame Blavatsky, in com-
SOME ASPECTS OF THEOSOPHY 141
parative ease as following the possibly greatest revival by our -Lord and
His disciples, notably St. Paul, did not call for potent miracles but merely
for a reminder, so to speak, that such powers are "latent in man." Even
a "trivial" suggestion after all these centuries of effort, it would seem,
should be enough to re-awaken that faith which alone can start one on
The Path.
Help in his understanding was given the student when he came
to study even lightly the history of that time. Spiritism, with its misuse
and misunderstanding of the Kama Rupa and its temporary survival
after death, threatened to sweep the world and to bring thousands to
destruction through their false efforts on the psychic plane. Madame
Blavatsky was apparently used to spread the teaching that so-called
-"spiritual phenomena" were not the work of surviving consciousness
bringing tidings from the Individuality released from its physical shell
through death, but were explainable on simpler and less inspiring grounds
as special and useless development of universal psychical powers, mis-
applied and utterly misunderstood. As taught in Light on the Path and
all through Theosophical literature, mediums may be able for a brief
time to use a real but limited power for fruitless purposes, but they
soon exhaust their ability and fall back on fraud to maintain their posi-
tion. No "revelations" of any value, except as confirmation of the
Eastern teachings as to the real nature of man, have ever been made
in this way. Even Professor William James said that he had never
heard anything in all his experiments that could not have been in the
mind of some person present. In other words while rejecting "spiritism"
he suggested telepathy as a possible alternative.
By this time in his progress in the study of Madame Blavatsky's
manifestations, some understanding was coming to the student. They
no longer troubled him. Yet they had not been simply dismissed from
mind. They had been accepted and, lo and behold, they at once ceased
to be of any importance ! Apparently the new student was representing
in this attitude a phase of this day when such phenomena are uncalled
for and are not given. Possibly an age when the telephone is used by
everyone and wireless messages no longer bring a thrill is very different
from the days at Simla at the end of the '703, when a prophecy of Mar-
coni's accomplishments would have been taken as proof of insanity.
If a beginner, in humble desire to pass on the help he has received
from without and within, may venture a recommendation to those first
turning towards Theosophy it would be this: "You do not have to
understand or accept Madame Blavatsky's occult phenomena unless or
until you want to do so. If you have faith you can let your Self unfold
in the sunshine of Theosophy without giving thought to any seeming
142 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
shadows. If you can pass on to the fundamentals you can pass by the
non-essentials."
To illustrate: James Freeman Clarke called himself an Unitarian
yet he was an avowed follower of Christ, and it seems to the student
reporting that Dr. Clarke's heterodoxy may have been a needed protest
against the rigid swaddling of Christ's doctrines by Orthodoxy with its
attempted elimination of Theosophy. Dr. Clarke "explained" the miracles
to his own complete satisfaction and so they did not interfere with his
acceptance of the Master. This explanation was that they were miracles
of winning men's hearts. For instance, Dr. Clarke stated that it was
not a physical miracle, a "supernatural act," when the multitude was fed
with loaves and fishes but that the Master's teachings of love and the
effect of His own personality so worked upon the hearts of the multitude
that when in His trust and humility He began to give from His scanty
store others were stimulated to share their supplies with those less for-
tunately provided and so by a miracle of charity the multitude was fed.
The writer happens to believe otherwise. Perhaps if the dear old
Doctor had lived to this day when even exact science is less material he
might have recognized that there are natural powers, hidden forces that
may be applied in accordance with natural Law, unbreakable and immut-
able, by those who know how, and that among these Christ may be num-
bered. Yet these orderly acts would seem to those who cannot follow
the formulas as miracles. Dr. Clarke's was a day of scientific material-
ism when "matter" was accepted as absolute and final and when organized
Religion sought to throw out the spirit, to exalt the intellect ultimately
with sorry results. When Science in a few years has traveled so fast
on the road toward the Theosophical teachings of thousands of years
ago, is it straining belief to imagine that good old pastor as enrolled with
us were he alive to-day, and accepting Christ's miracles as correctly
recorded facts and yet not supernatural?
This problem of "miracles" and "manifestations" which confronted
the new student had hardly been passed before he found the personality
which could not be ignored becoming responsible for another question
of moment: Was not Madame Blavatsky, the human reviver of Theo-
sophical teaching and founder of the T. S., opposed to Christianity ?
This is a question which will be hurled at the new member from
many outsiders to whom Madame Blavatsky is really unknown yet who
too cannot ignore her personality. Perhaps it is a question to be an-
swered by older students, but to the new student the answer is the
seeming paradox: "Yes and no." The use of a paradox in this par-
ticular matter perhaps may be justified by quoting from the Second
Comment in Light on the Path, " 'Light on the Path' has been called a
book of paradoxes, and very 'justly; what else could it be, when it deals
with the actual personal experience of the disciple."
SOME ASPECTS OF THEOSOPHY 143
Against the dogmatism, bitterness and uncharitableness that marked
what called itself Christianity in that day, Madame Blavatsky hurled
herself in a fierce and fearless fight. There are those of us who still
remember Ivanhoe. When at the end Cedric released Gurth, and the
freed serf rushed away to have his iron collar of bondage cut off, the
process must have hurt him, but he did not mind, because he knew he
was being made free. If he had had to be freed by force, and without
his understanding that he was being freed, he would, undoubtedly, have
fought against the blacksmith and have screamed with pain. The more
one studies the career of Madame Blavatsky and the record of the T. S.
the more apparent it grows how powerful an instrumentality the com-
bination has been in making more Christlike the Christian Church.
Madame Blavatsky might be regarded as the blacksmith cutting off,
under orders, the collar of serfdom even at the expense of momentarily
hurting the f reedman !
That Madame Blavatsky never opposed the Master Christ or His
own teachings, and, therefore, never was opposed to true Christianity
seems to be the inexorable conclusion to be drawn from even a cursory
study of her work ; from even a beginner's analysis of the doctrine she
transmitted.
That this is not to be dismissed as a mere opinion of a new student
is indicated by the fact that while the T. S. has all creeds represented
in its membership, in accordance with its Constitution and its practice of
tolerance, yet among its most loyal and active members (including some
of Madame Blavatsky 's own pupils) are to be numbered some of the
gentlest, finest, truest followers veritable disciples in truth of our
Lord Jesus Christ that are to be found throughout Christendom.
It was from an active worker in the T. S. organization, a man of
brains, ability and high standing in the outside world, that the writer
first heard enunciated as fact, a firm belief, a quiet conviction that the
Master Jesus Christ in person works to-day as an active Individuality
to save His flock a doctrine set forth in the New Testament and
accepted by the Fathers and even yet recited in words from every Chris-
tian pulpit, but truly accepted and believed in by pathetically few outside
the T. S.
As the applying student found, and as set forth in its Constitution,
no one has to accept anything arbitrary in joining the T. S. It is the
experience of one new member that the modern Theosophical teachings
and organization started through Madame Blavatsky bring one back
to the Master, Jesus Christ our Lord, and to His Church, in the simple
and sincere spirit of a little child who foolishly runs away in a make
believe feeling of being grown-up and who returns, tired and sorry but
sure of a welcome, to a loved and loving parent and a happy home.
Through which feeling comes some understanding of the teaching in the
opening verses of Matthew xviii. SERVETUS.
WHY I JOINED THE
THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY
"Once bodies were offered to flames for man's uplifting.
Now souls are bared that men may see the way to grow."
THIS splendid phrase, quoted by the Editor's last victim, seems
to me a fitting introduction to all the articles which may ever be
written in this series; for it is at once an explanation and an
apology.
My way into the T. S. was, as I look back, almost accidental. I was
not looking for Theosophy; or, consciously, for anything. I had simply
come to the end of my rope, and had exhausted all the means at my
command for solving the problem which was most important to me.
I wished to work a miracle or to have a miracle worked for my benefit
and when, at last, I realized that everything that I called truth had
failed, I suddenly found myself entering the real world of miracles.
It is difficult to see how one's early struggles after light can have
any interest, even to a public so broad minded as the readers of the
QUARTERLY presumably are ; and I would gladly spare them (and myself)
any account of my steps on this momentous journey, only I see by
examining the confessions of my predecessors in this series, that they
all began at the beginning; and the beginning of one's way into the T. S.
is surely one's first groping after truth.
At thirteen, or thereabouts, I spent some agonizing time in believing
I had committed the sin against the Holy Ghost and wondering what
it was. At eighteen I looked about me and said, "But if the Sermon on
the Mount will not work, then Christianity cannot be true; and none of
these people believe it ; no one does." I knew only one, a transcendent
person, with the heart of a child ; who handled life like a god. He was
the great exception; but I never came anywhere near his secret. At
nineteen, a clever young friend of mine, full of self-confidence and
Herbert Spencer, made me see that to pray for rain was nonsense, and
the Litany practically an insult to our understanding. So my poor little
structure went, and I felt rather superior without it. Browning and
Emerson remained and Marcus Aurelius, and the wonderful world to
experiment with.
Some years afterwards I found myself in a desperately difficult
situation. In order to preserve my own life it was ordered that the life
of my unborn child must be sacrificed. And everything in me rose up
and said "No." At this critical point someone suggested trying "Mental
Science." I did not know what it was but I said, "I will try a dancing
WHY I JOINED THE THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY 145
dervish rather than lose this baby, but don't ask me to believe anything."
"Oh ! you don't have to," I was quickly reassured ; and the Mental Science
healer was fetched. She was a quiet little woman who did not seem
at all disturbed by my scepticism, but assured me that I might expect
to be better, and that there was nothing to fear; and then she sat with
her hand over her eyes and "treated."
In a few days I began to feel differently, not better physically, but a
new energy seemed to pour into me. Two weeks from the time of her
first visit I dragged myself from the bed I had lain on for weeks and
walked almost a mile to her house, and after that there was no more
trouble. During the months which followed I made my first dim
approaches to an unseen world for this experience had to be accounted
for. The whole vast region of the influence of the mind on the body
had been opened up. Granting that my only trouble had been nerves or
some form of fear, why had our physical inequalities such fearful power
over us?
The little healer gave me some books to read, with the wise advice
to take what seemed true and to leave the rest; but on no account to
become irritated or to argue. These little books, execrably written,
and full of strange ignorances, still ushered me into a new world. They
did not ask one to take anything on faith, but they flattered all one's
unsuspected powers, and life became an even more interesting field for
experiment. One might have called this a search for truth in spite of its
exponents, for there was always something difficult to account for in the
mental-scientists themselves. If their truths made for power they cer-
tainly did not make for charm, and there seemed to be something rather
dangerous about their admonition, to "deny the mind"; it gave them an
unfair advantage! They differed from Herbert Spencer in regarding
Christianity not as an outworn creed, but as a religion which had never
been understood and which contained a secret of power which could be
much improved upon. Their favorite text was "Greater things shall ye
do than this." They also had a disconcerting way of asserting things to
be true which they wished to have become true, but which had little basis
in existing fact. This they called making an affirmation.
About this time I went to a lecture by a shining light of the period.
She was one of Mrs. Eddy's first pupils, but had seceded from Christian
Science and was founding what she called a "Theological Seminary for
the training of pupils in Divine Science." The lecture seemed to me a
hopeless jargon of unrelated ideas, but the speaker closed with some very
striking words. She said that the clue to what she had been saying
would come later, but that in the meantime she wished to offer her
hearers two words, which, if faithfully used, in times of disturbance,
pain or difficulty, would produce a result which they would find of great
practical value in reaching stillness of mind. These words were "Jesus
Christ." At this time I had neither interest nor faith in this name, nor
10
j 4 6 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
in the Master who bore it, but I had a blind instinct that it was "in the
Silence" that the truth was to be found.
For years I vaguely sought it and used this name, mechanically,
experimentally, in the effort to find stillness, and never in vain. I taught
this practice to my children and even when they were very young, when
wakeful, when suffering, when afraid, they learned to use it and to find
help.
Then followed years of experiment. I found myself one of a group
of eager seekers. We started in search of the sources of these new and
vital truths. We read Plato, Hegel, Froebel: everywhere we found the
same witness to the divine within, the glad tidings that man is one with
God. The mental-scientists insisted that oneness must be expressed as
power; we had only to will to achieve in order to achieve. And we
did achieve; health, and energy and prosperity; difficulties went down
before us. We attempted the impossible and very often seemed to attain
it. Then we took to healing. We never spoke of these things, but \ve
were often surprised at what happened. Still there were always some
places where "the law" did not seem to work. One of us had a delicate
child, who would not respond to treatment; and one could not seem to
"materialize prosperity" ; and one, the frailest body but the most indomit-
able spirit, after heroic and splendid achievements in "denying the body",
had a stroke of paralysis. For a year we kept her alive all our faith
seemed at stake. Here was the supreme test. She was brave, and noble
beyond words ; she would not let herself die and at any moment it seemed
as if she must "take up her bed and walk." For if faith was the essential
then we must not fail in faith. The horror of that year is with me yet,
and the strange madness of it ; and in the end it was reserved to me to
sit alone by her side, hour after hour, and watch her die. Once more
all that I held true went down before a fact. But through it all, during
those long hours, the pitifulness of the truth we had struggled for came
slowly clear. Life? Surely this broken body was not life! And heal-
ing? Why not beyond as well as here? Death? Surely it must be
nothing; release, deliverance, opportunity. The failure, the tragedy, was
here ; the hope beyond. That poet-soul, that aspiring saint, could not die
because she blindly chose to break the vessel that contained her life
and when at last she ceased to breathe I knew there was no death.
But I needed a great deal of hammering to get my eyes open, and
life continued to give it to me. The events did not square with my
theory, but it was easy to see where one omitted the faithful carrying
out of one's own part in the performance, and I knew I had not yet found
"the Silence" (whatever that was!). Finally I had a sickening shock.
The life of a person very dear to me was hideously threatened. It
seemed to me quite clear that I was largely responsible for this disaster.
147
and that well, it simply could not be allowed to be. She must be got
well at once. I turned instinctively to the little healer who had helped
me years before.
She, somehow, did not convince me as a personality. I felt vaguely
that she had not grown in the interval, but she was very reassuring; she
had often had such cases, she was quite sure she could cure this one.
There were doctors employed, too, and all the scientific methods; but in
my heart of hearts my reliance was on the little healer. There seemed
to be very little human hope about the situation.
"If Christ ever healed then He can heal now. If it ever was true
then it must be true now. If it is not true now, it never could have been
true." These words went round and round in my mind, but the absurdity
of the fact that if these things were true I could only reach them by
means of a paid healer, never even crossed it. I was paying for the
faith of someone else ; expecting a miracle to be worked by paying a third
person to make it happen ! It was years since I had prayed, prayers to a
would-be mental scientist seemed rather faithless performances, but I
tried once more to find the silence.
All my well-trained faculties had gone back on me. There was,
of course, no such thing as fear, but I lived in abject terror. In order
to get hold of myself I joined the Vedanta Society and tried deep-
breathing. The Swami was unconvincing and I felt no temptation to
explore his sources. I paid my fee, promised not to divulge what I
learned and went off with the first lesson. It worked perfectly. So
much breathing, so much concentration on the end of your nose or your
toes, I forget which, and a rock-like steadiness was the result. This was
most encouraging, and I stuck to it far more faithfully than I ever had
to my effort to find "the Silence." But in order to get the later lessons
you had to spend an hour a day on the first for a given number of days,
and I always found it difficult to achieve the second half hour ; so I was
a long time about my lessons. In the meantime two of the best procur-
able mental-scientists were working over the "case" in which I felt so
deep an interest, and were affirming that the patient was full of life,
energy, joy, wholeness, that her healing was complete now; but nothing
happened.
A year and eight months passed away, and with them seemed to
pass unconsciously to myself, much that I called life. I swamped myself
in work anything to get away from the unsolved problem. At last,
out of space, I saw the foolishness of wasting time on breathing in
rhythm, with your mind on your toes, when there was only so much
precious time to spare and perhaps what I needed was, after all, to learn
to pray. But the work I had undertaken piled up and there never seemed
to be any time for that.
Things went from bad to worse. I began to loathe the work I was
doing and to doubt its value, and the more I doubted and loathed, the
148 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
more it became my duty to do it. At last there came a morning when
everything in me rose up in revolt and I said desperately, "Shall I never
have time to learn to pray?"
Perhaps the only excuse for a narrative so personal as the foregoing
is that it serves as an introduction and explanation of the letters quoted
below. They were the answer to my question, though at first I was
only conscious of a deep desire to know why my child was not being
healed.
LETTER No. i
June 1 8, 19 .
DEAR :
My last talk with you inspired me to the point of a good intention
I would write a pamphlet for the special benefit of such people as the
friends you had mentioned, who feel that the further help they seek
can be obtained only outside the Church. And, instead of answering
your direct question about books, I wrote several pages on that other
subject. In the midst of them I was called off and have been immersed
in accounts and financial statements ever since. Fate. But the good
intention remains. I cannot, however, any longer delay a reply to what
you asked me.
"Books about Christianity" ; but what kind of books ? Some people
need books like Eucken's to break, or in any case, to soften their
"moulds of mind," their preconceptions and prejudices. But your mind
is open and free. I suspect that if you were to go to a physician of souls,
he would prescribe not intellectual pabulum, but original research. He
would say, I imagine, "Go after the thing yourself; Clement said that
knowledge is attainable, and it is. Take it."
Then comes the question: How? And there we can follow in
the footsteps of those who have done it with this great advantage over
most of them, that our minds, I hope, are less rigid than theirs. They
had fixed conceptions of what they would find when they got there
fixed interpretations of creeds, pet reforms, historical incrustations.
I would be inclined to start like this: Christ is more than Divine;
he is Human ("very Man" as the Articles say). He is more than Great
High Priest; he is friend, companion, teacher. Why not be taught?
For years after his "death," he appeared to and taught his disciples.
All through the centuries he has taught those who have gone to him for
teaching from Catholic Saints to Protestant Reformers. They asked
and they received.
We impose limitations. He does not. All he asks of us is the
perfectly simple faith with which a child will approach some stranger
on the street and ask to be helped over a difficult crossing. We say
WHY I JOINED THE THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY 149
"That was all very well for saints but I'm no saint ; it would be impossible
for me." We forget that such a statement really defines his ability
rather than our own. He never asked us to believe that we could do
things with him; but he did ask us to believe that he could do things
with and for us if we would let him. It perhaps resolves itself, for
a good many people, into the practise of keeping still. We pray, but
often with the feeling that we are doing so at very long range; and
then, having prayed, having fired a lot of petitions or remarks at this
remote objective we feel that we have finished. It is an extraordinarily
one-sided conversation. We don't listen. We have to learn to keep
our minds sufficiently still to listen. They are so full of hopes and fears,
of worries and regrets, and of our ten thousand "interests" that, instead
of being quiet, they are more like the surface of a seething caldron.
You remember the old simile: the surface of a lake which reflects
the image of the sun serene and sheltered from the wind; and the same
lake, storm-driven, reflecting nothing. But in our case, the wind blows
from inside, not from without.
It is, as you may well remark, far easier to preach than to practise.
But I console myself with the hope that others may be more successful
than myself! And if, by experience, we know a certain course to be
right, we must at least pursue it. It is not a "new" doctrine. It is the
oldest of any that I know. I venture to send you a little book with ex-
tracts from a very wide range of authors showing how universal the
experience has been, and how unanimous the recommendation is. Then,
I wonder if you know a series published by Longmans, Green, and edited
by H. L. Sidney Lear : if not, and you will begin with "The Hidden Life
of the Soul," I think you will get others. "Self-Renunciation" is
excellent, too.
One thing I wanted to bring out in that pamphlet is our loss of faith
in the faculty of knowing; that it is a spiritual faculty, absolutely distinct
from any mental process, and that the mind unless we allow it to usurp
functions which do not belong to it by right is the interpreter: that
which compares, arranges, analyses, formulates. It stands to reason,
that concentration of that faculty which is the aim of people who prac-
tise breathing and other similar exercises can result, at best, in no more
than mental "one-pointedness." Its effects cannot be spiritual. We have
to transcend the mind; and although this at first sounds formidable and
perhaps dangerous, it ceases to be so when we realize that spiritual feeling
precedes spiritual knowing, and that love, in its real sense love of the
Divine and of divine things and persons is the pathway which Christ
himself told us to follow if we would have knowledge. It follows that if,
during meditation, we try to "concentrate our minds", the probability is
that we shall concentrate on our minds. If, on the other hand, we try
simply to feel the reality of spiritual things, and let the mind go, the
result will be that the mind will keep still because we no longer pay
150 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
attention to it (this is difficult to describe). If, further, we try to realize
that the limitations of time and space, as we know them, do not exist in
the real world, and that Christ instead of being remote, is "nearer than
hands and feet" our attitude making that possible we ought, before
long, to feel and recognize his presence. Later (if we can accept the
testimony of his disciples, living as well as dead, and I am confident that
we can), we ought to transcend that experience and to have conscious
communion with him "communion" I believe, meaning "a shared con-
sciousness." He knows; so we, too, shall get knowledge.
You remember what Lacordaire says about the inner life: that it
consists of each man's conversation with himself. If we were to take
life and all the events of life as a continual demonstration; and if we
were to look to Christ as an ever-present Instructor, I think that our
inner life would be lived with him and that our conversation would in
fact be in heaven. That requires attention, recollection, and detachment
and those three words were suggested once to me as the essentials of
spiritual life; but I think they come with desire, and with practice. Of
one thing we may be sure, that if we desire to reach him, he has an
infinitely greater desire to reach us. If you put yourself in his place:
how he must long for those who will learn to co-operate consciously with
him in his work for the world !
And I will not apologize for such boldness. Surely we must be
bold, if we would become more than religious parasites.
Very faithfully yours.
What I have said of Christ reads to me as cold. "Instructor," yes :
but also a friend, so great that he has a passion of concern for every
living soul.
LETTER No. 2
July 4, 19.
DEAR :
It has been my great good fortune, during the past twenty years,
at one time and another to know people whose first-hand experience of
the spiritual life has been so much wider and deeper than my own, that
in comparison with them I am a mere infant. My own knowledge has
been just enough to enable me to recognize their superiority as one
who has practised even a little on a musical instrument is able to recog-
nize an expert. Such good fortune would have been more fruitful if
I had asked questions more boldly, and, above all, if I had with greater
perseverance attempted what they had achieved.
Your own experience in certain directions has been unusually wide ;
and I do not know that mine can be of service to you. But there is only
one way to find out, and that is by questions as searching as you know
how to make them. That your questions the other day were searching
WHY I JOINED THE THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY 151
is cause for congratulation and not for regret. I wish there were more
people in the world in a position to probe as deeply. You will realize
that the utmost any of us can do "to help", is to express in words that
which the other already knows intuitively that which lies within, but
just beyond the field of the personal consciousness. A touch from
without may precipitate such knowledge, as an electric current passing
through a solution will precipitate crystals. The effect is that of
sudden illumination. But there can be no such sense of illumination
unless the "solution" the knowledge in a latent condition has already
filtered down sufficiently to be within reach.
We have a Teacher and teachers. Some people are taught in a
sense more personal and direct than is true of most those who have
demanded it, who are ready for it those who have "made their con-
nection." It is the soul that is taught, either during deep sleep or in
hours of meditation when the brain-consciousness no longer rises like
dense black smoke to cloud our spiritual sky. Then, from the soul, that
God-given knowledge must pass into the soul's shadow, which we call
ourselves. And there are times when someone from outside, or a book,
will serve as means. You, of course, know all of that; and that, if we
look for such teaching, it is easier to remember. For you certainly receive
*it. Nor have I ever heard of limits being set to the kind of knowledge
thus given anything we need to know for the better performance of
our duty, we may ask for and shall surely receive.
The recognition of such knowledge means, of course, that for the
moment we share the consciousnss of the soul. It is, as you say, like
looking from the top of the mountain at least over that problem.
Later that wider consciousness will always be ours. We shall live in it.
But, naturally, for the present such moments are rare: they come and
go. The memory of them, however, does not wholly leave us. We pass
from one to another, as on stepping-stones across a river.
The question of health is certainly important, particularly so in view
of the Christian Science and similar movements, some of the followers
of which seem to regard health as the end and aim of religion. I have
never had an opportunity to discuss the matter frankly with such people,
and probably you have not either. Yet it ought to be faced and thor-
oughly threshed out, at least with the more reasonable and moderate
among them, with whom, as I think you told me, you were, and perhaps
still are, in close touch.
It was Zeno, I think, who pointed out ages ago that neither life nor
death, neither health nor sickness, neither wealth nor poverty, are things
either good or evil in themselves. Obviously how we use them is the
test. The only things good in themselves are justice, aspiration, courage,
compassion, and the other qualities of soul.
I know of a case now in which an old man is being brought to life
152 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
(in the real sense) by the prolonged agony of dying a man of title in
England, dominant and egotistical, whose career has been a continued
success, but whose heart, at bottom pure gold, had been debased by the
iron of his own will. He is being refined, as gold is refined in fire:
and fire hurts.
Some people would say, "He has never been a bad man, what has
he done to deserve such suffering?" the mediaeval idea of punishment.
Others would say, "He need not suffer; by hypnotism or by Christian
Science or by mind-cure, he should at all events be made not to suffer"
the new idea that suffering is necessarily evil. I do not think that either
view is Christian.
Inevitably, however, when anyone we love is suffering, it is im-
mensely difficult to see in right perspective. We forget the possible
needs of the soul, and think first of the body. Christ would see beneath
the surface would think first of the soul, and, when healing the body,
would, with spiritual power, give material expression to some spiritual
achievement : to a state of repentance or of faith already achieved. In
other words, he, as the Master Refiner, would not withdraw the metal
from the furnace until it had been brought to the state of purity in
which he could see his own image reflected in it (a refiner's actual test).
We, in our impatience, would withdraw the metal at once, just because
we are being hurt, either in our own persons or in the persons of those
we love.
I grant fully that we have often the power to do this, either by will,
or by diverting the direction of our own spiritual forces. By either of
these means we can, in many cases, stop the physical expression of the
disturbance and thus do away with the physical pain. But, in the first
place, by so doing we run the risk which is always run when we dam
a river, and, to use another simile, which we run when we suppress free
speech. The Gnostics described the personality as "the purgation" of
the Soul. I think the body is, in a sense, "the purgation" of the per-
sonality.
We do not want to drive the disturbance back from the body into
the secret places of the mind and heart. All of us admit the influence
of fresh air, of exercise, of proper diet, and of rest. The purpose of
these is elimination quite as much as nutrition. Why not use physical
means, as we do in other connections, to produce physical results, and
so help the disturbance to escape by and through the body? And "in
everything with prayer."
In the second place why not with prayer? (and this, I imagine,
would be your method). The Apostles did not use their own will, or
their own spiritual power, except in prayer. That is to say, they relied
not only upon the power, but upon the wisdom of Christ. They sub-
mitted their personal will to his divine will; their personal judgment to
his divine judgment. Their prayers, and doubtless also the faith of the
WHY I JOINED THE THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY 153
person to be healed, supplied at least part of the spiritual energy used
by Christ in the cure. But, in the last analysis, it was his cure and not
their own.
This can be and is done to-day as often as it was done by the
Apostles and by the Saints. The trouble is that most people, when
someone they love is ill, become so anxious and so fearful that they
do not expect their prayers to be answered: and there must be faith.
Their prayers will be answered if they ought to be answered; and if
they ought not to be answered, what would they have ? There are things
so much worse than death. Further, the modern church-goer forgets,
I fancy, the injunction to pray without ceasing, and the parable which
taught the power of importunity. If he does not get lightning results
he leaves the Church and takes up Christian Science.
But I am, as before, writing to you for the imaginary benefit of
those whose needs you express vicariously. You can reach them and I
cannot. The point of it all is that they do not know enough to recognize
their own limitations. Like the Socialists, their table of values is all
wrong; and like certain physicians who prescribe drugs to remove what
are merely symptoms, they are so carried away by immediate and indis-
putable results, that they are blind to effects and reactions beneath the
surface which only those who see with the eye of the Spirit can trace
and understand. Needless to say, I am not one of those, but I know I
am not: and I know who is. So I rely upon him and upon those who
work with him. There is not only unbroken tradition, but plenty of
modern experience in favour of that, the original procedure.
Very faithfully yours,
July 25, 19
DEAR :
I took your letter with me to the country, expecting to answer it
from there. But I was disappointed. You will, I hope, pardon the
delay. I have waited only in the hope of being able to answer it as it
deserves.
Now for the main subject: I wish that I could help you with your
little girl. Perhaps I can. But if so, it will be chiefly by suggesting how
you yourself can help her. The New Thought people echo very old and
vital knowledge when they speak of the close connection between mother
and child.
It is said that for many years after physical separation has taken
place at birth, there is the closest possible psychic and nervous (or
etheric) rapport; so that the condition of the mother's mind reacts
154 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
directly upon the mind and so upon the health of her child. Naturally
the extent of this interaction must vary in different cases, and must
decrease with advancing years. But the point is that it exists, and that
it is substantial and real.
This gives power as well as responsibility. Power to bless, power
to heal. A mother, far better than any one, should be able to draw
directly upon the Divine for the well-being of her child. To draw
directly upon the Divine, however, needs not faith only, but, particularly
in the case of a mother, great self-control; because to draw upon, means
to work with, and to work with we must bring our own will into unison
with the Divine will. Instead of being opposed, thus \ or so |i the flow
of force must be concurrent -14 : our own will and the Divine Will
must be similar in direction. Evidently, we cannot hope, and should not
wish to dominate that will; evidently we cannot resist it at least not
permanently. Consequently, we should submit to it. We can do this
with the resignation of the nun, or with the glad acceptance of the
warrior. And I want to suggest that true submission lies in our ability
to make the Divine Will our own wish; that it is essentially a warrior
virtue not negative, but positive and glad.
This means, in other words, that in all circumstances, in all prayer
and effort, we must try to adopt the attitude, "Thy will be done."
First the test comes for ourselves the test of our willingness and
ability to accept all things whatsoever that the will of God may bring us ;
the test of our faith, not merely in the power, but in the wisdom and love
of the Divine. Do we know best, or does Wisdom itself? We shall
reach a point at which we shall fear nothing any more from any quarter
whatsoever, because nothing can happen to us which is not an expression
of God's wisdom and of His love for us. But there is a second and a
much harder test can we say, "Thy will be done" for those we love?
Do we really believe in His wisdom ? Can we force ourselves to trust, to
accept what will seem like "the worst", until we gain the conviction that,
if "the worst" should happen, it must necessarily conceal the best, and
that that which had seemed a hideous disaster is in truth the careful plan
of the infinitely wise and compassionate Director of our own life and of
theirs? To be frank, although it has been done, I do not see how "ac-
ceptance" can be carried so far until we have at least an intellectual
understanding of the meaning and purpose of evolution. But it will in
any case be clear that that sort of acceptance gives power : among other
kinds, the instant readiness to use and to get the best out of every situa-
tion as it develops the spiritual best for those we love ; and it gives still-
ness, which is peace, because there is no longer opposition to the Divine
Will, and no longer that interior friction which such opposition generates.
There can be no stillness and no "hearing" until, to some extent at least,
that attitude of acceptance has been attained.
"The true source of all that frets and irritates and wears away our
WHY I JOINED THE THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY 155
lives, is not in external things, but in the resistance of our wills to the will
of God expressed in external things." Soon or late we all must learn
that lesson, not once but many times, until we know it. Some of us
learn it only after terrible suffering, but that is because we have disre-
garded or rejected our earlier and easier opportunities.
Finally we shall discover that our submission is not to a will foreign
to our own, but that the Higher Will is in truth the will of our own
innermost being. As Henry Clark puts it, "We shall grow into an
identification of ourselves with God" ; or, to quote a very different writer :
"Not till the whole personality of the man is dissolved and melted
. . . not till the whole nature has yielded and become subject unto
its Higher Self can the bloom open. . . . Look for the warrior and
let him fight in thee. Take his orders for battle and obey them. Obey
him, not as though he were a general, but as though he were thyself,
and his spoken words were the utterance of thy secret desires; for he is
thyself, yet infinitely wiser and stronger than thyself."
Now it seems to me that some of those who claim to use spiritual
powers for healing (not all of them, of course) fail to recognize that
wisdom and love quite as much as power, must be qualities of the Divine
and for our present purpose it does not matter whether by that term,
we mean God, or the Higher Self, or Christ, or the Universal Spirit,
or the Over- Soul. Superficially these people seem to wish to dictate to
wisdom : though I suspect the true explanation is the fixity of their
belief that the Divine always wills health.
The fact that ill-health exists and that death is unavoidable
should prove that it too is so willed, not as a punishment or as an
evil, but as a good : as a means by which health of soul can be attained.
My own belief is (and this is my answer to a question you raise)
that such people have half-discovered, but have failed to understand, a
great spiritual fact, which St. Paul expounds in the I5th Chapter of his
first Epistle to the Corinthians generally taken as referring to death
only, though they might have wondered, if it is to be read in no other
way, why he should have interjected, "I die daily."
The Spiritual body of which he speaks the body of the resurrection
the body of our immortality is just as real as the physical, though
subject no longer to the limitations of time and space as we now know
them (the theory of the Fourth Dimension throws some light on this).
Jesus, after the Crucifixion, talked with his disciples and ate with them.
In that body, which is the immediate vehicle of the Soul, and, in a
certain sense, the direct expression of the soul, there is perfect equi-
librium, or "health."
So we may account for the half-intuition for the psychic perversion
of the truth that health is "the right" of the Soul's body. In his
physical body Jesus suffered and died. In his spiritual body "death
was swallowed up in victory." And we should remember that it is
156 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
the mortal which must put on immortality: that the spiritual body
evolves, is built up or should be as the result of our aspiration and
effort while functioning in and through these infinitely more dense and
at the same time more shadowy bodies which we so foolishly think of
as "ourselves."
The Master is concerned with the growth of the spiritual body.
The life of the physical is merely a means to that end. If you care to
compare the following passages you will find that, on this point, the
New Testament is explicit: II Cor., Chapter iv, verse 16 to Chapter
v, verse 5 ; Col. iii, v. 10 ; Eph. iv, vv 23-24 ; I Peter iii, 4 ; I Cor. xv,
w. 35 to 56.
Further, growth on that plane must be subject to the same general
laws as those which govern similar processes known to us physically.
The law of cause and effect, of action and reaction that whatsoever a
man sows, that shall he also reap, and that whatsoever a man reaps
that he must also have sown which is known in the East as the law of
Karma, and which Roman Catholics seem to mean in a narrower sense
when they speak of a man's "merit" must govern the whole process of
spiritual development. As a law, it is merely the expression of the
absolute justice, impartiality, wisdom and compassion of the Divine
Win not the monopoly of Buddhism or of any other Oriental
philosophy.
We are born in a certain family, with tendencies healthy or the
reverse, and at a certain time, because it is in just those surroundings
that we can best learn the next lesson we need to know. To attribute
all character to physical heredity is to deny free will. Physical heredity
simply provides the soil in which the heredity of the individuality can
develop. Where, when or how the individuality has acquired its ten-
dencies, relatively speaking, is unimportant. The essential fact is that
a child has certain characteristics when born, and that the environment
into which it is born is the expression of its "Karma" (for want of a
better term) of its spiritual needs, providing opportunities for the
conquest of its faults and for the development of its virtues a purely
individual matter. No two children are alike and no two environments
are alike. Even in the same family a mother is a very different person
when her first and when her last child is born. The purpose of it all,
in any case, is the perfecting of character and the development of soul.
The world in which we live is like a nursery or a school a school
for souls. To say the same thing, but in terms of force instead of in
terms of consciousness, this physical world is the matrix in which the
development of the spiritual body takes place. In a very literal sense
we must be born again.
Granting that much as true, it follows that to fail in life is to fail
to learn the lessons we were intended to learn and that we were given
a special opportunity to learn the lessons of courage, patience, energy,
impersonality, understanding, no matter what. There can be no other
WHY I JOINED THE THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY 157
failure. Now, once more, let us imagine how Christ must regard the
world: What does he hear? Cries of pain, surely cries of hunger,
cries from beds of sickness, cries from wounded hearts. And for all of
these he must feel an infinite compassion. Yet how about a deeper
cry "the terrible, agonizing cry of the souls of the world" ? If because
of the wounded heart, we learn our lesson, the soul must rejoice and
Christ must share that joy. But suppose that the wounded heart finds
solace in drink or in folly; then surely, the soul herself must grieve
beyond grief of ours, and Christ must share in that grief as he could
not share in grief which in any case provided the very opportunity for
which the soul had worked and waited, for which the soul had longed.
It is easy to imagine a life the chief purpose of which would be
the lesson which nothing but constant illness could teach. True, we
can never tell when the lesson has been learned when the need no longer
exists: so at all times we must do our utmost to relieve and to cure.
But always and this is my point with the reservation that His greater
compassion and deeper wisdom may prevail over any wish of ours.
And that is all I urge. It is impossible to lay down general rules. Each
case must be considered on its individual merits. As I said, the relation
of mother to child gives special rights and responsibilities. But you
will see, even in the case of a mother, how unwise it would be to trust
her child to certain practitioners, say of Christian Science. They assert
that a certain thing is the Divine Will without in the least knowing.
But if it is not the Divine Will, the power upon which they draw is
not and cannot be spiritual. It is what St. Paul calls "psychic and
devilish" a form of energy totally different from that which reaches
us from the spiritual world, but sufficiently powerful, not only to produce
physical results, but temporarily to delay the expression of forces trying
to work their way through from the world of soul. This banking up
of the outlet may give rise to an inner condition corresponding to what
we should describe as inflammation, which reacts back upon the develop-
ment of the spiritual body at best delaying the putting on by "the
corruptible" of incorruption.
There is but one path of safety, which is also the path of peace.
And even for a mother there may be peace peace which will create
around her child an atmosphere in and through which the spiritual
powers can work without hindrance for her child's best good. I do not
know what others ought to do, or what attitude they should adopt; but
I think I know the attitude I would try to adopt if child of mine were ill :
Realizing in the first place that Christ did heal; convinced that he can
as easily heal to-day, I would, at the turn of every hour during the day,
and oftener if possible, place my child mentally in Christ's presence
myself too and raising myself to him by the act of accepting his will
(by the act of trying to feel my own will in unison with his) I would
with all my heart ask him to heal my child. I would try to make my
"call" as serene and as clear, as direct and as simple as I could. I would
158 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
ask him to send in any case his blessing upon my child, and to cure, if,
in his greater wisdom, cure would be best.
I would know that he could hear me; I would know that he could
heal. I would try never to swerve from my conviction that the child
would be cured the very moment that would be wise and best, considering
the deeper, and, to me, unknown needs of her soul. I would fight
anxiety and fear and worry, as I would fight the worst of sins. I would
try to surround her with an atmosphere of steady cheerful confidence.
Meanwhile I would do whatever I could to provide means of physical
cure, even to the use of certain drugs if I could be convinced of their
serviceability on the same principle that if I were in prison and wished
to escape, I would not simply sit down and pray and expect a miracle
to happen. We must not forget that it requires energy to perform
"miracles" and that the energy we liberate, physical as well as spiritual,
can be used by those who know, to bring about the result we desire
and deserve.
Fundamentally, however, it would come to this The case is in
your hands. I will do all I know. I will provide such physical remedies
as I can but her life is YOURS. With every thought and fibre in my
nature I trust you to do what is best. Heal her, I beg of you, if that be
possible and wise. She is more yours than mine. I love her, but you
must love her better than I know how. Use me, if that be possible.
Guide me even in the matter of physical means. I submit every detail
to your guidance. Tell me if I am now doing what is right. And then
I would try to listen: quite still, without strain, a still mind and heart
at rest. There would be stillness if I really trusted; if I had the confi-
dence and love of a child, and if I could realize that he hears and under-
stands far more completely than you, who read this letter, hear and
understand me. He would answer at once ; but perhaps, because of my
anxiety it would take time for the answer "to get through." Neverthe-
less it would get through. He can always reach us when it is necessary
to do so. But to tear through through the fog of our minds involves
reaction. St. Paul was blind for three days after that meeting on the
Damascus road, simply because, at that time, violent means had to be
used to reach him. When we look for an answer, with faith and
patience, it filters through, often imperceptibly.
There are things in your letter still left unanswered though nothing
which I would not gladly answer if time permitted. I have delayed
reply so long, however, that I want at least to get this off while I can.
That it will be of any immediate* comfort I cannot hope. But you are
not looking for comfort. You are looking for the truth, and for the true
way in which to help your child. I can do no more than tell you the
best that I know.
Very faithfully yours,
WHY I JOINED THE THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY 159
It is hardly necessary to comment on these letters. The first had
the effect of a sudden illumination : scales seemed to fall from my eyes
the horizon to widen and lift in every direction. I followed it up by a
number of direct questions, to which the second was an answer. Then I
hinted at my insoluble problem ; the answer to which is suggested in the
third. It was through the regions of experiment and effort into which
these letters led me that I found my way to The Theosophical Society.
Why did I join it? Well as much of me as has been able to join
it (to quote another of my predecessors), came in consequence of the
receiving of these three letters ; of the observation of a group of lives ;
and of the reading of two books. In one I recognized the beautiful
"warrior" quotation ; the other contained the following definition :
"Theosophy ... is wisdom in God, a wisdom which has God
not only as its subject, but as its principle; it has for its basis the Divine
revelation in Scripture and in nature, and it springs from an inward
illumination by the Spirit of God, which makes the contents of the reve-
lation apprehensible. Its form is not that of reflective thought, although
this is not excluded, but, first and foremost, that of intuition, immediate
perception, central apprehension of God and existence.
. . . "Out of the idea of God it seeks to apprehend the world,
in all circles of the universe to see things as they are in God ; it seeks to
be a philosophic, sacra in contradiction to a philosophia profana. It
embraces nature and history ; seeks to present a philosophy of nature in
the light of the Divine idea, just as it also strives to give a philosophy
of history, a representation of the principles of the Kingdom of God,
as these are developed from the first super-historical commencement of
the kingdom of God, from the creation and fall of the angels, and of
man, throughout the various periods of time a persistent struggle
between light and darkness until the final judgment and consummation
of all things. In its interpretation of Christianity, it does not limit itself
to its practical ethico-religious import for man, but seeks to apprehend
its cosmical meaning, its significence for the universe, and to prove that
the principles of Christianity are identical with those by which the world
itself subsists, and on which the foundation of the world is laid that
Christianity is the focus for all world-forces and world-powers.
"In so far as Theosophy is assigned a place in the history of
philosophy, and it is not excluded as an unscientific or super-scientific
vagary, it belongs to that department of philosophy which Schelling has
styled positive philosophy, in contrast to a negative, purely rational,
non-postulating philosophy, which seeks its principle out of reason itself.
The difference between Theosophy and purely rational Philosophy may
be thus indicated in terms borrowed from Leibnitz : 'Theosophy pursues
the path of light' ('In Thy light we shall see light') ; while purely
rational Philosophy pursues the path of gloom, because it simply roams
among dim shadows with its own faintly glimmering light."
J. B. P.
THE SPIRITUAL ORIGIN OF LIFE
SOME time before the British Association assembled at Dundee,
rumors were heard of remarkable revelations concerning the
origin of life. At last, we were told, the great secret would
be disclosed, bringing the fulfilment of Tyndall's declaration at
an earlier meeting of the same body : "We find in Matter the promise
and potency of every form of Life."
As the fulfilment of these large promises came a paper by Pro-
fessor E. A. Schafer, President of the Association, which was widely
distributed and discussed. In itself, this paper did not amount to
much; it hardly carried the subject beyond the point at which Tyndall
had found it, or beyond the fact that, up to the present, all attempts
to form living matter artificially had completely failed. But Professor
Schafer made up in surmise and theory what he lacked in fact, and
it seemed, for the moment, that the cause of materialism had received
a great accession of strength. Only for the moment, however; for
the paper, not very significant in itself, began to draw forth comments,
notably from Sir Oliver Lodge and Alfred Russel Wallace, which
are in the highest degree significant, and, we venture to add,
thoroughly Theosophical, in the true sense of that much misused
word.
Perhaps most significant is the comment of Alfred Russel
Wallace, the cabled report of which we give, as found in The New
York Times.
"Prof. Schafer's arguments" said Mr. Wallace, "are the same as
those of Haeckel and all the great agnostics, but he does not really
get over the difficulties one iota more than they did. So there is
nothing in what he says that one can call new.
"He begins by stating, as if it were his point of view, that the
problems of life are essentially problems of matter, and that we cannot
conceive of life in a scientific sense as existing apart from matter. He
puts down what he could conceive and could not conceive as a dictum,
without any attempt to prove it.
"Take, for instance, Crookes and myself. We have studied the
subject of psychological phenomena for forty years, and we know
pretty well that there are phenomena of which these men are abso-
lutely ignorant, which prove the existence of life without matter, as
it were, certainly without ordinary matter. So that vitiates all his
reasoning right away.
"A little further on he tried to show the similarity of the process
of reproduction in living and non-living matter, and the only thing
THE SPIRITUAL ORIGIN OF LIFE 161
he brings forward is crystals. He says that crystals grow and multi-
ply and reproduce their life, and therefore he appears to be utterly
ignorant that a crystal is simply added to on the outside, whereas
life is a thing of wonderful and complex structure and is added to
on the inside. That, I consider, is a wonderful case of bad reasoning,
of begging the question.
"Another and the most important fallacy in the whole thing is
the assumption, without showing that there is any difficulty about
it, that if you prove the production of dead matter, you can prove
the production of living matter. The nucleus of a cell he says, is not
very complex chemically, and the substance of it can be reproduced,
but it is not a living nucleus.
"All the chemist can do is to experiment with dead matter; he
cannot subject living matter, continuing to live, to his chemical processes.
Therefore all he gets is the production of dead matter, and he says
that is the same as living matter. He repeats again and again that
when you have got the same matter and the same chemical substance,
all you have got to do is to produce it chemically, and then it will
have all the properties of living matter."
"That," declared Wallace definitely, "is the very one thing they
haven't gone the slightest towards."
Wallace then quoted Prof. Schafer:
"The composition of these elements in a vital compound repre-
sents the chemical basis of life, and when the chemists succeed in
building up this compound it will without doubt be found to exhibit
phenomena which we are in the habit of associating with the term
life."
"Now, that," Wallace commented, "is absolutely unfounded.
There is not the slightest proof of it, and to most people it is abso-
lutely incredible. Yet he says it without doubt."
With regard to Prof. Schafer's ruling out the question of a soul
in his considerations, Mr. Wallace remarked that even Haeckel did
admit a soul, saying every cell has a soul. He went on :
"All the rest of his address, though it is very careful, is based on
the assumption that all the changes which take place in growth and
reproduction are chemical. He gives no proof whatever, and the
difficulties and differences are so radical and so enormous that the
whole thing really is absolutely worthless. But he is not quite so
dogmatic as Haeckel, who denied the possibility of any life but what
has developed from matter.
"In my last book, The World of Life,' " said the veteran author,
"I have endeavored to deal with that fundamental point, which all
these psychological agnostics, as they call themselves, utterly ignore
and pass by, and that is, whence comes the directing power?
ii
162 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
"The two things, growth and reproduction, are without equal
in any chemical process, certainly, and none of these men makes the
slightest attempt to get over the difficulty.
"In my book I deal in detail with these things, and in a chapter
on the mystery of a cell I show that some of the greatest modern
writers admit that there is a mystery in it ; that its changes are most
marvelous. All this they ignore all this directive power, which
enables the cell to go through a marvelous series of changes and
development, not one of which can be explained by any mechanical
or chemical process.
"Prof. Schafer's assertions are so bold that they catch the public
ear and the public fancy, but they are entirely valueless.
"If," Wallace said in reply to further questions, "chemists do
produce life, it is not they who produce it. The chemist never goes
into the ultimate cause, he does not deal with directing power.
"What does force come from! Dead matter itself, when you
get down to its fundamentals, is becoming almost as complex as
living matter. In the mere atom there have been shown to exist
countless minute things, every part imbued with force. Whence
comes the force?
"I maintain that you cannot explain the smallest portion of dead
matter without a series of forces, which imply mind, which imply
direction.
"One of my great points, going back and back and back through
life, is the matter of the universe in its bulk. You have got to
consider the origin of what is called the dead universe, the cosmos,
which is as full of complex directions and laws, not quite so complex
but nearly so as those of living matter.
"Whence do these forces come? Prof. Schafer never attempts
to give any idea of how feeling, sense, the power of perception, can
possibly arise out of dead matter. He says distinctly that it arises
from the nervous system. He would produce a nervous system, but
is it likely?
"The nervous system, which is a machine for the manifestation
of consciousness, should produce consciousness. Huxley said, 'Life
is the cause and not the consequence of organization.' It is not
organization that produces life, as is assumed all through Prof.
Schafer's lectures.
"If you assume that the directing power is essentially a spiritual
power, then you can understand all this, but without it you cannot
understand it."
In conclusion Mr. Wallace said:
"Death is absolutely necessary to the process of development
through evolution. It is calculated that if a certain small organism
THE SPIRITUAL ORIGIN OF LIFE 163
were allowed to multiply steadily with nothing to prevent it from
increasing, in a little over one hundred years it would have produced
enough living matter to fill up the whole known universe. That,
you see, proves the necessity of death.
"Here again we see the existence of an antecedent mind, which
so constituted matter that it could not be immortal. If living matter
had been immortal from the beginning, development would have
stopped.
"All the forces of life are directed in a way that is utterly dis-
tinct from chemistry. Anything that chemistry can do is beside the
question."
"In chemistry," said Mr. Wallace, "only certain things will pro-
duce certain results. In life the most diverse things will produce
the same results. One man may feed entirely on animal food,
another entirely on vegetable. The machinery is the same, yet this
same machinery, so differently fed, produces identical results in
muscle, nerve, skin, hair, everything."
"Its organism is like an enormous engine, but it is an engine
which can reproduce itself. There is the directing power."
If we may venture to comment on a pronouncement of such
excellence, it is only to suggest that, in discussing Life, sufficient
weight is not given to the two most important qualities of Life,
namely Consciousness and Will, while too exclusive stress is laid on
the lesser function, that of building and repairing organic tissue.
As to the latter, one may generalize and say that chemical action
tends always toward stable compounds, while vital action is con-
tinually making unstable compounds, which, when life is withdrawn
and the material is left to purely chemical forces, at once tend to
disintegrate and decay. But after all the great fact of life is not
tissue but consciousness and will; it is only the materialism of our
minds which accentuates the former and ignores the latter. We
doubt if even Professor Schafer would venture to predict that chem-
istry, at any future time, will be able to "create" will and conscious-
ness, the true manifestations of Life. C. J.
ON THE SCREEN OF TIME
^CA A HE Agnostic, like any other man, will find the Truth, if he
be true to the truth that he sees ; by which I mean, if he will
JL. live out his philosophy in detail from day to day and from
hour to hour. Those who merely call themselves Agnostics,
and who act as if they believe in what they profess to doubt those
who, in other words, keep their philosophy on the psychic plane as a
plaything for their intellectual entertainment, never find the Truth, but
remain, like the psychic, the victims of their own delusions."
The Student had been telling us about a lecture he had given
and about the questions it had evoked. The Objector was in a mood
particularly sardonic. "What you say," he remarked, "is quite incom-
prehensible; but perhaps that does not matter, for it sounds well:
I admit that : it really sounds uncommonly wise. And I respect even an
appearance of wisdom now that most people advertise themselves as
fools. An Agnostic, you say, whose ideas are all wrong, will find the
Truth if he will follow his wrong ideas. It sounds comforting as well as
wise. How does he do it ? "
"If he doubts the reality of a stone wall, and walks into it, the
bumping of his nose should convince him which, by the way, is not
necessarily personal." (There was, however, a cheerful gleam in the
Student's eyes as he turned to the Objector). "My point is that the
psychic, who is deluded, if he will act conscientiously in accordance with
his vision, will discover that his vision was misleading. He will suffer,
but he will learn. On the other hand, the psychic who never leaves the
psychic plane that is to say, who never makes his dreams objective by
conforming his conduct to them, and who, therefore, is untrue to the
light which he sees, such a man will remain in ignorance, self-deceived
and the deceiver of others. He will learn, perhaps, only when he
becomes the cause of such suffering to one whom he loves (if love still
be left in him), that he will be compelled to face the error of his ways
and change them.
"It is exactly the same with the sceptic. He indulges himself with
vain imaginings, and, not content with this, casts gloom over the hearts
of others by his attitude and atmosphere of doubt. What is it that he
doubts? Challenge him. Does he doubt the reality of the soul, or his
free will, or the free will of others? Yet he acts in all things, not as if
he were merely a body, but as if he expected others to attribute to him
standards of honour, purely abstract, which often contradict expediency,
and which it is impossible for him to defend on material grounds. And
if he doubts the freedom of the will and moral responsibility, why is it
ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 165
that, when another man pushes him on the street, he feels indignant?
If he were true to his philosophy he would think of that man as the
unhappy victim of fate: he would be incapable of annoyance, and, in
time, incapable of exertion."
"I agree with you," said the Philosopher. "The universe is justly
governed. It is a law of life that the utmost range of truth is open to
the man who obeys the truth as he sees it from day to day, while the
man who fails to conform his conduct to his vision, becomes, both
morally and intellectually, more and more blind. That is why there
is a better chance for a man of sinful life, but who believes, let us say,
in kindness, and who practises it, than for a man whose outer life may
be negatively impeccable, but who never practises the kindness in which,
theoretically, he believes."
"The truth is," commented the Sage, "that we misuse the word
'belief.' Someone calls himself a Christian, or a Theosophist, or a
Buddhist. By this he means that he believes in Christianity or in
Buddhism. Actually he believes in nothing of the sort unless his entire
life be based and built up on his belief. If a man says that he loves a
woman, and then behaves as if he loved another woman, or several,
the object of his declared affection may be excused for feeling piqued.
Obviously, he does not love her at all. In the same way, if a man says
that he believes in Christianity and, on week-days, steals, the truth is that
he does not believe in Christianity but in stealing. So also if a man
calls himself a Theosophist, but shows a prejudice against Christianity
or some other mode of religious belief, it is evident that he does not
believe in Theosophy which is all-inclusive, and which means Divine
Wisdom in whatever form it may be found: he believes in something
which can only be dignified as 'anti' whatever his aversion may be .
The Student is right: the man who is true to the highest that he sees
cannot fail to find the Supreme. A wrong belief will not work.
Consequently, those who try to live what they believe, if their belief be
erroneous, will be disillusioned. So, seeking more light, they find it."
"Practical advice !" The Sage laughed. It was at another informal
meeting of the same group. "People do not want practical advice. They
want to listen to eloquence. They enjoy the stimulation of their
emotions. And they like, at times, to feel pious. Practical advice
means a change in motive and in manner of life: and they do not want
to change. The purpose of religion, with most people, is to provide
a way to the kingdom of heaven which will not involve an uncomfortable
disturbance of themselves. They want to get there as they are. . . .
Your friend, you say, is an exception ? Well, there are exceptions. Let
us thank the gods for that. And he wants 'to live the life' ? Dear man,
if he means that, one and all of us will serve him as you know, to the
166 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
end of time, with all that we have or are. If only they knew the joy of
finding someone ready with heart and mind and will to follow the light
he sees! Where should he begin? Why, with the first fault of which
he is conscious. Conquer that ; put a virtue, the opposite of his fault, in
its place: and proceed with the next. It is divinely simple. . . .
'Should you lend him books on Theosophy?' No: not until he learns
by fidelity to the practice I have recommended that the only purpose of
books on Theosophy is to help us to build character/'
"That," interrupted the Objector, "is rank heresy. He should rid
his mind of superstition, and he should learn to love the truth for its own
sake. There is such a thing as an intellectual interest, absolutely
justifiable, in the nature of man and the universe."
"No man ceases to be superstitious by changing his ideas about
things : he merely changes his superstition. Nor is the truth ever known
until it is lived. An infinity of harm has been done in the name of
Theosophy by pandering to intellectual curiosity. What do you suppose
the Masters are working for? Can you imagine anything more horrible
than the children of so-called Theosophists, with minds made wise by
talk of Karma and rounds and races, but whose lives were immoral ! Is
that what the Masters want? No, a thousand times No! The Masters
work that heaven and earth may meet ; and this can happen only as one
man after another makes his own heart heavenly, his own life noble, his
own mind clean and true, direct and simple. There is no greater
wickedness than to prostitute the everlasting Light to common and mean
uses. It is meant to be lived by, not to be talked about and paraded
as an intellectual panacea. There are those who prostitute the name,
though not the Light (for that they cannot do) for personal aggrandize-
ment. There are those who prostitute the name again, not the Light
by attaching it to psychic hallucinations and to astral debauch. But the
state of these, bad as it is, can hardly be worse than the state of those
who act as if the acceptance of theosophical beliefs with the confusion
they call their minds, or the acceptance of those beliefs by others, could
make the slightest difference, this way or that, to the sum total of
spiritual Becoming. The kingdom of heaven will come when the char-
acter of men and of women is heavenly: not before. And the poorest
and most ignorant persons, Catholic or Buddhist, Mohammedan or
Hindu, may be nearer to the heart of Masters may be more kind, more
tolerant, more gentle, more loyal to the truth as he sees it, more
courageous morally, more sincere in aspiration, more fervent in effort
may be, in brief, a far better Theosophist, than some of us whose minds
are saturated with what we call Understanding, but whose lives prove
all too clearly that we have misunderstood and travestied outrageously
the wisdom we call divine.
"So I repeat again : do not let your friend read more than the first
ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 167
four axioms of Light on the Path for at least a month. Let him work
at those putting fire and steel into the work searching his nature for
the evil and ugly in it that he may put beauty and virtue in their place.
. . . And there are well-known books: The Imitation of Christ, for
instance. A chapter each day, with ten minutes for each paragraph,
will be more than enough. We kill ourselves with reading. . . .
Words and ever more words, and nothing done."
"But should I not tell him to meditate or to pray?"
"Pray; meditate by all means, so long as he does it with the right
motive: not that he may extract favours out of deity, or that he may
have 'experiences,' but that he may get strength for his one work, light
on his one work, love for his one work, which is the work of Masters
and of God the work of perfecting himself as a man, of perfecting his
character"
"Very few people know how to begin," ventured the questioner.
"I doubt whether I do."
"It has been explained hundreds of times," replied the Sage. "Read
Fragments. Ask yourself what kind of a person you would like to be;
what are the qualities that you dislike, and that your best friends dislike
in you. Do this methodically. Write down the result. Add to the list
from day to day. In this way you will sharpen the outline of your ideal ;
will make it more definite. But do not make the mistake of trying to
become everything at once. That would be as foolish as trying to learn
a dozen languages at the same" time. Take one day of the week for the
special practice of one virtue, and for the conquest or, rather, for the
transformation of one particular fault. Take the next day for another
virtue and for another weakness, and so on. Two or three times a day
examine yourself to see what you have been doing and thinking and
feeling: for your ideal must cover all the planes of your nature, and
you will discover before long that virtues and faults express themselves
on all planes. Keep a record of each day's work. Devise some system
of marking yourself for success and failure."
"Would not such a practice make one introspective and morbid?"
"Yes, if it were perverted for the feeding of vanity. If a man
were to examine himself, not in the light of his own ideal, or as in the
presence of his Master, but with desire for the approbation of the
multitude and with fear of their disapproval, it certainly would make
him morbid. Further, if instead of externalizing his ideal, he merely
broods over it psychically; if, instead of forcing himself into action of
a kind representing the opposite of his fault, he merely regrets and
laments his weakness, of course he will become introspective and negative
and abortive."
"What do you mean by 'the opposite of his fault' ? "
"Suppose a man to be too fond of eating, or of comfort in some
168 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
other form. This means that in his soul he desires to give pleasure and
comfort to others, and that this desire, spiritual in its origin, becomes
distorted as it passes through the personal consciousness and expresses
itself outwardly as self-indulgence. It is a common-place that bon-
vivants often are good-natured and 'easy going.' But suppose that a
man, with that fault, realizing that it makes him selfish and forgetful of
the interests or happiness of others, and wishful, therefore, to overcome
it, suppose that, whenever he finds himself meditating on prospective
meals, or lost in the enjoyment of immediate and objective turkey, he
checks himself, and then tries to discover some way in which he can
please or add to the enjoyment of others: do you not see that positive
and prompt action, if it go no further than pouring a glass of water for
his neighbour, will make morbid introspection impossible, and will also
create in him a tendency the opposite of his bad habit ? "
The Philosopher had been listening intently to this long dissertation
by the Sage. "Group consciousness," he said. "I have been thinking
along that line for a week or more. Of what possible use is a belief in
Reincarnation and in Karma, unless it helps us to realize that character
lasts ; that it is of permanent value ; that no effort to perfect ourselves is
thrown away; that we reap in practical efficiency both in this life and
forever, every act of self-renunciation and of positive well-doing?
The motive, of course, must not be the glorification of the individual
himself, but the desire to serve, with his Master, and for love of him,
those whom his Master serves. He must begin by realizing that there
is but the one way to do this the way you have outlined, the way of the
small, old path, stretching far away, along which all disciples have
travelled, and which in the present as in the past begins where each man
stands, with the performance of his most obvious duty, though with a
new incentive and an eternal purpose."
The Objector came to life again. "One of you," he said, "spoke of
reading, a few minutes ago, as if it would be a crime even to read the
QUARTERLY."
"And it would be a crime to read the QUARTERLY unless it were
read rightly," the Sage retorted. "The QUARTERLY may be used in such
a way as to enervate both the mind and the will. Everything we read
should lead to action, or the effect is injurious. I do not mean that
we can hope always for an immediate opportunity to express in action
the resolution of the will to which the reading should have led us: but
there must be real resolution and, through the imagination, actual visuali-
zation of that upon which the will has determined. Over and over again
I have noticed people, supposed to be resting, but absorbed in some novel,
and, after an hour of reading, more wearied than when they began:
negative instead of positive, weakened in will instead of strengthened.
Even novels can be read with profit, but only by those who remain
ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 169
positive while reading them. Suppose a young girl immensely attracted
by the heroine of a story, and rilled with desire, as she reads, to become
as refined or as charming or as self-sacrificing as the imaginary
character she admires. If she is positive in her attitude the result will
be beneficial, but if her attitude should be negative, she is as likely as not
to become discontented, discouraged and depressed. Works of pure
imagination, such as fairy tales and certain kinds of poems, are less likely
to be harmful than novels, because the only excuse for them is their
beauty, and the consequence is that our appreciation of them tends to
revive within us our desire for the beautiful."
"Yes, please allow for that," interjected the Student. "The Good,
the True, and the Beautiful each an aspect or quality of deity. So
long as reading results in an effective desire for the best of any of these,
it helps. And it should be sufficiently varied to cover all three aspects,
seeing that, without the due balance of all of them, deformity of
character must result."
"There I follow you without question. But I confess to being
tempted at times to wish that all novels could be suppressed. No matter
how valuable some of them may be, as studies of human nature, and as
revelations of human beauty, the fact remains that taste is easily vitiated.
We lose our taste for simple and nourishing food, such as requires
mastication, if we live for long on 'made' dishes. In the same way,
serious reading, meditative reading, becomes difficult and unpalatable
after a course of effortless absorption such as magazines and the novels
of the day make possible. ... I know that my tendency is to lay
stress on the value of the Good, perhaps at the expense of the True and
the Beautiful, and that everything I say ought to be qualified with that
in view. But this is because people will not realize that the man, even
the philosopher, who sees truth with his head without expressing it in
conduct, sees only the husk of truth : in other words, he does not see it
at all. The beautiful, also, cannot exist apart from truth and virtue,
while these, in their turn, create beauty. The plainest features become
lovely when love shines through them; and when the whole tenor of a
life is noble, nobility of feature, which surely is a form of beauty,
necessarily must result. It is easier, perhaps, to cloak evil with the
pretext of Beauty, and to cloak sloath with pretended love of Truth,
than to misuse the Good. In any case, so far as your friend is concerned,
it will be safest for him at first to concentrate his attention on the moral
qualities: the aesthetic will come later. And he should read whatever
he does read, with a single eye to that development."
"I do not think that any of you have made enough of prayer and
of meditation." It was the Disciple who spoke. "You wish and rightly
wish," he continued, "to insist upon that side of the subject which so
frequently is treated as of lesser consequence; but I doubt if any man
170 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
could understand what you have been saying about the growth of
character, simple as the truth of it is, unless he had previously simplified
his own heart by means of prayer. He might imagine that he under-
stood : but the proof of his understanding could be supplied only by the
way in which it affected his will. And if what you have been saying
were used by the Recorder in the Screen, the question is: how many
people would resolve to live differently in the future! Very few, I
fear, unless prayer had already brought them to that point."
"We have discussed prayer before," said the Objector, "and I for
one can see nothing in it except the folly of attributing to Deity an
ignorance of your needs which can be far from flattering, and which, if
the universe be governed by law, must be quite futile. You ask and
ask for things that you want, or that you believe your friends
need. . . ."
But the Disciple knew what was coming. "Pardon me," he said,
"but we are speaking of totally different things. There is, as you say,
the prayer of petition. But there are many other forms of prayer that
of contemplation, for instance, which, in theosophical terminology, would
be described as a very advanced form of meditation. If our previous
discussions have not made this clear to you, 'they have to others : that
I know. Yet I would suppose that anyone as familiar as you are with
theosophical literature ought to be able to interpret any mode of prayer
in terms of force, and to see in it, therefore, something more than futility.
Any prayer, if it be backed by desire, is creative. Desire, be it
remembered, 'first arose in It, which was the primal germ of Mind.'
It was through desire, and articulated desire, that the universe came
into being."
"I am going to use what you say," the Recorder interjected. "So
beware ! "
"In that case," replied the Disciple, with a smile, "you had better
begin by explaining that every human being, whether he knows it or not,
has a Master. One of the purposes of vocal prayer is to bring us into
touch with that Master, who is infinitely higher in the scale of life than
is usually supposed, but with whom, because of his greatness, it is
possible to establish the most personal and intimate relations. The
Buddhist prays to Buddha not only the northern Buddhist, but those of
the southern school also, as Fielding Hall has told us. The Christian prays
to Christ. These Masters are the representatives of God to those who
pray, both theologically and in fact ; for they are the mirrors, as it were,
in whose face God is seen. Prayer is a means of changing the conver-
sation we are constantly carrying on with ourselves into conversation
with that great being who is our Master : and this is something we must
do if we would make real progress in holiness."
ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 171
"Prayer," said the Objector, "is distinctly a Christian method; and
I dislike Christianity, root and branch."
"Be bold, be bold," the Disciple retorted. "Try to become a
Theosophist. If you succeed, you will cease to dislike Christianity.
You will welcome the truth wherever it is found. And you happen to
be wrong when you say that prayer is a Christian method. It is common
to all religions. You might as well say that self-conquest and the
cultivation of the virtues are Christian processes. Why not leave that
sort of thing to the missionaries of the early Victorian period? I have
just been reading the Kashf Al-Mahjub, the oldest Persian treatise on
Sufiism. Like all similar treatises, it is based, nominally, on the Koran,
which is quoted (xxix, 69) Those who strive to the utmost for Our
sake, We will guide them into Our ways.' Then the comment: 'The
mujahid (the disciple) is he who struggles with all his might against
himself for God's sake.' . . . But you would suggest, perhaps, with
the aforesaid missionaries, that such doctrines were stolen from
Christianity! No? Then you should read the section entitled 'The
Uncovering of the Fifth Veil: Concerning Prayer.' When Ali was
about to pray, we are told, his hair stood on end and he trembled, saying,
'The hour has come to fulfill a trust which the heavens and the earth were
unable to bear.' To him, 'every time of prayer was an ascension and a
new nearness to God.' . . . How can you be so bigoted, so narrow?
Surely it is a disgrace that any member of the Theosophical Society
should be unable to read with profit an exposition of prayer by some
Roman Catholic priest, or by some Hindu yogi, or Sufi mujahid, or
Buddhist ascetic! We should look for the Truth: not for its garb.
The universality of religious experience seems to me to flow so inevitably
from any comprehension of Madame Blavatsky's teaching, that even if
the Society were the pitiably sectarian sheep-pen which you would make
it, the most intolerant of its members would be compelled to admit that
the spiritual experience of Madame Blavatsky herself must have been
identical in essence and often similar in form to that of St. Theresa or
St. John of the Cross. . . . Yes, you make me indignant. Theosophy
stands for something so magnificent; so splendid in depth and breadth
and height ; for Light so terribly needed by the modern world, that to see
you, my friend, deprive yourself and therefore others of all but its rind,
compels an apology for anything less than anger ! "
They are very good friends, and the Objector realized that he had
carried provocation far enough. "Tell me," he said; "how can I do
penance? What books on prayer do you want me to read? "
"Unless you change your attitude, the fewer you read the better.
You have got to acquire humility at least to the point of being able to
recognize your own limitations among others, that as yet you do not
understand the first thing about the inner life. Take, for instance, a
i;2 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
book such as Progress in Prayer, translated from the French of
Caussade, and published by Herder of St. Louis. It costs about a
dollar. You will find references occasionally to the Mother of God and
to Mass, as you will find references in the books of any religion, which
you will not even dream of accepting. Surely you would not throw
away the wheat because of the chaff! Open that book at random, and
if you do not find something of practical value, something that you can
use, I promise to withdraw my recommendation."
The Objector took the book and opened it. "Sixth Dialogue," he
said, "page 99, 'Rules or Suggestions for Beginners.' "
"That ought to suit you admirably," and the Disciple beamed.
"Please read on."
"It is in the form of question and answer:
" 'Q. What suggestions have you for beginners?
" 'A. Mainly three : these, however, include many others.
"'Q. What is the first?
" 'A. To cultivate recollection at every favorable opportunity.
Often during spiritual reading, or at Mass, or at Holy Communion' (the
Objector squirmed), 'or after some little act of self-denial, or in conse-
quence of a good thought or of a brief raising of the heart to God, or on
similar occasions, we feel ourselves interiorly attracted by what may be
called a sudden taste of God.'
"I hate that," he said. "I hate the language of it. It is not only
sanctimonious; it is beastly sanctimonious."
"You remind me of a friend of mine, to whom, many years ago, I
loaned The Voice of the Silence. He opened it at random and read
some reference to 'the great Bird Aum.' His comment was far from
complimentary."
The Objector remembered: he was the friend: he had been the
commentator. "You have me there! Read on, Macduff," cried his
tormentor. So the reading was continued:
" This is really the work of the Holy Spirit' ("Call that Buddhi,"
interrupted the Disciple. "It will make it easier for you." "That is
foolish," the Objector rejoined, rather nettled: "I do know enough of
their language for that! "). 'These moments are favorable opportunities
not so much for speaking to God as for silently listening to Him' ("Call
that the Master," again interrupted the Disciple, "You have been trying
for years to find the Absolute. It is high time you attempted something
feasible. Change that word throughout to 'the Master' because you
have a Master, and this is to help you to find him. But now, read on :
I will not interrupt you again").
Once more the Objector read:
" 'At such times, we should not exercise our usual activity, but
rather simply submit to "the Master's" activity within us, and remain
ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 173
as long as possible in that loving and quiet attitude which can best be
designated as an attentive repose, and which virtually contains many
good acts, all of them well known to the Master.
"'Q. What are the benefits of this holy practice?' ("I wish he
would not be so pious ! ")
" 'A. First, touched by our continual attention, confidence and
abandonment, the Master effects within us whatever He knows to be best
for us ; and on our part there is no interference. In the second place, we
gradually form and strengthen the blessed habit of dwelling before the
Master in repose and attentive silence, a habit far more difficult to
acquire than is ordinarily supposed.
'"Q. How can that be? At first sight, nothing seems easier than
this silent repose. Indeed, to many it seems so easy that they regard
it as idleness.
" 'A. The difficulty of acquiring this habit comes first from our
secret presumption and vain confidence. We behave as if persuaded
that no progress could be made unless our own share in the activity
were greater than the Master's. St. Catherine of Genoa relates what
our Lord said to her about this. She had asked, Lord, how is it that
in the time of the apostles and prophets, Thou didst work so many great
things, and gavest Thyself so abundantly to men; whereas now it is far
otherwise? Our Lord replied: My daughter, men used to be more
simple and more diffident. Formerly they depended entirely on Me;
but now they are so self-confident, so concerned about what they them-
selves are doing and saying, that they do not even give me time to work
My will in their souls. They are incessantly repeating things to Me;
as if I were likely to forget anything. They wish to say everything
themselves and to do everything in their own way .
" 'Secondly, the difficulty comes from the fact that it is extremely
repugnant to our self-love and our natural mental activity for us thus
to renounce our own thoughts, reflections, and customary operations, and
to confine ourselves to simple direct acts, hardly perceived and hardly
perceptible. This is a real dying to oneself, and is perhaps the most
mortifying kind of interior self-denial.
" 'Q. Do the saints seem ever to have experienced this difficulty ?
" 'A. They do, indeed. The venerable Mother de Chantal actually
felt that she required an express command in order to overcome her
shrinking.
" ' My Father, she wrote to her holy director, order me to keep
myself in this repose and silence. I trust that my mind will respect your
commands .
"'The pious Bishop replied: Your prayer of simple rest (recol-
lection) in God is extremely holy and salutary. Do not doubt this.
. . . You have only to keep on practising it quietly .
I 7 4 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
" 'St. Francis de Sales often vainly urged himself to preserve this
interior silence so that he might follow his attraction. Once when his
mind had grown weary with prolonged discoursing, he cried out : O my
God, do Thou Thyself arrest this wanderer!
" 'Q. . . . But supposing that a favorable opportunity for recol-
lection happens to occur during vocal prayer or during spiritual reading,
ought these exercises to be interrupted?
" 'A. If the prayers are not of obligation, we should quietly interrupt
them and devote ourselves to recollection as long as the attraction lasts.
According to Bossuet, to act thus is simply to abandon the less perfect
for the more perfect. . . .
" 'And now as to spiritual reading. Although to attend to things
written about the Master is profitable, yet it is still better to listen to the
Master Himself; when He deigns to speak in the inner recesses of our
hearts. Moreover, excepting the case of necessary instruction, we need
not attend to what we are reading any further than is needful in order
that our hearts should taste it. It is an established maxim with the
mystics that we enter more deeply into the truths of faith by peacefully
tasting them than by any amount of reasoning. Hence some simple
persons, with neither learning nor wisdom, have grander ideas of God
and of the mysteries of faith than souls who confine themselves to
intellectual investigation. The Psalmist said, Taste ye and see; and
not, as might have been expected, See ye and taste. A great modern
mystic well versed in this matter, has said : The words we read are only
the rind of the fruit, but the taste of God we obtain is, as it were, the
juice which nourishes and strengthens the soul.
" 'Q. But I do not quite understand how a simple taste of God can
produce these great results in the soul.
" 'A. It is a general principle that the heart is bound to an object
more easily, quickly and permanently by taste and feeling than by
knowledge. Note the wonderful attachment that a single taste of the
miserable pleasures and vain amusements of the world can produce in
persons otherwise very sensible. This may help you to understand how
the soul is attached to the Master more strongly in the measure that its
taste of Him is more perceptible and more sweet. When the soul tastes
the Master, its increase of knowledge keeps pace with its feelings.' "
"Very mystical, that," said the Sage. "The uninitiated who read it
will do as Fitzgerald did with the Rubaiyat : they will take it literally as
physical taste just as he took wine and the cup, to represent alcoholic
intoxication. ... I am not sure, even, of the Objector." But the
Objector snorted defiance and continued his reading.
" 'Q. And now, what is your second suggestion ?
" 'A. It concerns the way in which we should receive the gift of a
perceptible taste of the Master. Beginners who are, as St. Paul says,
ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 175
usually nourished with the milk of spiritual consolation, are apt to abuse
these consolations, and, on that account, soon to be deprived of them.
" 'Q. How may this danger be avoided ?
" 'A. Our consolations should be received in a spirit of noble
disinterestedness ; we must never become attached to them.
" 'Q. Why must we be disinterested?
" 'A. In order that we may never be led to pray for selfish pur-
poses ; and that our motive in praying may always be to obey the Master's
will and to learn how to conform to it better and better. Disinterested-
ness is necessary again, that we may never let ourselves be carried away
by sweetness and led to act as a famishing person does when presented
with food and drink. Sensible tastes are only means of union with God.
We must not dally in them; we must always keep moving on toward
the Master who has bestowed them only to help lead us to Himself.
These tastes should be valued only in so far as they remedy our infirmities
and inspire us with disgust for creatures.' (" 'Indifference to worldly
objects/ is the translation there," remarked the Disciple. "Every word
of this could be paralleled from the spiritual treatises of other religions,
but it would be difficult to find such simplicity and directness of statement,
once you become familiar with the terminology.") " 'In a word, since the
Master requires moderation in all things, our behaviour during these
blessed moments should be something like the behaviour of temperate
people at table ; they eat to sustain life and health and strength, and not
merely to please the palate.
" 'Q. Why must we avoid attachment to these sensible consola-
tions ?
" 'A. Because the Master and not His gifts should be the object of
all our attachments.' ("He means there the will of the Master, which of
course is the will of the Higher Self," the Disciple explained.) " To be
attached to His gifts would beget in us over-eagerness when they are
bestowed, and anxiety when they are withdrawn.
" 'Q. But is not such anxiety holy ? and what harm then can result
from it?
"'A. This, that whenever the Master withdraws sensible consola-
tion, we shall always experience uneasiness, trouble and grief.
" 'Q. Then He does sometimes withdraw it ? Why so ?
* 'A. The Master deals with beginners as a mother with her son.
When training him, she often opposes him just for the sake of teaching
him that he must have no other will than hers. She makes him come
and go at her bidding, do a thing and then undo it, lay down what he
has just taken up and take up again what he has just laid down. In the
same way, the Master, in order to render souls pliant and flexible in His
hands, opposes their holiest desires. A hundred times a day He lets
them experience the sweet approach of a consolation which comes, is felt,
176 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
and vanishes, all in a single instant. Occasionally, our prayer consists
in nothing but a constant recurrence of these phenomena ; though in the
end it will result most profitably if, by holy detachment from all things
of sense, we practise heroic renunciation of our own will and blindly
submit to the Master's will.' "
The Disciple broke in : "I promised not to interrupt your reading,"
he said; "but that last paragraph serves incidentally to show how
necessary it is to test all things and to hold fast only to that which is
true. No mother would behave in the idiotic way that he suggests : nor
would a Master. A child might imagine that his mother had no better
motive than unreasonably to test his patience and obedience. But,
granting the mother to be something better than a fool, she has other
and more valid reason for her request, or for her withdrawal of that
which her child enjoys.
"Faber, in his Growth in Holiness, explains it better. But the
experience is common to all mystics. As beginners that is to say, once
they really begin they receive from that Master much encouragement,
of which they are conscious as 'spiritual sweetness' and 'sensible devotion.'
He uses his own force in order that they may have something tangible
to go upon ; a basis to work from ; experience which will enable them to
read devotional treatises, not as descriptions of unexplored country, but
as statements of fact already partly verified. And because the force
reaches them from without, there is bound to be reaction, which means
'dryness,' and, in comparison with the earlier fervour, a weakening of will
and of aspiration. The question then is, whether they have derived
sufficient benefit from what has been given them, to enable them to
proceed with faith and courage. Will they prove themselves worthy or
unworthy? Will they stand the test? Will they justify this use by a
Master of his spiritual life, or will they disappoint and rob him? So
long as they continue to try, earnestly, and with persistence, they return
his gift with interest. If they fail to do that, he, the Master who has
risked much to help them, loses the seed he has sown.
"Masters do not seek to make us dependent upon them. They wish
us to become self-reliant fellow- workers with them. And although that
height will take ages to attain, a beginning must be made. Consequently,
even if it were not for the law of reaction, and for the serious harm that
would be done to us if we continued to be stimulated as the beginner
needs to be, Masters would be compelled before long, for our own sakes,
not to leave us to our own devices for that they never do but to make
their help less noticeable psychically and emotionally. It is the Master's
force that sustains us during reaction and dryness. It is His strong
hand that keeps us from irremediable stumbling after His first forward
impetus has expended itself. But while we may have recognized the
impetus as from Him (more often we have taken it as evidence of our
own astonishing devotion), the beginner is rarely able to do more than
ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 177
recognize theoretically the unseen and intangible help which follows.
But he has his opportunity to learn his own insignificance, and therefore,
f the task which confronts him. ... It would be folly for him to
say, There is no reason for this except as a test of my endurance.' He
should acknowledge that he does not know his Master's purpose, and
should seek to know it in order that he may, by his own attitude, satisfy
that purpose as rapidly as possible. And he may at least be certain of
one thing: reaction of any kind, dryness in prayer or in other effort,
invariably means that some part of the nature has not yet been sur-
rendered to the highest: it is proof positive of some kind of holding
back. Consequently, the best thing for him to do is to seek within
himself for this hidden barrier; strictly and literally to obey the rule of
life he adopted when the tide was with him ; cheerfully to accept the fact
that he is not yet perfect, and that he is privileged, not at once to join
the choirs of angels, but to work, patiently and humbly, to improve
himself. . . . But enough of Caussade's misleading comparison.
Forgive my interruption and please continue." And the Objector
continued.
" 'Q. And what harm can result from a holy eagerness to retain
the Master's gifts?
" 'A. The harm comes from our wishing to appropriate them. We
act like badly trained or ill-natured children who, unless force is used,
will never yield up what they have once got in their hands. Such
eagerness produces that excessive caution which St. Teresa treats as
superstition when she speaks of persons so jealous of the sweetness of
their recollection that they are afraid to cough, to move or even to
breathe. 'They act,' says St. Francis de Sales, 'as if on account of these
necessary movements, God was going to deprive them of a favor
conferred the moment before.' Hence neither charity, zeal nor
prudence will induce these persons to relinquish the sweetness of their
recollection, still less will they cheerfully relinquish it, if some provi-
dential misfortune comes to test their docility and to strip them of their
own wills in order to clothe them in the will of the Master. Finally this
anxiety causes them to indulge in much reflection about themselves and
their recollection, and so to bring on many wilful distractions which,
diverting the soul's inner gaze from the Master and toward self, deprive
it of the recollection it is anxious to preserve. St. Francis de Sales used
to say that the surest means of preserving holy recollection is to
disregard it, for it will be lost by those who cherish it too fondly. He
used also to cite the words spoken by the Spouse in the Canticle to His
beloved : Turn thy eyes, for they have made Me flee away.'
" 'Q. What is the real meaning of these words?
" 'A. They teach us to suppress all curiosity about what is happening
within us during recollection. We must be content with feeling in a
general way that many things are happening which the Master hides
12
i 7 8 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
from us. We must trust in Him and abandon ourselves to Him. After-
wards, perhaps, He will let us know more.
" 'Q. And now, what is your final suggestion ?
" 'A. It concerns distractions. There are several kinds of distrac-
tions. Some of them do not interfere at all with recollection ; others are
even favorable to it; and others, again, are of such a nature that they
cause suffering by, as it were, dividing the faculties of the soul.
" 'Q. Well, we need not concern ourselves very much about the
first kind, since they do not interfere with recollection; still you had
better tell me what they are.
" 'A. They consist of certain vagrant thoughts which pass through
the mind, appearing and disappearing with the rapidity of lightning,
while the heart remains all the time attached to the object of its affections.
You see the heart's sweet repose is decided enough to counterbalance these
trifling distractions; just as the pleasure of listening to a fine voice is
enough to counterbalance the distraction caused by a slight noise, so that
we continue to hear the delightful in spite of the annoying sounds.
" 'Q. And now tell me what are the distractions that favor recol-
lection ?
" 'A. Those which the Master employs in bestowing recollection.
" 'Q. How does He do that, and why ?
" 'A. Suppose that with much effort and the assistance of ordinary
grace, we have acquired active recollection which is both difficult to get
and hard to keep. Now the mind is still disposed to wander and to stray
away in useless thoughts and reflections. The instant we become con-
scious of any such involuntary wandering, there occurs in the soul a
certain interior motion, a kind of mental recoil, which brings us back to
ourselves before we know how or why. Then we find ourselves in a
new sort of recollection quite different from the former, sweet, continual
and easy. After many such experiences, the soul, 'trained in the school
of the heart,' realizes that this infused recollection is not the fruit of
human labor or industry but is bestowed by the Master on whomsoever
He pleases and by whatever means He pleases.
" 'Q. And now, what are the distractions which cause so much
suffering by dividing the faculties of the soul ?
" 'A. They consist of the follies and extravagances of the imagina-
tion, which occur while the mind and the heart are occupied with the
Master, and which seem cruelly to divide the soul within itself. St.
Teresa says that she was in this sad state for a long time and that she
never found any remedy but patience. She gives her opinion character-
istically by quoting the Spanish proverb, 'Provided the mill grinds out
the flour, care not for the noise of the mill-clapper.' Thus she compares
a disordered imagination to a distressingly loud mill-clapper; the heart
attached to the Master and occupied with Him, being the mill which is
grinding out the soul's spiritual nourishment.
ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 179
" 'Q. Does not the imagination sometimes lead the mind astray ?
" 'A. Yes ; and, as if for our instruction, St. Teresa herself
experienced that also. 'My mind/ she says, 'wandered about like an
insane person from room to room. But we must not run after our
minds,' she adds, 'for in rushing after the wandering mind and the
vagabond imagination to recall them, we run the risk of ruining all, by
losing our sweet repose of heart in God.'
" 'Q. Then what should we do ?
" 'A. We should remain in this sweet repose of heart. Our
wandering faculties will gradually be led back by the sweet attraction,
as a swarm of bees is drawn toward a hive by some pleasant sound or
some fragrant odor, to cite the illustration used by St. Francis de Sales.
St. Teresa says that this happy reunion of the powers during a perfectly
calm repose in the Master, makes holy souls feel that there is nothing
further left for them to desire.
" 'Q. But how can the faculties thus first separate, and then unite?
" 'A. Well, at any rate, the fact is rendered indisputable by the
testimony of St. Teresa and St. Francis de Sales. What these saints
have written should go far toward convincing us ; for besides the gift of
sanctity, they had also, to say the very least, as much intelligence and
acuteness as ourselves.
" 'By way of illustrating their words we may recall to mind what
occurs in a soul under the spell of a strong, ardent passion, but moved,
despite itself, by sad thoughts and fancies. In such a case there takes
place a painful division between the faculties. But once let the passion-
inflamed heart win over to itself the other powers and immediately all
sad thoughts and fancies vanish. There is now no longer interior division
or contradiction. All is harmony, union, peace, and in consequence, the
soul is perfectly tranquil.' "
The Objector stopped. "That is the end of the chapter," he said.
"I admit there are good ideas in it. I shall read some more later. I had
not realized that the word 'prayer' is used to mean something so much
like what I have always called meditation."
"What you have read impresses me as immensely suggestive," com-
mented the Sage. "And anyone acquainted with theosophical literature
ought to be able to see far more in it than those who have not had that
advantage. Yet there is a certain type of mind which, in all honesty,
would shrink from the re-phrasing which the Disciple advocated that
use of the term 'the Master' where the author speaks of God. They
would feel that to put the Masters in the place of deity would be
idolatrous and in any case 'personal.' "
"That would show on their part a very inadequate appreciation of
personality," replied the Disciple. "If they take themselves as a
standard, seeing even their own personalities with the personal con-
sciousness, instead of from above, with the consciousness of the soul,
i8o THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
the result is sure to be little and mean. The personality of a Master
is an expression, in terms of human consciousness, of the Logos itself.
If they would consider the orthodox view of Christ, and look for the
truth that is in it rather than the error, they would get light on the
problem of a Master's nature and function. I do not mean the view of
Episcopalians, which, as a rule, relegates Christ to a seat at the right
hand of God in a place beyond the skies; but the view of enlightened
Christians such as St. Francis de Sales. Oddly enough, though, the
Articles of Religion of the Episcopal Church insist upon the present and
continued humanity of Christ as much as upon His continued embodiment
of the Logos. The point is, however, that those who think they can
reach the Higher Self, which is the Atma or Logos, directly, are mis-
taken. The Master who stands at the head of the hierarchy of souls to
which they belong, focusses for them the light of the Logos ; so that it is
only through Him that they receive that light; only in Him that they
can find their real and immortal self. They have to partake of His life
and consciousness ; have to make His will their own, as the only means
they have of unifying themselves. It is foolish of them, therefore, to
shut themselves off from the real for fear of the unreal. Masters are
not likely to encourage idolatry. Nor, judging by the experience of one
of them in Palestine, is there much danger of their being idolized. I, for
one, should like to believe myself capable of over-doing it. My danger
so far, has been of the opposite kind. . . . But I thought that the
Philosopher was going to expound his ideal of womanhood. Was not
that promised in the last SCREEN ? "
"I said 'To be continued in our next,' " the Philosopher replied.
"And, indirectly, some of the ground has been covered. The Sage turned
it over to me because the subject is dangerous. And I am merely a man.
The more I have thought about it, the more dangerous it appears. Tell
a woman without charm, that to be a saint she needs to be more ideally
womanly; and that an ideal woman, like a saint, necessarily is charming
and if she happens to be the wrong kind of woman, she will accuse you
of depravity. Tell her that her only right is to love, and, if we may
judge by newspaper reports, she may stab you with a hat pin. And
really I do not blame her: I leave that to the self-respecting women.
A woman married, who does not love, is in the hell of hells, and should
not be regarded as responsible. And that happens so often nowadays
marriage being entered into so lightly that a man should perhaps remain
silent as penance for the bestial selfishness of other men. I hit upon
a principle in the course of my cogitations which, on some other occasion,
may serve as a point of departure; but this is all that I have to say at
present: A woman's love, which means a woman's womanliness and
practical effectiveness, may be gauged by her power of self-forgetfulness,
and by her intuitive perception of the needs of others. ... I move
that we adjourn." T.
EMENTARY
WHY ARE WE HERE?
WHY are we here at all? and why at this particular place
and time? and what are we here for? These are ques-
tions that are exciting great interest at the present time ;
and to the Theosophist the various answers are most
interesting. A reader of the Clarion asks, "What on earth is life? Is
there any meaning attached to it? What purpose does it serve?"
The big-hearted, illogical editor, Mr. Robert Blatchford replies, "I
do not know but I am of like opinion with you that there is no
purpose behind life." He thinks "the universe has been evolved by
the action of phenomena which we sometimes call natural laws, or
natural forces."
In this he seems to agree with Mr. G. Bernard Shaw who has
named this force the "Life Force." To Mr. Shaw this life force is
a blind unconscious urge toward ever fuller manifestation. It knows
nothing about what it is doing, it simply goes on pushing under a
sort of inherent compulsion. Everything that exists is the outcome
of this eternal push of the life force acting under inherent compulsion.
It keeps on building new forms which last but a little while and then
perish. In former ages this life force produced giant birds and
monstrous reptiles, but it has now quit producing these for creatures
of quite a different kind, much smaller but more highly organized,
culminating in man. Still it knows no more about man than it does
about anything else, for it did not plan him the life force has no
mind but in a way stumbled onto him. Man is up to the present
its most successful effort. It will keep on evolving higher and higher
beings until it has evolved one who is omniscient and omnipotent.
Thus instead of God creating the universe as has been supposed, the
universe will ultimately create God.
As far as I can gather this is essentially the teaching of Bergson,
the new authority in philosophy ; according to this view there is no
particular reason why we are here except that it just happened, and
so there is no particular purpose for us to fulfill except to do the
best we can for ourselves, for we shall soon cease to be and better
and higher beings will take our place. We ask in vain why we
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182 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
appeared at this particular time and place with our peculiar disposi-
tion, talents, tendencies, desires, and so on.
If we turn to the old orthodox religion we may get an answer
that will be as satisfactory as this, and to a great many people more
satisfying. When I was a boy the answer of the church to the ques-
tions why? and what for? was, that the Creator had sent us here
on probation, and that we held in our own hands our eternal destiny
eternal joy or eternal pain. This answer the church has greatly
modified, and now tells us that we have been sent here by a wise
and loving Father who desires that we cultivate the higher and
finer qualities of our nature; that we render loving service to our
brothers and sisters who are also the children of God; and that our
life and conduct here will determine our destiny hereafter. The
church does not pretend to know anything about a prenatal existence,
nor, except in a general way, what really happens after death. In
this I refer more especially to Protestant Churches as it is almost
impossible for an outsider to get accurate knowledge of the present
day beliefs of the Roman Catholic Church. Among the Protestants
there is still a minority who hold and teach that death finally fixes
our character and destiny.
The only satisfactory answers that I have found to these ques-
tions have come to me from the teachings of Theosophy. What it
has to say on the birth and growth of the Ego and the laws of Karma
and Reincarnation, seems to give full, reasonable, and satisfactory
answers to the questions "Why are we here?" "Why are we here at
this time and place with such characters, tastes and desires as we
have?" "And what are we here for?" That is, what is the purpose
and what will be the outcome of it all? This teaching as I have
understood it is that all Human Egos have one source, and when
they started from that source they were in a state of passive, negative
purity, but with a positive desire for sentient existence. So like the
Knights of ancient legends they left this home of spiritual purity to
seek adventure in the world of matter and sensation. Or perhaps,
the spiritual Ego looked down on the chaos of matter and in the
spirit of divine compassion descended from its pure state to bring
light out of the darkness, and order out of the conflicting elements,
to make a Cosmos out of the chaos.
Whichever be the true idea we emerge from a state of passive rest
into one of active experience; and have passed through a long series
of existence and planes seeking to gather experience. Each succeed-
ing plane was more gross than the preceding one until we are now
on what we call the physical, or molecular plane the grossest of all.
This is the turning point in our long journey, and from this we
shall begin a series of existences on planes, each higher in point of
WHY ARE WE HERE 183
the source from which they started in a state of active perfection,
rich with the soul experiences gathered through many lives. And
we are here at this particular spot and with this particular character
as the direct result of the way we have lived on all these different
planes. We have been thinking thoughts and doing deeds which
have turned out to be powerful causes; they have been seeds sown
in our own aura, which lie latent until we get into conditions which
favor germination and growth. By changing conditions and making
them favorable a crop may be hastened and brought to harvest more
quickly ; or given unfavorable conditions, the harvest may be delayed.
The "desire for sentient existence" is a cause of reincarnation,
but the appearance of an Ego at a particular time, in a particular
place and condition suggests other causes. The recurrence of favor-
able conditions causes the ripening of the seeds of particular desires,
and so draws the Ego back and gives it a body which is the expres-
sion of a certain set of desires and tendencies that form the character
of the personality for that life. Of course the character of the per-
sonality is not necessarily the real character of the Ego. The real
character of the Ego could only be represented by all the thoughts,
desires, aspirations and tendencies of all past lives, but what we are
and the place we fill is the direct result of our thoughts and desires
in past lives. We are now on the physical plane and the quicker
we can exhaust its experiences and .learn its lessons, the sooner we
shall pass to a higher plane. This is what we are here for.
The Masters of Theosophy, our Elder Brothers, are anxious to
help us to select those experiences that are concerned with the eternal
in man and to discard those that are impermanent. In other words,
they seek to help us discern between the immortal and the mortal.
While it is said that the Ego must go through every form of exist-
ence to gather experience, still we may now learn the lesson of some
experiences without undergoing them. We do not have to take
poison and die in order to learn the fatal effect of poison on the
human body, we may see or learn of its effects and so get the exper-
ience needed. In like manner, by study, observation and loving
sympathy with others we may gain many spiritual results. It often
takes a long time to find out the relation of an experience to the
immortal, and the relation of one experience to another. By love
and hate we may be drawn aside from the middle path of duty, after
which it takes a long time to get adjusted again, as it does also to
learn indifference to pleasure and pain. These and other things
cause delay in our evolution, and we should seek for ways of hasten-
ing this evolution by the acquirement of the necessary experiences
as rapidly as possible.
The belief in and the practice of Universal Brotherhood, and
unselfish working for others will help wonderfully in attaining the
184 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTER!
Js '
*
. . ^
spirituality than the preceding one/untrt' the Egos reach 7 their home
object of our existence here. In order 10 exhaust the experiences of
a plane one would have to go individually through every form of
existence and the countless varieties therein until he had gathered
all their experiences. On the human plane there are races, subraces
and branch races, each branch having its tribal varieties and in
them innumerable individuals and in each individual many phases of
character. If we had to take an incarnation for each experience we
could hardly get through before the Round was closed. In the race
to which we at present belong there are so many nations that to
incarnate for each one would take an enormous amount of time.
But by cultivating the spirit of Universal Brotherhood and sympathy
we are enabled to put ourselves into the place of others in joy and
sorrow and so to share their experiences. By this means we can
greatly diminish the number of incarnations we would otherwise
have to undergo. The broader our sympathies become the greater
will our experience be, the less the number of births and the more
quickly shall we be permeated with a feeling of universal sympathy
and so become a part of the universal law of order and harmony.
On the other hand if we cultivate the spirit of selfishness, closing
our eyes and our hearts to the sorrows of others we shall increase
the number of incarnations we must experience and gradually lose
the power to sympathize with the joys and sorrows in the hearts
of our brothers and sisters. This, of course, means that we shall
become unable to enjoy our own lives, for that is the inevitable
result of separating ourselves from others. Sympathy with all that
lives, and an unselfish service of others not only lightens the burdens
of those we help and removes the thorns from their path, but also
makes our own path smoother and greatly increases our joy. The
spirit of love, of self-forgetfulness is the law of progress.
"Let us take to our hearts a lesson no lesson can braver be
From the ways of the tapestry weavers on the other side of the sea.
Above their heads the pattern hangs ; they study it with care ;
The while their fingers deftly weave, their eyes are fastened there.
They tell this curious thing besides, of the patient, plodding weaver
He works on the wrong side evermore, but works for the right side ever.
It is only when the weaver stops, and the web is loosed and turned,
That he sees his real handiwork that his marvellous skill is learned.
Ah ! the sight of its delicate beauty ! how it pays him for all the cost,
No rarer, daintier work than his was ever done by the frost.
The years of men are nature's looms, let down from the place of the sun
Wherein we are weaving always, till the mystic web is done.
Sometimes blindly; but weaving surely, each for himself his fate;
We may not see how the right side looks ; we must often weave and wait."
JOHN SCHOFIELD.
Briefe die mir geholfen haben: Published by Paul Raatz, Berlin, Germany.
This is the German translation of the Second Series of the letters of William Q.
Judge, published in English with the significant title : Letters that Have Helped Me.
Perhaps the most effective comment we can make on this well-printed and
attractive German translation of the Letters is to say that, after the first minute
or two we forgot completely that it was a translation, forgot that we were reading
letters, and remembered only the wonderful personality of Mr. Judge, his power,
his light, his gentleness, his consecration. Like a mountain, he rises as we recede
from him in time, looming up as one of the wisest teachers in the world, one
with a sovereign certainty of touch in all questions of the conduct of life. We
should like to see a complete edition of the "Letters" with Mr. Judge's name on
the cover. C. J.
Discipleship, by Reverend G. Campbell Morgan, London. Published by Fleming
H. Revell Company. "How interesting it will be and how strange," a friend
remarked last night, "when people begin to get Theosophy out of Christianity,
instead of doing what most of us have done, get our Christianity through
Theosophy." This morning the Reverend Campbell Morgan's little volume came
to me. I heard of this clergyman first from two members of The Theosophical
Society, who went many times to hear him. They reported that quite uncon-
sciously he was teaching Christianity in a theosophical manner. The comment of
those two members of The Theosophical Society should have been a preparation
for the little book I have just read; yet it surprises me as much as if I had never
heard of its author.
Mr. Morgan not only thinks of the Master as a definite, concrete individual,
but he seems familiar with functions of Christ for which he can find no authority,
I believe, in the teachings of any modern Church. He declares that the Master
is at the head of a very strictly guarded technical school which provides oppor-
tunities for its members to prove in practical life the truths which the Head
Master imparts to them individually. Mr. Morgan is very clear as to the definite-
ness of the Master's position in the School. "It is not that of a lecturer, from
whose messages men may or may not deduce applications for themselves. It is
not that of a prophet merely, making a Divine pronouncement, and leaving the
issues of the same. It certainly is not that of a specialist on a given subject,
declaring his knowledge, to the interest of a few, the amazement of more, and
the bewilderment of most. It is none of these.
It is that of a teacher Himself possessing full knowledge, bending over a
pupil, and for a set purpose, with an end in view, imparting knowledge step by
step, point by point, ever working on toward a definite end. That conception
includes also the true ideal of our position. We are not casual listeners, neither
are we merely interested hearers desiring information; we are disciples, looking
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186 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
toward and desiring the same end as the Master and therefore listening to every
word, marking every inflection of voice that carries meaning, and applying all our
energy to realizing the Teacher's purpose for us."
Mr. Morgan declares that the Master's School is more strictly guarded than
any institution of man, because, on account of the importance of the truths to
be revealed, the Master himself stands at the threshold forbidding any to enter
save upon very definite and very rigorous conditions. Yet those conditions bar
no race, color, creed or caste of men. All those who accept the conditions for
entrance, become His pupils. "Disciples are those who gather around this
Teacher and are trained by Him. Seekers after truth, not merely in the abstract,
but as a life force, come to Him and join the circle of those to whom He reveals
these great secrets of all true life. Sitting at His feet, they learn from the
unfolding of His lessons the will and ways of God for them ; and obeying each
successive word, they realize within themselves, the renewing force and uplifting
power thereof." The privilege of discipleship in the Master's School, means much
more, however, than definite, fixed hours of instruction. It means that the disciple's
whole life, every moment of it, is in the Teacher's keeping, is under His eye.
The Teacher, in fact, moves just ahead of each pupil through every day, leaving
in sight the print of His feet in which the pupil is to set his own :
"All the circumstances and surroundings of the disciples are in the hands of
the Supreme Lord who teaches, and these He manipulates and arranges for the
purpose of the advancement and development of His own."
Mr. Morgan says the word disciple and the individual relationship it
implies has gone out of use in the modern world. In the churches it surely has.
I wonder if some one will object if I say that one of the gifts Theosophy is
making to the Church is in bringing the Church to see the possibility of discipleship
today. ALFRED WILLISTON.
/ said, "One gets so hungry on the way." He answered: "But for the hunger,
you would never complete the journey." Book of Items.
ANSWERS
QUESTION 144. What is the Over Soul and what is its relation to the souls
of men?
ANSWER. It may prove helpful in considering one single phase of this
large question to think in familiar electrical terms. Considered in this light
the spiritual man, the real individuality, the monad or the soul in man, would
be the force and power (current used) in individual motors and the Over Soul
would then be regarded as the force and power (electricity) recognized as existing
somewhere and somehow but not understood even by scientists. The Masters in
the Lodge might be considered as the force and power (current generated) in the
central generator or dynamo, drawing force and power from the Exhaustless
Source and transmitting it to the individual power-units or motors. In this sense
the Over Soul is the Source of force and power and the Man-Soul its lowest
manifestation. There is essential unity in the chain yet there is also distinctly
individual expression. To carry the simile further it will be recalled that the
effectiveness of the electric current in practical application or lower plane mani-
festation as kinetic energy depends upon th: relative efficiency of the motor. If
the latter be merely a mass of metal it can manifest nothing and as its efficiency
or harmonic running as an operating machine improves there is an increasing
percentage of available output. The value of a motor depends upon its "efficiency"
that is to say on how much of the current received it furnishes in available
kinetic energy; or the proportion the "horse-power output" bears to the current
"input." So perhaps the effectiveness of the individual soul functioning in the
personal man depends upon the power of the human to express the divine.
G. V. S. M.
ANSWER. The Oversoul is the source of all Love. It is Love itself it is God.
It is that from which all Love emanates and towards which all Love flows.
Its relation to the souls of men is that between the Sun and a bit of sunlit
earth. There is an unbroken stream of sunshine which touches the earth. At the
same time the earth is giving back the warmth and sunlight which it has already
caught and made its own. So that our bit of earth is both earthy and sunny.
In the same way we are both human and Divine. The more of the sunshine or
Love or goodness we can catch, make our own, radiate and give back, the more
our souls are one with the Oversoul. T. M.
QUESTION 145 W hat is the attitude of a Theosophist toward his neighbors?
ANSWER. A Theosophist should have no personal ends to serve, no hobby
to ride, no special doctrine which he wishes to force upon others. He does not
seek converts to his personal creed, for he realizes that the beliefs of others are
as essential to them as his own are to him. If they are satisfied with their
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possessions, what warrant has he for asking them to test his theories and con-
clusions? To the true Theosophist, the position of others, even of those near and
dear to him, is not a matter of vital concern. As he goes about his daily duties,
the superficial observer might conclude that his attitude toward persons and events
was carefree to the point of indifference. Still the puzzled observer would find
him an industrious worker among all classes of men, actively concerned in all
movements that make for the betterment of mankind. He may tell you in one
moment that "Each one has to bear his own burdens," and yet in the next moment
he may assist someone who has fallen under a heavy load to rise and journey on.
According to commonly accepted standards his conduct may seem most
inconsistent; praiseworthy in one case, blameworthy in the next. But look a
little deeper; look to his motive for such a course. Certainly he has chosen the
more difficult social path; but from his standpoint he could not conscientiously
act otherwise. In his company, one will receive no flattery, and may even
experience an affront, or quiet condemnation. If the Theosophist is true to
himself and to the higher welfare of his friends he does not cater to their likes
and dislikes, that is to their personal egotism. Sooner or later they will appreciate
that he is true to the highest in himself and in them; their resentment will be
changed to gratitude, in proportion as they perceive that the real good of each
is aimed at, rather than the gaining of passing good will.
To one who perceives the Law acting upon its own plane, absolute justice
will be seen to prevail in all conditions; any other state of affairs will appear
to him quite impossible. He who perceives the true action of Law will not be
overjoyed at any seeming good fortune or dismayed at any apparent evil ; for he
realizes that all works toward a common good. The extreme suffering and distress
which befall mankind, is but one manifestation of the same kind, just and
inexorable Law, which in another phase yields great joy and pleasure ; both are
blessings, which inevitably tend to higher development.
Therefore, instead of allowing himself to be wrought into great joy or deep
distress upon the occurrence of any event, he should remain calm and tranquil
under all circumstances. Thus does he more consciously become the Law by
acting as it does, impersonally and impartially.
Applying this principle in the ordinary affairs of life : we should sympathize
with those who suffer and assist them to the full extent of our power, endeavouring
to show them that deliverance lies in themselves, in the Higher Selves of each.
That ultimate escape from trial, suffering, sorrow, misery, may be found, not by
flight, but rather by bravely facing and overcoming them; thus developing that
inner strength which inheres potentially in every one. To attempt escape, to avoid,
to compromise, is but to deceive themselves ; it only lengthens and intensifies present
pain. That their first duty is to call upon and exercise that self-control which is
evidence of true strength. That these very trials and sufferings are for the express
purpose of evolving the real being which they as yet scarcely know. That their
present actions determine their future; for thus is destiny vested in ourselves.
That an honest and conscientious performance of the ever present duty is the only
key to real growth, true happiness and sure advance.
In the true light, there is no small or great, no high or low. It is not alone
wliat one does, but how one does it, that determines the worth and merit of action,
the principle of the widow's mite holds good over all. When one does all he
can, the smallest thing has as much real merit as the greatest. Fierce contests
often rage in silence and obscurity. In the conscious performance of present duty,
come light and illumination, preparation and strength for the next.
W. M. T.
I PS-ACTIVITIES I
A LETTER OF GREETING
The following Letter of Greeting to the T. S. Convention of 1912 from the
"United German Branches of the T. S." was either lost or mislaid last April, and
was not, therefore, read to the Convention or included in the Report published
in THE THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY for July. It gives us great pleasure to publish
this letter now.
The "United German Branches of the T. S." are a purely voluntary effort
toward more effective local work. Branches are entirely at liberty either to
co-operate with this effort or to work independently. On the one hand, Branches
which wish to work independently may do so without the least shadow of
reproach; on the other hand, ability and willingness to work with others is a
certain sign of Theosophical life. EDITOR.
Berlin, April 5, 1912.
To the Members of "The Theosophical Society" in Convention Assembled.
In the name of the members of the "United German Branches of the T. S."
I send you the heartiest greetings and good wishes. We are sorry not to be
able to send anyone to New York to represent us at the Convention, therefore
we must be content to sense the Spirit of the Convention not by personal contact,
but through the spiritual plane, which unites us all to one common Soul.
This year was one in which we had almost nothing to do with matters of
organization, as in this respect everything is settled. Therefore we could devote
all our time to the real work of our beloved movement and especially of our
"T. S." Our work progressed calmly and steadily, always with the aim in mind
to awaken the "spirit" in ourselves as well as in our neighbors. The number of
Branches belonging to our German Union has grown less, because the four
Branches in Berlin have united into one Branch, and one Branch (Dresden) has
separated from us. So we have now five Branches.
The most joyful event that happened here in Germany was the visit of Mr.
Johnston, Chairman of the Executive Committee. Every one of us here in Ger-
many received benefit from this visit; on the one hand, much that we had
unconsciously in our minds manifested itself to our consciousness, while, on the
other hand, our minds were deepened or elevated and came into closer contact
with the spiritual world. This is the experience of many or all of our members.
Very often I have been asked if Mr. Johnston is going to repeat his visit this
year. This does not mean that the result of his former visit has passed, but
that we are longing to have the result strengthened and to come more and more
into closer and more direct contact with our American comrades and with the
spirit, which is already manifested in them, as the elder workers of the movement!
With the best wishes for a successful Convention I remain, as ever,
Your comrade, PAUL RAATZ,
Secretary of the "United German Branches of the T. S."
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THE CONVENTON OF THE "UNION OF GERMAN BRANCHES"
Berlin, Germany, August 12, 1912.
Our Convention this year took place in Berlin on May I7th and i8th. It was
very well attended and an enthusiastic, joyful spirit prevailed during all the pro-
ceedings. The Convention in England took place at the same time and the
combined consciousness of the earnest workers in both lands was plainly felt.
At our business meeting 73 persons (delegates and a few guests) assembled in
the rooms of the Berlin Branch ; and this large number gave evidence of the
active interest which the German members take in all Theosophical Society mat-
ters. The letters of greeting from our comrades in other lands and from those
in Germany who could not attend personally, served to heighten the enthusiasm,
as they always have done in former years, showing, as they do, the sincere
brotherly feeling which unites the hearts of our members. The reports of all
Branches were very encouraging, active work being carried on in all parts of
Germany.
Mr. Raatz, the Secretary of the "Union," mentioned three events of importance
which had occurred during the year just passed. First, Mr. Johnston's visit,
which had proved a blessing everywhere, giving new impulse to spiritual, inner
life and strengthening the unity of heart. Second, the amalgamation of the four
Berlin Branches into one large Branch. This has proved a concentration of force
which had hardly been dreamed of. Third, the withdrawal of the Dresden Branch
from the "Union" and the admittance of the Aussig Branch. In his report Mr.
Raatz emphasized the fact that the "Union" is not a national Branch and that
each single Branch is directly connected with the "Theosophical Society" (New
York). The aims of -the "Union" are simply to facilitate the work in Germany
and to overcome some obstacles, resulting in a high degree from the difference in
language. Six Branches now belong to the "Union" (The four Berlin Branches
counting as one), and the total membership is 186. The Branches are located in
Berlin, Munich, Flensburg, Suhl, Neusalz, Aussig.
Mr. Corvinus, Corresponding Secretary of the "Union," reported that corre-
spondence had been carried on as heretofore. Articles translated from the
QUARTERLY, which could not be printed in our magazine, Theosophisches Lebcn.
for want of space, had been circulated among the Branches and these had been
gratefully accepted and had proved of great benefit. A new method of support
for our magazine was discussed, consisting of so-called "propaganda" subscrip-
tions. It was proposed to members and regular subscribers who wished to aid
the magazine, that they should pay an extra subscription for three months, six
months or longer, to be sent to different addresses which they furnish and where
they wish to awaken interest; the addresses to be changed as often as desired.
In this way a large number will become readers of Theosophisches Leben.
On the second day of the Convention Mr. Schoch gave a public lecture on
"Christ in Social Life," before an audience of more than 300. It was listened to
with great interest and followed by a lively discussion. The lecture has been
printed in our magazine.
Sunday evening was devoted to a social gathering of members and near
friends- Mr. John read an excellent short paper on "Branch Work," which
was followed by an interesting discussion.
O. K6HLER,
Secretary to the Convention.
T. S. ACTIVITIES 191
THE ANNUAL CONVENTION IN NORWAY
Christiania, Norway.
Our Annual Convention was held in Christiania on May 27, 1912. The
deliberations were, as usual, marked by harmony and peace.
The Karma Branch has held weekly meetings every Thursday from the
middle of September, 1911, up to the time of the Convention with only one
exception, Maundy-Thursday. Public lectures have been given at nine of the
meetings, with an average attendance of 33 listeners. The other meetings 25 in
number have been devoted to the study of the first three Gospels, the average
attendance being 18 members and outsiders. Those present at these studies
seemed to be highly interested, and several of the outsiders took part in the
discussion, always in a tolerant and brotherly spirit. These studies seemed to
answer a need, and they will probably be continued in the Autumn.
One member of the Branch has held private meetings every Sunday night.
These are attended mostly by people of the working class ; topics from the Bible
have been discussed.
In the past year a new Branch Aurvanga Branch has been formed by four
members living close by each other outside the town.
The members of the Karma Branch take great interest in this new centre of
activity and feel that the Aurvanga Branch was much needed in its place.
A pamphlet, titled "Man, Mortal and Immortal," has been published and
distributed to the extent of nearly four thousand copies. There is much need of
theosophical literature, and outsiders are borrowing books from our little library
which contains many of the principal theosophical scriptures in foreign languages ;
what we sadly need is really good theosophical literature in the Norwegian
language.
There is much work to be done in this country, and much can be accomplished,
if the Master finds us ready to do his work according to his will. So be it.
T. H. KNOFF.
THE ANNUAL CONVENTION OF THE NATIONAL BRITISH BRANCH
The Convention was held at 46 Brook Street, London, on May 19, 1912.
Dr. Keightley was elected temporary Chairman, and later permanent Chairman.
Mr. A. D. Clarke was elected Convention Secretary.
Greetings were read from Mr. Charles Johnston as Chairman of the Executive
Committee T. S. (New York), Mr. Paul Raatz (Berlin Branch), Mr. Kohl
(Munich), Mr. E. H. Lincoln, Mr. Basil Cuddon, Miss Trood and Mr. Edwards.
The Secretary of the Convention was instructed to reply with best thanks for the
fraternal good wishes.
The reports of the general officers were .then presented.
REPORT OF THE GENERAL SECRETARY
During each year the activity of the Society has been quiet and steadfast, and
this year is no exception. The Branches have held their meetings regularly, as
you will hear in their Reports. The activity has been greatest in the North of
England, and the increase in membership is maintained. At the same time, no
new Branches have been formed, though the activity in all has been maintained.
I am sorry to say that, owing to the departure of three of our members for
Canada, the Consett Branch is very likely to become inactive.
We have added eight new members to our list since our last Convention, and
owing to the earnest activity of three of them, it is very probable that a further
centre or Branch may be formed in Glasgow. As I said before, three of our
i 9 2 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
members have gone away, and with regret I report that death has removed one
of our most earnest members. There is thus a net gain of four members in the
British National Branch.
The Treasurer's Report will be laid before you in due course and it certainly
shows a satisfactory balance. I am also glad to state that the support given to
the THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY is this year larger than before. Further than this,
its outside circulation is increasing. To aid in promoting this, would, I think, be
a very justifiable form of Theosophical activity on the part of any or all of our
members, and be of practical assistance to our American brethren who so gener-
ously provide the means of publishing and give their labour so freely in editing
the Magazine.
The Report of the Corresponding Secretary to the Executive Committee will
also be laid before you, with suggestions.
The Report of the Pamphlet Committee will also be presented. I may add that
Professor Mitchell's article in the QUARTERLY on "Theosophy and the Theosophical
Society" would seem to be an historical and ethical survey which should be
mastered by every member and made familiar. It provides a statement of the
reasons why we are what we are, and a reply to those enquirers who want to
know why there are so many Societies which call themselves Theosophical. At
the close of the transaction of business, I would suggest that we turn our attention
to the root of this matter as being the best direction to which we can devote our
work of the coming year.
There is in the greeting of the Chairman of the Executive Committee and in
the title of the German Branches an allusion to a point which it will be well for
us to consider. If any action has to be taken, none can be taken now. But it
will be well for us to consider the matters so raised.
ARCHIBALD KEIGHTLEY,
General Secretary, British National Branch.
May ipth, 1912.
[Encouraging reports were made by the Corresponding Secretary, by the
Treasurer, and by the Publication Committee. We regret that there is not space to
give them in full. THE EDITOR.]
The following officers were elected for the coming year.
Secretary, Doctor Archibald Keightley.
Treasurer, Mr. E. H. Lincoln.
Corresponding Secretary, Mrs. Alice Graves.
The Convention adjourned after a general discussion.
ARTHUR D. CLARKE,
Convention Secretary.
COMMENT
JANUARY 1913
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.
THE WESTERN AVATAR
DR. BOYD CARPENTER, one of the foremost divines of the
Church of England, said, the other day, that a noteworthy factor
of the intellectual life of our times is the influence of Oriental
thought upon the West, and especially upon the Western under-
standing of Christianity. The West has need of the East, and will be
influenced by the East, just as the East has need of the West, and will
receive a permanent impress from the thought and life of the West.
The distinguished churchman went on to say that the East is pre-
eminently religious; that throughout Asia there is no such thing as an
atheist, one who recognizes no divine principle; and he described a con-
gress in India at which the adherents of many faiths, Oriental and
Occidental, joined in singing John Henry Newman's hymn "Lead Kindly
Light," each one accepting the symbol as an expression of his own
religion, his own conception of the Divinity.
We find ourselves in hearty sympathy with this trend of thought,
which we venture to call eminently Theosophical; and we are convinced
that not only is Oriental thought destined to revolutionize many of our
Western concepts, but that it has profoundly modified them already, and
in no region, perhaps, more profoundly than in that suggested by
Dr. Boyd Carpenter himself, our understanding of Christianity. It is
without doubt the fact that many of the mysteries in the Christian teach-
ing, many things which have been stumblingblocks, almost heartbreaks, to
thousands of devout and earnest Christians, find quite simple solutions
through the clews of Oriental thought, so much deeper, so much more
philosophical, than the current thought of the West or the traditional
interpretation of the Schools.
13 I93
i 9 4 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
This is particularly true of the mysteries which enshroud the person
of the Founder of Christianity, and perhaps most true of that body of
thought which is concerned with the reconciliation of his divinity and
his humanity, which declares him to be at once "perfect God and perfect
man." Our Western thought supplies us with no ideas or processes of
thought which enable us to give a real intellectual assent to such a
dogma. We may accept it or we may reject it. It is doubtful whether,
in either event, we understand it. And this dogma is not an isolated
idea, which one may accept or reject without detriment to the wholeness
of one's view; it is rather fundamental to a right understanding of the
whole life which, opening in the Nativity, found its climax in the Cruci-
fixion and Resurrection. And it is fundamental, because it is the
expression of a profound law, a profound reality in spiritual life.
The thought of the West has hardly any processes by which this
mystery can even be approached. Oriental philosophy, on the contrary,
can go far toward making it understandable, giving it a real content of
connected and luminous thought, showing its place in the whole philos-
ophy of spiritual being. It seems to us that we shall be well advised if
we try to illustrate this; well advised, also, if we try to do so along the
lines laid down by a distinguished thinker, who was saturated with
Oriental thought, one who represents a venerable and profoundly
valuable line of Oriental tradition: Mme. H. P. Blavatsky. In the
works of this woman of genius and learning, it happens that there is
very much which bears directly on our problem, and much that is sin-
gularly illuminating and inspiring.
Let us begin with I sis Unveiled, which, published in 1877, was the
first considerable work of Mme. Blavatsky. In Isis Unveiled, there is
already much concerning the life and teaching of Jesus, and what Mme.
Blavatsky has to say falls clearly under two heads : the first, and much
less vital, is controversial, directed against current dogmatic and popular
misconceptions, directed to the removing of obstacles in the way of a
right understanding of the life and work of the Western Avatar. This,
let it be understood, is the title given to Jesus by Mme. Blavatsky, who
writes in Isis (ii, 566), "Then again: 'Christ glorified not himself to
be made High Priest; but He that said unto him: Thou art my son;
to-day have I begotten thee' (Heb. v. 5). This is a very clear inference,
that, i, Jesus was considered only in the light of a high priest, like
Melchisedek another avatar, or incarnation of Christ, according to the
Fathers ; and, 2, that the writer thought that Jesus had become a 'Son of
God' only at the moment of his initiation by water; hence, that he was
not born a god, neither was he begotten physically by Him. Every
initiate of the 'last hour' became, by the very fact of his initiation, a son
of God."
NOTES AND COMMENTS 195
This passage illustrates the two elements in Isis: a determined
undermining of crystallized dogma and misunderstanding, and, on the
other hand, much more positive and vital, a deeply philosophical and
constructive view of the life and character of Jesus. We shall quote
chiefly from the latter class of passages, the positive and constructive.
To this class belongs the following (ii, 132) : "The Nazarene reformer
had undoubtedly belonged to one of these sects [Essenes or Nazars] ;
though, perhaps, it would be next to impossible to decide absolutely
which. But what is self-evident is that he preached the philosophy of
Buddha-Sakyamuni. Denounced by the later prophets, cursed by the
Sanhedrim, the nazars were secretly if not openly persecuted by the
orthodox synagogue. It becomes clear why Jesus was treated with such
contempt from the first, and deprecatingly called 'the Galilean.' Na-
thaniel inquires 'Can there any good thing come out of Nazareth?'
(John i, 46) at the very beginning of his career; and merely because he
knows him to be a nazar. Does not this clearly hint, that even the older
nazars were not really Hebrew religionists, but rather a class of Chaldean
theurgists? . . . The motive of Jesus was evidently like that of
Gautama-Buddha, to benefit humanity at large by producing a religious
reform which should give it a religion of pure ethics; the true knowledge
of God and nature having remained until then solely in the hands of
the esoteric sects, and their adepts."
Concerning the "miracles" of Jesus, Mme. Blavatsky writes this in
Isis (i, 356) : "These daemons seek to introduce themselves into the
bodies of the simple-minded and idiots, and remain there until dislodged
therefrom by a powerful and pure will. Jesus, Apollonius, and some of
the apostles, had the power to cast out devils, by purifying the atmos-
phere within and without the patient, so as to force the unwelcome
tenant to flight." And again (ii, 148) : "But Justin Martyr states on
better authority that the men of his time who were not Jews asserted
that the miracles of Jesus were performed by magical art, the very
expression used by the skeptics of those days to designate the feats of
thaumaturgy accomplished in the Pagan temples. 'They even ventured
to call him a magician and a deceiver of the people,' complains the
martyr. In the Gospel of Nicodemus (the Acta Pilati), the Jews bring
the same accusation before Pilate. 'Did we not tell thee he was a
magician?' Celsus speaks of the same charge, and as a Neo-Platonist
believes in it. The Talmudic literature is full of the most minute par-
ticulars, and their greatest accusation is that 'Jesus could fly as easily in
the air as others could walk.' St. Austin asserted that it was generally
believed that he had been initiated in Egypt, and that he wrote books
concerning magic, which he delivered to John. There was a work called
Magia Jesu Christi, which was attributed to Jesus himself. In the
Clementine Recognitions the charge is brought against Jesus that he did
196 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
not perform his miracles as a Jewish prophet, but as a magician, *. e., an
initiate of the 'heathen' temples."
These are the chief passages concerning the Western Avatar in
Isis Unveiled. Let us now turn to The Secret Doctrine, which was
published ten or eleven years later, at the close of the year 1888. In this
later and more mature work, there are many passages referring to Jesus,
and it is significant that we find far fewer of the negative class which
we have described those directed against dogmatic obstacles and mis-
conceptions while there is more detail and elucidation on the positive
side. These passages are far too numerous and voluminous for us to
quote them all, but we shall try to select those which are most vital
and significant.
Beginning with the passages referring to Jesus in the first volume
of the Secret Doctrine (Edition of 1888, i, 73) : "They all made a
difference between the good and the bad Serpent (the Astral Light of
the Kabalists) between the former, the embodiment of divine Wisdom
in the region of the spiritual, and the latter, Evil, on the plane of matter.
Jesus accepted the serpent as a synonym of Wisdom, and this formed
part of his teaching: 'Be ye wise as serpents/ he says." Again (i, 280) :
" 'When thou prayest, thou shalt not be as the hypocrites are . . . but
enter into thine inner chamber and having shut the door, pray to thy
Father which is in secret.' Our Father is within us 'in Secret/ our
seventh principle, in the 'inner chamber' of our Soul perception. 'The
Kingdom of Heaven' and of God 'is within us,' says Jesus, not outside."
Writing of the Great Pyramid (i, 318) Mme. Blavatsky says: "Had
Mr. Staniland Wake been a Theosophist he might have added that the
narrow upward passage leading to the King's chamber had a 'narrow
gate' indeed; the same 'strait gate' which 'leadeth unto life/ or the new
spiritual re-birth alluded to by Jesus."
Speaking of the seven rays of the Logos, and of the spiritual bond
which forever unites souls belonging to the same ray, Mme. Blavatsky
says (i, 574) : "This was known to every high Initiate in every age and
in every country: 'I and my Father are one/ said Jesus (John x, 30).
When He is made to say, elsewhere (xx, 17) : 'I ascend to my Father
and your Father/ it meant what has just been stated. It was simply to
show that the group of His disciples and followers attracted to Him
belonged to the same Dhyani Buddha, 'Star/ or 'Father/ again of the
same planetary realm and division as He did." To this we may add,
from a long passage (i, 577) : "Jesus the initiate was not of pure Jewish
blood, and thus recognized no Jehovah; nor did he worship any plane-
tary god beside his own 'Father/ whom he knew, and with whom he
communed as every high initiate does, 'Spirit to Spirit and Soul to Soul."
NOTES AND COMMENTS 197
The foregoing are the chief passages referring to Jesus in the first
volume of the Secret Doctrine. Let us now turn to the second volume.
Speaking of the teaching of Reincarnation, Mme. Blavatsky writes
(ii, in): "'They descend from the pure air to be chained to bodies,'
says Josephus repeating the belief of the Essenes. 'The air is full of
Souls,' states Philo, 'they descend to be tied to mortal bodies, being
desirous to live in them' Which shows that the Essenes believed in
re-birth and many re-incarnations on earth, as Jesus himself did, a fact
we can prove from the New Testament itself." Mme. Blavatsky reverts
to this later, as we shall see. Commenting on a well-known passage in
Luke, Mme. Blavatsky writes (ii, 231) : "When Jesus remarks to this
that he has 'beheld Satan as lightning fall from heaven,' it is a mere
statement of his clairvoyant powers, notifying them that he already knew
it, and a reference to the incarnation of the divine ray (the gods or
angels) which falls into generation. For not all men, by any means,
benefit by that incarnation, and with some the power remains latent and
dead during the whole life. Truly 'No man knoweth who the Son is,
but the Father; and who the Father is, but the Son' as added by Jesus
then and there. The Initiates alone understood the secret meaning of
the term 'Father and the Son,' and knew that it referred to Spirit and
Soul on the Earth. For the teachings of Christ were occult teachings,
which could only be explained at the initiation. They were never in-
tended for the masses, for Jesus forbade the twelve to go to the Gentiles
and the Samaritans, and repeated to his disciples that the 'mysteries of
Heaven' were for them alone, not for the multitudes."
Commenting on the mystery of baptism, Mme. Blavatsky says
(ii, 566) : " 'I baptize you with water, but ... he shall baptize you
with the Holy Ghost and with fire,' says John of Jesus (Matt, iii, 2) ;
meaning this esoterically. The real significance of this statement is very
profound. It means that he, John, a non-initiated ascetic, can impart to
his disciples no greater wisdom than the mysteries connected with the
plane of matter (water being a symbol of it). His gnosis was that of
exoteric and ritualistic dogma, of the dead-letter orthodoxy; while the
wisdom which Jesus, an Initiate of the higher mysteries, would reveal
to them, was of a higher character, for it was the 'Fire' Wisdom of the
true gnosis or the real spiritual enlightenment."
There remains a very remarkable passage, dealing with the mystery
of the Resurrection (ii, 580) : "The five words of Brahma have become
with the Gnostics the 'Five Words' written upon the akasic (shining)
garment of Jesus at his glorification: the words translated by the
Orientalists 'the robe, the glorious robe of my strength.' These words
were, in their turn, the anagrammatic blind of the five mystic powers
represented on the robe of the 'resurrected' Initiate after his last trial of
198 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
three days' trance ; the five becoming seven only after his death, when the
Adept became the full Christos, the full Krishna-Vishnu, i. e., merged in
Nirvana." This quotation practically completes the list of the most
significant passages in The Secret Doctrine as published by Mme.
Blavatsky herself, referring to the Western Avatar.
The essential principles were already laid down in Isis Unveiled, as
early as 1876 or 1877, a year or two after The Theosophical Society was
founded. But as time gradually made it possible, Mme. Blavatsky spoke
more clearly, revealing more of the life and teaching of the Western
Avatar, and dwelling more fully on details. This became possible as
the old crystallized misinterpretations gradually fell away, leaving the
field clear for constructive and affirmative work. During her life-time,
Mme. Blavatsky thus published much concerning the life and personality
of Jesus. She wrote much more, which she left among those papers she
destined for publication after her death, and which were so published.
From these, we are able to gather much that is of the highest value, and
most illuminating, concerning the Western Avatar, and, though we
cannot quote everything thus written, we have space for very much, for
all, indeed, that is of primary value.
Of the birth of the Western Avatar, Mme. Blavatsky speaks thus:
"Six centuries after the translation of the human Buddha (Gautama)
another Reformer, as noble and as loving, though less favored by oppor-
tunity, arose in another part of the world, among another and a less
spiritual race. . . . There are many other strange points of similarity
between Gautama and Jesus, which cannot be noticed here. . . . Jesus,
who had promised His disciples the knowledge which confers upon man
the power of producing 'miracles' far greater than He had ever produced
Himself, died, leaving but a few faithful disciples men only half-way
to knowledge. They had therefore to struggle with a world to which
they could impart only what they but half-knew themselves, and no
more. In later ages the exoteric followers of both mangled the truths
given out, often out of recognition. With regard to the adherents of
the Western Master, the proof of this lies in the very fact that none of
them can now produce the promised 'miracles.' "
In several other passages, Mme. Blavatsky brings the personalities
of the Buddha and Jesus together, as Avatars. We may gather these
passages together. "As in the case of His Western successor, Gautama,
the 'merciful,' the 'pure,' and the 'just,' was the first found in the East-
ern Hierarchy of historical Adepts, if not in the world-annals of the
divine mortals, who was moved by that generous feeling which locks the
whole of mankind within one embrace, with no petty differences of race,
birth or caste." "The students of Esoteric Philosophy see in the Naza-
NOTES AND COMMENTS 199
rene sage a Bodhisattva with the spirit of Buddha Himself in Him."
"The case of Jesus covers the ground for the same possibility in the
cases of all Adepts and Avatars such as Buddha, Shankaracharya,
Krishna, etc." "Those great characters who tower like giants in the
history of mankind like Siddhartha Buddha and Jesus. . . ." "Truly,
'for the salvation of the good and the destruction of wickedness,' the
personalities known as Gautama, Shankara, Jesus and a few others were
born each in his age, as declared 'I am born in every Yuga' and they
were all born through the same power. There is a great mystery in such
incarnations and they are outside and beyond the cycle of general re-
births. Re-births may be divided into three classes : the divine incarna-
tions called Avatars; those of Adepts who give up Nirvana for the sake
of helping humanity the Nirmanakayas ; and the natural succession of
re-births for all the common law." Here, by the way, is the true mean-
ing the much misunderstood doctrine of "the immaculate conception."
It indicates a re-birth of the first of these three classes, that of an Avatar
or Divine Incarnation, one who comes to birth not of necessity but from
compassion, for the salvation of mankind.
Having thus indicated the meaning and character of the birth of
Jesus, as an Avatar, Mme. Blavatsky comments most illuminatingly on
his teachings. Take for example such a passage as this: "Has the
reader ever meditated upon the suggestive words, often pronounced by
Jesus and his Apostles? "Be ye therefore perfect as your Father . . .
is perfect' (Matt, v, 48), says the Great Master. . . . What was eso-
terically meant is, "Your Father who is above the material and astral
man, the highest Principle (save the Monad) within man, his own
personal God, the God of his personality, of whom he is the 'prison and
the temple.' 'If thou wilt be perfect (i. e., an Adept and Initiate) go
and sell that thou hast' (Matt, xix, 21). Every man who desired to
become a neophyte, a chela, then, as now, had to take the vow of poverty.
The 'Perfect' was the name given to the Initiates of every denomination.
Plato called them by that term. The Essenes had their 'Perfect/ and
Paul plainly states that they, the Initiates, can only speak before other
Adepts. 'We speak wisdom among them (only) that are perfect' (I Cor.
ii, 6).
We have already cited a passage in which Mme. Blavatsky calls
Philo of Alexandria and Flavius Josephus the former of whom lived
just before, and the latter, just after, Jesus to witness that the doctrine
of reincarnation was familiar to the best Jewish thought of that time.
To this Mme. Blavatsky added, that Jesus believed and taught the same
doctrine, as the New Testament shows. We can supplement this by a
later and much fuller passage: "The Delphic command 'Know thyself
was perfectly comprehensible to every nation of old. . . . To under-
200 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
stand its full meaning, however, necessitates, first of all, belief in
reincarnation and all its mysteries. Their Saviour taught His disciples
this grand truth of the Esoteric Philosophy, but verily, if His Apostles
comprehended it, no one else seems to have realized its true meaning.
No, not even Nicodemus, who, to the assertion, 'Except a man be born
again he cannot see the Kingdom of God,' answers: 'How can a man
be born when he is old ?' and is forthwith reproved by the remark :
'Art thou a master in Israel and knowest not these things?' as no one
had a right to call himself a 'Master' and Teacher, without having been
initiated into the mysteries (a) of a spiritual re-birth through water, fire
and spirit, and (b) of the re-birth from flesh. Then again what can be
a clearer expression as to the doctrine of manifold re-births than the
answer given by Jesus to the Sadducees, 'who deny that there is any
resurrection,' i. e., any re-birth, since the dogma of the resurrection in the
flesh is now regarded as an absurdity even by the intelligent clergy:
'They who shall be accounted worthy to obtain that world (Nirvana)
. . . neither marry . . . neither can they die any more,' which shows
that they had already died, and more than once. And again : 'Now that
the dead are raised even Moses shewed ... he calleth the Lord the
God of Abraham, and the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, for he is
not a God of the dead but of the living.' The sentence 'now that the
dead are raised' evidently applied to the then actual re-births of the
Jacobs and the Isaacs, and not to their future resurrection; for in such
case they would have been still dead in the interim, and could not be
referred to as 'living.' But the most suggestive of Christ's parables and
'dark sayings' is found in the explanation given by him to his Apostles
about the blind man: 'Master, who did sin, this man or his parents,
that he was born blind?' Jesus answered, 'Neither hath this (blind,
physical) man sinned nor his parents; but that the works of (his) god
should be made manifest in him.' Man is the 'tabernacle,' the 'build-
ing' only, of his God ; and of course it is not the temple but its inmate
the vehicle of 'God' (the conscious Ego, or Fifth Principle, Manas,
the vehicle of the divine Monad, or 'God') that had sinned in a previous
incarnation, and had thus brought the Karma of cecity [blindness] upon
the new building. Thus Jesus spoke truly ; but to this day his followers
have refused to understand the words of wisdom spoken."
We may supplement this by a few shorter passages: "From
Prometheus to Jesus, and from Him to the highest Adept as to the lowest
disciple, every revealer of mysteries has had to become a Chrestos, a
'man of sorrows,' and a martyr. 'Beware,' said one of the greatest
Masters, 'of revealing the mystery to those without' to the profane,
the Sadducee and the unbeliever." "If Jesus pronounced the words in
the sense attributed to him, then he must have read the Book of Enoch.
, . . Moreover, he could not have been ignorant that these words
NOTES AND COMMENTS 201
belonged to the oldest ritual of Initiation." "And this leaving the
divine and mystic character and claims for Jesus entirely independent of
this event of His mortal life shows Him, beyond any doubt, as an
Initiate of the Egyptian Mysteries." After such explicit statements as
the foregoing, it is almost incongruous to cite the following passage,
which, nevertheless, is essential to a clear understanding of the whole
position: "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
[H. P. Blavatsky] in particular of disrespect toward one of the great-
est and noblest characters in the history of Adeptship Jesus of Nazareth
nor even of hatred to the Church."
We come now to the mystery of the Crucifixion and Resurrection
of Jesus. We may lead up to this by citing the following, concerning
the raising of the dead: "Those who showed such powers were forth-
with set above the crowds, and were regarded as Kings and Initiates.
Gautama Buddha was a King-Initiate, a healer, and recalled to life
those who were in the hands of death. Jesus and Apollonius were
healers, and were both addressed as Kings by their followers. Had
they failed to raise those who were to all intents and purposes the dead,
none of their names would have passed down to posterity; for this was
the first and crucial test, the certain sign that the Adept had upon Him
the invisible hand of a primordial divine Master, or was an incarnation
of one of the 'Gods.' " This leads us naturally to such a passage as
this: "The false rendering of a number of parables and sayings of
Jesus is not to be wondered at in the least. From Orpheus, the first
initiated Adept of whom history catches a glimpse in the mists of the
pre-Christian era, down through Pythagoras, Confucius, Buddha, Jesus,
Apollonius of Tyana, to Ammonius Saccas, no Teacher or Initiate has
ever committed anything to writing for public use. Each and all of
them have invariably recommended silence and secresy on certain facts
and deeds. From Confucius ... to Jesus, who charged his disciples
to tell no man that he was Christ (Chrestos), the 'man of sorrows' and
trials, before his supreme and last Initiation, or that he had produced a
miracle of resurrection."
We have already seen Mme. Blavatsky speaking of the possible
relation of Jesus, during the mysterious period between his twelfth and
thirtieth year, with the mystical sects of Palestine, especially the Essenes
and Nazars. This leads us to the following: "What say the Ophites,
the Nazarenes, and other 'heretics'? Sophia, 'the Celestial Virgin,' is
prevailed upon to send Christos, her emanation, to the help of perishing
humanity, from whom Ilda-Baoth and his six Sons of Matter (the lower
terrestrial angels) are shutting out the divine light. Therefore Christos,
the perfect, 'uniting himself with Sophia (divine wisdom) descended
202 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
through the seven planetary regions, assuming in each an analogous
form . . . (and) entered into the man Jesus at the moment of his
baptism in the Jordan. From this time forth Jesus began to work
miracles; before that he had been entirely ignorant of his own mission.
Ilda-Baoth, discovering that Christos was bringing to an end his kingdom
of Matter, stirred up the Jews against Him, and Jesus was put to death.
When Jesus was on the Cross, Christos and Sophia left His body, and
returned to their own sphere. The material body of Jesus was aban-
doned to the earth, but He Himself, the Inner Man, was clothed with a
body made up of aether. Thenceforth He consisted merely of soul and
spirit. . . . During His sojourn upon earth of eighteen months after
He had risen, He received from Sophia that perfect knowledge, that
true Gnosis, which he communicated to the small portion of the Apostles
who were capable of receiving the same.' "
Mme. Blavatsky even more clearly reveals the truth concerning the
Resurrection of Jesus in the following: "'Let me suffer and bear the
sins of all (be reincarnated unto new misery) but let the world be
saved ! ' was said by Gautama Buddha : an exclamation the real meaning
of which is little understood now by his followers. 'If I will that he
tarry till I come, what is that to thee?' asked the astral Jesus of Peter.
'Till I come' means 'till I am reincarnated again' in a physical body.
Yet the Christ of the old crucified body could truly say : 'I am with my
Father and one with Him,' which did not prevent the astral from taking
a form again, or John from tarrying indeed till his Master had come;
nor hinder John from failing to recognize him . . . Since then the 'Man
of Sorrows' has returned, perchance, more than once, unknown to, and
undiscovered by, his blind followers. Since then also, this grand 'Son
of God' has been incessantly and most cruelly crucified daily and hourly
by the Churches founded in his name. But the Apostles, only half-
initiated, failed to tarry for their Master, and not recognizing Him,
spurned Him every time he returned." "He who was meekness and
charity personified" "the Grand Martyr has remained thenceforward,
and for eighteen centuries, the Victim crucified daily."
FRAGMENTS
DISAPPOINTMENT, you say, is one of the greatest sorrows
in life and when you say that, I must agree with you.
But I would ask you to look into the matter with me; for
all sorrow has meaning, nay, even blessing, hidden in its heart;
and the heart of life is what we are seeking, you and I.
Why are we disappointed?
Because something we longed for has been denied, or something
we loved has been taken away. Without our cherished plan or object,
life loses purpose and attractiveness, and settles into the perpetual
grey ness of a November day. There are those who love their Novem-
bers, however. Not from a morbid love of an indulged sadness, the
re-action of undigested experience; but from the trained ability to
perceive subtile tones of beauty; that keener vision which senses the
finer colour gradations unmarked by the ordinary eye.
So, also, when in this month the Church reminds us of our dead,
those of spiritual thought and heart do not mourn "as those without
hope"; but facing our Good Friday in the light of Easter Day, experi-
ence some meaning of the Communion of Saints, catch some vision of
the immortality of love, and so place our feet on the bed-rock of life
and know the peace of its security. Nothing less immortal than itself
can ever satisfy an immortal soul. The Divine Powers, knowing this,
break or disentangle one by one all our attachments unrooted in the
Eternal, drawing us back from them before the tie becomes too strong
for severence.
So disappointments, may be, are calls for home; and much of the
misunderstood pain in them lies in the nostalgia they awaken for the
heritage we have lost or not yet gained, but which shall surely yet
be ours.
For under the veil of sorrow and disillusionment an infinite com-
passion is drawing us, patient with our impatience, tender with our
blindness and rebellion, drawing us surely to our enlightenment and
to our joy.
CAVE.
EARLY ENGLISH MYSTICS
WHEN it was suggested that an account of some of the early
English Mystics might be acceptable to the readers of the
QUARTERLY, nothing more was in my mind than a record of
such devout and little known authors as Richard Rolle of
Hampole, Margery Kemp, Dame Gertrude More, and others, from the
fourteenth century onward. But as I read the records of interior living
which those aspiring souls have left for our instruction, I became
desirous of following back the "Apostolic succession" of these holy men
and women, to trace a ray of discipleship, the spiritual laying on of
hands. I hoped that a line of spiritual descent might be shown. For,
with a long and noble ancestry, an individual would not appear, as he
usually does in the world, an isolated and fortuitous phenomenon; he
would seem purposed. And the purpose back of and directing such a
noble line might in some measure, perhaps, be discerned and set forth
by those whose wise intuitions could read within the records that furnish
this narrative.
So, as I looked afield for the teachers of those fourteenth century
monks and anchorites, France at once rose in sight, and that part of
France that centered around the Abbey of St. Victor. And as I placed
myself in the celebrated Abbey and school of mystics, and looked back
for its predecessor, I had to recross the English Channel, and find a
teacher and inspiration in Scotus Erigena, the Irish priest and philos-
opher. For several centuries France and Britain (including Ireland)
taught each other, turn by turn, the Wisdom of the Cross. Thus when
St. Augustine landed at Thanet in 596 and proceeded thence to establish
at Canterbury the Benedictine mode of life, he gathered his followers for
prayer in a Christian Church of an earlier period dedicated to St. Martin.
St. Martin was a Bishop of Tours and head of the first monastic group
in western Europe ; he had learned his mode of living in the East. Thus
as I studied, and followed up clues, I soon found myself reading again
the beloved book of the Venerable Bede; and going back of the period
which he authoritatively relates, I came upon the life and labours of the
great apostle to the Irish, Patrick, and that other great apostle, Columba.
Wonderful lights gleamed as I read. These shone chiefly from the
golden pages of one precious book a history of Ireland.* Without
that book I could have made little progress in the pleasant labor I had
undertaken. For as I studied the lives of ancient saints and mystics,
I saw that they led an inner life and an outer. To them the real life
was the inner; they passed their days with a band or school of young
* Ireland; Historic and Picturesque, by Charles Johnston. Henry T. Coates & Co.,
Philadelphia.
EARLY ENGLISH MYSTICS 205
students, learning the secrets of spiritual living the Wisdom of the
Cross. From that study of prayer wonderful strength and powers came
to them ; and there passed out into the world rumors of the extraordinary
wisdom and powers of these recluses. The world, eager to secure able
leaders to push its affairs, often dragged these students of interior living
away from their solitude in the case of St. Martin, he was captured in
ambush and carried off and made them bishops, etc. Their deeds as
bishops and missionaries were by-products of prayer. But often outer
acts distorted accounts of them are all that remain to us, and it is not
easy to see, beneath the accumulation of legend, the real facts and the
real significances. Through this difficulty I was guided by the great
book I have mentioned a history of Ireland. Unlike all other histories
I know about, that book records the centuries as moments in the being
of Eternal Silence: it fixes its attention on the inner side of life. If
there be any portion of truth and help in what I may now write, I feel
that it has passed into my study from that history and from other papers
of its author, on kindred themes, which I have, most undeservedly, been
permitted to see.
ST. PATRICK
/
"There was no desert, no spot, or hiding-place in the island,
however remote, which was not peopled with perfect monks
and nuns; so that, throughout the world, Ireland was justly
distinguished by the extraordinary title of the Island of the
Saints.
"In holy mortification of the flesh and renouncement of
self-will, rivalling the Monks of Egypt in merits and in numbers,
and by word and example, they were a light to foreign and dis-
tant lands"
Christ with me, Christ before me,
Christ behind me, Christ within me,
Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ at my right, Christ at my left,
Christ in the fort,
Christ in the chariot-seat,
Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of every man who speaks to me,
Christ in every eye that sees me,
Christ in every ear that hears me."
Old Irish hymn attributed to St. Patrick.
St. Patrick's life and labors fall in the fourth epoch of Ireland's
history. The conditions into which he came, the fertility of the ground
206 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
ploughed and harrowed to receive his seed, the harvest that was reaped,
evidence august laws that were guiding the Irish peoples. A period of
war and conquest, and a period of efflorescence preceded. Yet the inner
essence of St. Patrick's message, the teaching of the Wisdom Religion,
is found in Ireland, even in the early period of conquest. The tradition
is that, in the early time, various tribes and races were distributed in
Ireland, as later, in England, the Saxons and Teutons and Normans
were neighbors. One race of invaders that fought the established
nations, as Saxon fought Celt in England, was known as the Sons of
Milid. Milid was the son of Belor, the lord of Death, who gives to
mortals, turn by turn, both death and life. Tradition says that a poet
accompanied the Sons of Milid in their expeditions, and when he sprang
ashore, he sang this hymn to the God through whose might the Sons
of Milid would conquer the land:
I am the wind which blows over the sea;
I am the wave of the Ocean;
I am the murmur of the billows;
I am the ox of the seven combats ;
I am the vulture upon the rock;
I am a tear of the sun;
I am the fairest of plants;
I am a wild boar in valour;
I am a salmon in the water;
I am a lake in the plain.
I am a word of science;
I am the spear-point that gives battle;
I am the god who creates or forms in the head of man the fire
of thought.
Who is it that enlightens the assembly upon the mountain?
Who telleth the ages of the moon?
Who showeth the place where the sun goes to rest?
Monsieur de Jubainville, in his history of Celtic Mythology, points out
that the philosophy of this mythological bard is the very doctrine that
John Erigena brought with him from Ireland, and taught in France
in the Qth century. Thus the golden vein of Wisdom is seen extending
through Ireland's history.
Through the achievements of the various races, first in war and
afterwards in peace, a fine civilization developed. "The arts of life
were very perfect; the gold-work of that time is unsurpassed. At a
far earlier time there were beautifully moulded and decorated gold-
bronze spears, that show what richness of feeling and imagination, what
just taste and fine skill were there. The modern work of countries
where gold is found in quantities is commonplace, vulgar and inartistic
EARLY ENGLISH MYSTICS 207
when compared with the work of the old Irish period." Ireland seems,
in the old days, 2,000 years ago and more, to have reached the point
mentioned in Light on the Path where man is at his fruition, and
civilization at its height; a point at which it became possible for man to
claim his great inheritance and to lose the incumbrance of the mere
animal life. That claim was made for Ireland by St. Patrick. The
perfect bloom of the natural man faded and withered, and the immortal
beauty of the spiritual nature began to unfold its petals.
Patrick was born about 389 at a little village in Scotland south of
Hadrian's wall. His father was a Roman citizen. His mother was a
Gaul, and a relative of St. Martin. Patrick's real name was Succat,
and his father's Calphurnius. But the father was of patrician rank and
the pagan title became the name of the Saint. Calphurnius was a Chris-
tian, and of the order of Deacons in the Church, the son of a priest.
Patrick's life was uneventful until his sixteenth year. At that time he
was taken prisoner along with many others, was carried off to Ireland,
and sold as a slave. Outwardly a hard fate a Roman, a patrician, and
a Christian, to become servant to a pagan. That catastrophe, however,
was opportunity for the development of the inward life. For six years
he tended cattle. In those years of exile, words that had earlier sounded
only in his ears began to take on an inward meaning for his heart. He
began to pray, and to hear answers to his prayers.
"Now after I came to Ireland daily I herded flocks, and often
during the day I prayed. Love of God and His fear increased
more and more, and my faith grew, and my spirit was stirred up,
so that in a single day I said as many as a hundred prayers, and at
night likewise, though I abode in the woods and in the mountain.
Before the dawn I used to be aroused to prayer in snow and frost
and rain, nor was there any tepidity in me, such as I now feel,
because then the spirit was fervent within me."
At the end of six years of captivity, Patrick heard in sleep one
night a voice saying: "You have fasted well, and soon you shall see
your home and your native land." Shortly after the same voice said:
"The ship is ready for you." Patrick's servitude was passed near the
western coast of Ireland. The ship in which he escaped lay in port
about two hundred miles away. To reach it he had to travel in danger
of pursuit through an unknown region. He went without fear, he says,
and found the ship by divine guidance. Three days' sail brought the
crew to the coast of France, where they disembarked, and journeyed
afoot, in all, thirty-eight days. At last Patrick was able to separate
from the crew, and, by divine guidance again, was led to a lonely island
off the southern coast of France.
In that desert island, Lerins, now called by the great teacher's
own name, St. Honorat Honoratus, mindful of Patmos and the beloved
208 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
disciple, had gathered together a group of disciples to whom he was
handing down the mystery of "the Way." St. John and Patmos! It is
the beloved disciple, not Peter, who is the father of the French and the
British Churches. And it is his long life, radiant and serene within the
Sacred Heart, that set the example of true discipleship for France and
for Britain. If that portion of Christendom which is in direct descent
from the Apostolate of John, has forgotten its goodly heritage and noble
lineage, and is stupidly tramping out the husks of Roman materialism,
perhaps a reminder of its high ancestry may reach the prodigal heart
and stir it to return to its true Shepherd and Bishop. It is singular
how incurious we are as to the life of John after his Master's withdrawal.
And our materialism blinds us to the record he has left in the Apocalypse
of his life's culmination. But John's own disciples knew of his inter-
course with the Master and of the continuance of the Master's personal
teaching. And when they left Asia to settle in southern France, they
carried with them certainty as to the possibility of such intercourse with
a living Friend, and of direct personal instruction from a Master and
Teacher. Their efforts, and their successors' efforts, were to form
groups of aspirants, who through training, might grow into the high
privilege of discipleship. The warrant for such efforts was the Master's
own example, who, from the thousands to whom He spoke, selected the
few who could be taught the "mysteries of the Kingdom." The island
monastery of Lerins off southern France, and the island monastery, lona
of Scotland, very clearly continue the tradition of St. John and of
Patmos.
A few names and dates will make clear this connection of St. Patrick
and St. Columba and British Christianity with the beloved disciple.
Irenaeus, the great champion of orthodoxy against heresies which were
receiving shelter under the Bishop of Rome, was Bishop of Lyons and
southern France from 175 to 202. There is a letter of Irenaeus to a
friend Florinus that contains the following statements:
"I saw you when I was yet, as a boy, in Lower Asia with
Polycarp. ... I could even now point out the place where the
blessed Polycarp sat and spoke, and describe his going out and
coming in, his manner of life, his personal appearance, the ad-
dresses he delivered to the multitude, how he spoke of his inter-
course with John and with others who had seen the Lord, and how
he recalled their words. And everything that he had heard from
them about the Lord, about His miracles and His teaching, Polycarp
told us, as one who had received it from those who had seen the
Word of Life with their own eyes, and all this in complete harmony
with the Scriptures. To this I then listened, through the mercy
of God vouchsafed to me, with all eagerness, and wrote it not on
paper, but in my heart, and still by the grace of God I ever bring it
into fresh remembrance."
EARLY ENGLISH MYSTICS 209
Polycarp, the teacher whom Irenseus mentions, was martyred in Smyrna
about 150 A. D. Before his death Polycarp had sent his disciple, the
priest Pothinus, to southern France, and there Irenaeus joined Pothinus,
after the death of Polycarp. Harnack makes this comment on the letter
of Irenaeus to Florinus: "These are priceless words, for they establish
a chain of tradition (Jesus, John, Polycarp, Irenseus) which is without
a parallel in history." Irenseus died at the beginning of the third century.
Honoratus, the abbot of the island monastery to which Patrick was led
after his escape from captivity, was born 350 A. D. Martin of Tour,
whose monastery has already been mentioned, was born in 316 A. D.
Honoratus had gone with his brother to a spiritual, monastic centre
somewhere in the East in search of training. But on the death of his
brother he returned to France to make a centre of himself. "He was
directed," writes Professor Bury, "to the uncouth islet of Lerinus, which
no man tilled or approached because it was infested by snakes. Honor-
atus took possession of it and reclaimed it for cultivation. Wells were
dug, and sweet water flowed 'in the midst of the bitterness of the sea.'
Vines were planted and cells were built, and a little monastic community
gathered around Honoratus, destined within a few years to be more
illustrious than any of the other island cloisters."
This spiritual center was Patrick's first school after his conversion.
He spent many years there. It became to him the norm of a religious
life. It was the pattern that he handed on. A century after his death
when Columba carried the good news from Ireland to Scotland, lona,
the holy isle, reproduced Lerins. The method of life which Patrick
learned at Lerins had its source not in Rome, but in the East; in fact
it might be called Egyptian. For Honoratus, on his arrival in southern
France was closely associated with Cassian, and so won the admiration
and respect of that learned monk, that Cassian dedicated to him the
second book of his great work, the Conferences. That book, the Con-
ferences, is made up of the interviews and discourses which Cassian had
listened to from Egyptian teachers. For thirty years, in his passion for
training, Cassian had gone about among the spiritual teachers of the
Egyptian desert, and had learned the method of each. These Egyptian
groups had been gathered together chiefly by Pachomius (292-350) from
solitary worshippers who had made cells for themselves in the desert.
During the many years of residence in the different monastic groups,
Cassian gathered material for two treatises. The first of these is the
Institutes, which is concerned with the outer organization and life of
the group. The second and greater book, the Conferences, deals, Cassian
writes, "rather with the training of the inner man and the perfection of
the heart." After those long years of study for Cassian had lived in
Palestine before going to Egypt Cassian crossed over to southern
France as the field of his own labor, and founded near Marseilles a
monastic group of men, and another of women. There he met Honora-
14
210 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
tus, who was also inspired by Eastern ideals, and in sympathy and
admiration dedicated to him the second portion of the Conferences.
So it seems entirely reasonable to assume that the group at Lerins of
which Honoratus was the head, very fairly reproduced what Cassian
had learned to esteem in Egypt as the true type of Christian life. Mr.
Johnston calls attention to a very interesting fact in regard to Patrick
and the Mediterranean islet. "It is that the chapel of Honoratus, in
which Patrick worshipped during several years, is dedicated to the
Trinity, and is distinguished architecturally by a triple apse three
bays in the eastern end of the Chapel typifying the Triune God-
head. The eastern end of the chapel floor and ceiling are, there-
fore, in form like a trefoil or shamrock; and it may well be this
familiar building which suggested to Patrick the simile of the
shamrock to illustrate the teaching of the Trinity."
When Patrick had learned at Lerins the meaning of a religious life,
he returned from the Mediterranean to Scotland. His friends welcomed
him as a son. But his sojourn was not for long. In sleep he had been
called away from Ireland out of earthly servitude. Now in sleep he is
called back to Ireland in servitude to a divine Master, as St. Paul was
summoned into Macedonia. "Now there it was I saw, in a vision of
the night, a man coming as if from Ireland, whose name was Vic-
toricus, with very many letters. And he gave one of them to me,
and I read the beginning of the letter purporting to be the 'Voice
of the Irish,' and whilst I was reading out the beginning of the
letter, I thought that at that moment I heard the voices of those
who dwelt beside the wood of Foclut, which is by the western sea;
and thus they cried, as if with one mouth : 'We beseech thee, holy
youth, to come and walk once more amongst us.' And I was
greatly touched in heart, and could read no more, and so I awoke.
"And on another night, whether within me or beside me, I know
not, God knoweth, in the clearest words which I heard but could not
understand until the end of the prayer, He spoke thus: 'He who
laid down His life for thee, He it is who speaketh within thee.'
And so I awoke full of joy. And once more I saw Him praying in
me, and He was as it were within my body; and I heard Him over
me, that is over the interior man ; and there strongly he prayed with
groanings. And meanwhile I was astonished and marvelled, and
considered who it was who prayed within me ; but at the end of the
prayer He spoke out to the effect that He was the spirit."
To prepare for his Irish mission, Patrick went a second time into
France to a monastic centre. This time he was associated with St.
Germain, Bishop of Auxerre, who like Martin of Tours, came from a
soldier family. The story told of him is as follows: He was a proud
and mighty hunter, and hung the heads of his prizes, not in his hall,
EARLY ENGLISH MYSTICS 211
but on a tree of his garden. The local bishop saw in these vojives an
out-cropping of the old pagan worship, and during an absence of Ger-
main, he had the tree hewn and the votives scattered about. Anger
separated the hunter Germain and the bishop until just before the latter's
death, when he was told to consecrate Germain his successor. This had
to be done almost by force; but once consecrated, Germain became a
zealous Christian, and established a monastic community similar to that
at Lerins. It was he who after several years consecrated Patrick Bishop
of Ireland. In 429 he was summoned into Britain as champion of
orthodoxy against the heretical Pelagius, just as Irenaeus had defended
the faith against the Gnostics, and Martin against the Arians. Patrick
seems to have accompanied St. Germain on that mission.
A third eminent leader and saint with whom Patrick is associated
in France, is St. Martin. But as St. Martin died in 397, Patrick's asso-
ciation must have been with the great abbot's disciples in the large
monastery near Tours the famous Marmoutier (great monastery).
Martin was born in 316, the son of a Roman tribune in Hungary,
who for his services was granted a home and land in Italy. In Italy
the boy grew up, and became a postulant or catechumen. It was many
years later that he received the Sacrament of Baptism. The seriousness
and reality of that ceremony in the early days of the Church puts to
shame the thoughtlessness and haste with which infants are now hurried
to the font. There was a long preparation, for weeks, of fasting and
prayer. And for eight days after, the neophyte wore his white robes.
The idea of a secluded life took hold of Martin very early. But he had
to defer his hopes until he had completed his military service. At last,
freed from outer claims, Martin journeyed to France to associate himself
with Hilary, another French religious, who like Honoratus journeyed to
the East, and knew of the Eastern ideals of spiritual training. But his
stay with Hilary was brief. After a sojourn in Hungary, he stopped
at Milan, and with a few followers began a monastic life outside the city.
But the Arian heretics whom it was his duty to oppose, troubled his
quiet there, so with a single priest, he took refuge on a barren islet in
the Gulf of Genoa. There he continued his rule of prayer and medita-
tion, maintaining physical life on the berries and roots of the island,
until he was able to go back into France to Hilary. Hilary wanted the
assistance of so able a man as Martin in the external affairs of the
Church. But Martin begged permission to continue the ascetic life of
prayer, and Hilary, who understood and sympathised, granted the re-
quest. Martin withdrew to an uncultivated region some miles from
Poitiers, built his cell, and soon had many sons who sought his training;
for many years the quiet study of spiritual science was undisturbed.
But finally Tours needed a Bishop. Martin had declined the posi-
tion when Hilary died. But on the death of Hilary's successor, the
people said Martin must come. He was led to the Cathedral by
212 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
stratagem, and at length consented to consecration. But he by no means
abandoned his teaching with the assumption of the executive office. He
found near Tours, a spot well secluded by the river, with natural cells,
and there he established a spiritual school similar to the one from which
he had been taken away. Fame of Martin's sanctity drew to him the
devout, and the miracles that resulted from his powers in prayer drew
the curious. Among the devout who sought him was Ninian, a Welsh-
man, who had been educated in Rome. On his way back from Rome to
Britain, Ninian stopped at Tours to converse with a man who had trav-
elled so far along the Path. Impressed by what he saw, Ninian crossed
over to England, proceeded north to Galloway, built a stone Church
which was so unusual that it became known as the Candida Casa (White
House), and consecrated it in the name of St. Martin. Gradually men
came to him for training as they had gone to Martin, Honoratus, and
others; a monastery grew up, and in the sixth century his school ha'd
become famous. Thus before Gregory's ambassador, Augustine, landed
at Thanet in 596, at least two churches bore witness to the sanctity of
St. Martin, and the high reverence given to the monastic mode of life
the Candida Casa of Ninian and the Church of St. Martin at Canterbury.
With the training given by three such teachers as St. Honoratus,
St. Germain and St. Martin, Patrick set out upon his mission. He jour-
neyed through Ireland as Paul did through Asia and Europe, and as
Fox and Wesley, later, went through England. He reached the Western
Ocean and the dwellers by the forest of Foclut, whose voices he had
heard. He founded churches and monasteries for his converts on land
given to him by chieftains who were moved by his character and his
ideals. None of the Messengers of the New Way, as they were called
first by St. Luke, unless the phrase is St. Paul's, accomplished single-
handed so wonderful a work, conquering so large a territory, and leaving
such enduring monuments of his victory. Amongst the world's masters,
the son of Calpurn the Decurion deserves a place with the greatest.
"Not less noteworthy than the wide range of his work was the
way in which he gained success. He addressed himself always to
the chiefs, the kings, the men of personal weight and power. And
his address was almost invariably successful, a thing that would
have been impossible had he not been himself a personality of
singular force and fire, able to meet the great ones of the land as
an equal."
Patrick has left two chief writings, his Confession and a Letter to
Coroticus. He was not a learned man, and he regrets it. The two
writings mentioned were made necessary by his outer fortunes. The
Letter to Coroticus was a protest against the murder of some neophytes
"in their white robes, the baptismal chrism still fragrant on their fore-
heads." The Confession, written shortly before his death, contains the
EARLY ENGLISH MYSTICS 213
autobiographical data which furnish the present article, though it is not
an autobiography. "It is the story of the most vital event in the life of
Ireland, in the words of the man who was chiefly instrumental in
bringing it about. Though an unskilled writer, as he says himself,
he has nevertheless succeeded in breathing into every part of his
epistle the power and greatness of his soul, the sense and vivid
reality of the divine breath which stirred in him and transformed
him, the spiritual power, humane and universal, which enkindled
him from within ; these are the words of a man who had first-hand
knowledge of the things of our deeper life; not a mere servant of
tradition, living on the words and convictions of other men. He has
drawn in large and universal outline the death to egotism reached
in his case through hunger, nakedness and slavery and the new
birth from above, the divine Soul enkindling the inner man, and
wakening him to new powers and a knowledge of his genius and
immortal destiny."
The Confession and the Letter are found in the "Book of Armagh,"
a manuscript written in 808, and now in Trinity College, Dublin. The
scribe who made the Book of Armagh copied from older manuscripts.
There seems to be no doubt among scholars as to the genuineness of the
writings. Besides these writings of St. Patrick's, the "Book of Armagh"
contains also the (Latin) life of Martin of Tours, written by his friend
and disciple, Sulpicius Severus, and dialogues and letters about St.
Martin which are attributed to Sulpicius. That life of St. Martin in so
early a manuscript as the Irish "Book of Armagh," that is copied from
older manuscripts, is another evidence of the very high esteem in which
St. Martin was held.
The well-known hymn of St. Patrick, a stanza of which heads this
article, is very ancient, but is not certainly Patrick's. He was very
friendly with the Bards who formed a separate and privileged class in
Ireland, and accepted the young pupils of the Bards as Christian novices.
There is no evidence that Patrick himself was a poet. His mother
tongue was Latin, though he forgot it and had to learn it again. His
Confession is in Latin.
SPENCER MONTAGUE.
SHANKARACHARYA'S
CATECHISM*
INTRODUCTION
THIS charming little treatise bears in Sanskrit the title Tattva
Bodha, which means "The Awakening to Reality," or, to translate
quite literally, "The Awakening to That-ness." It is character-
istic of Sanskrit that, in this "language of the gods," the most
vital words declare their own meanings. For example, Satya, the
Sanskrit word for "truth," by its very form announces its meaning:
truth is "that which belongs to being, Sat"; and "being" is "that which
endures through the three times," past, present, future; that which is
eternal. The Real, therefore, is the Eternal; and Truth is what belongs
to the Eternal. So, the unreal is the non-eternal, the temporal, the
transitory. To say, in the thought of India, that this world is "unreal"
means not so much that it is an "illusion" as that it is not everlasting.
For the thought of ancient India, for the thought of the great school to
which Shankaracharya belongs, only what is everlasting deserves the
name of real. Therefore the title of our text means, in its fullest sense,
"the Awakening to the nature of That, which is the Everlasting." And
the knowledge of the Eternal is to be attained, be it noted, not by
analysis or argument, whether deductive or inductive, but by "awaken-
ing": by the unveiling of a new consciousness. In the same sense,
Siddhartha the Compassionate, in whom the "cosmic consciousness" had
revealed the secret of Nirvana, is called the Buddha, the "Awakened,"
he whose eyes behold the everlasting day.
This little treatise illustrates above all things the lucidity of Shan-
karacharya, the clearest, serenest spirit that ever set forth the mystery
of holy things ; just as "The Awakening to the Self" shows the beauty,
the poetry of his luminous soul. In the simplest form, question and
answer, he leads us along the path of wisdom. "What is wisdom?"
"The knowledge of Atman, the Self." "What is the Self?" "That
which appears as consciousness in the three bodies, the outer, the inner,
the causal, but in its own nature transcends them, being, indeed,
immortal, omniscient Joy."
In order the better to bring out the content of Shankara's teaching,
we have ventured to add to the text a brief commentary, to supply to
the Western reader that which is in the mind of every Eastern student,
the splendid spiritual tradition of Mother India. And to bring the
teaching closer to ourselves, we have added many parallels from the
Copyright, 1913, by Charles Johnston.
SHANKARACHARYA'S CATECHISM 215
works of a Western mystic, Miguel de Molinos, who, perhaps, of all
Christian writers, comes closest to the Oriental method and spirit.
We end this introduction with an Eastern prayer: May the work
bring blessing to reader and writer alike!
THE AWAKENING TO REALITY
With reverent adoration of the Logos, the Lord of those who
seek for Union, the giver of Wisdom, the Initiator, this teaching of
the Awakening to Reality is set forth, to give aid to those who are
seeking Liberation.
The word translated here 'the Logos' is, in the Sanskrit Vasudeva,
a name given in the Bhagavad Gita to Krishna as the Incarnation of
Vishnu, who is the second Person of the Trinity, God made manifest in
the world. We may realize the full meaning of our text by comparing
with it these verses of the Gita:
"The seeker for Union, thus ever joining himself in Union, his
darkness gone, happily attains the infinite joy of Union with the Eternal.
"He sees his soul as one with all beings, and all beings as one with
his soul; his soul joined in Union, beholding Oneness everywhere.
"Who sees Me everywhere, and sees all in Me, him I lose not, nor
will he lose Me.
"Who, resting in Oneness, loves Me dwelling in all beings, where-
soever he may turn this follower of Union dwells in Me.
"Who through loving all as himself beholds Oneness everywhere,
whether it be in joy or sorrow, that follower of Union is deemed
supreme." (vi, 28-32.)
Compare the words of the Western mystic, Miguel de Molinos :
"There the Soul, raised and uplifted into this passive state, finds
herself united to the Highest Good, although this Union costs her no
fatigue. There in that supreme Region, and sacred temple of the Soul,
the Highest Good delights to abide, to manifest Himself, to give Himself
to the Creature, in a way transcending Sense and all human Under-
standing. There also, the one pure Spirit Who is God (for the purified
Soul is not capable of receiving images of the senses) dominates the
Soul and masters her, instilling into her His own Enlightenment; and
the knowledge which is requisite for the most pure and perfect Union."
(Spiritual Guide, Book iii, Chapter 13.)
The invocation to the Logos has a close parallel in Molinos' book:
"All holy, expert and mystic Teachers, teach this true and import-
ant Doctrine, because they have all had one and the same Master Who
is the Holy Spirit." (i, 15.)
We shall declare the manner of the Discernment of Reality,
which becomes the instrument of Liberation for those who are qual-
ified by possessing the Four Attainments.
This has been for ages a fundamental idea in the religious and
philosophical thought of the East : that one must have reached a certain
216 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
poise and stature, must have attained to a certain maturity of thought
and experience, before the search of the Soul can be wisely and fruit-
fully followed. "Ripeness is all." We are familiar with the saying:
"Before the eyes can see, they must be incapable of tears." The idea is
the same. We must have learned the simpler lessons of natural life
with some thoroughness, before we are ready to enter on the lessons of
spiritual life. For this purpose, indeed, natural life exists, to give the
soul its training in the preliminary lessons. This is the justification of
the very existence of natural life. It exists, not for itself, or for any
end of its own, but for spiritual life, of which it is, indeed, the reflection,
the inverted image. And just because this world is the image of
spiritual life, the soul can here learn the first outlines of the greater
lessons only fully to be learned in spiritual life; the Soul can here begin
to attain the qualities and powers which it is later to develop and use
in a wider, a finer world. Therefore, only after the outlines are learned,
is the soul ready for the fuller picture.
Molinos also begins his treatise with the statement of four attain-
ments, which must be possessed before the way can be entered:
"Thou art to know, that thy Soul is the Centre, Habitation, and
Kingdom of God. That, therefore, to the end the Sovereign King may
rest on that Throne, thou oughtest to take pains to keep the Soul pure,
quiet, void and peaceable ; pure from guilt and defects ; quiet from fears ;
void of affections, desires, and thoughts; and peaceable in temptations
and tribulations." (i, i.)
What are the Four Attainments? They are these:
First, Discernment between immortal and mortal being.
Second, Ceasing from the desire to feast on the fruit of our
worth, whether in this world or in the other world.
Third, The group of Six Treasures, beginning with Peace.
Fourth, The longing for Liberation.
It is like setting forth on a voyage. We need four things: first,
a clear knowledge of the port we seek, as our journey's end, a realiza-
tion of whither we wish to go; second, a willingness to leave behind us
the harbor from which we are setting forth, with a further determination
to go forward, not to be detained on our way ; third, the needed supplies
for the voyage, the proper provisioning of our ship; fourth, the driving
power, the strong and determined going forward, once we are set forth.
We must 'press toward the mark.'
What is Discernment between immortal and mortal being?
This is Discernment between immortal and mortal being: The
One, the Eternal, is immortal; everything that is separated from the
Eternal is mortal.
The earlier training through the life of the natural world, which
we have spoken of as the necessary preliminary to the entry into spiritual
life, consists essentially in this: that, through the manifold experiences
SHANKARACHARYA'S CATECHISM 217
of natural life, birth and death, union and separation, wealth, and pov-
erty, friendship and loneliness, the Soul may come to a certain firmness
and poise, and to an intuitive understanding and certainty that there is
another world, not subject to these mutations.
This intuitive sense may be reached, and perhaps is oftenest reached,
through bitter suffering and sorrow, where the soul, destitute, afflicted,
tormented, driven to desperation, nevertheless does not despair but finds
within itself a reserve force, a divine quality which enables it to rise
above sorrow, saying: "Even though all things seem to fall in ruin
about me, to fail and wither away, yet I am; and, because I am, there-
fore God is also." This return of the Soul upon itself is, indeed, the
divine fruit and purpose of sorrow, which is the first counselor and
liberator of the Soul.
Or the same result may be gained, not through weakness, but
through strength. The Soul, feeling its own divine quality and
temper, may say: "These things of the world have their attraction
and their qualities, but they are not enough for me. I seek my own,
and must seek it till I find." But it is possible that this intuition
may be the fruit of the return through sorrow, already reached in
an earlier life.
The way may be found through the will. Through much asser-
tion of one's own will, following one's own passionate desires, seek-
ing one's own satisfaction, one may come into pain and misery
unendurable, and, turning in agony toward the divine power dimly
felt in the darkness, may cry out: "I am lonely and miserable and
wretched; take me and make of me what Thou wilt; take my will
and make it Thine. Only deliver me from the intolerable burden of
myself."
Here, too, we may find the way, not through weakness, but
through strength ; through the intuitive sense that, for every action
and work, there is a divine and excellent way, not of our making
or planning, but nevertheless ever within our reach, if only we are
willing to take it; thoroughly giving up our own way, that we may
follow the greater, divine way; wholly laying aside our will and
wish, that we may carry out the wish and will of God.
The artist's instinct for perfection is a part of this intuition.
Without reasoning, he feels within him that there is an ideal to
express, an ideally best way to express it; and this he seeks, never
quite attaining, but always devoutly following, in ardent self-forget-
fulness.
Or the way may be found through sheer love of Those who have
attained, and the desire to follow in their steps. To this end, They
come again, that they make manifest the way, that they may show
us how full of love, how adorable, is the Divine.
But before we can find the way along any of these lines, we
must have pretty thoroughly learned the earlier lessons; we must
218 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
have reached a pretty strong and matured conviction that the visible
is not all, and is not enough. While we are entirely satisfied with
it, content to stumble along, desiring no change nor anything better,
we are not yet ready for the greater way.
What is Ceasing from desire?
It is a freedom from any wish for the feasts of this world or
Paradise.
It is not enough to have an intuitive sense that there is a better
world, a better way, a better will, a better self. One needs some-
thing more, and more positive than this: We must definitely and
really and effectively prefer the better way, the better will, the better
self. Very much of the misery of the world, a misery far keener
than sickness or poverty or destitution, lies in this, that so many of
us vaguely, or even clearly, feel the pressure of the better self and
the better way, and yet do not effectively choose and prefer that
way. We feel the leading and prompting of the diviner will, but we
are not yet ready to follow; we hear, as though afar off, the divine
command, but we are not yet ready to obey. So we hesitate and
hold back in miserable indecision and cowardice, which is indeed the
worst of all miseries. There is no cure for cowardice but courage,
no cure for indecision but resolute will, no way to pass the danger
zone on the path, but once for all to make up our minds to do what
we know we ought to do.
This effective and sincere preferring of the divine will to our own
wills is the attainment here described. It breaks the galling fetters
of our indecision and hesitation, and sends us forth, warriors, to the
battle.
The Western mystic expresses this attainment thus: "Know
that he who would attain to the Mystical Science, must abandon
and be detached from five things: I. From Creatures. 2. From
Temporal things. 3. From the very Gifts of the Holy Spirit. 4. From
himself. 5. He must be lost in God. This last is the completest of
all, because that Soul only that knows how to be so detached, is that
which attains to being lost in God, and thus alone knows how safely
to find himself." (Molinos, Spiritual Guide, iii, 18.)
One may notice here a curious parallel. The Eastern mystic
declares that it is not enough to cease from desire for the feasts of
this world. We must also cease to desire the feasts of paradise. The
Western mystic tells us that it is not enough for us to be detached
from creatures and temporal things. We must be detached from the
very gifts of the Holy Spirit. The principle is identical. There must
be genuine and disinterested love for the better way; we must seek
it for its own sake, not for ours; not that we may have a new kind
of enjoyment and satisfaction. This is indeed the strait and narrow
gate, which he alone can pass, who is willing to leave himself behind.
SHANKARACHARYA'S CATECHISM 219
We must learn to die to ourselves, before we can rise again to the
immortal. There is no concealing the truth that this is a fiercely
contested battle, a great and difficult victory. Happy he who fights
and conquers, who dies to his own will, that he may rise in the will
of the Divine. For "in His will is our peace."
The Imitation very beautifully expresses the same teaching: "It is
no hard matter to despise human comfort, when we have that which
is divine. It is much and very much, to be able to lack both human and
divine comfort; and, for God's honour, to be willing cheerfully to endure
desolation of heart; and to seek oneself in nothing, nor to regard one's
own merit."
What is the sixfold treasure beginning with Peace?
It is this: Peace, Control, Silence, Patience, Faith, One-pointed-
ness.
This description of the sixfold treasure is derived from a beautiful
passage in the greatest of the Upanishads, the ancient Sacred Books,
on which all later mystical teaching in India rests, drawing there-
from ever new inspiration: "He who knows is therefore full of
peace, lord of himself; he has ceased from false gods, he is full of
endurance, he intends his will, in his soul he beholds the Soul."
The Bhagavad Gita is full of the same teaching, as, for example,
in this verse: "Quietness of heart, amiability, silence, self-control,
purity of heart, this is declared to be the true penance of the mind."
(xvii, 16.) Molinos has a passage identical in purpose, and almost
identical in expression.
"In like manner Resignation is more perfect in these Souls
because it springs from the internal and infused Fortitude, which
grows as the internal exercise of pure Faith, with Silence and
Resignation, is continued." (i, 16.)
Resignation is that ceasing from our own wills and desires,
which leaves us free to lose and find ourselves in the will of God.
Fortitude, Silence, Faith are three of the six treasures, springing
from within, which are the fruit of that great and difficult victory.
Until we have won the victory over our hesitation and indecision and
cowardice, there can be no peace for us. We are horribly uneasy
and restless, weak, vacillating, miserable; almost certainly full of
lamentation and complaining. Then comes, through a great effort
of courage, the first act of acceptance, of resignation to the will of
God; and once we have put ourselves in the line of the divine will,
which is our own true will, we find that we have already attained
to peace; a peace, divine, passing all understanding, full of healing,
full of joy, full of promise of the treasures that are to come.
In the power of that peace, we begin to conquer ourselves. The
better in us seeks to master the worse. That in us which feels that
in the depths it is at one with the divine will, begins to curb and
220 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
subdue the petulance of personal self-will. After long contest, the
victory is won; control of the personal self is gained. Henceforth,
like a good servant, like a dutiful child, the personal self obeys the
deeper self, which seeks only to carry out the will of the divine. A
deep and penetrating stillness then fills the whole being, a stillness
in which the Soul hears the voice of the divine, and, hearing, knows
itself able to endure all things, seeking no heaven and fearing no hell.
Then flames forth perfect faith, the divine aspiration which, against
all evidence, knows that the Eternal is, and undaunted by the dark-
ness, seeks the Eternal; that faith, which, inwardly divining, the
being and will of the Eternal, inspires the will and heart to seek that
being and accomplish that will. In the East, this faith has also this
more concrete meaning: firm and ardent trust in the Master, the
great Initiator who stands above us, and whose love we feel; deep
and loving confidence in him, who, having passed on before us, seeks
to draw us also on the immortal way. Then we gather ourselves
together, and, with whatever there is in us of will and force, we seek
to intend our whole being toward the Eternal, toward the Master
who reveals to us the Eternal. This is the true one-pointedness, the
true concentration, the Sanskrit name of which means, to gather
oneself together, and set oneself toward the goal.
In the Bhagavad Gita, the Master thus expresses the true spiritual
concentration :
"Hear further My ultimate word, most secret of all; thou are
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 art dear to Me.
"Putting aside all other duties, come for refuge to Me alone;
grieve not, for I shall set thee free from all sins." (xvii, 64-66.)
The Western mystic has given an admirable description of the
same treasure, spiritual concentration.
"There are other spiritual men, who have passed beyond the
beginning of the Inner Way which leads to Perfection and Union with
God, and to which the Lord called them by His infinite Mercy from
that Outer Way, in which before they exercised themselves. These
men, withdrawn into the inner parts of their Souls, resigning them-
selves wholly into the Hands of God, having forgotten and despoiled
themselves of everything, even of themselves, do always go with an
uplifted Spirit into the presence of the Lord, by the means of pure
Faith, without Image, Form or Figure, but with great assurance,
founded in tranquility and inner rest: in which infused Recollection
the spirit gathers itself with such force, that it concentrates thereon
the mind, heart, body and all the physical powers." (Spiritual Guide.)
Shankara then proceeds to define more precisely each of the
Six Treasures. (To be continued.)
TWO LETTERS
MY DEAR GERARD:
YOUR letters have interested me greatly. I have never misunder-
stood your spirit or your will to help, but the form in which that
spirit clothed itself was for some time a barrier. Perhaps it was
so intended to teach me to look within the form as we must each
one of us learn to look within the circumstances of our lives in order
to extract their meaning. Perhaps the sound and somewhat cruel
thrashing you gave me was analogous to the method used by the great
Teachers themselves a method learned from the study of life, which
drives us so relentlessly along the way of salvation. I realized from the
first that I must take it, whatever it might mean, and extract its good.
But the good has taken many aspects. It is hard for me to write of these
things which are so intimate, even to you, but I am going to test my own
disinterestedness and desire to serve by doing so. Do you remember how
we used to tear off the outer coats of bulbs and seedlings to get at the
hidden principle which made them live? Times have changed for us
only in the form of our absorbing interest. "Now souls are bared that
men may see the way to grow." So in the service of that Master whom
we both adore I strip off my wrappings and lay myself bare before you.
You remember that since you began to write you have said many
harsh things about me. You have told me I was emotionally hysterical
and spiritually paralysed, that I was self-deluded, hypocritical, poisoned
by vanity, jealousy, and self-will, and have ended by saying that you
wanted to shake me. This, I think, is the substance of your accusation.
The additional epithets and illustrations I mercifully omit. Well, my
first thought on reading all these things was one of horror. Was I,
could I be unconsciously to myself, so vile a creature? I sat down
quaking to think it over, so that I might by walking another path, per-
chance, save myself from destruction. "Yes, he is quite right," I con-
cluded. I am, I must be self-deluded and a hypocrite, being human.
And being human, probably do not know to what extent. Yes, I am
vain, too. I do think of myself as doing things and see myself in them.
But was it not unjust to accuse me of not serving through love of a
Master who was only known to me by his image as I had seen it in
a mirror ? How could more be expected of me than that I should follow
that image, blindly as I did, till coming with a heavy thud against the
mirror I saw that it was only an image. Then I felt the Master's hand
upon me, so I turned and saw him standing on the other side. At
least I should never have sought the reality had I not stupidly, perhaps,
but with the help of that self-will which you find so perverse in me,
222 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
doggedly followed the reflection. And jealous? Well, it was a fault
I despised. I had hoped that my own severe, persistent discipline had
before this knocked every vestige of it out of me. But, of course, I was
not the best judge, and I prided myself on being fair.
At this point a wave of indignation swept over me utterly destroy-
ing the memory of your penetrating sympathy and the inspiration I had
drawn from your kind, brave effort to help. Who is he, I thought, that
he should expose me to the light with brutal cruelty? How does his
action differ, essentially, from the harsh judgments and personal attacks
which have so often served to throw off those who were guilty of them
from contact with things of the spirit? If I am self-deluded and a
hypocrite, vain, jealous, and self-willed what shall be said of him? How
can love or even friendship express itself, most of all spiritually, against
such a blighting hail of hostile criticism? Is brotherhood and toleration
a mere form of words among us? Something is wrong here, I said,
and I must find it.
Just to think of your action as failure in brotherly love and tolera-
tion, which it had at first seemed, was too simple an explanation. I
knew of your long years of experience, your struggles and sacrifices,
your real spiritual attainments, how you had turned personal loss into
gain for others, and I saw that could not be.
Then I remembered the hot fire of discipleship : how it consumes
and melts, how it continually drives out to the surface all faults, all
weaknesses even, which have been left alive. The snake of self
scotched not killed gone inward too soon the preliminary work not
finished. But this theory was not altogether satisfactory either. The
snake was too large. It would have destroyed you in its infancy such
a one.
So I stopped and thought again. I looked beneath the surface and
then it came the paradox good inside of evil. You were trying to
help me spiritually by awaking me, roughly enough, to faults of which
I was, in my self-satisfaction, unconscious. I remembered the bitter taste
of certain very curative pills, and, with a sigh for the sugar coats
omitted, burst into a laugh.
Evidently I had misread the label of these particular pills. "Poison,"
I had read, "slow acting but of high destructive power." "Cure for
conceit" it was this time. "Taken in small doses produces humility.
An over dose will bring on depression." Well, I took one hoping to
become suddenly the little child, but alas, I must have again misread
the label. I began at once to congratulate myself on the fair-mindedness
which had made it possible for me to find your meaning and to assure
myself that I would never in like circumstances stoop to the methods
you employed. This did not look much like humility, so I concluded
that I had not yet deciphered this mysterious label correctly.
TWO LETTERS 223
"Non-resistance," I thought tentatively, as I looked again. The
disciple has no rights save that of trial. So I tried not answering back.
It was at this time that you expected to hear from me and were dis-
appointed because you didn't. I thought if I could be brought as a lamb
to the slaughter dumb I might wake up some morning and find
myself Christlike, all of a sudden without further effort, and guaranteed
to last.
Well, though it was clear enough by this time that those pills were
no cure for conceit, I began to realize how badly I needed that cure.
No sooner did this idea take possession of me than I rushed post-haste
to my room, packed my gladstone, and took the next train east to see
a disciple whom I had once met at a theosophical convention. He had
been haunting me ever since. Now I knew why. It wasn't anything
that he had said about anything in particular. He just was it. It is
hard for me to explain exactly, but I'm sure you will understand. Of
course I did not tell him I had come to get humility from him. He
would have said he had none, and didn't know what I meant. I just
talked with him about all sorts of things and he thought I was inter-
ested. Then I asked him to go with me for a walking trip, and he did.
Oh, how I drank it in. I spent three weeks on a farm with some sheep.
I tended them and made them love me so that they came very, very close ;
and their simple, selfless faces became part of my consciousness. Then
I went home and took up my business.
Don't you see the point, yet my friend? We some of us are
little ones, and a millstone around the neck and to be cast into the sea
is better than to offend one of us or cause us to offend. "But discipline,"
I hear you say. Yes, for that, too, I have an answer. "It must needs
be that offenses must come, but woe to that man by whom the offense
cometh." We are little ones, yes, but we are not any of us so little as
we were. We have grown, to be sure, just a hair's breadth, but still
grown, and that hair line makes all the difference between the drive and
the draw. You can no longer drive us into the Kingdom. When you
try it we say "No, the Kingdom is not over there." But you can draw
us. And for this was love given, and friendship, and beauty, and faith,
and obedience, too, if you wish. Don't you see that all your driving
hardly pushed me a step forward on the path you wanted me to go?
tripped me up, really, so that I fell in the opposite direction, but that the
wonderful, unconscious power of just being did draw me toward itself
and yet never knew it had done anything?
And now, my friend, don't take this letter too hard. Above all
don't forget that I am grateful, very grateful for the interest and good
will that prompted you to write. Sit down and tell me now how you
see it all, and where you think I have been wrong. If my doctor hadn't
exiled me to this lonely place I would drop in on you some evening and
224 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
talk it over. I hope that my health will soon permit me to return to
civilization. But for the present I must be satisfied to write. And
remember, my friend, whatever happens there can never be such a thing
as a misunderstanding between us. For the love of our hearts is one,
and the purpose of our lives the same to be each a plank in the bridge
which shall span the gap that separates this world from the other. By
our lives laid down must the bridge be built. But the pain of the axe is
forgotten, we both know, when we feel the step of the Master, and
know that we are helping him to reach and save his own.
Faithfully yours,
MYRON S. CRAIGHEAD.
To MR. MYRON S. CRAIGHEAD.
DEAR SIR : The Editor the THE THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY has sent
me your letter, telling me that you have requested its publication together
with whatever response I may be able to make to it, and assuring me
that it is your expressed wish, no less than his own, that that response
be as direct and frank as possible.
I confess that were it not for the Editor's urging, and the explicit
nature of the assurance he has conveyed to me from you, I should not
wish to attempt any reply to what you have written, much less to make
of the pages of the QUARTERLY the medium of its expression. Yet it
well may be that certain of the misconceptions your letter evidences are
shared by others, and that it will be helpful to discuss them openly. So,
though I find difficulty in believing that you actually desire my com-
ments, I shall do my best to take you at your word, and, having read
your letter, "sit down and tell you now how I see it all and where I think
you have been wrong."
First, you are wrong in assuming that you know me. To you I
am utterly unknown, save as a name and as the writer of certain letters
which you have read as they appeared in print. And, second, you are
wrong in assuming that these letters were in any way directed to you or
written for or at you. Published in the hope that they might provide
useful food for self -questioning and for thought, they were originally
precisely what their title indicated, "Letters to Friends," written to some
of those to whom I am not unknown, who had imposed in me the trust
of friendship, and who had asked me, in ways which could not be denied,
for such light as I could throw upon dark places in their lives.
To you, to whom these letters were not written, but who have so
strangely taken them to yourself, their light has seemed but added dark-
ness, and you tell me they have been as a stumbling block in your path.
I regret that this should have been so. But the way is clear on either
TWO LETTERS 225
side, and they are in your path only as you yourself place them there.
For surely their publication does not compel you to concern yourself
with them, or with their author, still less to take them as directed to
yourself.
It is this last assumption which I trust may repay analysis. What
is it that led you to take personally what was so wholly impersonal to
you? What are the underlying causes, the states of mind and heart
which generate them? Or what the truth which these reflect even while
distorting? For we can have no clear vision of any fault or misconcep-
tion until we see it as the perversion of a virtue and a truth.
In the light of the theosophical philosophy it should not be difficult
for us to see the virtue which is here operative or the truth upon which
that virtue rests. Life is one. All that we can see about us, in the
great world in which we live, has its correspondence in ourselves. We
are not set over against a strange and hostile universe, but are in literal
truth one with it, containing in ourselves all that it contains of good
and evil, wisdom and folly, power and weakness, majesty and degrada-
tion. And, if we are to mount by the steps of self-conquest to the heights
of which our lives are capable, we have to learn to face and to know
these qualities of our nature, by which and upon which we are to climb.
Therefore we do well to turn back upon the darkness of our own hearts
all the light we can gain from without, and, in this sense, take all things
personally.
To do this, wholly and completely, is to "kill out all sense of
separateness," or as the notes of Light on the Path have phrased it, no
longer to "fancy that you can stand aside from the bad man or the fool-
ish man. They are yourself, though in a less degree than your friend or
your Master . . . the sin and shame of the world are your sin and
shame; for you are part of it; your Karma is inextricably interwoven
with the great Karma and before you can attain knowledge you must
have passed through all places, foul and clean alike."
To gain knowledge, therefore, we have to learn to see ourselves
in both the evil and the good about us : to see the evil and the good of
others to be in us as it is in them. Only as we do so can we gain the
power to conquer ourselves or to help our friends; for it is only as we
have seen and faced an evil in our own hearts, and begun its conquest
there, that we can see and face it in the hearts of others. In this sense,
as I said before, we have to take all things personally and to ourselves.
It is in this sense, also, that these "Letters to Friends" have been
taken personally by many readers who have written me upon them. I
have before me, for example, one, of which I know no more than that
it was written from a great Paris hospital and bears on its face the
pathetic evidences of weary heart and mind and body, yet tells of the
writer's gratitude that there are those who understand what he has felt
IS
226 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
and the inner conflict he has so long been blindly waging and believed
he waged alone. There are many other letters such as his which the
Editor has forwarded me and all of them tell of the writers' recognition
of themselves in what they have read. Some, indeed, forgetting that
what is most intimate and personal is also most universal, assume, as
you have done, that in some strange way I must have known them and
have written peculiarly and specially for them.
It is this assumption of peculiarity and specialness which causes the
initial perversion of the truth, and which leads us back into a doubly
dangerous form of the heresy of separateness the heresy from which
the truth itself would free us. Let us trace its steps. There comes to
us some voice of truth, some message spoken from the depths of a man's
heart to the heart of his friend, telling of the evil with which that heart
contends, and speaking, however clumsily and brokenly, of the eternal
warfare which the soul must wage. And because these words come
from the depths and are spoken to the depths, the soul, which dwells in
the depths, knows that they are of itself and for itself and that they tell
of the battle which it too must fight. If the mind can share this inner
recognition all is well. But often the mind cannot or will not share it.
It has little liking for the warfare of the soul, small desire to face what
lies covered in the dark places of the heart. It still fancies it can stand
separate and aloof from the sin and shame it sees about it, and blinds
its eyes to that which presses on it from within. And yet it feels this
pressure, which, like water rising behind a dam, grows as it is resisted;
or, like gas gathering in an ulcer, renders all about it the more sore and
sensitive the longer it is confined, till there comes a time when the lightest
touch is scarcely to be borne. The touch of reality is not always light.
The cure for our pain is not in the diminution of the pressure, but rather
in its intensification until that which confines it is swept aside. And
when the soul stirs in answer to this inner recognition, the mind feels its
added pressure. Could we open ourselves to it, take it to ourselves and
assimilate it, relief would come. But if the mind be still fixed in resist-
ance, it is led in self-defense to ascribe to the deliberate intent of the
speaker the sense, which presses on it from within, of the intimate
application of his words.
Paradoxical as it may appear, it is nevertheless a truth that the
reason we believe others to be talking at us is, if not mere vanity, because
we are unwilling to take to ourselves that which they say; because our
minds are set upon the denial of that which our souls accept, and because,
clinging to the heresy of separateness, we would here isolate ourselves
from the great life about us, and postpone the stern and vital conflicts
which sooner or later we know we shall have to face.
I think, if you will reread your letter, you will see how much of this
unconscious attitude it reflects. You speak of being driven relentlessly
TWO LETTERS 227
along the way of salvation. Yet no other thing can drive you than the
will of your own soul and this will is yourself. Recognize it as such
shift but for a moment your sense of self -identification from the per-
sonality to the Soul, and all this, which now seems to you a compulsion
imposed from without, will be seen as but the movement of your own
free-will toward the fulfilment of its desire.
You thought that I had called you vain, jealous, spiritually para-
lysed and self-deluded, as well as many other evil things because I
wrote of the need of conquering these. But have you no need to
conquer them? Are these great enduring enemies, with which the soul
wages its warfare till it has gained for itself their strength, absent from
your heart, yet rife in all other hearts? Surely you do not think so, nor
believe that the soul is vile because it must contend with vileness. Must
not the whole nature of man be used wisely by the one who desires to
enter the way? Are not all steps necessary to make up the ladder and
do not the vices of men become steps in the ladder, one by one, as they
are surmounted? Why "sit down quaking" before the contemplation
of that by which you can climb?
Were your goal that of the man or woman of the world such an
attitude would not be unnatural. To them life is static: their aim not
one of endless progress but rather to maintain a certain level they feel
that they have reached and with which they are content. Shake that
content by showing them a fault unconquered, or a virtue ungained, and
they feel, and feel truly, that you are thwarting the fulfilment of their
desire and so resent your action as an injury. But your letter speaks of
discipleship, and the attitude of the disciple must be wholly the reverse
of this. His goal is no fixed level, however exalted. It is always above
and beyond him. He is neither content with what he has attained nor
seeks content; but striving always toward a life of more effective service
and more intimate union, seeks to remove all that separates him from it.
That he is separated from it is evident to him, and he asks himself
what it is that stands between. He is what he is; he has attained what
he has, so much and no more; and this is not enough. He is like a
man whose business has paid him dividends for many years, but has not
brought him the return he desires and believes that it should yield. He
calls experts to his assistance and takes counsel with his friends. To-
gether they examine anew each department, seeking for waste and ex-
travagance, for ineffective methods, useful in their day but now no-
longer suited to their end. Were no fault discovered, no neglected
opportunity revealed, it would be clear to that man that he could hope
for nothing more than was already his. But whatever fault is found is
welcomed, for it is seen that as it is corrected greater returns can be
gained.
This seems to me a true picture of what must always be the disciple's
228 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
attitude. Recognizing his personality "as not himself, but that thing
which he has with pain created for his own use," he must examine and
re-examine it, seeking for fault and ways of bettering it, and he who
would help him to his heart's desire must help him in this search.
You see with the disciple it is not a matter of being driven relent-
lessly along the pathway of salvation. It is rather a matter of his own
burning, ardent desire to draw nearer to his Master, to surmount all that
stands between, to conquer every power and quality of nature till he
enlists it in that Master's service. It is this desire which makes of him
a disciple, which is recognized in him by all his co-disciples by all his
comrades in the battle he is fighting. It must be presupposed if we are
to understand anything of what is written for disciples.
Furthermore, there can be in the disciple no hint or suggestion of
self-pity. He does not desire gentler treatment or easier methods
though this may sometimes be the plea of those who have not yet
entered upon the Path in earnest. Disciples have their hall-marks by
which they may be known. This is one. For the disciple is not made,
he becomes.
With your final point I quite agree. Those help us most who draw
us by the mere power of what they are. Only to the degree that men
are can they either do or understand. It is so the Master draws us;
and if we can but keep our gaze fixed on him it is enough. But to most
men there come times when they can neither see nor hear for the press
of foes around them and the blinding dust of battle. Then it is that a
comrade's sword may be of help, and a guiding touch from one beside
them lead to an open way.
Sincerely yours,
JOHN GERARD.
// knowledge without religion were highly valuable, nothing would
be more so than the Devil.
PERSIAN APHORISM.
THE RELIGIOUS ORDERS
"Few phenomena are more striking than the change that
has come over educated Protestant opinion in its estimate of
monasticism. The older Protestantism uncompromisingly
judged the monastic ideal and life to be both unchristian and
unnatural, an absolute perversion deserving nothing but con-
demnation. But now the view of the critic o-historical school
of Protestant thought, of which Dr. Adolf Harnack is so repre-
sentative a spokesman, is that the preservation of spiritual relig-
ion in Catholic Christianity, both Eastern and Western, has been
mainly, if not wholly, due to Monasticism."
(Encyclopedia Brittanica.}
THE earliest organized peoples of which we have knowledge
had their monks and nuns, for Monasticism has its roots in
certain fundamental needs of human nature and its origin is
lost in the mists of time. Men soon learned that if they wished
to live a religious life they must flee from the temptations and allure-
ments of the world. Hence the tendency to an eremitical life, as
shown by the hermits of Egypt and Syria in the early days of Chris-
tianity. But they also learned that to imitate others who had the same
ideals, was a powerful and needed stimulant. Just as "evil communi-
cations corrupt good manners," so "Saints beget saintliness," therefore
the early hermits soon gravitated together and began to live their lives
in common. The monastery combines these two inherent tendencies;
retirement from the world, solitude, austerity ; with a community life
and a fellowship of worship.
There is a higher ideal. It is not necessary to flee from the
world, the flesh and the devil, in order to become a saint, but it is easier.
It is necessary to forego these things, to renounce pleasure, to conquer
pain, to turn the desires of the heart towards God, so that the main-
springs of all action and thought are the love and the service of the
Master. But this can be and is done by a few strong souls while living
in the world and continuing to perform all secular duties. There is a
discipline of the spirit and an asceticism of the heart, which are even
more effective than corporal austerities.
Wherever men or women live together, for any purpose whatsoever,
order, discipline, organization, rules, are necessary. The religious com-
munity is no exception to this law, and each great religion has had its
institutions, which have varied much in external object and internal rule
and government, but which all have had the same fundamental pur-
pose, the union of the individual with God.
230 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
The Catholic Encyclopedia says: "It must be clearly understood
that, in the case of the monk, asceticism is not an end in itself. For
him, as for all men, the end of life is to love God. Monastic asceticism
then means the removal of obstacles to loving God, and what these
obstacles are is clear from the nature of love itself. Love is the union
of wills. If the creature is to love God, he can do it in one way only;
by sinking his own will in God's ; by doing the will of God in all things :
'If ye love Me keep my commandments.' No one understands better
than the monk those words of the beloved disciple, 'Greater love hath no
man than this that a man lay down his life' ; for in his case life has come
to mean renunciation. Broadly speaking this renunciation has three
great branches corresponding to the three evangelical counsels of
poverty, chastity and obedience."
The purpose of this article is to give a very brief account of the
more famous Religious Orders in Christianity, with the date of their
foundation and the name of their founder.
Almost everyone knows that the Benedictines were founded by
St. Benedict in the early centuries of the Christian Era; that the Fran-
ciscans and Dominicans were founded by St. Francis of Assisi and
St. Dominic respectively, in the early Middle Ages ; that Ignatius Loyola
founded the Jesuits, somewhat later. People also know in a vague sort
of way that there are many other important Orders, and if they stop
and think they can name the Carmelites, the Cistercians, the Augus-
tinians, the Trappists and perhaps several others, but if asked who
founded these other orders in most cases they would be forced to confess
complete ignorance.
Few persons know that there are nearly seventy of these Religious
Orders which have been recognized officially by the Roman Catholic
Church. An effigy of each founder is placed in a series of seventy-two
niches which surround the great dome of St. Peters of Rome, and these
niches are almost full.
In order to make clear what follows, some definition of terms is
desirable.
Monks are men who live a religious life for its own sake; external
works, either temporal or spiritual are accidental; clericature or ordina-
tion is an addition, an accession and no part of their object. Until well
on in the Middle Ages monks were rarely priests. They live and die
in the monastery of their profession and are a part of it.
Friars are men who adopt a religious life because it is a means to
enable them better to carry out some ideal of action, to succor the poor,
convert the heathen, transform the heretic, preach the gospel, nurse the
sick, or imitate the outer life of Christ in the doing of all these things.
They belong to the Order as a whole and not to any part of it, and may
be and are moved about, freely, from place to place wherever their
services are needed. They may or may not be priests.
THE RELIGIOUS ORDERS 231
Canons, or more accurately, Canons Regular, are clerics with dis-
tinct ecclesiastical or parochial duties, who live a community life under
a Rule, in order better to perform their work.
Clerics Regular, a term which arose in the i6th century, are priests,
first of all, even in dress and mode of life. They undertake all the duties
suitable to priests and attend to the spiritual necessities of their neigh-
bours, especially the education of the young, which the Mendicant
Orders never attempted. Being Clerks and not Canons, they escaped
the inconvenience of a title of dignity and of being bound to a par-
ticular Church. The Jesuits are Clerics Regular.
There are three kinds of religious life as exemplified in the different
Orders ; the purely contemplative life where the monks devote themselves
to union with God in a life of solitude and retirement, such as the
Carthusians and Trappists; the active Orders, the members of which
expend their energies in doing good to men; and the mixed Orders,
where the character of the outer work is spiritual in its object and re-
quires contemplation for its attainment; such as preaching and higher
education.
The rules of St. Basil (still used by practically all Eastern monks)
and of St. Benedict were as suitable for women as for men, because in
those days it was not contemplated that monks should be priests; hence
the feminine equivalent of the monk the nun. But the rules of the
Mendicant Orders, and especially the Clerics Regular, were not suitable
for women, so St. Francis wrote a special rule for his "Second Order,"
and other founders followed suit. There are Orders for women whose
origin is independent of any Order for men. This is especially so in
more recent years. The Sisters of the Visitation and the Ursulines are
noteworthy examples.
There are usually "Third" Orders connected with any institution
having a "Second" Order, but by no means all Orders have the "Second"
and "Third" Orders. There are no Benedictine or Jesuit Tertiaries and
the Jesuit Rule expressly forbids nuns.
There are other types of religious associations than the Orders;
the more famous are called Congregations because, not complying with
the essential conditions, they could not be called Orders. Such is the
Congregation of the Oratory, founded by St. Philip Neri in 1575. It is
an association of priests not bound by vows. The Lazarists, founded
by St. Vincent de Paul in 1655, is a Congregation and not an Order.
Sometimes the only distinction between a Congregation and an Order
is in the solemnity of the vows. In an Order they must be perpetual.
In a Congregation the vows, when there are any, are renewed from
time to time, and at the end of any period the member is free to return
to the world. Such are the Daughters of St. Vincent de Paul, the White
Sisters, and the Sisters of Charity.
232 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
As has already been set forth in an article in the QUARTERLY,* the
first of the great Western Orders was the Benedictine, founded by St.
Benedict at Subiaco, near Rome, about the year 500 A. D. Later he
moved to Mount Cassino, which has remained the center of the Order.
The Benedictines served as a pattern upon which all subsequent Orders
have been modeled, and St. Benedict's famous Rule is the basis of nearly
all subsequent religious Rules. It is still one of the most numerous,
powerful and beneficial of religious institutions. The monks wear a
black habit, live in partial seclusion and devote themselves largely to a
purely religious life, but from the earliest times, the education of children
has been the recognized and principal work of the Order. Its monas-
teries were the preserver of letters and learning during the so-called
Dark Ages, and it is to the Benedictines that we owe the existence of
most of the classical and ecclesiastical writings of Latin antiquity.
St. Augustine and his companions, on the famous missionary trip to
England, were Benedictines, and so was the Venerable Bede. There
were many reforms and revivals within the main Order. The most
famous of these were the Cluniac Movement in 910 and the Cistercian in
1098. The general tendency of these revivals was in the direction of
greater austerity of life and a closer adherence to St. Benedict's original
rule. The last great revival is known as the Tridentine movement
which occurred in the i/th Century.
The Reformation, the Religious wars and the French Revolution
spread havoc among the Benedictines, so that at the beginning of the
I9th Century it is said that only thirty houses survived, but the second
half of the century witnessed a series of remarkable revivals and now
there are two vigorous congregations in the United States, thirty in
Austria-Hungary and Switzerland, five in England, with several branches
of foreign congregations. The two original monasteries of St. Benedict,
at Subiaco and Mount Cassino, are flourishing; but in France, Spain,
other parts of Italy and in South America there are only a few weak
remnants of this former great Order. These have not yet felt the vivi-
fying influence of the recent revival, though signs are not wanting that
it will soon reach them.
The chief outer work of the Benedictines in the present day is
secondary education. There are 1,121 schools, or gymnasia, attached to
the abbeys where the monks teach 12,000 boys; many of the nunneries
also teach girls. Where there is a dearth of secular priests the monks
often do ordinary parochial work.
There are about 11,000 Benedictine monks at the present time and
the same number of nuns. An Anglican offshoot of the Order has re-
cently been started in England, at Caldey in Wales, on the original lines,
and an effort is now being made by High Church Episcopalians in the
United States to start a foundation here.
The THEOSOPHICAL QUATE*LY for July, 1909.
THE RELIGIOUS ORDERS 233
The first great and successful effort to reform the Benedictine
Order is known as the Cluniac revival. The Order of Cluniac Benedic-
tines was founded at Cluny, a town of East Central France, near Macon,
in 910 by William the Pious, Count of Auvergne. The first Abbot was
Berno, who did little. Under the second, the great Odo, who was armed
by papal powers and privileges, Cluny became the center of a powerful
movement for reform, which spread all over France, and then beyond
its borders. Even the parent houses of Subiaco and Mount Cassino
received the reform and adopted the Cluny manner of life.
They gave up all field work and manual work, greatly lengthened the
canonical offices, until the services came to occupy nearly the entire day.
The daily psalmody exceeded a hundred psalms. The great influence of
the Order, however, was in its method of government. The Benedictine
monasteries had always been autonomous bodies with only a very loose
tie to any central organization. In the Cluniac Order, however, every
house was subject to Cluny and the Abbot of Cluny was the "General"
of the whole Order. He appointed and dismissed the superiors of the
subject houses, usually priors, not abbots, and every member of the
Order was professed by his permission.
The greatness of Cluny was chiefly due to the personal greatness of
its Abbots. For 250 years, seven wonderful men ruled its destinies,
taking part in all great movements in Church and State; refusing any
personal preferment, they were second only to the Pope himself, in
power and influence. Their monastery at Cluny was gigantic, and their
Church the largest in Christendom until the building of St. Peter's at
Rome.
Beginning with the death of the last great Abbot, Peter the Vener-
able, in 1 1 57, the Cluniacs rapidly declined in importance ; the order was
distracted by quarrels and rivalries, by the jealousy of sub-houses in
foreign countries, until finally in 1790 it was dissolved and suppressed
and the parent Church at Cluny deliberately destroyed.
The Carthusians, who wear a white habit, were founded by St.
Bruno in 1084. With six companions, he asked the Bishop of Grenoble
for a place in which he and his companions could devote themselves to
a religious life. The Bishop gave them a wild and remote tract of land
in the Savoy Alps, where they settled and where the Order has had its
headquarters ever since.
It is the most austere of all the Orders. The monks live in separate
houses, eat once a day, never touch meat, even in illness, meet three
times a day, for the Midnight office, for High Mass at noon, and for
Vespers. The rest of the time they live in their little houses, each
occupying himself with his garden, or his carpenter work, or with his
private devotions. On Sundays and feast days they have their single
meal together, in the refectory, and once a week they go outside the
234 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
enclosure for a walk together. The austerity of the Order prevented
its rapid or great increase.
At the beginning of the i8th century there were 170 charterhouses,
75 in France, all being subject to the Grande Chartreuse. This famous
monastery has been the habitat of the head of the Order since the days
of St. Bruno, and has had a remarkably uneventful career. Save for a
few years during and after the French Revolution, and since 1901, when
the property was seized and the monks turned out by the French Govern-
ment, the monks have been there for 800 years.
This Order is unique in that it has never been reformed; "never re-
formed because never deformed." The monks to this day live exactly
as did St. Bruno and his six companions. The famous old Charterhouse
of London, long a school, and now a hospital for pensioners, was a
Carthusian monastery until suppressed by Henry VIII. There were
twenty charterhouses before the recent expulsion from France. The
community of the Grande Chartreuse, consisting of forty choir monks
and twenty lay brothers, moved to the monastery of the Order near
Lucca in Italy. There is one house in England, founded in 1883, and
made up mostly of foreigners, including many of those recently expelled
from France.
The liqueur known as Chartreuse, made by the lay-brothers, at the
Grande Chartreuse, has given the Order an unenviable fame. It may
not be amiss to add, therefore, that at the Restoration, after the Revolu-
tion, the monks recovered only a barren wilderness, and for it they had
to pay rent. Until they invented the liqueur they were in want of the
actual means of subsistence. Since then they have used their income
first to restore their monastery, then to found branch charterhouses else-
where, but by far the largest part has been devoted to charitable pur-
poses in France and all over the world. They do not permit the money
to accumulate, and it is certain that the possession of the income has
"made no difference at all to the secluded and austere life of the monks
of the Grande Chartreuse" (Enc. Brit.}
The Cistercians were started in 1098 by St. Robert, a Benedictine
monk who was not satisfied with the laxities which had crept into the
Order in his day. With twenty monks he migrated to a swampy desert
called The Valley of Wormwood, near Dijon. Here he founded the
famous Monastery of Citeaux. He was forced by the Pope to return
to his former monastery, but he was succeeded at Citeaux first by Alberic,
then by the famous English St. Stephen Harding. The young com-
munity had a hard struggle for existence for many years, but before the
end of Stephen's abbacy in 1134 there were over thirty Cistercian houses.
In 1 1 12 the great St. Bernard and thirty others offered themselves
to the monastery and this started a wonderful development. When
Bernard died in 1154 there were 280 houses; by the end of the century
over 500. The monks wear a grey or white habit with a black scapular.
THE RELIGIOUS ORDERS 235
The keynote of their life is a literal observance of St. Benedict's Rule,
especially including a return to field work and manual labour. To give
time for this they cut away the accretions to the several services which
had been steadily growing since St. Benedict's time. They were the
great farmers and horse and cattle breeders of the later Middle Ages,
and are considered to have had a marked effect upon civilization by the
many improvements in farming operations which they introduced and
propagated. To take care of this increasing work, the system of lay-
brothers arose, usually peasants or men of low extraction and without
education, who lived alongside the choir monks, and who took no part
in the canonical office, but had a fixed round of prayer and observances
of their own.
The Order prospered for two to three hundred years, when there
were 750 houses, but then it gradually declined, partly because of the
influence of the Reformation, the Religious Wars and the French Revo-
lution ; partly because of the rise of the Mendicant Orders, which proved
strong competitors and supplied the needs of the age, and partly be-
cause, being itself a reform, the inevitable laxity which crept in in time,
struck at the very reason of its existence. Many efforts were made to
reform it from within. The Trappists are a reformed offshoot, started
by de Ranee in 1663. The Bernardines are another named after the
greatest abbot of the Order.
The Cistercians now have about 100 monasteries with 2,500 monks
and 2,000 lay-brothers. Over half of these are Trappists, and a great
majority of the Order are in Austria-Hungary.
There have always been a large number of Cistercian nuns, devoted
to contemplation and field work. At the period of their widest extension
there are said to have been 900 nunneries. At the present time there are
100 nunneries with 3,000 nuns, choir and lay, of which 15 nunneries and
900 nuns are Trappists.
The order was once powerful and popular in England but did not
survive the suppression of the monasteries in the reign of Henry the
VIII. Tintern was a Cistercian Abbey.
Silverstrines or Sylvestrines were founded by Silvester Gozzolini in
1231 and approved by Innocent IV in 1247. They are an offshoot of
the Benedictines with specially severe rules concerning poverty. In
1907 there were eleven Silvestrine monasteries with 60 choir monks.
The habit is blue.
The Celestines were founded by Peter Marone in 1260, who after-
wards became Pope Celestine V. They are also an offshoot of the
Benedictines. Celestine endeavored, with some success during his life-
time, to graft his more severe rules upon the Benedictines. The order
never was very large and died out entirely in the i8th and iQth centuries.
The habit was black.
The Olivetans, another offshoot of the Benedictines, were founded
236 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
in 1313 by St. Bernard Tolomei, at Accone, near Siena. The habit is
white. They use the rule of St. Benedict, with some added severities,
but have a government patterned on that of the Mendicant Orders.
There is a house in Rome and a few others, containing about 125 monks.
The Trinitarians, are Canons Regular, wear a white habit with a red
and blue cross on the breast, and were founded in 1198 by St. John of
Malta and St. Felix of Valois, for the liberation of Christian prisoners
and slaves from captivity under Moors and Saracens. If necessary they
were to offer themselves in exchange for captives, but usually redeemed
the prisoners with money raised for the purpose. At one time there
were several hundred houses. In the I7th century a reform movement
started called the Barefooted Trinitarians, which became a distinct
Order and is the only one that survives. It has 500 members and
ransoms negro slaves in Africa.
The Franciscans, perhaps with the exception of the Jesuits, are the
best known of all the Orders ; and are the first of the four great Mendi-
cant Orders. Sometimes they are called Friars Minor, or Minorites,
also the "Seraphic Order"; and in England Grey Friars (although their
habit is brown rather than grey). The Order was founded by St.
Francis of Assisi in 1209, with the reluctant assent of Innocent III.
There were only twelve when they obtained official recognition. The
Benedictines gave them the use of the little Chapel of St. Mary of the
Angels, called the Portiuncula, which became the cradle and headquarters
of the Order.
The keynote of the Order was the imitation of the public life of
Christ, especially his poverty. They were to earn their daily bread and
only if unable to earn bread were they to beg. They were forbidden
any possessions, made no store for the morrow, could own no land,
accumulate no capital and were forbidden to receive or handle money.
No other austerities were imposed. As they had to eat what was laid
before them, there were no restrictions as to meat, save the regular fast
days of the Church.
Their mission was to preach the Kingdom of God to the lowly, the
outcast and the leper. They were to sleep wherever they happened to
be, in barns, hedgerows or the porches of Churches.
St. Francis's original conception was thus entirely distinct from
the monastic ideal of the Benedictines. There was no novitiate, no
organization. The number of members increased with such great
rapidity and spread into such distant places, that it became impossible
for all the friars to attend the annual chapter at Assisi, and the Church
authorities saw that systematic organization was necessary.
It is a moot point how far St. Francis himself saw and was recon-
ciled to the inevitable. According to Sabatier, the change was forced
upon him and almost broke his heart. According to other and more
recognized historians, while he regretted the early days of simplicity and
THE RELIGIOUS ORDERS 237
strict observance, he realized that the methods of this time were im-
practicable for such great and widely separated numbers. Howbeit,
in 1220, Honorius III by a formal bull, approved the Order of Friars
Minor, decreed that a year's novitiate should be required and that after
profession it was not lawful to leave the Order. At the next General
Chapter St. Francis resigned the post of General, appointed a Vicar,
and had little thereafter to do with the government of the Order. He
died in 1226. Immediately the Order divided into those who wished
to follow St. Francis's simple ideal and protested against turning it into
a systematic Order, called Zealots or Spirituals, and the Moderates who
wished a mitigation of the strictness of the rule, especially where it came
to the owning of property, like churches and monasteries. In 1230
Gregory IX decreed that as St. Francis's Rule and Testament had never
received the sanction of the General Chapter, it was not binding and he
allowed trustees to hold and administer money for the Order.
Elias, who headed the Moderates, was elected General in 1232.
His rule was despotic and tyrannical and his private life was lax accord-
ing to Franciscan standards. He was deposed in 1239.
The Zealots were greatly in the minority but included nearly all of St.
Francis's early disciples. They were grievously persecuted under Elias.
Brother Leo was scourged and Brother Bernard, the first disciple, was
hunted for a year like a wild beast, in the mountains to which he had
fled for hiding. The dissensions increased in virility and bitterness, even
the generalship of St. Bonaventura (1257-1274) being unable to recon-
cile the conflicting parties. In 1370 arose the Observant reform. They
wished to make a "poor and scanty use" of worldly good, instead of the
"moderate use" advocated by those of less strict views. In an effort
to put a stop to this internal warfare in 1517, Pope Leo X divided the
Order into two separate and independent bodies, one the Conventuals,
who were allowed to use all the papal dispensations in regard to owning
and holding property, and, the Observants, who were bound to as close
an observance of St. Francis's Rule as was practically possible. A great
number of the Conventuals went over to the Observants, who, ever since
have remained much the most numerous and influential branch of the
Order.
There were many other reforms. One of the chief of these was
called Alcantarines, after its leader, St. Peter of Alcantara, St. Theresa's
great friend, who died in 1562. The Capuchins arose in the early part
of the i6th century, and were made a separate order in 1619. They
are described further on.
In spite of these troubles and internal dissentions, the Franciscans
increased steadily in power, numbers and usefulness. They have always
been the most numerous of the Religious Orders. At the time of the
Reformation there were 100,000 friars. At the present time there are
15,000 Observants, 1,500 Conventuals and 9.500 Capuchins.
238 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
Mostly recruited from among the poor, the Franciscans have always
been especially the Order to work for and with the poor. Another great
work has been their missionary labours, especially with the Moham-
medans, Chinese and Japanese. They have also, however, held their
own in the Universities, and have their school of theology which carries
on the Platonism of the Early Fathers, as rival to the Aristotelian ism of
the Dominican School. Roger Bacon was a Franciscan friar.
The Franciscans early developed a First, Second and Third Order.
The first was for the friars, the second for the nuns, and the third,
Tertiaries, for the lay-members, whether men or women, who desired
to live a religious life, but could not leave their families or secular duties,
and take the full vows of poverty, chastity and obedience.
The Second Order, for nuns, called the Poor Clares, after their
foundress St. Clare, St. Francis's life long and most devoted friend and
follower, was formed very early in St. Francis's career. St. Clare was
professed by St. Francis in 1212. Two years later, she and her com-
panions were established in the convent of St. Damian at Assisi. At
first St. Francis's personal example seemed to be all the rule the nuns
required, but in 1219 while St. Francis was on his missionary journey
to the East, Cardinal Hugolino made for and imposed on them a rule
which was only a kind of severe Benedictine observance, leaving out the
special characteristics of St. Francis's ideal. St. Clare made it the object
of her life to have this changed and only succeeded, partially in 1247,
when what is known as the "Second Rule" was approved, and finally in
the year of her death, 1253, when the "Third Rule" gave her what she
wanted. This is the "Rule of the Clares." It is one of great poverty,
austerity and seclusion. Most of the convents adopted it, but some clung
to that of 1247. In the interests of conformity St. Bonaventura, in
1264, obtained papal permission to modify the strictness of the rule of
1253. Only a few adopted it, many more clinging to that of 1253. In
1400, under the leadership of St. Colette, a reform to greater strictness,
called Coletines, was started and most Franciscan nuns now belong to
this reform. There are, therefore, some six or more different observ-
ances among Franciscan nuns, who are and always have been very
numerous. There are now about 150 Convents of the several observ-
ances in every part of the world.
Tertiaries are "Associations of lay folk" in connection with the
Mendicant Orders. Since the 8th century it was not unusual for the
monasteries to have confraternities of lay men and women associated
with them, but it remained for St. Francis to draw up a rule for his lay
followers and thus to found a regular institution. This was done about
1 22 1. At first they were called "The Brothers and Sisters of Penance,"
but a little later, when the nuns became the "Second Order," the Order
of Penance became the "Third Order of St. Francis" ; whence the name
Tertiaries. The original rule prescribes severe simplicity of dress and of
THE RELIGIOUS ORDERS 239
life; certain abstinences and prayers and other religious exercises;
forbids the frequentation of the theatre; the bearing of arms, and the
taking of oaths save when administered by a magistrate. It is astonish-
ingly like the life taught by George Fox in England 400 years later. In
1289 Nicholas IV approved the rule with slight modifications and it has
remained in force until the present day.
The Third Order spread with incredible rapidity throughout Europe
and embraced multitudes of men and women in all walks of life. It
remained under the control of the Friars Minor.
In time a tendency set in for numbers of the Third Order to live
together. Regular congregations were formed of those who took vows
and lived a fully organized religious life, based on the Rule of the Third
Order, with some supplementary regulations. These are the "Regular
Tertiaries" as distinct from the "Secular Tertiaries" who continued to
live in the world.
The other Mendicant Orders all formed Third orders, but the
Franciscan Third Order has always been the principal one.
In 1883 Leo the XIII recast the rule, miking it more suitable for
modern requirements. This gave it a great vogue and impetus and it is
now said to contain over two million members.
A great number of teaching and nursing congregations of women
found the rule suitable for their needs and, therefore, belong to one or
another of the Third Orders.
The Order of Dominicans, or Friars Preachers, sometimes called
the Black Friars, from the white mantle worn over a black habit, was
founded by St. Dominic in 1215. He went to Rome to get official sanc-
tion for his Order, but was told that he must adopt one of the existing
rules. He chose the Rule of St. Augustine, having been an Augustinian
Canon. In 1216 he obtained from Honorius III permission to form a
congregation of Canons Regular of St. Augustine with a special mission
to preach. In 1218 and 1221 these powers and privileges were still
further extended, especially in the direction of preaching. The Order
took definite shape at two general chapters held in 1220 and 1221. The
Rule of St. Augustine was supplemented by additional regulations.
The life is very austere midnight office, perpetual abstinence from meat,
frequent disciplines, prolonged fasts and silence. Upon St. Dominic's
insistence, they adopted the Franciscan ideal of corporate poverty, as
distinct from the individual poverty of the monks, and so became a
Mendicant Order.
The Order had an extraordinarily rapid growth, as preaching by
the secular clergy had become almost a lost art, and the Preaching
Friars supplied a very genuine need. Missionary work was also a
specialty and they followed the explorers to all outlying parts of the
- world. Cortez and Pizarro both had Dominican Friars on their expedi-
tions. St. Dominic also made a special effort to found houses in the
2 4 o THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
University towns. Paris, Bologna, Palencia, Oxford, Padua, Cologne,
Vienna, Prague and Salamanca had thriving houses at a very early date
and these institutions soon exercised a potent influence on the university
life and polity. Albertus Magnus and St. Thomas Aquinas were both
Dominicans and the Dominican school of theology to this day maintains
the principles and methods elaborated by St. Thomas.
The Order had the usual ups and downs, revivals and reforms, but
as it was always the Dominican policy to keep their troubles to them-
selves, and to clean house from within, there are no reform movements
of historical importance.
The Order obtained an unenviable notoriety at one time by its close
association with the Inquisition, the Chief Inquisitor in nearly all coun-
tries having usually been a Dominican. In 1425 Martin V relaxed the
Rule relating to ownership of property. Fifty years later this relaxation
became universal and the order thus ceased to be Mendicant.
There is a "Second" and "Third" Order. The nuns were to have
been strictly enclosed and purely contemplative, but in the course of time
they undertook educational work. The Rule for the Third Order was
not formed until the I5th century. St. Catharine of Sienna was a
Dominican Tertiary. So was St. Rose of Lima.
There are about 4,500 Dominican friars, including lay brothers, and
300 friaries, throughout the world, with 100 nunneries and 1,500 nuns.
The Servites, or "Servants of Mary," an Order under the Rule of
St. Augustine, were formed in 1233 by seven merchants of Florence.
In 1256 they received papal sanction and in 1424 they were ranked as
a Mendicant Order. They undertook missions to Tartary, India and
Japan. Their greatest member was their fifth General, St. Filippo
Benizzi who died in 1285. At the present day there are 64 Servite
houses, mostly in Italy, although two or three are in America and in
England. There are Servite nuns and Tertiaries who devote themselves
to primary education. Their habit is black.
The Carmelities, sometimes called the White Friars, because of
their dress, a white mantle over a brown habit, are one of the four
Mendicant Orders. Their origin is a subject of controversy which at
one time became so acute that in 1698 a decree was issued by Rome for-
bidding both sides to further discuss the matter until a formal decision
was promulgated, which never has been done. One side claimed that
the order was started by the Prophet Elias, who founded a community
on Mount Carmel in Palestine. His spiritual descendants some centuries
later were converted by St. Peter and, taking the Virgin as their pro-
tectress, built a chapel to her honour on Mount Carmel and dwelt there
ever since.
Historically, it is known that in the middle of the I2th century a
Crusader from Italy named Berthold and some companions established
themselves as hermits on Mount Carmel. In 1210 the Patriarch of
THE RELIGIOUS ORDERS 241
Jerusalem gave them a rule. The life was strictly eremitical. The
monks were to live in separate houses and devote themselves to prayer,
work, silence, seclusion, abstinence and austerity. This rule received
papal sanction in 1226. In 1240, however, the hermits were driven out
of Palestine and forced to go to Europe where they separated into
different countries. Several irregular establishments were founded by
these fugitives. In 1247, a General Chapter was held and St. Simon
Stock was elected General. During his generalship the rule was altered
to conform to necessary Western standards, and the life was turned from
eremitical into cenobitic, but on mendicant rather than monastic lines.
The policy and government were likewise changed and thus the Carmel-
ites became one of the four great Mendicant Orders. Under its new
rule of 1247 it became very popular, especially in England, and spread all
over Europe. Further relaxations in the rule were gradually introduced
until in 1562 the great St. Theresa started her reform movement. With
the help of St. John of the Cross, who did for the monasteries what she
did for the nunneries, there were founded in Spain during her life time
seventeen institutions for women and fifteen for men which were devoted
to the stricter observance. Her new rule, which was more severe than
that of 1247, required adherents to wear sandals instead of shoes and
stockings, so that the reformed order became known as the Discalced
or Barefooted Carmelities. In 1593 the reformed Monasteries were
made into an independent Order by papal act, and since that time both
Orders have existed, though at the present time the Discalced are by
far the more numerous and thriving. There are some 2,000 Carmelite
friars and a much larger number of nuns.
The Augustinians is a generic name for religious orders that follow
the so-called "Rule of St. Augustine." The chief of these are the
Augustinian Canons, the Augustinian Hermits or Friars (the latter being
the fourth of the great Mendicant Orders), the Ursulines, nuns of the
Visitation and many others. The Augustinian Canons, also called
Austin Canons, or Canons Regular, were formed officially in 1339,. but
existed in practical form for two or three hundred years before that.
A canon is a man who holds some benefice from a cathedral or collegiate
church. In early times he did not have to be a priest and could marry.
So many abuses arose from this laxity that in 1059 the Lateran Synod
urged reforms. The clergy of many cathedrals throughout Europe
responded to the appeal, and looking for a rule, took for a model the
directions which St. Augustine gave to his clergy while he was Bishop
of Hippo. This was elaborated into what, since the nth century, has
been known as the "Rule of St. Augustine." Being very general in
character and, therefore, adapted to a great variety of Orders and Con-
gregations, it has served since the I3th century as the basis for more
Rules than even the Rule of St. Benedict.
The Augustinian Canons took the vows of poverty, chastity and
16
242 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
obedience, and to that extent were like monks, but they continued their
duties as clerics, and served the parishes and peoples in their care.
In 1339 these numerous local and independent communities were
organized by Boniface XII into a regular Order along the same general
lines as those laid down for the Benedictines. There were some thirty
congregations, with an extraordinarily large number of branch houses.
England alone had 200 houses at the time of the Dissolution. After an
interval of some hundreds of years three houses were opened in England
in the latter part of the iQth century. Most of the Congregations had
convents for nuns who were called Canonesses, whose rule, however,
was much more lax than that for men. For a long time the houses for
women have become practically a sort of superior almshouse for
impoverished gentlewomen.
The Premonstratensians, also called Norbertines, or White Canons,
are Augustinian Canons, founded by St. Norbert in 1120 at Premontre
in France. He was a friend of St. Bernard and was greatly influenced
by Cistercian ideals, but as his followers were Canons Regular, their
work was preaching and serving the parishes in their district. The
Order spread rapidly until in the I4th century there were 1,300 houses
for men and 400 for women. Only eight houses survived the troubles
of the i8th century. There are now about 20 monasteries and 1,000
canons, mostly in Belgium.
The Augustinian Hermits or Friars were formed by the Popes in
the middle of the I3th century in order to co-ordinate and gather under
proper control, the numerous small bodies of hermits who were living
in Italy under different rules. They were formed into one general Order,
under the rule of St Augustine, and called the Augustinian Hermks or
simply the Augustinian Order. As they ceased to be hermits this term
became, and ever since has remained, a misnomer. They ranked as
friars and became the fourth of the Mendicant Orders. The rule was
mild, meat being allowed four times a week. The habit is black. The
Order grew rapidly and came to have 2,000 friaries with 30,000
members. It passed through many vicissitudes and in the i6th century
a reform was started called the Discalced Hermits of St. Augustine.
Luther was a St. Augustine friar. There were many convents for
Augustinian Hermitesses, mostly belonging to the stricter or barefooted
observance. Several exist to the present day, in Europe and America,
devoted to education and hospital work. There is also a Tertiary Order
for both men and women.
The Hieronymites, a common name for four congregations of
hermits living according to the Rule of St. Augustine with additions
from St. Jerome, (i) The Spanish Hieronymities were founded near
Toledo in 1375, grew to power and influence, possessed some of the
finest monasteries in Spain, including that at the Escurial. There were
nuns. The monks devoted themselves to study and missionary work.
THE RELIGIOUS ORDERS 243
This branch of the order was suppressed in 1835. (2) A reform-of the
first Order effected in 1424, and now extinct. (3) Poor Hermits of
St. Jerome which once had 50 houses, but of which only two, at Rome
and Viterbo, now exist. (4) Hermits of St. Jerome at Fiesole, estab-
lished in 1406 but united to (3) in 1668. Their habit was white with
a black cloak.
The Brothers of the Common Life, chiefly famous because Thomas
a Kempis belonged to it, were founded by Gerard Groot, with the
assistance of Florentins Radewyn, about 1380. The inmates lived
together, without vows, and so could return to the world when they
chose. They had to earn their own living, and while in community were
bound to observe ordinary vows. Their chief work was copying manu-
scripts, and after the invention of printing the Order gradually declined,
until the I7th century, when it ceased to exist entirely.
The Capuchins are an offshoot of the Franciscans. In 1520 Matteo
di Bessi, an "Observant" Franciscan, started a movement to go back to
the perfect ideal of St. Francis. In spite of the opposition of his
superiors, Clement VII sanctioned his efforts, and he and his companions
were formed into a congregation called "Hermit Friars Minor," as a
branch of the Conventual Franciscans, with a vicar of their own. They
were called Capuchins because of their hood (Capuche) which distin-
guished their dress from the ordinary brown garment of the Franciscans.
They had a checkered early career, as Matteo went back to the Ob-
servants. Their second Vicar was dismissed for insubordination and
the third married and became a Calvinist. They were pretty nearly
suppressed, and their permission to preach was revoked. In a few
years, however, it was restored to them and they spread with extraor-
dinary rapidity until they became, and have since remained, one of the
most numerous of the religious orders. In 1619 they were freed from
their dependence upon the Conventual Franciscans, and became an inde-
pendent Order with a General of their own. At that time they had
1,500 houses. They were one of the chief factors in the Catholic
Counter-Reformation, being extraordinarily successful in making con-
verts from Protestantism. At the end of the i8th century the number
of Capuchin Friars was estimated at 31,000.
Like other religious bodies they suffered but survived the troubles
of the next 150 years, and in late years have grown rapidly. At present
they have over 500 monasteries, 300 hospices, or lesser houses, and 9,500
friars. One of their specialties has always been missionary work, and
they now maintain some 200 stations in the outlying parts of the world.
The rule is as near as possible a literal carrying out of St. Francis's
basic principles, and is very severe. Absolute poverty, both individual
and communal, the monasteries being forbidden to accumulate either
property or resources, or ever to have more than a few days' supply of
food on hand ; they go Barefoot, not being allowed even to wear sandals.
244 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
Their chief external works are preaching and spiritual ministrations
among the poor.
There are Capuchin nuns, called Capuchines, and lay members.
The nuns were founded in 1538 in Naples, and lived so austere a life
that they were called "Sisters of Suffering." A few Capuchine Convents
still exist.
The Minims were founded by St. Francis of Paula in 1474. St.
Francis was a Franciscan but he left his friary and went to live in a
cave. Some disciples joined him and they called themselves "Hermits
of St. Francis," but as they proposed to outdo the Franciscans in poverty,
fasts and other austerities, they finally took the name of Minims (minimi,
least) in contradistinction to the Friars Minor (minores, less). It is
the most austere of all Orders in matters of diet, the members keeping
perpetual lent, and not eating even milk and butter. Instead of a prior
or abbot or rector, their superiors are called Correctors and they are
governed by a Corrector General. The Order prospered and at one time
there were 450 houses. It ranks as a Mendicant Order. At present
there are 20 monasteries, mostly in Sicily. There have been Minim
nuns and tertiaries. The habit is black.
St. Francis, the founder, was sent for by Louis XI of France
and is supposed to have been a great comfort to that king at the time of
his death.
The Theatines were founded in 1524 by St. Gaetano and several
others, one of whom was Carafa, afterward Pope Paul IV, but then
Bishop of Theate (whence the name) in Southern Italy. They are
Regular Clerics and their object is to recall the clergy to an edifying life
and the laity to the practice of virtue. It produced one pope and 250
cardinals, archbishops and bishops, built many fine churches, and, after a
career of great usefulness, began to decline in the ipth century. In 1909
Pius X decreed its union with another Order. There were Theatine
nuns, founded by the Venerable Ursula Benicasa in 1583. She was a
very remarkable woman whose visions and ecstacies attracted great
attention. In 1617 Venerable Ursula withdrew from her Community
with 33 companions, in order to live a more austere life, and founded
the order of Theatine Hermitesses. The rules of this order were
approved in 1623. The Theatine sisters at one time had a great vogue
but have now almost ceased to exist.
The Urstdines were founded at Brescia by St. Angela Merici, in
1535. She was canonized in 1807 as St. Agnes of Brescia. In 1572
Gregory XIII declared it an Order under the rule of St. Augustine.
St. Ursula is its Patron and it is specially devoted to the teaching of
girls and the care of the sick. In the i8th century it grew very large,
having 15,000 to 20,000 members, but in modern times the congregations
taking simple vows, like the Sisters of Mercy, are more popular.
The Barnabites or Regular Clerics of St. Paul, were founded by
THE RELIGIOUS ORDERS 245
St. Anton Maria Zaccaria in 1535. It gets its name from the Church
of St. Barnabas in Milan, the headquarters of the Order. The members
take a fourth vow not to accept any office or dignity save by the express
command of the Pope, and they devote themselves to preaching, missions,
care of the sick, education, and in especial, to the study and exposition of
St. Paul's Epistles. The Order has never grown very large, but has
produced a number of saints and scholars.
The Jesuits, or "Clerics Regulars of the Society of Jesus," are not in
the strictest sense an Order, but are usually considered one, and because
of the rule of corporate poverty (save in the case of Colleges, where
funds may be accumulated for the support of the students), is often
classed as mendicant. Its founder, St. Ignatius Loyola, called it the
"Company of Jesus." The term "Jesuit" was a term of reproach, but
it is now used by friends and foes alike. It introduced a new idea into
the Church. Hitherto all Regulars made a point of the choral office in
choir. Ignatius thought that the times required a body of highly trained
men who could be sent anywhere. Therefore he combined the idea of
the Canons Regular, who were educated priests, with the friars who were
without fixed abode or communal allegiance. To give more time for
outer work, he did away with the choir office, but made the obligation of
the breviary a personal affair. He also developed the idea of obedience.
The Rule of St Benedict, and all subsequent Rules, fixed the duties of
the abbot as well as of the monk, and gave to the latter certain very
definite constitutional rights. It was monarchial in form, but a limited
or constitutional monarchy. Ignatius's Rule is that of absolute despot-
ism. To use his own words, "In all things except sin I ought to do the
will of my superior and not my own." In 1537, after years of prepara-
tion, Ignatius and his six or seven companions formed themselves into
a Company whose object was to fight the battles of the Pope. They
laid their project before Paul III, and received such encouragement that
in April 1539 they took formal vows to obey any superior chosen among
themselves. The official recognition of the Society was by bull dated
September 27, 1540. Already some months previously, St. Francis
Xavier and Simon Rodriguez had been sent to the King of Portugal, who
started St. Francis Xavier on his wonderful missionary journey. At
first the Society was limited to sixty members but this restriction was
removed in 1543. When Ignatius died in 1556 they had grown to have
45 professed fathers, 2,000 ordinary members, distributed over twelve
provinces, with more than 100 colleges and houses.
Loyola made habitual intercourse with the world a prime duty, and
to this end he suppressed all peculiarities of dress or of rule as tended
to put obstacles in the way of his followers. The Jesuit has no home;
the whole world is his parish.
The Jesuits were formed to fight Protestantism, and even their
enemies acknowledge that almost unaided they rolled back the tide of
246 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
the Reformation from that half of Europe which was not already
engulfed. Their chief methods of work were as confessors and advisors
to the powerful and wealthy, as educators and as preachers. For 300
years the Jesuit schools have been admittedly the best in Europe and as
late as 1901 they were said to be the best in France. But it was as
missionaries that they had their greatest success. Whether to the heretic
of Germany or the heathen of China or Paraguay, the Jesuits have an
extraordinary record of devoted, cheerful, efficient and self-sacrificing
service.
The criticisms associated in nearly all Protestant minds with the
name Jesuit, arose from conditions entirely contrary to the expressed
will of Ignatius. After his death Laynez was elected General, and in
some ways this astute and learned man is the real founder of the Society
as history knows it. Seeing what a wonderful instrument it could
become in the political arena, he disregarded Ignatius's plain injunction
to his followers to eschew politics, and he so interpreted other regulations
that they came to have the exact opposite of the meaning Ignatius had
intended. It is in the field of politics that the history of the Jesuits has
been disastrous, and it is because of this misguided activity that they
gained the hostility of so many rulers and peoples.
One hundred years after its foundation the Society had 36 provinces,
800 houses with 15,000 members.
It is impossible in a sketch of this kind to go into details of the
stormy career of the Society, of how they were repeatedly turned out of
every country in Europe, until in 1775 they were legally suppressed by
Pope Clement XIV. At this date they had 41 provinces and 22,589
members, of whom half were priests. They retired to Russia and
Prussia, where they kept their organization intact until the decree of
suppression was rescinded in 1814. They were expelled from France
in 1765, came back in disguise as "Fathers of the Faith" until obliged to
retire by Napoleon in 1804. They returned in 1814, were licensed in
1822, dispersed by the revolution of 1830, reappeared under difficulties
during the reign of Louis Philippe, recovered the right to teach freely
after the revolution of 1848, became the leading educational and ecclesias-
tical power in France during the Second Empire, were expelled in 1880,
returned quietly and were again expelled in 1901. Their history in most
other countries is similarly checkered. It is not known how many
members there are at present but the estimate is about 20,000.
The Oratorians were founded in 1575 by the Florentine priest, St.
Philip Neri. The Congregation is composed of priests, living under
obedience, but with no vows, who devote themselves to prayer, preaching
and the sacraments. English Oratorians were founded by Cardinal
Newman in 1847.
The Order of the Visitation is one of the more famous modern
Orders. It was founded in 1607 by St. Francis de Sales, in concert with
THE RELIGIOUS ORDERS 247
St. Jeanne de Chantal. for "strong souls with weak bodies," who were
deterred from entering the Orders already existing by their inability to
undertake severe corporal austerities. The Order spread rapidly,
counted 20 houses before the death of St. Francis in 1622 and 80 before
that of St. Jeanne in 1641. The cult of the Sacred Heart of Jesus arose
out of this Order through revelations to the Blessed Marguerite Marie
Alacoque, who was a nun of the Visitation at the Convent of Paray-le-
Monial, and who had her first revelations in 1675.
The Order of the Sacred Heart was founded in 1800 to give fuller
expression to the cult. The nuns devote themselves to the higher
branches of female education.
The Sisters of Mercy of St. Borromeo was founded in 1620 and
made into a religious community in 1652, and did not receive official
sanction until 1859. There are about 4,000 sisters, living principally in
Austria and France. They are sometimes called "Sisters of St. Charles"
after Charles Borromeo the famous Milanese saint and archbishop, who
was called the Apostle of Charity.
A similar organization, known as the Sisters of Mercy was founded
in Ireland by Catharine Elizabeth McAuley in 1827. They devote them-
selves to all works of mercy, take simple but perpetual vows, and live
under the Rule of St. Augustine. It is one of the popular orders in
America, where they have nearly 5,000 sisters, teach over 100,000 chil-
dren in their schools and manage over 50 hospitals and nearly 70
orphanages.
The Maurists were reformed Benedictines, started by Didier de la
Cour in Lorraine. The reform spread to France and in 1621 was formed
the famous French "Congregation of St. Maur," after the great Maurus,
a disciple of St. Benedict, who introduced the Benedictine rule into
France in the 6th century. For two hundred years the Order included
in its ranks most of the great scholars and historians of France, and it
is famous for the invaluable work done in collecting, preserving and
editing the literary treasures of the past. The Congregation was sup-
pressed at the Revolution, the last Superior-General with forty of his
monks dying on the scaffold.
The Lazarists were founded by St. Vincent de Paul in 1624 and
were made a congregation in 1632. Their special objects are the relig-
ious instruction of the lower classes, the training of priests, and foreign
missions. They grew slowly and steadily in spite of interruptions.
They were expelled from France during the Revolution, from Italy in
1871, from Germany in 1873, and from France in 1903, but they still
maintain thriving missions in numerous heathen countries. There are
about 3,000 members at present.
The Sisters of Chanty were also founded by St. Vincent de Paul
in 1633 to minister to the poor and sick, and to supplement the work of
the "Sisterhood of Charity," previously founded by him, but whose
248 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
members were usually married women with domestic duties. The Sisters
of Charity or as St. Vincent de Paul preferred, "the Daughters of
Charity," take annual vows only, and are free to give up their work and
return to the world at the end of any year. The institution has done
and is doing superb work, and is very large, with many branches in
America. There are about 25,000 members.
The Trappists are a reform of the Cistercians, started by Armand
J. le B. de Ranee, Abbot of La Trappe in 1664. He not only returned
to the primitive rule of St. Benedict, but introduced such additional
austerities that the Order became the most austere in Christendom that
has had any permanence. Many Cistercian monasteries and nunneries
were persuaded to adopt the rule of the Abbey of La Trappe, but re-
mained in the regular Cistercian Order. It was not until 1794, after
the monks were expelled from La Trappe and other places in France, that
the fugitive Abbot of La Trappe, Dom Augustine, was named, by the
Holy See, abbot of all houses living the stricter rule. They were and
are called "Order of Reformed Cistercians," or "Cistercians of the Strict
Observance." They returned to La Trappe in 1817, secured Citeaux in
1898, the home of Cistercianism, and are now a thriving and vigorous
Order with 58 monasteries, 1,300 choir monks, 1,700 lay brothers, 15
nunneries 350 choir nuns and 500 lay sisters.
The Trappists abstain wholly from meat and fish, rarely eat eggs,
have only bread and water on certain days, must go barefooted occa-
sionally, must sleep in their day clothes, work three and one-half hours
and spend seven hours daily in church services thus reversing St. Bene-
dict's division and have rigid rules regarding silence. Their principal
outer work is education and missionizing.
The Passionist Fathers were founded by St. Paul of the Cross in
1720, and sanctioned in 1737. The full title of the institute is "The
Congregation of Discalced Clerks of the Most Holy Cross and Passion
of our Lord Jesus Christ." St. Paul says that our Lord dictated the
Rule of the order to him as fast as he could write it. They combine the
contemplative life of the Carthusians or Trappists with the active life
of the Jesuits or Lazarists. Their object is two fold: Sanctification of
self and sanctification of others, especially through devotion to the Passion
of Jesus Christ, which they make into a fourth vow. They rank as
Mendicants. Their principal method of work is by giving of missions
and retreats. The Order, which is growing constantly, now has 94
houses and about 1,400 members in all parts of the world.
The Redemptorists, or "Congregation of the Most Holy Redeemer,"
were founded by St. Alfonso Liguori in 1732. They devote themselves
to the religious instruction of the poor and are expressly forbidden to
engage in secular education.
The Paulist Fathers, There are several Congregations of religious
who have taken St. Paul the Apostle as their patron: The Hermits of
THE RELIGIOUS ORDERS 249
St. Paul, formed in 1250 by the Blessed Eusebius of Grau in Hungary;
Hermits of St. Paul of France, also called Brothers of Death, founded by
William Collier in 1620, who devote themselves to the dead, burials, etc. ;
but the best known is the Missionary Society. of St. Paul the Apostle.
It was founded by Father Isaac Thomas Hecker in 1858. He, with
certain companions, were Redemptorists, but being suspected of dis-
loyalty, were expelled from the Congregation of the Most Holy Re-
deemer. They appealed to Rome and the expulsion was disapproved.
Instead of having themselves reinstated, however, they asked and
received permission to found a new Order which should be devoted to
making converts to the Catholic Faith. Father Hecker claimed that
the Holy Spirit had long intimated to him that he was set apart to do
some great work in converting this country. The Congregation now has
missions in over 25 dioceses in America, and has spread to England and
Australia.
JOHN BLAKE.
She is right in saying that desire must precede will and that the
spiritual problem of many sincere travellers along the Path of Life and
Immortality is how to arouse desire. Desire may be cultivated like any
other quality, but it is of slow growth and we do not want to grow slowly.
So we inquire of Nature for the secret, "How can its growth be forced?"
The answer is by love. Love is the only power in the Universe
which is great enough to overcome human inertia. All other forces fail,
but if we love enough we can do anything. We must pray then for more
love, and as love must have an object, we must pray the Master for the
power to love him, and to love him more and more.
If we could only see things as they really are; if we could once feel
the yearning tenderness and passionate love which he has for us, it
would be easy to love him in return; but we are blind and deaf and
dumb. If we could realize his loneliness, it would help, for he is very
lonely. He has, of course, plenty of inner companionship Heaven is
full of saints but he suffers bitterly from the lack of human companion-
ship and his heart goes out in a boundless stream of love towards any
soul who shows signs of waking up. That love, if we will let it reach
us, will light an answering flame in our own hearts and with that new
love will come desire.
To love the Master more and more is the only short cut in spiritual
attainment. "Faith and Works" : for we must obey if we would love
more; we must do the deed if we would have the power.
THE MYSTERY OF ALL TIME
THE inner light which guides men to greatness, and makes them
noble, is a mystery through all time and must remain so while
Time lasts for us; but there come moments, even in the midst of
ordinary life, when Time has no hold upon us, and then all the
circumstance of outward existence falls away, and we find ourselves
face to face with the mystery beyond. In great trouble, in great joy, in
keen excitement, in serious illness, these moments come. Afterwards
they seem very wonderful, looking back upon them.
What is this mystery, and why is it so veiled, are the burning ques-
tions for anyone who has begun to realise its existence. Trouble most
often rouses men to consciousness of it, and forces them to ask these
questions when those, whom one has loved better than oneself, are taken
away into the formless abyss of the unknown by death, or are changed, by
the experiences of life, till they are no longer recognisable as the same;
then comes the wild hunger for knowledge. Why is it so? What is it,
that surrounds us with a great dim cloud into which all loved things plunge
in time and are lost to us, obliterated, utterly taken from us ? It is this
which makes life so unbearable to the emotional natures, and which de-
velops selfishness in narrow hearts. If there is no certainty and no
permanence in life, then it seems to the Egotist, that there is no reasonable
course but to attend to one's own affairs, and be content with the happi-
ness of the first person singular. There are many persons sufficiently
generous in temperament to wish others were happy also, and who, if
they saw any way to do it, would gladly redress some of the existing ills
the misery of the poor, the social evil, the sufferings of the diseased,
the sorrow of those made desolate by death these things the senti-
mental philanthropist shudders to think of. He does not act because he
can do so little. Shall he take one miserable child and give it comfort
when millions will be enduring the same fate when that one is dead?
The inexorable cruelty of life continues on its giant course, and those
who were born rich and healthy live in pleasant places, afraid to think
of the horrors life holds within it. Loss, despair, unutterable pain, comes
at last, and the one who has hitherto been fortunate is on a level with
those to whom misery has been familiarised by a lifetime of experience.
For trouble bites hardest when it springs on a new victim. Of course,
there are profoundly selfish natures which do not suffer in this sense,
which look only for personal comfort and are content with the small
horizon visible to one person's sight; for these, there is but little trouble
in the world, there is none of the passionate pain which exists in sensitive
and poetic natures. The born artist is aware of pain as soon as he is
Reprinted from Lucifer, Vol. I, p. 116.
THE MYSTERY OF ALL TIME 251
aware of pleasure ; he recognises sadness as a part of human life before
it has touched his own. He has an innate consciousness of the mystery
of the ages, that thing stirring within man's soul and which enables him
to outlive pain and become great, which leads him on the road to the
divine life. This gives him enthusiasm, a superb heroism indifferent to
calamity; if he is a poet he will write his heart out, even for a generation
that has no eyes or ears for him; if he desires to help others personally,
he is capable of giving his very life to save one wretched child from
out a million of miserable ones. For it is not his puny personal effort
in the world that he considers not his little show of labour done; what
he is conscious of is the over-mastering desire to work with the benef-
icent forces of super-nature, to become one with the divine mystery,
and when he can forget time and circumstances, he is face to face with
that mystery. Many have fancied they must reach it by death ; but none
have come back to tell us that this is so. We have no proof that man is
not as blind beyond the grave as he is on this side of it. Has he entered
the eternal thought ? If not, the mystery is a mystery still.
To one who is entering occultism in earnest, all the trouble of the
world seems suddenly apparent. There is a point of experience when
father and mother, wife and child, become indistinguishable, and when
they seem no more familiar or friendly than a company of strangers.
The one dearest of all may be close at hand and unchanged, and yet is
as far as if death had come between. Then all distinction between
pleasure and pain, love and hate, has vanished. A melancholy, keener
than that felt by a man in his first fierce experience of grief, overshadows
the soul. It is the pain of the struggle to break the shell in which man
has imprisoned himself. Once broken then there is no more pain; all
ties are severed, all personal demands are silenced forever. The man
has forced himself to face the great mystery, which is now a mystery
no longer, for he has become a part of it. It is essentially the mystery
of the ages, and these have no longer any meaning for him to whom
time and space and all other limitations are but passing experiences. It
has become to him a reality, profound, indeed, because it is bottomless,
wide, indeed, because it is limitless. He has touched on the greatness
of life, which is sublime in its impartiality and effortless generosity. He
is friend and lover to all those living beings that come within his con-
sciousness, not to the one or two chosen ones only which is indeed only
an enlarged selfishness. While a man retains his humanity, it is certain
that one or two chosen ones will give him more pleasure by contact, than
all the rest of the beings in the Universe and all the heavenly host; but
he has to remember and recognise what this preference is. It is not a
selfish thing which has to be crushed out, if the love is the love that gives ;
freedom from attachments is not a meritorious condition in itself. The
freedom needed is not from those who cling to you, but from those to
whom you cling. The familiar phrase of the lover "I cannot live without
252 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
you" must be words which cannot be uttered, to the occultist. If he has
but one anchor, the great tides will sweep him away into nothingness.
But the natural preference which must exist in every man for a few
persons is one form of the lessons of Life. By contact with these other
souls he has other channels by which to penetrate to the great mystery.
For every soul touches it, even the darkest. Solitude is a great teacher,
but society is even greater. It is so hard to find and take the highest
part of those we love, that in the very difficulty of the search there is
a serious education. We realise when making that effort, far more
clearly what it is that creates the mystery in which we live, and makes us
so ignorant. It is the swaying, vibrating, never-resting desires of the
animal soul in man. The life of this part of man's nature is so vigorous
and strongly developed from the ages during which he has dwelt in it,
that it is almost impossible to still it so as to obtain contact with the
noble spirit. This constant and confusing life, this ceaseless occupation
with the trifles of the hour, this readiness in surface emotion, this quick-
ness to be pleased, amused or distressed, is what baffles our sight and
dulls our inner senses. Till we can use these the mystery remains in its
Sphinx-like silence.
// it were said to an embryo in the womb, "Outside the narrow place
of the womb is another world, a great space, a great breadth, a sky, a
land, a sun, a moon, and other things," never would the imagining of it
appear true save by faith.
Even so the dwellers in the narrow world of reason cannot, save by
faith, understand the world of power, till man's soul from the narrow
womb of the world of reason cometh to the unseen world of power, or
by the death of nature and of will which they call "the second birth" even
as Isa (Jesus) hath written.
SUHRAWARDI.
WHY I JOINED THE THEO-
SOPHICAL SOCIETY
AT about my fifteenth year I became a member of the Methodist
Church. I had always attended Sunday School and my parents
were considered "church going" people. For a few months
before joining the church, I passed through a period of real
childish devotion, but strangely enough had kept my feelings quite to
myself, although I had asked our minister to explain one or two points
which in my childish mind seemed of great importance, and he, with
the best intentions in the world, mixed me up more than ever. It is so
long ago that I have forgotten just what the points were that troubled
me, but what is clearly fixed in my memory is that he finally said, "You
join the Church and after a while everything will be all right." This I
promptly did, and very shortly afterwards insisted that I had grown
too old to attend Sunday School, and stopped going. I went to Church
spasmodically for a year or two. I always said the Lord's Prayer at
night, and prayed for my entire family. I can remember that it very
often took me so long to mention all the names that I would go to sleep
in the midst of my prayer, and wake up very cold and very cross from
having knelt so long beside my bed. At nineteen I was married. My
husband, who had been brought up in the Episcopal Church, quite dis-
approved of my laxness in Church matters and did all in his power to
arouse my interest. Because I loved him very much and would have
gone to the end of the world to please him, I attended his church, and
a few months after our marriage, was confirmed an Episcopalian.
Still my soul slept quietly on. As time passed I took quite an
active part in several of the Church activities and by degrees became
very much interested in the work. At that time the Sunday School
presented quite a problem, a committee was formed to deal with the
situation, and I was asked to act as secretary. At one of these meetings
I met for the first time one who has since become my friend. We
exchanged the most formal greeting and strange as it seems to me now,
I remember the thought flashing through my mind, "I shall not like
you." At the same time I dimly felt that I had never met any one just
like her before. The meeting went on; nothing unusual happened at
least nothing that I was conscious of and yet for me everything changed
from that moment. I do not mean that I realized it then. I was far
from doing so ; but what I now know really happened was that my soul
woke up, just shook itself out of its drowsiness and took charge, very
quietly, but none the less surely. The fight between my lower and my
253
254 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
higher self began the fight that begins with each one when he hears
his call, and goes on and on, because our lower natures have controlled
us for so long, and contest every step before they are conquered.
It was my good fortune a few months later to become a small part
of some work being carried on in the neighborhood, and my duties
brought me in daily contact with the person in charge. By slow degrees
(it fills me with amazement as I look back and realize how long I went
about with my eyes shut) I began to realize that the methods of my
superior were unlike any that I had yet encountered, and it puzzled me.
Then I was permitted to meet quite frequently a group of people who
were also interested in the work, and their attitude toward everything
was foreign to anything I had ever known before. I think at first it
was curiosity which I felt. I wanted to know what it was that they
had found to help them. I knew that one or two of my friends had had
very unhappy experiences, and as I watched I wondered what it was
that helped them to rise above the suffering. And then one day I heard
from one quite outside the work that this group of people were members
of The Theosophical Society. I was amazed, astounded. I had the
idea that Theosophists were very queer, eccentric people, and here I had
been for months and months, seeing my friends almost daily, and yet
the word Theosophy had never been mentioned in my presence. It was
what they were, each in his or her own way, that had counted, and as
time had passed had filled me with a stronger and stronger desire to be
like them. What more can I add, but that it shook me awake. I
decided that if Theosophy, and the Theosophic method of living, could
help them to be the men and women constant association with them had
shown me they were, I wanted just that to help me, and so I asked
permission to join the Society.
B. W. A.
The -watchword of the present time is, Trust. Not a dogged holding
on, but a happy knowledge that his plan shall triumph; that his
shall prevail in you as in all.
BOOK OF ITEMS.
WHY I DO NOT JOIN THE THEO
SOPH 1C AL SOCIETY
NOT being a member, it is obvious that I can know little or
nothing of the Theosophical Society; and to write of subjects
of which one is ignorant may well appear both presumptuous
and foolish. I am not attempting, however, to discuss the
society as it actually is, but only that aspect which it presents to me.
My point of view is perhaps so erroneous that more knowledge would
radically alter it: on the other hand such knowledge can only be gained
by serious study from the inside and unless I were able to bring to the
society a more profound enthusiasm than I have yet felt I do not consider
that my proper place is within it. From the standpoint of members this
may appear a vicious circle. I consider it merely the avoidance of one
form of hypocrisy.
For many years I have watched the society from the outside, of
course and have been on friendly terms with several of its members.
My first impression was that it concerned itself primarily with Eastern
religions, and in particular with the study of the occult. Time, acting
possibly upon me and possibly also upon the society itself, has since so
modified this belief that I now regard Theosophy as more in the nature
of a school of ethics. To some extent, however, the first impression has
survived and it is from these two aspects that I view the society.
In the religions of the East I take only that vague interest which
attaches itself to anything exotic. Since they have shaped the destinies
of unnumbered millions, any thinking man should be glad to know more
of them. But there are hundreds of things that any thinking man should
be glad to know more of and I see no reason for granting the preference
to Oriental beliefs. Were I to attempt to gain any acquaintance with
them, I should be inspired by an historical, not a spiritual in-
terest. That they contain much of Truth I do not doubt, but so I
presume, does every formula of faith ever promulgated and no formula
do I accept. For I consider it an impossibility for any finite mind to
define the secrets of the infinite as one might draw up a set of rules for
intercollegiate football. We live in a world bounded by space and time
and we cannot dogmatize upon conditions when there shall be neither
space nor time.
I have, however, no wish to engage in a theological discussion for
which I am peculiarly unfitted. I wish merely to point out that at the
time when I regarded the Theosophical Society as primarily interested in
these things the occultism of the Orient appeared no more convincing
55
256 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
than the materialistic saint-worship of Roman Catholicism. For the pur-
poses of illustration, I may perhaps be permitted to quote from "Ques-
tions and Answers" in an early number of the THEOSOPHICAL QUAR-
TERLY (July, 1903, Vol. I, No. i, p. 37) :
"QUESTION: Can one be benefited by repeating the sentence,
Om mani padme hum, providing he does not know the right intonation,
etc.?
"ANSWER: No. The right intonation must be acquired. The sen-
tence contains an invocation to the Higher Self, the Jewel in the Lotus.
The only way in which the higher self can be invoked is by attuning the
mind and feeling so that they vibrate in harmony with the higher nature.
This vibration is the 'right intonation,' and therefore as the state of the
mind and feelings depends upon the life we live the invocation can only
be properly intoned by living the appropriate life."
If this is to be taken literally, it strikes me to be quite rude as
rubbish; if somewhat figuratively, as a totally unnecessary elaboration
of a simple if profound truth. The meaning that it conveys to me is
that the life which one leads determines the extent to which one can
develop the higher portion of one's nature. If this be so and I should
be the last to gainsay it why confuse the issue with vague pseudo-
scientific phraseology of what appears to be a kind of moral physics?
And above all, why seek assistance in the repetition of a magic foreign
phrase? Sincere prayer of any sort is doubtless of benefit, but this
does not seem to me a question of sincere prayer, but of superstition, of
the same kind of thing that induced Luther to climb on his knees the
Scala Santa of the Lateran. If Lhassa were as accessible as Rome, the
sight of Thibetan lamas incessantly rattling their prayer-mills as familiar
to us as wax candles burning before the image of a saint, the resem-
blance would, I fancy, be borne home to many of us.
I am, of course, thoroughly aware that the Theosophical Society has
no more connection with Lamaism than with Catholicism and, moreover,
that one may well say: "What if wax candles and prayer-mills are
fundamentally the same? Each is to the user a means of worship and
is therefore good." Quite possibly that is true, but it does not explain
why a mind which is unable to reconcile itself to the complex dogma of
the Catholic Church should seek in the fastnesses of Asia an even more
complex, more arbitrary statement of eternal mysteries.
Yet to this, or so it seems to the outsider, at least a part of the
society's activity is devoted. Although I have never read The Secret
Doctrine nor any exposition of it, I have had occasion to run over in
the most cursory fashion the pages of the Abridgment, published, I
understand, under the auspices of the society. To me it is inconceivable
that the riddle of the universe is to be solved in such fashion. Rather
does it remind me of a course in psychology I once took in college. At
WHY I DO NOT JOIN THE THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY 257
the end of the year I had learned new names for many things but J knew
no more how one thinks or how to think than at the beginning. Prac-
tically the course resolved itself into the memorizing of a mass of utterly
useless definitions. And in much the same way I make bold to regard
The Secret Doctrine as a triumph of the mathematical imagination, the
work of poetic intellects striving, and striving in vain, to explain a mys-
tery of which they knew, and by the nature of things could know,
nothing.
It is, of course, obvious that I know nothing of The Secret Doctrine.
The editor of the Abridgment says that she has spent fifteen years in
studying it and my opinion of it, therefore, she, and others, will naturally
treat with contempt. But I repeat that this method of approaching the
great problem seems to me utterly hopeless and until I am convinced that
I am wrong I shall certainly not embark upon any such difficult and pro-
tracted study. On this point I believe that, no matter how broad may be
the constitution of the society, I am not in sympathy with the majority
of the members. It is, then, one reason why I should not seek to enter.
Closely connected in my mind with these elaborate and dogmatic
expositions of the cosmos is the question of occultism. That occultism
exists I cannot deny even if I would but I confess that it does not
interest me. I cannot convince myself, for example, that the discovery
in the Occident of the now undoubted fact of hypnotism has been of any
service to humanity. On the contrary and on this point I believe that
I am in agreement with some at least of the veteran members of the
society the exercise of psychic powers of various kinds appears to be
frequently accompanied by something not far removed from degeneracy.
In the East, the reputed home of this kind of knowledge, I do not per-
ceive that it has in any way aided the great mass of mankind, spiritually
or materially, while, if it has benefited those who have advanced far into
its secrets, I must admit that I am no great friend of self-contained,
aloof virtue. In short, in this connection at least, I am sufficient of a
Tory to hold that progress is not always beneficial. Of that sort of
mental power which may come from clear, hard thinking and pure living,
I am not speaking ; but there is clear thinking and pure living outside of
the Theosophical Society.
That the Theosophical Society and the Society for Psychical Re-
search are different things I thoroughly understand, just as I under-
stand that the Theosophical Society is not a proselytizing organization
for Buddhism, Presbyterianism, or any other form of religion. But I
infer that the majority of the members look upon the matters I have
been discussing from a standpoint totally different from mine, that the
atmosphere of the society, if I may use the phrase, would be hostile to
my personal views.
There is, however, quite another aspect in which the society appears
17
258 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
to outsiders. It has, or seems to have, a profound moral effect upon
those who join it. I say seems because at times I am inclined to ques-
tion whether to attribute this effect to the society is not to put the cart
before the horse. Of persons sufficiently interested in spiritual matters
to devote a large part of their time and energy to the serious considera-
tion and discussion of the right way to live, we naturally expect a higher
standard of personal conduct than from the average man on the street.
The question that arises is to what extent the members draw their in-
spiration from the society, and to what extent the character of the society
is determined by the natures of the members.
That the Theosophical Society is to-day composed of earnest per-
sons, some of brilliant intellectual attainments, others in no way above
the average, but all possessing in common the virtues of sincerity and
enthusiasm, is not, I think, open to question. But this has been the case
with all religious movements. It was so with the early Christian Church,
with the first adherents of the Reformation, with the Pilgrim Fathers,
with the first converts to Christian Science. In the beginning every
religious innovation is misunderstood and ignorantly ridiculed, if not
actually persecuted. In the face of this opposition the only incentive to
a profession of faith is sincere conviction; nominal membership of the
half-hearted and indifferent is the price paid for successful propaganda.
Partly because they are clogged in this way the various divisions of the
Christian Church now appear ineffective.
If one seeks a guarantee that in the years to come the Theosophical
Society will not suffer in exactly the same way, one must find it in the
validity of the principles that are peculiar to it. Of dogma I under-
stand that the society has none, that it embraces men of all shades of
religious belief. Its chief tenet I believe to be the Brotherhood of Man
and its objects "such discovery and unfoldment of Truth as shall serve
to announce and confirm a scientific basis for ethics" and the giving of
assistance to those who seek by right living in this world to attain a
higher life. If I have correctly summarized them it is self-evident that
no one but a lunatic could find fault with the fundamental principles of
the society. But is the structure that is built upon them suitable to the
needs of every one? For me, personally, I do not think it is, and that
is the chief reason I am not a member of the Theosophical Society.
Of my own attitude toward the search for Truth in the creeds of
the Orient I have already spoken. I cannot convince myself that a
scientific basis for anything is to be found in the very elaborate and
very obscure writings which have come down to us through the
ages. As an appeal to the emotions, as a stimulant and food for man's
innate sense of right and passion for it, they may be and doubt-
less are of enormous value, but it is in this light that I should prefer
to approach them, not as depositaries of esoteric doctrine. Imagine,
WHY I DO NOT JOIN THE THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY 259
some centuries hereafter, a Japanese student seeking knowledge from
the ancient wisdom of the Occident and turning to Dante. The beauty
of the poem would remain and much of its ethical value; but what con-
viction would be carried to his mind by the successive circles of Hell, by
the descriptions of Purgatory and Paradise?
If in this respect I am out of touch with what I take to be the
society's attitude, I am but little more in sympathy with the practice of
discussing and analyzing the more personal problems presented by daily
life. I take it that a man who is really anxious to do his duty is usually
in a position to see it. Whether he then does it or not is quite a different
matter. Occasions arise, I know, of exceptional difficulty when judg-
ment is befogged by the conflict of interests; but even then, assuming
the existence of the necessary desire, common sense is a better guide than
subtle reasoning. One need not, indeed, be very clever in order to be
far too subtle in his morals. Like the child in the garden we sometimes
pull up the plant of virtue to see how it is growing. If we contented
ourselves with watering it now and then there would be more chance of
its ultimately bearing blossoms.
Some years ago there appeared in one of the magazines an article
on "Unselfishness" by Maeterlinck. When I began to read it I had
what may be called a good working knowledge of what the thing meant ;
when I finished I had not the least idea. Nor do I believe that Maeter-
linck's ability to wind in and out of his subject was in any way conducive
to unselfish conduct on his part.
I am indeed inclined to believe that this kind of thing is positively
pernicious. By obscuring ideas which are much more easily understood
than their definitions, it provides a convenient solution for the old prob-
lem of how to eat one's cake and have it too, how to do what one wants
and remain at peace with one's conscience. For persons of extreme
spiritual sensitiveness, I have no doubt that the analysis of morality may
be to some extent a necessity; to the ordinary man, on the other hand,
"a scientific basis for ethics" may well prove to be merely a euphemism
for moral sophistry.
That it has proved so in the case of the Theosophical Society I have
no reason to believe, and, even if I had, this would be hardly the place
in which to say so. Under any circumstances, I presume that the
members, and not the society, are responsible for their individual
behaviour, as for their individual belief. But I find, or fancy that I find,
in the influence of the society a certain something that makes for hard-
ness a peculiar, intangible, refined hardness, but hardness none the less.
It is perhaps something akin to the spiritual selfishness of the mediaeval
monk ; or possibly it is the outcome of a deep-rooted, reasoned conviction
that whatever is is for the best and that it is presumption to attempt to
26o THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
alter it. Certainly it is, as I say, too intangible for me to attempt to
describe it with any definiteness, but for me it exists.
That this should be so seems singular in the face of the cardinal
tenet of the society, the Brotherhood of Man. But in practice it seems
to me that this is not unfrequently translated into the Brotherhood of
the Theosophical Society. Probably it is inevitable that a body of
persons intensely interested in one subject should find themselves drawn
closer and closer together, and should, to some extent, lose sympathy
with the world outside. I believe, in fact, that this has occurred in the
development of every idea or movement of sufficient force to influence
men's actions; but it is not a result that I consider in itself desirable.
Whether it is any more apparent in the case of the Theosophical Society
than in that of any other religious body, I do not know; my point is
simply that I have not been able to perceive that membership in the
society increases one's sympathy with other atoms of the human race.
It is true that, as a philosophic concept, I have little notion what the
society may mean by the Brotherhood of Man. But, as I have already
said, in philosophical explanations of the constitution of the universe
I take but scanty interest, for no matter how thoroughly to our satisfac-
tion we may prove a theory, the proof is worthless, the result of logic
working in a realm in which it has no place. From the standpoint to
which I therefore confine myself, I hold that the Brotherhood of Man
was set before the world nineteen hundred years ago; that the difficulty
lies, not in expounding, but in living up to it.
This in short is the kernel of the whole matter. We may take it that
any sane man is at bottom desirous of leading a proper life it is all a
question of price, of his idea of a proper life and the means of attaining
it. Probably my idea of a proper life differs greatly from that of the ma-
jority of the members of the society, as does my notion of the means of
attainment. I have for example no horror of the word "worldly," no
desire to withdraw myself from the world. But I hold no brief against the
society, would not, were I gifted with all power, take one member from
its ranks. Much of what I have said is applicable to my attitude toward
all organized religion and in its emphasis upon this life may seem to
many merely materialistic. Personally I do not so consider it. But
whether it be or not, it is not possible to change opinions as one changes
clothes to suit one's convenience. Yet, like clothes, opinions sometimes
wear out. I have no such love for mine that I should greatly mourn
their loss.
A. B.
THE PRACTICE OF THE PRES=
ENCE OF GOD*
THERE is one aspect of the religious problem which is always
well worth emphasizing; which cannot, in my opinion, be over
emphasized or spoken of too frequently. This is what the old
devotional books describe as the "Practice of the Presence
of God."
We know of many kinds of religion. I do not mean different
religious denominations, of which of course there are many hundreds.
I mean different ways in which individuals manifest religion in their
lives. Religion has been defined by the Rev. Percy S. Grant as man's
relation to God, and this is as good a definition as any I know, of a
thing which it is exceedingly difficult to define. So that we can say,
to paraphrase our own statement, that there are many kinds of religion,
that different people think differently of their relation to God; indeed,
it would almost be true to say that every person thinks differently
from every other person of his relation to God.
It is, however, not sufficient that we should have a merely formal
i elation to God, that we should carry out the observances of our form
of religion whatever that may be. The Italian or Spanish brigand
does this. He will go to his church and burn a candle on the altar of
his favorite saint and pray fervently for the success of his next
nefarious enterprise. The histories of the dark ages in Europe tell
of the pirates who were the scourge of the Mediterranean that they
nearly always had a priest on board their ships. They would go to con-
fession and get absolution and hear mass before attacking one of the
ships whose crew and passengers they intended to kill or sell into a
slavery worse than death. Torquemada, who was at the head of the
Spanish Inquisition when it was most powerful and most active, was a
very devout and pious man. No one can read the histories of his time
without being convinced of his good faith. He put indeed such a
supreme value upon the soul that he was perfectly willing to imprison,
torture and even burn his victims if he thought that by so doing he
would further their eternal welfare.
Lest you should think that it is only in Catholic countries that we
meet with these extravagant forms of religion I shall only have to
mention the Protestant soldiers of the north who followed Gustavus
Adolphus and Charles XII into northern Europe, and mixed up their
* An address delivered at the Chapel of the Comforter, New York, by a member of the
New York Branch of the Theosophical Society.
261
262 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
religion and the killing of their fellow-men in the same astonishing man-
ner. It is indeed only a few years ago that we had the extraordinary spec-
tacle of a great and civilized nation setting aside a given day when all
citizens of the country were requested to pray for the success of their
armies and the confusion and destruction of their enemies, while the
Boers were praying at the same time to the same God for success to
their arms. It is evident that the mere outward observance of the forms
of religion is not enough, no matter how faithful we may be in these.
There must be a center of inspiration, of spiritual force and power in
our being which will give us a constant tendency to do right. We
must keep a reservoir of religious impulse in our consciousness so that
at every instant of our lives there shall be available whatever amount
is needed to freshen and enlighten our momentary acts. We must at
every instant show in our lives the presence of this religious force, or
else we shall surely go astray.
I think that without doubt this element is needed in our religion
before we can feel sure that we are on the right track and that we
are really living what is even an approximation of the true religious
life; we must have in us a spiritual force which guides and directs
and controls our actions and a spiritual insight which keeps us from
such absurdities and extravagances as those to which I have referred.
Now what is this force and insight and how can we cultivate them in
ourselves? Most easily, I believe, by the Practice of the Presence of
God; so I should like to tell you a little bit of what I understand the
Practice of the Presence of God to mean.
Imagine with me for a moment, if you will, what would be the
effect upon all of us if we suddenly had a vision of Jesus Christ stand-
ing here in this chancel, perhaps before the altar which is dedicated
to his worship. A figure of transcendent majesty and power, of a beauty
which it is impossible to describe in words, giving us all the feeling
of His sympathy and helpfulness, with love and tenderness radiating
from His face and eyes. Think what an effect this would have upon
us. I do not think that anyone in this room would ever be quite the
same after such a vision. We would carry the remembrance of it
always. But let us go still farther. Suppose we could see Him with
us always, walking through life with us from day to day, hour to hour,
moment to moment, always at our elbow, seeing everything we did,
hearing everything we said, knowing even our most secret thoughts to
which we never gave utterance. Think what an effect this would have
upon our conduct, how it would make us pause before we did anything
wrong? Should we be able in the face of such a presence, even to say
or do a rude or an unkind thing? How could we be cross if Christ
heard our rough words? How could we fail to be polite, gentle, kind,
well mannered, if Christ was always there to see. How could we post-
THE PRACTICE OF THE PRESENCE OF GOD 263
pone doing some duty if we knew that Christ was watching to see
whether we would do it or not. Would it not be a spur to tired brain and
weary hands? And in our work, whatever that might be, would not
that constant Presence spur us on to our utmost endeavor? Would we
not conquer disinclination, distaste, weariness, boredom? Should we
not be ashamed to feel envy or malice or any uncharitableness ? Think
of the more important things of life the poor man tortured by the
temptation to drink. As he stood before the saloon door, would not
the consciousness of the presence there of Christ give that needed
stimulus to his will which would enable him to conquer his tempta-
tion and turn away? Or the poor woman of the streets who is forced
to sell her body for daily bread. Would she not perhaps rather starve
than make Christ a witness of her degradation? I can think of no
state of life, none of the circumstances of life which would not be
affected by such a conception, such a knowledge.
But it is not necessary to multiply instances. We know at once
without argument or thinking, that if we actually saw Christ at our
elbow, if we were actually conscious that he saw everything we did and
knew everything we thought, this fact would have a wonderful and ever
increasing effect upon our thoughts and actions. We know this. It
does not admit of argument.
But the very curious thing about it is that this is just what does
take place. We have been told again and again in every possible kind
of words that God does know everything we do. That he is walking
beside us day and night. If I were to ask each one of you whether
you believed that God knew what you were doing and thinking, you
would all answer, "Why, of course. God knows everything." Why
then does it not have the wonderful effect upon our conduct which it
ought to have? I think it is simply because we do not really believe it.
That must be the explanation, for it is the only possible explanation
which explains.
If it is true as we have been so often told, and if we do not really
believe it, then the obvious thing to do is to cultivate the belief, to make
ourselves to believe it; and this is what is meant by the Practice of the
Presence of God. We must deliberately train ourselves to believe that
God, or Christ if we prefer to picture God in the image of Christ, is
always alongside of us. We must saturate our consciousness with that
idea, must dwell upon it, think about it, imagine it and how we would
act if we believed it, and gradually there will grow up in our conscious-
nesses the feeling that it is true; and then of course will follow the
effects of its being true, the effects upon our conduct, upon our thoughts,
upon our lives.
But this is not all. If we are to believe the Saints and Seers of
old, those who have travelled this path and have left records of their
264 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
spiritual experiences for our information and instruction, a faithful
adherence to this practice will result in several wonderful things. First
we shall not only come to know that God is always with us in the inti-
mate personal sense which I have described, but we shall come to
actually feel His Presence, to absorb some of His power and glory
which in turn will be reflected through us to all who come into contact
with us. I believe that this is the first mark of saintship, that this is
what distinguishes the saint from the ordinary man. People feel some
of the power and glory of God as it is reflected in the man who has
reached this point in the Practice of the Presence of God and they
say to themselves, "That man is a saint."
There are still further stages, but it is hardly necessary for us to
go into them, for they are far beyond our present reach. After learning
to feel the Presence of God, the old records say that the saint actually
comes to see Him, and in time to talk with Him. Some unknown
spiritual faculty seems to open up the spiritual eyes and ears, and the
saint has the kind of experience which St. Paul had on the road to
Damascus, and before the judgment seat of Caesar; the kind of experi-
ence which St. Francis of Assisi had and to which he referred when he
called his favorite disciple Leo to his dying bedside and wished and
prayed that he too should have the inestimable privilege which St.
Francis had enjoyed, of face to face communion with Christ.
The lives of the Saints are full of such happenings and I have no
doubt at all of their literal truth. We cannot all hope to reach such
exalted stages of spiritual growth, but there is not a person in this
room who cannot travel some distance on this road. No one here, no
matter how young or how old, how poor or rich, how ignorant or how
learned who cannot practice the Presence of God and get from so doing
the inspiration, support and guidance which it will inevitably bring.
And we can have for our comfort the saying in another of the old
books, that a very little of this practice will deliver a man from great
evil.
C. A. G., JR.
'He that hath the word of Jesus truly can hear his silence also"
IGNATIUS OF ANTIOCH, Eph. 15.
ON THE SCREEN OF TIME
THE Gael was on the war-path. "You shirked the question of
what constitutes perfect womanhood," he said. "I am speaking
of the last Screen. You did not want to tread on corns. But
people have no business to stick their feet out if they are hyper-
sensitive; and a great many modern women stick their feet on chairs
and tables. My similes are mixed; but that is my prerogative. I have
no use for unbroken rhythm in similes. Nor have I any use for women
who are ashamed of their sex. That is the trouble with suffragettes:
they are ashamed of their womanhood the sort of women who apolo-
gize for having babies. If men had them, 'too, such women would brag
about their own superior ability to produce them. I hate their slavish
adulation of the masculine. Imitation may be the sincerest form of
flattery; but I would rather be a genuine ass than an imitation lion:
and God did not intend women to be either asses or lions, but women.
. . . What is my ideal of womanhood? That is unimportant. The
question is, What is every woman's ideal of womanhood? My answer
to that is that every woman would like to be charming. When she has
given up all hope of being that, she demands a vote; not before.
Morality? Why, of course! But that is included under charm. I am
speaking of charm that endures. A woman should be as charming at
fifty or sixty or seventy as when she was twenty. A selfish woman is
never charming. A bad woman becomes hideous in short order. Only
a woman who is a saint can fascinate you when she is seventy. . . .
How can a woman make herself charming? It is quite simple. Cos-
metics will not do it. The growth must take place from within. Did
you ever see a real nun, a good nun, who was ugly? The saints were
ravishingly beautiful. It is love that makes a woman beautiful; and
love, in a woman means self-surrender. She must learn to give herself,
without reserve, to but that depends upon the woman. All nuns call
themselves 'the brides of Christ.' They find their joy in suffering; their
ecstasy on the Cross. But they do not suffer alone. The Cross is not
a solitary place. There is no joy for man or woman in isolation. The
outer solitude makes the interior companionship more vivid. They find
the Beloved and they give themselves to Him. Read the Sufis. Do you
not understand! There is no essential difference between marriage,
properly understood, and life in a convent, properly understood grant-
ing that a girl, a woman, has a real vocation for either. I do not mean
that convent walls are necessary. Like St. Catherine of Siena, she can
make a cell in her own heart. I know more than one 'nun' today, living
in the world, mothers of children, women of fashion and culture.
"The truth is that a vocation is a most real and overwhelming
265
266 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
verdict, because it is a call from God; and, strange as it may sound,
God calls to earthly marriage as often as to heavenly. Every woman
is called to one or the other, although it does not necessarily follow that
she has heard and obeyed the call."
The Buddhist was with us for the first time in months. He stopped
the Gael at this point, gently as always, but with very fixed will.
"You omit motherhood," he said. "There are women called to
motherhood, whose joy lies in motherhood, and, if you will not mis-
understand me, they are not brides, they are mothers. You see this
often in the married relation. But you see it still oftener in women
who mother children not their own, as teachers, for instance, or, in
our villages, as women who nurse the sick, not professionally but by a
sort of divine right. With us, such women think of Buddha as Father.
They refer things to him, as a mother does to a father, finding immense
joy in that companionship and communion. They are active rather
than contemplative. Yet, the more deeply they enter into the spirit of
motherhood, the more contemplative they become. The two paths meet
at last."
"I agree with you," replied the Gael. "Motherhood also is a voca-
tion. But a mother, whether in a home, in a school, in a hospital, or
in a village, needs charm and ought to desire it as much as any other
woman. She needs to win hearts and to be able to keep them in the
name of and on behalf of Christ as I would phrase it. My point is,
however, that motherhood to some extent is still respected, even by
women, while wifehood is not. Marriage today is cheapened, is pros-
tituted. A girl's engagement should be regarded as a Probation, as
a test of her vocation: has she been called by God to be the wife of
that man? Will marriage to him bring both of them nearer to God,
will it bring both of them to consciousness of their higher and immortal
selves? That is the question. . . . Girls are no longer trained for it.
They are brought up and educated to enable them to have 'a good time,'
which is what their mothers wanted and have not had. And their
mothers have not sense enough to see the cause of their own failure.
Why take less seriously the vows of marriage than the vows of a nun?
To perpetual celibacy a girl is admitted only after a long novitiate ; after
severe trial and test. To marriage, through the folly of her parents, a
girl is admitted after a few months at her dressmakers. She knows
nothing about herself and nothing about the man. Her relations with
him have been more or less flighty and in any case quite superficial.
'Trial marriages'? For the love of heaven, no! But why not consult
God; why not refer so serious and sacred a matter to some sacred and
serious test? In India they at least consult the astrologers! Granting
that, for practical purposes, the average of modern parents believe no
more in God than they do in astrology, surely they might use their
reason, intuition, imagination whatever faculties they possess to help
ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 267
the girl to discover the truth : does she, can she love this man to the
point of supreme self-abandonment, or is she thinking of marrying him
for 'a good time,' or with the insane idea of 'lifting' him to where she
herself is not?"
The Philosopher interrupted. "You have wandered from your
point," he said. "You were going to tell us how a woman can become
charming, or how a girl can be made charming. You have talked about
everything except that. And you will be accused, if what you have
said stand without correction, of attacking asceticism and in any case
of placing marriage and celibacy on a par."
"I do not attack asceticism. It is a vocation. Happy the man or
the woman so called. But a man may have just as real a vocation
may be called just as truly by God to enter the army and to fight.
Happy that man if he have ears to hear and the will to obey."
"It may seem contradictory and perverse," remarked the Student,
before the Gael had taken breath; "but in my opinion women are the
devil not in themselves, but as embodying all the temptations of man.
A man's lust of power, his lust for sensation, his ambition, his vanity
all the evil in him is aroused by women or by a woman ; and the only
safe course for him is to recognize that fact and to run whenever he
feels their power. I would be perfectly fair about it. I do not in the
least blame the women for this. Probably men are their devils, and
probably the only safe course for women is to adopt the same attitude
that I recommend to men. Buddha knew" And the Student turned
to the Buddhist "Will you not quote for me?" "Do you refer to the
incident recorded in the Mahd-Parinibbdna-Sutta?
'' 'How are we to conduct ourselves, Lord, with regard to woman-
kind?'
" 'Do not see them, Ananda.'
" 'But if we should see them, what are we to do ?'
" 'Abstain from speech, Ananda.'
" 'But if they should speak to us, Lord, what are we to do ?'
" 'Keep wide awake, Ananda.'
"I have heard that quoted as showing the Buddha's sense of
humour," continued the Student. "But it seems to me to prove his
practical wisdom also."
"The humour of it is more significant than the wisdom," com-
mented the Gael. "I should say that he knew his man. The questions
explain the replies."
"What the Gael means," said the Philosopher, "is that your attitude
and his own are reconcilable. There is no actual contradiction. If
women, in a man's experience, arouse the evil in him, it is natural
enough for him to regard them as instruments of Satan ; and he is lucky
if he has sense enough to see that and to act accordingly. His vocation
in that case is probably to live as a celibate. It must be so while he feels
268 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
that way about it. Above all things, therefore, he should be true to his
vocation. Yet we do not read that Buddha avoided women, or that
Christ did. We do not find them complaining that women tempted
them. One man's food may be another man's poison. And I confess
that if I could not move among women without being tempted by them,
I should, if only from respect for them, keep out of their way. Women
are intended, whether as mothers, as sisters, as wives, or as friends, to
help men to become the highest and best that lies latent in manhood ; and
I suspect that men are intended to serve women by being served, as well
as by direct influence."
"The Student, quoting Buddha, is defending Monasticism" this
from the Gael. "And I do not think it needs defence least of all on
the ground which he suggests. I come back to my point: it is a ques-
tion of vocation. No woman can be deeply happy, no woman's life can
be complete, if she has failed to answer to her call. It does not matter
to what kind of life a man or a woman is called. What does matter is,
Who calls! Is it God who calls, or is it the Devil? Is it the Higher
Self or the lower? It is fatal if that question be answered in haste.
Always our conclusions should be tested. God would never call us
away from our duty, from our responsibilities, from our obedience.
Always we should ask ourselves whether we are prepared for more of
pain than of pleasure. There are a hundred tests, and all should be
applied: for nothing leads to greater misery than the self-deception
which sees in immediate gratification the promise of life-long happiness."
"May I remind you," asked the Objector, "that you began by
reproaching us with having shirked the question of womanhood's ideal
and of how it can be attained? You have generalized about charm.
You have declared that every woman in her heart desires to be charm-
ing: that that, though not the sum total of her ideal, must invariably be
an essential part of it. So far you have merely been tantalizing, not to
say cruel. If I were a woman (and devoid of humour), I might by this
time be in an agony of suspense: how could I charm the Gael!"
"If you were a woman" and the Gael laughed serenely "if you
were a woman, the Manvantara would need to be prolonged: for God
Almighty would never let go of you until He had extracted your sting.
I doubt whether men are so worth while. In no case, however, would
you catch me suggesting methods for the increase of feminine charm.
I leave that to the women themselves. And I am going to read you the
advice of one of them of one of the most charming women who ever
lived, all the more so because the idea of it never entered her head. At
first, I am not going to tell you who she was, and I am going to para-
phrase her recommendations at certain points, for you can, if you choose,
compare them later with the original. These rules I have translated
from the French:
"i. The earth, even though fertile, unless it is cultivated, pro-
duces only brambles and thorns : so is it also with the spirit of woman.
ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 269
"2. Speak well, whether of things, or of persons, particularly
of other women.
"3. In the company of several, invariably speak but little.
"4. Be modest in all your words and actions.
"5. Never argue, least of all about matters of small importance.
"6. Moderate your gaiety. Never be boisterous. Never let your
gaiety control you.
"7. Never ridicule anything whatsoever.
"8. Never reprove anyone except with discretion and humility,
and with hidden shame on account of your own defects.
"9. Always accommodate yourself to the mood of those with whom
you deal or communicate. Be gay with those who are gay, sad with
those who are in trouble. In brief, make yourself all things to all people
in order to win them.
"IQ. Never speak without having reflected on that which you are
going to say, and without having submitted it to our Lord [if you be a
Christian] ; so that no word may escape you which would be displeasing
to Him and unworthy of your ideal.
"n. Never excuse yourself, unless there is great reason to do so.
"12. Never speak of that which might draw forth praise, such as
your wisdom, your virtues, your family, unless you have good reason
to hope that to do so might be of service to others; and then it must
be with humility, remembering that you hold all such gifts from the
hand of God.
"13. Never exaggerate anything, but express your opinion and
give your advice with moderation.
"14. In your speech and your interviews, always introduce some-
thing helpful or in any case kindly. In that way you will avoid useless
chatter and scandal.
"15. Assert nothing without being certain of it.
"16. Never offer advice upon anything unless it is asked, or unless
charity demands it.
"17. Whenever anyone talks of spiritual things, or of conduct,
listen humbly, as a disciple listens to his master, and take for yourself
whatever is said that is good.
"18. Disclose to your mother or to your father or to your spiritual
director or to some older and trustworthy woman friend, all your temp-
tations, your imperfections and your dislikes, so that they may give you
counsel and may indicate remedies to overcome them.
"19. Treasure your solitude, and do not go out without an object:
when obliged to go out, ask of God the grace to do nothing that will
offend Him.
"20. Do not eat or drink except at regular hours, and be sure to
offer heartfelt thanks to God.
"21. Do everything as if you actually saw our Lord beside you;
270 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
by means of this the soul acquires great treasures of merit and great
beauty.
"22. Never listen to evil spoken of anyone, and never speak it,
unless about yourself; when you take pleasure in doing so, you will
advance rapidly, and will gain greatly in charm.
"23. Direct all your actions towards God and offer them to Him,
asking that they be for His honour and glory.
"24. When you are happy, do not allow yourself to laugh immod-
erately, but let your gaiety be humble, modest, affable and sweet.
"25. Consider yourself every one's servant, seeing in each an
immortal soul, or, if you choose, the person of Jesus Christ ["the Bud-
dhist, there, can say Buddha," interjected the Gael] ; thus you will have
a great respect for your neighbors.
"26. Be always prompt in obedience, as if God were directing you
through your parents or superiors.
"27. At every hour and with each of your actions, examine your
conscience; then, after having recognized your faults, try, with the aid
of God, to correct them. By this means you will arrive at perfection.
"28. Do not think of the faults of others, but of their virtues only,
and of your special defects.
"29. Maintain in yourself always a great desire to suffer for our
Lord, Jesus Christ, or for the ideal that you love, in everything and at
all times.
"30. Make every day fifty offerings of yourself to God; make them
fervently and with a lively desire so that they shall reach Heaven.
"31. Have before your eyes, during the day, the subject of your
morning meditation; put a great deal of zeal and effort into this, and
you will reap a rich harvest.
"32. Preserve most carefully the good inclinations with which God
inspires you, and put into practice the good desires which He gives you
in prayer.
"33. Avoid the unusual as much as possible, as it is always objec-
tionable.
"34. Read frequently your rule of life and observe it faithfully.
"35. Admire the Providence and Wisdom of God in all creatures
and in all events, and use each one as a means of praising Him.
"36. Detach your heart from slavery to external things ; desire the
ideal only and you will find it.
"37. Never show outwardly a devotion which you do not feel in-
teriorly, though you may hide that which you really have.
"38. Do not exhibit your interior devotion without great necessity:
'My secret is my own.'
"39. Do not complain about your food, whether it is well or badly
prepared: remembering the gall and vinegar which they offered to one
more worthy than you are.
"40. When you are at table think more of courtesy and of the
ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 271
pleasure of others than of your food. Keep your mind on the .banquet
of Heaven, and try to make it Heaven for those around you, as much for
those who serve as for those who sit.
"41. Before your superiors, who are the persons in whom you
should see the instruments of God, say only what is necessary and say
it with great respect.
"42. Never do anything that you could not do before the whole
world.
"43. Do not make comparisons between people, for comparisons
are odious.
"44. When you are reprimanded on some point, receive the correc-
tion with real humility, both interior and exterior, and pray God for the
person who has done it.
"45. When a superior (your parents, your teachers, your spiritual
director, your employers) gives you an order, do not say that another
has commanded something different, but believe that both had right in-
tentions and do what you were told to do.
"46. Do not speak or inquire about things which do not concern
you and are of no consequence to you.
"47. Hold your past failures in your mind and repent of them :
think of your actual apathy, and of all that you lack to gain your ideal,
so as to gain energy from fear, and resolution from your sense of wrong-
doing.
"48. Do everything your companions ask you to do which is not
contrary to your rule, and answer with humility and sweetness.
"49. Do not ask for favours or for exceptional treatment, unless
it is actually necessary.
"50. Never cease to be humble and to correct yourself in every-
thing until death.
"51. Accustom yourself to make frequently many acts of love, for
they will enkindle and soften the soul.
"52. Also frequently practise the other virtues, methodically, giving
special periods to each.
"53. Offer all your sufferings and all your joys to the Eternal
Father, in union with the merits of the One whom you regard as perfect.
"54. Be kind to others and severe to yourself.
"55. On Saints' days think of their virtues and ask God to give
them to you.
"56. Be careful each night to make the examination of your con-
science thoroughly.
"57. When you act as superior, never reprimand anyone in anger,
but wait until anger has passed; in this manner the correction will be
useful.
"58. Apply yourself diligently to acquire perfection and devotion,
and to do all things in this spirit.
"59. Reflect attentively upon the rapidity with which people change
272 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
and how insecure is the confidence we have in them; therefore, attach
yourself directly to God, who does not change.
"60. Try to submit the things of your soul to an advisor who is
learned and experienced in spiritual matters and to obey him in every-
thing.
"61. When you are sad, or troubled, or anxious, do not, for that
reason, abandon the good works and the prayers which you are accus-
tomed to perform, for evil will not assail you until you abandon them;
perform them more than before, and you will see how prompt the Lord
will be to pour his favours upon you.
"62. Do not talk about your temptations and faults with those of
your companions who are less advanced, as that will be as harmful to
them as to you, but talk of them only to the most perfect.
"63. Remember that you have only one soul, and that you will die
but once; that you, as that person, have but one life which is short and
uncertain; that there is but one future which is eternal; and by this
means you will avoid and turn from many things.
"64. Let your desire be to see God; your fear, to lose Him; your
grief, that you do not yet possess Him ; your happiness, that which takes
you to Him ; and you will live in great peace.'
"With very slight changes, and with the omission of four rules
which are sectarian, that is the advice given by St. Theresa to her pupils.
If you are in any doubt as to her charm, read a little book about her by
May Byron, published by Hodder and Stoughton, in a series called
"Golden Hours with the Saints." The price is about fifty cents. She
was a fascinating woman, full of gaiety, of humour, of wisdom, of
femininity. Her advice, of course, was intended for girls : but those who
would enter the Kingdom of Heaven must become as little children
must regain the child-state they have lost. Perhaps, therefore, even
older women could afford to take counsel from one so far above the
average in experience and in self-understanding."
"Do you imagine," scoffed the Objector, "that any modern girl
would be willing even to read such rules!"
"That depends," the Gael answered. "It depends upon her ambition,
and upon her love of the beautiful. Can anything be less lovely or less
loveable than the sort of girl you so often meet, whose characteristics
are
"That she talks incessantly about herself, of everything that she has
done or has not done, about her family and about her plans, and who
is happiest when everyone is talking about her ;
"That she has a genius for turning the conversation into some praise
of herself, and resents the praise of others, seeking opportunities to show
others in a less favourable light, often repeating gossip and even slander ;
"That she talks loudly, and loves to command others ;
"That she always imagines herself to be in the right, and is incapable
of accepting a rebuke without self-defence or angry protest;
ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 273
"That she complains constantly of all things to everyone who will
listen to her, except to God, unless they are exactly in accordance with
her taste;
"That she is avid of sensation, of news ; that she likes to be singular
in everything, independent of everyone, unhampered by duty ;
"That she will work with incredible energy to get what she wants
or to accomplish what she desires, but becomes languid whenever her
own choice and taste are not given preference;
"That she abandons her religion or her religious exercises as soon
as they cease to amuse or to console her ;
"That she thinks of pleasure, of riches, of honours, of health as
the only real blessings ; that her ideals are dreams of prominence and of
power and of the adulation of herself by men and of the envy of herself
by women;
"That she is invariably agitated, either to the point of being de-
pressed or to the opposite point of being feverish, oscillating between the
two extremes;
"That she generates a new desire every day and is never satisfied
when she obtains it. Her affections are as spasmodic as her desires.
She chooses her friends according to their approval of herself. Those
whom she feels to be superior to herself, she abominates.
"That she resents suffering of any kind and is horribly afraid of
death ;
"That she is self-centered, self-willed, vain, foolish an infliction.
"Does she want to avoid that condition ; to become, instead, a thing
of beauty and a joy forever? She might do worse, in that case, than
make the rules of St. Theresa her own. For no matter what her voca-
tion may be, she will be unable to discover it so long as she seeks to
please herself only; and, if her vocation be marriage, she is predoomed
to marry the wrong man unless she seeks guidance from God and has
learned, at least to some extent, to hear and to obey that guidance. No
man is sufficient unto himself ; nor is any woman. We need the help
of others, older and wiser than we are ; and a girl who very properly may
object that to be certain of God's will is difficult and sometimes is im-
possible, should remember that her parents or guardians or older rela-
tives have been given to her by God as in some sense His representatives.
To them she should be entirely frank ; trusting them to help her. . . .
"The ideal of womanhood, you ask ! I have at least suggested what
it is not. I have even ventured to quote a woman on the subject of its
attainment. But each woman must answer the main question for herself,
just as each man must do. It is her ideal that she must seek; her ideal
that she must live to become. If she be true to that, she will find at
last in the eyes of another, whether of God or of man, that vision of
further heights, of more perfect self-surrender, which she can never gain
alone, but which, once seen, will be for her the Gleam to follow forever."
T.
18
EMENTARY
THE NEW TREND IN SCIENCE AND PHILOSOPHY
FORTY years ago and long after, religion had in science and
philosophy powerful and persistent opponents. The trend of
thought at that time was entirely opposed to the spiritual, and
a whole generation of young people grew up with the conviction
that Science and Religion were eternal foes. Darwin, Huxley, Tyndall
and Romanes were great men and great Scientists, but their teaching and
influence came like a tidal wave submerging old landmarks and, appar-
ently laying in ruins the very foundations of all religion. In 1869 a
number of these men met at the home of the editor of the Nineteenth
Century, and at that meeting Huxley suggested the word "Agnostic,"
as a theological term. At that time the scientists had a great deal to
say about the bigotry of theologians, but they were far more arrogant
than the theologians, and with great confidence asserted that the rushlight
of Christianity had gone out before the sun of Science. It was freely
stated, and with the authority of popes, that no man of intelligence could
be a Christian, and that all who professed to hold the old faith were
either old women or cowards. In their teaching the scientists became
more dogmatic than the churches, and did not hesitate to say that the
universe organic and inorganic could be perfectly interpreted by the
laws of Mechanics. This, of course, swept away the most familiar and
necessary ideas of religion. Dr. Ernest Haeckel in his New Genesis
said "The real maker of the organic world was in all probability an atom
of carbon, a tretrahedron made up of four primitive atoms. The human
soul is only the sum of these physiological functions whose elementary
organs are constituted of the microscopic ganglion cells of the brain.
Consciousness is a mechanical work of the ganglion cells, and as such
must be carried back to chemical and physical events. From this it
follows ( i ) that belief in an immortal soul as inhabiting the body during
life and leaving it at death is an exploded superstition. And (2) that
there is no such thing as personal immortality, for the only soul man
possesses disappears when the nervous mass decomposes."
Haeckel repeated this in 1892, and three years later it was trans-
lated into English as The Confession of Faith of a Man of Science.
In this, however, Haeckel stands almost alone among scientific men
74
THE NEW TREND IN SCIENCE AND PHILOSOPHY 275
today, as one may judge by a reading of Sir Oliver Lodge's informing
book on Life and Matter. In the preface of this book the author says,
"The book is especially intended to act as an antidote against the specu-
lative and destructive portions of Professor Haeckel's interesting and
widely read work." From 1870 to 1890 Agnosticism was fashionable
and wielded a great power over multitudes of people. Those of us who
came in contact with these great personalities are not surprised at the
wonderful influence they exerted in giving a trend to modern thought.
Take a man like Professor George J. Romanes who seemed to throw
a magic spell over the students of his day, many of whom followed him
out of the Christian faith into materialism, but did not come back as he
did. He published a very charming little book whose arguments were
never answered until he answered them himself after his conversion.
This little book, A Candid Examination of Theism, by Physicus, declared
that it was impossible for him to believe in the existence of a God and
the immortality of the Soul because their reasonableness could not be
demonstrated to his own intellectual satisfaction. And further that the
idea of God was altogether unnecessary to the explanation of the
universe, and also that the idea of a future life was a dream unverified
by facts.
The marvellous development of knowledge and the growing power
of man over nature, together with the rapid accumulation of wealth
fascinated the modern mind and it became so completely absorbed in
the present world as to lose all interest in any other. It was boastingly
said that Huxley, Tyndall, Spencer, and Haeckel had said the last word
upon human existence, and that word had disposed forever of religion
and the spiritual world. Thus the message of religion was despised and
neglected by tens of thousands of cultured people and the trend of
thought became fully set against the spiritual.
It was at this point that Madame Blavatsky appeared and with a
whip of scorpions scourged the backs of the materialists. Intellectually
she was equal to the strongest and most brilliant of these men, and they
were irritated some of them were exasperated by the fact that a
woman should talk to them after such a fashion. Some of their replies
were quite unscientific and far from being chivalrous. It is true that
some of H. P. B.'s language seemed to be too strong and was lacking in
discrimination and, like all over-statements, created a feeling of resent-
ment in many minds, so stirring up needless antagonism. At least,
that is the impression that one gets from reading her words today in
Isis Unveiled, Secret Doctrine and the early numbers of Lucifer. Of
course it will remain a matter of personal opinion as to whether such
methods were necessary or whether it was a manifestation of the
weakness of a strong woman. To those of us who knew the men, they
did not seem so black as she painted them, but they did have their
limitations both of knowledge and insight. Take Tyndall, for example,
276 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
who was highly respected by all who knew him, not only for his remark-
able literary qualities, but for the elevation of his aims and the stead-
fastness of his devotion to his life work. He was an apostle of verifi-
cation and persistently tried to "prove all things and hold fast that which
is good." As a seeker of the truth he seemed to be thoroughly in
earnest, and as a teacher perfectly candid. Then, too, it is only fair
to remember that during all this dogmatic, agnostic period not all great
scientists were sceptical or agnostics. For a while their voices were
drowned by those of the orthodox scientists, but later they were heard.
Sir William Thompson afterwards Lord Kelvin made some discov-
eries as to the atom that completely upset the old mechanical theories:
the molecular theory demonstrated that the atom itself was made up of
electrons little points of electricity, and that these were probably specks
of ether, and that the matter thought of by Huxley and Tyndall did not
really exist. Arguing for an invisible consciousness back of matter he
boldly stated that, "Fourier's equation for the flow of heat required a
beginning, an initiation ;" and further, that "the permanence of the atom
as a vortex of motion could not be produced by any known animate or
inanimate agency." By many people Lord Kelvin was considered to be
the greatest man of science since Sir Isaac Newton, and all agreed that
he was a noble, lovable, humble and beautiful character. Through him
the attitude of science toward religion began to change, for he was a
devout and consistent Christian. Then came the conversion of Romanes,
which was a wonderful thing. Romanes was a candid seeker after the
truth and lived to prove the words of Jesus, that "He that seeketh shall
find." At the time that he wrote his little book, A Candid Examination
of Theism, he declared that he was not happy in his position; that
instead of the God of the universe that he believed in as a boy there
seemed nothing but a great, big, empty hole: and therefore he was con-
stantly seeking light on that problem. One day as he was studying a
little piece of life under the microscope, he suddenly paused. The con-
viction took hold upon him that there was some sort of intelligence back
of the physical force in this piece of life. So he asked himself the
question, "Since Science demands experience as the basis of all human
belief, is there not somewhere within the range of experience some evi-
dence of an intelligent power directing physical forces?" Immediately
he thought of the human will, "I wish to lift my hand; my hand goes
up. I wish to walk out of this room; my Body walks out. What is it?
It is the directing power of a conscious intelligence." Then he remem-
bered a statement may by A. R. Wallace, another great scientist. Wal-
lace said, "The only knowledge that man possesses in the realm of
human experience of any power to direct physical forces is the knowledge
of the human will; and that the human will is of the nature of spirit."
Facing these facts honestly and realizing the uniformity of law and the
unity of nature, Romanes was compelled to recognize the fact that the
THE NEW TREND IN SCIENCE AND PHILOSOPHY 277
directing, controlling power back of the physical forces in the universe
must be a self-conscious intelligence akin to the human will. So he
woke up to the fact that he had been neglecting certain great and funda-
mental facts in the realm of human experience. This was in 1890,
when Romanes was carrying on a discussion with A. R. Wallace and
others in the pages of his magazine Nature about certain Darwinian
problems. The man who was contributing the most important articles
to this discussion was John J. Gulick an American Congregational
Missionary, then at Osaka, Japan. In this year, 1890, Romanes prefaced
one of Gulick's articles with these words, "I believe it is my duty to say
that in my judgment this man brings the most profound intellect of our
time to this discussion of Darwinian problems." On Christmas Day of
1890 he wrote to Gulick a personal letter, and this led to a most interest-
ing correspondence which ended in the complete conversion of Romanes
to the Christian faith. He joined the Anglican Church and died a
member of that communion.
Thus Science has been sobered by its own discoveries and is no
longer dogmatic but wishes to be relieved from pronouncing on any of
the ultimate problems of life. The great men of Science to-day are
Christians. I do not mean that they have accepted the old dogmatic
statements, or the ecclesiastical explanation of things, but they have a
deeper perception of the facts of religious experience, a deeper realiza-
tion of the part which religion plays in human life, and a great many of
them, like Sir Oliver Lodge, are members of Christian Churches, and
those who are not associated with churches show a spirit of reverence
toward the religious side of life and reject the explanation of religious
phenomena offered by Science thirty years ago. A majority of these
men agree that the mechanical explanation of the universe has entirely
broken down. Professor Mach in his Science of Mecanics says, "The
science of mechanics does not comprise foundations, no, nor even a part
of the world, but only an aspect of it." And again in another place,
"The faith and hope that the physical universe was fully described in
mechanical terms, which prevailed in scientific circles a generation ago,
are now pretty well played out. On these lines nothing can be
explained."
In the realm of philosophy, too, if we have the time and patience
to follow its latest teaching we find ourselves in the presence of a new
movement where the old system and the old aphorisms have entirely
broken down. Philosophy that had lost itself in abstract thought has
now strangely turned round and says that the position from which we
must start is not force but intuition. Dr. Robert Horton of London has
said that people hardly notice the thinker when he comes into the world,
but he always dominates the world and directs the course of human
progress; indeed it is thought that makes progress. Philosophy like
Science has become strangely humble, yet through this humility is learn-
278 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
ing to see, and today has clearer insight than for a generation past.
Philosophy and Science in different ways assure us of one clear truth,
namely, that the explanation of things must be sought in the Spiritual
World. With this decisive change in the whole trend of modern thought
a new era has opened, and it will not be long before religion and culture
will be closest friends and helpers, so that "Mind and soul, according
well, may make one music as before." Three of the greatest men in the
world of philosophy today are examples of this newer thinking.
Dr. Horton has called Eucken "the greatest modern thinker," but I
think that on a par with him we may place Bergson of France and
McDougall of England. Since the passing of William James, America
has no outstanding man in the world of philosophy. Professor Rudolph
Eucken is lecturing at Harvard as exchange professor from Germany,
but I hope that many other cities besides Boston may have the pleasure
of seeing and hearing him.
McDougal is an English teacher in the University of Oxford, and
has written a book on Body and Mind. By the strictest investigation,
scientific and psychological, he has been driven to adopt the belief in the
soul; and then he finds that the soul explains and irradiates human life
and the possibilities of mankind.
Bergson is a great French philosopher and a most brilliant writer.
The trend of his thought is the same as that of McDougal. His starting
point is the criticism of the mechanical explanation of life, and his effort
to show that this mechanical explanation does not avail. The great
reality is life expressing itself in every department of the universe. The
absolute reality is life, that is God; it is the great present working and
eternal reality. Not physics, nor mechanics, not matter but life God.
Perhaps Eucken is the most popular of the three, and while I cannot
go into detail as to his teaching I can give the closing paragraph of his
book Can We Yet be Christians. "Our question was whether we could
today still be Christian. Our answer is that we not only can, but must
be. But we can only be so if Christianity is recognized as a movement
in the flow of the world's history, if it is rescued from ecclesiastical tor-
pidity and placed upon a broader foundation. Here, then, lies the task
of our time and the hope of the future."
This marvelous change in the trend of thought during one lifetime
should be an inspiration to us all. The science and philosophy that has
forsaken the material, declaring the old Scripture true, that, "The things
that are seen are transient but the things not seen are eternal," may yet
come to see that intuition can be so trained that it can wring from nature
great truths that it has taken intellect centuries to win and which, even
yet, it is not sure of. Let us be content to wait, for the Wisdom Religion
holds all that Science and Philosophy can ever discover.
JOHN SCHOFIELD.
Theosophy and Christian Dogmatics. The Protestant Episcopal Church of
America has greater catholicity, perhaps, than some of the extreme forms of
Protestantism. But it is often very untheosophic in its exclusiveness. It maintains,
sometimes, an arrogant and supercilious attitude toward "sectarian bodies," and
refuses to admit them under the designation "Church." It declares that by schism,
if not heresy, these "organizations" have cut themselves off from the body of
faithful believers. In view of this exclusive and supercilious attitude of the
Episcopal Church, it is a surprise, but rather a joy, to know, that for more than
twenty years, the Episcopal theological schools of America have used as a text
book in the important subject of dogma, a volume that is written by a Lutheran,
namely the volume entitled Christian Dogmatics, by the Lutheran Bishop, Mar-
tensen, of Denmark. Why, one may ask, should such a choice be made, out of
the thousands of theological books that are at the service of seminaries ? Marten-
sen is a Dane. His book passed into German before being translated into English.
The scholars of the English Church could have translated Latin and Greek theo-
logians as easily as this modern Dane. Why might not a sort of eclectic text book
have been prepared, made up of extracts from the Church fathers? On the surface
of things, it is not easy to explain the widespread use of Bishop Martensen's volume.
It is well planned and orderly. But, above all, it is philosophical. And its philos-
ophy gets into it from its author's study of Theosophy.
Martensen was born in 1808. For a time he was professor of philosophy. In
1854 he was made Bishop. As a young man he was interested in medieval mysti-
cism, especially in Eckhart and Tauler, and it was his wish to write a scholarly
account of the mystics. His reading of mystical writers brought him to Jacob
Boehme. Boehme, at first, repelled him, but afterwards won such sympathetic
interest, that Martensen contemplated writing a book that should expound and
criticise Boehme's views. But the active duties of his vocation interfered. As
theologian, Martensen wrote his two volumes, one on Christian Ethics, and the
other, that has been mentioned, on Christian Dogmatics. Then, after winning a
place as champion of the Lutheran cause, he, late in life, returned to the subject
that had early attracted him, and published a volume of Theosophical Studies that
centre on the life and teaching of Boehme. Martensen died in 1884. His works
were early translated into English. The translator's preface to Christian Dogmatics
is dated 1866.
Did Martensen learn Theosophy from Christianity, or Christianity from Theos-
ophy? Each seems to have contributed toward the other. His sympathy with
mysticism prepared him for something more than an historical or moral interpre-
tation of the Master's life and teaching. He sought to apprehend in it a cosmical
meaning, to prove that it is significant for the entire universe, that "the principles
of Christianity are identical with those by which the world itself subsists, and on
which the foundation of the world is laid." This conviction as to the universal
significance of Christianity led him to a serious consideration of metaphysical
teaching about Deity and its manifestations ; his theology was thus greatly enriched.
28o THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
Within the Unity of God he discerns an Eternal Duality, a divine subject and a
divine substance. The fatherly pleroma, he writes, reveals itself in the Son as a
kingdom of ideas, while through the Spirit, the eternal possibilities are present
before the face of God as magical realities, as a heavenly host of visions, of plastic
archetypes for a revelation ad extra. Again, in the theosophical writings of
Boehme, Martensen was confronted with a living intuition of nature; he saw that
Boehme was struggling to apprehend the God of Revelation as the Living God,
and to know all Nature as in God. The grandeur of that idea led Martensen to an
exposition of the Creation (according to Genesis) that has nothing in common
with the childish, mechanical, Judaic teaching, but which is permeated by what we
call the doctrine of Evolution. The world, he says, has both a natural and a
super-natural (he uses this word in its good sense) beginning. The natural be-
ginning is the relative, the finite one, which is split up into sporadic variety. The
world is, in this sense, natura, an organism developing itself. But this natura has
its beginning in the creative will of the logos. And it is that creative will which
causes to issue forth the entire variety of vital forces. So that, in this sense, the
world is creatura, a continuous revelation of divine will.
Belief in a process of evolution runs through Martensen's theology. In writing
of the Fall of Man, he shows how the Church failed to distinguish between innocence
and sanctity or perfection. Adam was merely innocent That is, there was in
Adam the living beginning of a true relation to God, the possibility of a progressive
development. Adam's vocation was, and is, sanctity, the perfectness of the Father.
Martensen speaks of sanctity as a "self-acquired attribute of humanity." Man is
driven from the Garden of Eden in order that he may find the way to the Kingdom
of Heaven. Martensen views man as a microcosm, hence he finds in him a corres-
pondence with the natura and creatura aspects of the universe. It is the finite, the
lower, nature of man that "falls."
"Although man, in virtue of his actual will, may fall from God, according to
his essential will, in the innermost kernel of his freedom, he is indissolubly united
to the divine logos as the holy world-principle."
There are two aspects of the Incarnation also, the cosmical and the redemptive.
Such an explanation of the Incarnation as Martensen's is startling to one who has
all his life been accustomed to the legal aspect of the Atonement, which was foisted
on the Church by a school of unimaginative Carthaginian theologians. The scheme
of redemption, Bishop Martensen maintains, is subordinate in the Incarnation, and
is no part of the original plan. The chief and original purpose of the Incarnation
is a cosmical one to complete and perfect. The logos, by which all things were
made that are made, purposed a self-revelation when the times should be ripe ;
that revelation of the highest good cannot be viewed as a mere means toward some-
thing else but must be looked upon as its own end. In other words, the Bishop
declares that the Incarnation was a necessity but that the Crucifixion was not, and
he quotes the old proposition: Etiam homo non pecasset, deus tamen incarnatus
esset, licet non crucifixus. The Fall of Man affected no eternal truth or idea.
The eternal ideal for man remained the same, but the way to the ideal became
different.
The section of Christian Dogmatics that discusses the Sacraments shows again
theosophic influence. The chapters on Baptism and the Communion show an
apprehension of the idea that was uppermost in St. Paul's mind which St. Paul
most explicitly stated when he wrote to the Galatians: "My little children, of
whom I travail in birth again until Christ be formed in you." Christ is the second
Adam or new man, and the importance of the Sacraments is their part in the
formation and growth of this new creature who is more than the self-conscious
man. "By baptism man is incorporated into the new Kingdom, and the possibility
of, the necessary requirements for, the new personality are given therein." The
REVIEWS 281
Communion brings to growth and perfection the germ of new life implanted by
Baptism. "The Lord's supper is not only an aliment for the soul (cibus mentis)
but an aliment for the whole new-man, for the future man of the Resurrection,
who is germinating and growing in secret, and who shall be manifested in glory,
in exact likeness with the glorified humanity of his Lord. . . . And as we seek
a literal interpretation of the words, 'Take, eat, this is my body, this is my blood,'
there here presents itself a pattern or model from the kingdom of nature, the first
creation. In bread and wine, viewed merely LS natural means of ^nourishment, it
is not the natural materials as such which do in reality strengthen and nourish,
but the invisible power which ILs hid therein, the creating power v/hich we also
call the blessing. For the blessing implies the fact that the creative principle is
present secretly, even in the gifts of nature. Heathenism itself said that Ceres
and Bacchus were present in bread and wine, and that mankind partook even of
Ceres and Bacchus in the forms of bread and wine, i. e., that the real eating and
drinking was not a mere eating and drinking of the outward material, but a being
made partaker of the creative principle itself, as that which truly strengthens and
stimulates. But in revealed religion we know that the Son, the divine logos, is the
creative principle in the whole kingdom of nature, that the secret power of life,
in all the gifts of nature, is the power of the Son of God, who fills all things.
The creative logos it is who gives us bread and wine, and even in the kingdom of
nature we, as it were, hear Him say, Take, eat, this is I, this is my being, my
creative and sustaining power of life, which you are made to partake of through
bread and wine, and which is in these elements, truly nourishing, strengthening,
and life-giving.' 'I would never desire to drink thereof,' said Master Eckart, 'if
there were not something of God within it.' "
Enough has been quoted, I hope, to prove that the volume Christian Dog-
matics evidences a religion lighted by philosophy, and quite different from the
hard material dogmatism that held the field in 1875. Martensen's work was done
before the Lodge messenger brought to us again in 1875 the truths we cherish.
It is by no means the wish to convey an impression that Bishop Martensen is such
a theologian as was Origen or Synesius, or that he views Christianity as a devout
member of the T. S. to-day would do. But his book shows an insight into Chris-
tianity that is rare. And as it is used by many young students, the hope rises in
one that the Church may, through it, come more quickly to realize the hidden
wisdom of God.
In the volume on Jacob Boehme, entitled Theosophical Studies, Martensen
quite naturally considers Theosophy as a system of philosophy, and criticises it
from that view-point. But, he also sees that it is much more than a metaphysical
system that it is a life. And for that perception and his sympathetic record of it,
theosophists and the T. S. owe him gratitude.
"Theosophy is, as St. Martin and Franz Baader so often repeat, a philosophy
of prayer. This personal life in God, as the qualification for philosophizing, is
very frequently emphasized by Boehme. He admonishes all who desire to peruse
his writings, that they must not do so with naked if never so acute speculation
(which seeks only abstract knowledge devoid of religious and ethical interest),
because in this spirit they must remain outside them, and will only succeed in
catching a glimpse of one detail and another, of no kind of utility in themselves,
but only to make a boast of. He writes only for the children of God and for
sincere seekers ; for to such alone belongs the pearl. For his own part, he has
often prayed God that He would take this knowledge from him, unless it might
tend to the Divine glory and to the edification of himself and his brethren. He
testifies that, from the outset, he did not seek to know anything concerning the
Divine mysteries. He has, from the first, sought only the Heart of Jesus Christ,
that he might there hide himself from the wrath of God and the malice of the
282 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
devil. Then met him the gracious Maiden from Paradise. And first he must needs
pass through the world, and the Kingdom of Hell. This gracious Maiden, who
plays so great a part in his apprehension of God, is the Eternal Idea, the precious
Sophia, the heavenly Wisdom, who not only reveals to him the Divine mysteries,
but espouses his soul, reforms him by leading him to God and Christ, consoles him
in all his anxiety and distress, and conducts him to peace and salvation."
ALFRED WILLISTON.
The Revolutions of Civilisation* by the famous Egyptologist, W. M. Flinders
Petrie, is an exceedingly interesting little book that has a special significance for
students of Theosophy. Mr. Petrie has used his unique acquaintance with the
peoples of the past to make some new observations about civilizations as a whole.
He says that we now have enough reliable knowledge of the past to be able to
study the phenomena of civilization over a period of twelve thousand years.
During that time there have been eight distinct civilizations, which rose, flowered
and decayed in an astonishingly similar manner and in practically a like number
of years. We can see and study the life cycle of a civilization as before we could
only study the individual or the race. This life cycle lasts from 1,300 to 1,500
years, and follows a uniform and almost invariable course. First there is a com-
paratively rapid development from savagery, lasting from 150 to 200 years. The
new civilization first produces good sculpture. About 150 years later it produces
painting; 150 years more, literature; 200 years mechanics; 150 years science and
wealth; then comes inevitable degeneracy and a return to a chaos in which the
dying civilization is replaced by a new one brought from the East by a new
people. The new civilization always comes from the East to the West and the
Eastern phase is about 450 years ahead of the Western phase.
Contrary to general opinion the only improvement that can be noted during
these 12,000 years is in the quantity of civilization, not in its quality. In quality
we moderns have not reached the level of several of the older civilizations. No
sculpture has been equal to the Greek ; no building equal to the Egyptian and
Greek. Art as a whole was as good in the fourth, sixth and seventh civilizations
as in the eighth. But the various good phases last a little longer now than they
used to, and that is the only noticeable gain.
The life history of a civilization from the point of view of government
follows an invariable course. First there is strong, personal rule, lasting from
four to six centuries. Then an oligarchy, when leadership is still essential, but
the unity of a country can be maintained by law. This lasts from four to six
centuries. Then comes a gradual transformation to a democracy, which is usually
co-eval with the literary phase, lasting about four centuries. Wealth gradually
increases during this period, until democracy has attained full power. Then the
majority without wealth, eat up the capital of the minority, and the civilizatioc
steadily decays, until the inferior population is swept away to make room for a
fitter people. Remember this is not a theory, but is what has actually happened,
in every civilization, in all parts of the world, eight times during the 12,000 years
of which we have knowledge. It is absolutely the best argument against social-
ism that I have ever read, for in the light of history it is clear that to advocate
socialism is to advocate the dying stage of our civilization.
But this study has other very interesting side-lights. It is always the nation
that strives hardest that goes highest and lasts longest. There is no advance
without strife. It may be the strife of ideas and personalities, for these will keep
a nation vigorous as well as the strife of arms, but strife, struggle, necessity for
action, these must be. The easier life is rendered the sooner decay sets in.
Harper and Brothers, London and New York.
REVIEWS 283
It is, however, when the author begins to discuss the possible reaspns for the
extraordinary evenness of the periods of civilizations, and the remarkable way in
which each of the great departments of human activity rise to the front at about
the same period in the life time of each civilization, last about the same length of
time, and are succeeded by the next, that the subject is of special interest to the
student of Theosophy. Mr. Flinders Petrie's best explanation is that when races
overrun each other, and there always is a mixture of races at the beginning of
each new civilization, it takes about 800 years for a thorough mixture of blood
to take place. Hence the height of a civilization is about 800 years after its birth.
He says that in 800 years we have a hundred million ancestors, therefore each
individual in a race would have some of the blood of every member of the parent
races in his veins. It may be so. But is not the statement of Master K. H. in
The Occult World, that the average period between incarnations is from 1,200 to
1,500 years, much more suggestive? Petrie shows that the average life of civili-
zations is 1,350 years. The average of "from 1,200 to 1,500" is 1,350. It is the
same group of egos, coming back into incarnation, at about the same time that
produce the same results. Every 1,350 years we have the pioneers of a new
civilization incarnating to start a new civilization: then come the sculptors, the
painters, the writers the mechanics, the scientists and finally the merchants, whose
very success paves the way for the degenerate egos whose laziness and lack of
virility bring about decay. The thing proves itself.
JOHN BLAKE.
QOESIIONS
r^ ** v ^^^,
ANSWERS
as
QUESTION 146. fF&af w /i Theosophical teaching about the life of Christ?
Is he to be taken literally? Did he mean what he said? Did he mean us, if we
are disciples, to do what he did and live as he taught his disciples to live? Please
answer directly without hedging.
ANSWER. I have the impression that to fulfil the querent's injunction not to
hedge, I must needs give answers as direct and uncompromising as the questions
themselves.
Is Christ to be taken literally? Yes.
Did he mean what he said? Yes.
Did he mean his disciples (ourselves if we be such) to live and do as he did?
Yes.
And yet what meaning may these brief and direct replies have given? Surely
they require explanation ; and I cannot see but what almost any effort at explana-
tion may be taken as "hedging." For example: Christ is indeed to be taken
literally, and yet that literalness must be of a spiritual kind. In other words, we
must follow literally the spirit of his life and teaching, not lose ourselves in the
letter. Because Christ wore his hair long, dressed in white and flowing garments,
went barefoot, all in conformity with his time and country, it does not follow in
the least that we too should wear long hair, white garments, and go shoeless. It
does show the value of conformity, however, of the simple acceptance of outward
conditions as we find them prepared for us ; the willingness, so far as circum-
stances go, to adapt ourselves to our time and our surroundings, and to turn the
force of our life into the things of the inner world, as Christ did. He did not
neglect the outer world, he accepted it. But in it he found the radiance of
the spiritual world, and he lived in that radiance, and strove to make it mani-
fest by precept and example. He himself was the light shining in the darkness,
and the darkness comprehended him not.
The social and political conditions of his day he entirely ignored : his only
political utterances were to render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's; and
his re-iterated statement that his kingdom was not of this world, proclaiming to
Pilate, when he stood as a malefactor before him, "Thou sayest that I am, a
King." "The letter killeth and the spirit giveth life." Only as we follow liter-
ally the spirit of his life and teaching, what he said and what he did, can we be
considered in any sense to be following him. The actual, physical act or word
was but the outward symbol of the spirit, altering with each age and place, and
ephemeral as a flower.
With marvellous poetic tenderness he touched even these passing things,
leaving upon them an immortality of beauty, as he fashioned them to his own use
in illustration and parable. He made them conveyers of his message. And so
another great lesson is borne home to us, that all life is a symbol, and that each
manifested detail of it should be so used by us, used for deep spiritual purposes,
and to convey the eternal truth within.
184
QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS 285
Also we see thereby that the two lives cannot be divorced, the inner and the
outer: they are in reality the same. But again the spirit determines; in it alone
lies the germ of life; without it the symbol is dead, and stares at us like the
shutterless windows of a deserted house.
Thus to follow the life and teaching of Christ is to take them literally. Yet,
blindly to follow the word without regard to its spiritual significance, is com-
pletely to disregard all that he represents. He bade us forsake all to follow him,
and how complete this renunciation must be, it is evident that only those who
have made themselves his high disciples can realize, when the last vestige of
self-love and self-seeking have been torn from the heart. So, too, we are told
that "he that loveth father or mother more than me is not worthy of me." Does
this mean lack of filial love and respect and obedience when his last human act
upon the Cross was a provision for the care and love for his own mother which
he could no longer give? Does "forsake all" mean that we shall part with the
burden and responsibility of our wealth, when the parable bids us double our
talents and return to the giver of them with usury? In all time men have been
willing to surrender everything except their own wills ; and so they have cried
Lo ! here and Lo ! there, as the Master said they would ; and few indeed have found
that strait and narrow gate of self-renunciation.
But read in that light and in that light alone, the life and teaching of Christ
are as plain and simple as the daylight, present no problems, show no contradic-
tions ; and no other interpretation ever has or ever will prove satisfactory. We
are superficial in our literalness, if the truth be told. We try to make bargains
with God, calling them his; but God never bargains, and is silent at our railings
against his refusal of contracts. He gave us free-will and has been true to that
gift in the limitations imposed. The path is open and free, but there is no
coercion to walk in it. Indeed he will not accept us until we come to him
willingly.
Perhaps all this is "hedging," though an honest effort to be quite simple and
direct has been made. But after all the mysteries of the Kingdom of Heaven are
mysteries save for the disciples themselves; to the multitude even the great
Master himself was obliged to speak in parables, because of their lack of under-
standing, and the hardness of their hearts. A special maturity is needed for
certain kinds of comprehension. There are things I cannot tell a child no matter
how much I may desire to do so. When we repent and become as little children,
we recognize this momentous distinction, and so have made the first step towards
obtaining the knowledge that we seek. For then we shall strive to "grow up" in
the spiritual life as simple obedient children will, and in that atmosphere, and in
that atmosphere alone, our powers and faculties will develop.
"He who is perfected in devotion findeth spiritual knowledge springing up in
himself in the progress of time."
CAV.
QUESTION 147. In the Voice of the Silence / read that the mind is the slayer
of the real. Yet surely Masters must have minds, and they have given us much
that we must use our minds to understand. Is the mind a hindrance to the
theosophic life?
ANSWER. The Masters do not have "minds" in our usual sense of the term:
they have purified Manas, which is a transmitter and reflector of the Real, not
a deflector and "slayer" of it.
This, of course, is but another way of saying that in them lower Manas has
286 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
been transformed into Higher, which is accomplished by using Buddhi (Spiritual
Will) to suppress ordinary mental domination and self-identification with it.
CAVE.
QUESTION 148. Do the statements made in Genesis ii, 17 and 19 coincide with
the Theosophical Teaching as regards the building of the physical man?
ANSWER. Mme. Blavatsky writes (The Path, April, 1888, Note on page 2) :
"The first chapter of Genesis, or the Elohistic version, does not treat of the
creation of man at all. It is what the Hindu Puranas call the Primal creation,
while the second chapter is the Secondary creation or that of our globe of man.
Adam Kadmon is no man, but the protologos, the collective Sephirothal Tree the
'Heavenly Man,' the vehicle (or Vahan) used by En-soph to manifest in the
phenomenal world (see Sohar) : and as the 'male and female' Adam is the
'Archetypal man,' so the animals mentioned in the first chapter are the sacred
animals, or the zodiacal signs, while 'Light' refers to the angels so called. Genesis
being an Eastern work, it has to be read in its own language. It is in full agree-
ment, when understood, with the universal cosmogony and evolution of life as
given in The Secret Doctrine of the Archaic Ages. The last word of Science is
far from being uttered yet. Esoteric philosophy teaches that man was the first
living being to appear on earth, all the animal world coming after him." This
explains why the seventh verse of the second chapter of Genesis records the
creation of man's physical body, while the formation of the physical bodies of the
animals is narrated only in the nineteenth verse. The whole subject is treated in
great detail in The Secret Doctrine, ii, 180 (Edition of 1888).
C. J.
QUESTION 149. It is all very well to quote distant Finland, in discussing
"Votes for Women," as does the writer of the "Notes and Comments" in the
October QUARTERLY. But is not the experience of this country altogether favor-
able, in the States where Equal Suffrage has been tried?
ANSWER. Not altogether satisfactory. Witness the following:
"THE WOMEN HAVE LOST.'
"To the Editor of The New York Times:
"May I enter a protest against the news head-lines of suffrage victories? In-
variably this news is headed The Women Have Won.' Say rather 'A Few of the
Women Have Won' or The Political Women Have Won' or The Suffragists Have
Won.' As a matter of facts, the majority of women have lost. In all this hue
and cry over suffrage the thing that impresses me most is the injustice of forcing
a vote upon the majority of their sex by these few noisy, unthinking women, a duty
for which a woman is by temperament and character totally unsuited.
"Living in a State where these suffrage agitators have once and for all brought
women to the street corners to electioneer for votes, to persuade women to register,
to act as election clerks in the voting booths for all-night sojourns, the whole
vulgarity of the wretched situation is before my eyes.
"The effects of suffrage here are often amusing, but in the main distressing.
One woman assured me yesterday she had voted only because she did not like the
way her husband had voted, and she wished to cancel the effect of his vote. He
had voted for Mr. Wilson and she for Mr. Roosevelt. J. K. D.
"Berkeley, Cal., November 26, 1912."
QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS 287
QUESTION 150. In what ways and to what extent is a Theosophist justified in
exercising his own powers of suggestion, thought, will, etc., with a view to leading
to a purer course of life, one who has a growing tendency to the drink habit, a full
knowledge of the evil consequences of the same, and a strong ivill which as yet
is not exercised in this matter?
ANSWER. So far as my memory goes, the fullest discussion of this question
from the Theosophical standpoint is that of Mme. Blavatsky, in an article in
Lucifer, reprinted, I believe, as Number 2, of the Studies in Occultism. Mme.
Blavatsky held that it is both right and desirable to use hypnotism to stop a
drunkard on the downward path, thus preventing further degradation, and giving
the soul a better opportunity to overcome the evil tendency in a future life. But
to do this, the will must be both strong and pure. In reality, it is a question of
exorcism, always a dangerous thing to attempt, until one is far along the path
of spiritual development. C. J.
ANSWER. A Theosophist is wholly justified in exercising all his powers
wisely to help another to overcome an evil habit. Wise assistance could be given
only by arousing to action the dormant will of the person in question, not by
coercion or control of the will by another. Such help may be rendered by co-
operating through the means of ardent prayer with the Oversoul. If the sub-
mission of the personal will to the Divine will be absolute, an unobstructed
channel is thereby made through the personal powers, along which the Divine
current may flow. All souls being one with the Oversoul, that current will reach
the person to be helped, restoring to its normal functions, through the strengthened
will, the perverted natural instinct S. W. A.
ANSWER. Has the would-be theosophist, the would-be disciple, any powers
that he could call "his own"? If he is merely steward of all the power and the
force that he has, then surely he must look deep into the life and the needs of
another before he would venture an attempt to rearrange the ongoing of that
other's life. Most of us have great difficulty in eradicating the notion that to
prevent some overt act is great gain. How frequently the wisest parents find
themselves rejoicing with their child over the fact that he was not "caught" by the
teacher in some infraction of rules, or in some failure to master a lesson ! Yet
to be discovered in his fault brings the opportunity to learn better. Frequently
the drunkard is the "discovered" soul ; his lapses are evident. Should we really
do anything for him if we could cover them up? Suppose that "by suggestion"
the desire to drink is turned into some other channel, perhaps an underground
channel. Friends rejoice in a "cure," the home is happier and life looks brighter,
but has anything really happened? A wise physician does not treat the symptoms,
he treats the disease. Unless the person who wishes to help this sufferer has
himself reached the point in development where he can divine the real and inner
cause of this outer weakness, I do not see how he can help the other directly; nor
that he has the right to try either "suggestion, thought, or will" on him. But
there remain love and courage ; and no powers from the outside can be more effective
in helping one who knows the result of his course of action, but does not know
how to harness his will to the task before him. P.
ANSWER. I remember that Mr. Judge always discouraged using anything like
"suggestion" for the help of others, as a cure for physical ills. Disease and pain,
he said (and I suppose dipsomania should be counted as a disease), were affections
belonging to the physical plane and any attempt to relieve them by forces belong-
288 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
ing to higher planes, resulted only in dragging down those forces, and degrading
them by putting them to work that did not belong to them. I should suppose that
the right way would be to strengthen the will apart from the drink habit, to devote
the thoughts to the highest subjects that the sufferer is capable of dwelling upon,
and above all to keep the body in as perfect a condition as possible. The real
work should be on the physical plane, and not on the astral when it is a question
of subduing perverted tendencies and abnormal desires which belong to the
physical body and have their origin there. K. H.
QUESTION 151. There are many adherents to all the great religions who hold
that help can and should be rendered to the dead. What does Theosophy teach
regarding thisf
ANSWER. It is always a hazardous thing for any one to undertake to say that
"Theosophy" teaches this or that, since no mortal is qualified to speak for Theos-
ophy, the Divine Wisdom of the Logos. But many students of Theosophy believe
that the prayers, even of those who know little, can and do help the "dead," just
as they help the living; the mere non-possession of a body does not withdraw one
from the influence of the fine spiritual force called forth and directed by pure
prayer. But the prayer must be both pure and disinterested, otherwise it may
perturb and disturb the excarnate soul. Hence, probably, arose the custom of
asking the priests to pray for the dead, since it was held that their prayers were
pure, and were certain to be free from the personal coloring that might cause
harm. Some Theosophists go much further, and believe that the "dead," meaning
by this, souls in Devachan and in the preliminary states leading thereto, are under
the guardianship of certain classes of Masters, who most certainly do "render help
to the dead," just as their illustrious colleagues of another class render help to
the living. C. J.
ANSWER. What does the questioner mean by "help rendered to the dead"?
If the personality is intended, that, we are told, perishes with the physical body,
which only remains a very short time in "the place of departed spirits," as many
Catholics hold. They believe that prayers said for the departed have a direct
influence upon them, and help them to rise to higher spheres, and mitigate the
pains of purgatory. But we know that each man must work out his own salva-
tion, must build for himself his own heaven and his own hell; nor is it possible
for any one of the living to lift one stone from the walls that close him in.
But as the higher can reach down to the lower, those who have passed away
can help those who are still in life, by the force of their love and constant
thought. In the Key to Theosophy, page 150, H. P. B. says : "We say that love
beyond the grave has a magic and divine potency which reacts on the living. . . .
For love is a strong shield, and is not limited by space or time." K. H.
ANSWER. We have been taught that death causes no change in the inner
man. If we are able to help and should help our dear ones still clothed in flesh,
shall we be justified in neglecting them, once they have laid aside this outer gar-
ment, they being still unchanged? We can and should help the dead, by praying
for their growth and advancement. S. W. A.
COMMENT
APRIL 1913
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.
"Dux OF EGYPT HAVE I CALLED MY SON"
FOLLOWING out a general plan of study, which included an
attempt to explore the relation of Theosophy to many things,
Art, Science, Religion, Business and so on, one of the Branches
of THE THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY recently came to the topic,
"Theosophists in History." Modern instances, of whom Jeanne d'Arc
is representative, were first discussed. Then the exploration turned to
more ancient fields, going back to the splendid, serene figure of Gautama
Buddha, the Eastern Avatar.
Then came certain of the great Theosophists of Greece, Orpheus,
Pythagoras, Plato, Socrates; and, by a natural extension to those who
came under the influence of Greek mystical thought, the marvellous Jew
of Alexandria, Philo, was next considered. Two leading thoughts
emerged from this part of the subject : the first, that all that was deepest,
loftiest and most vital in the spiritual and mystical thought of Greece
seemed to the explorers, as it had seemed to the Greeks themselves, to
lead back to the land of the Nile, and to those schools of divine wisdom
that were "the secret splendor of Egypt." The second leading thought
was this: that Greek mystical thought and teaching seemed to lead to
the New Testament, not only through Philo, in whose debt are Saint
John and Saint Paul, but even more directly, to the teaching of the
Western Avatar himself.
So strong, indeed, are the resemblances, that certain scholars have
wished to see in Christianity no more than an echo of the general mystical
thought of the Greek and Egyptian area, concentrated and personified
in the figure of the Christ. At the Branch meetings to which we have
referred, a wholly different clue to these mystical relations was suggested,
290 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
and, with this clue, the study of the older Greek mystics and philosophers,
and especially Orpheus, Pythagoras and Plato, gained a new and vital
significance, with results of such general interest, that it will be well to
attempt to put them on record here, as the main substance of these Notes
and Comments.
The clue we have referred to is closely related to a statement made
by H. P. Blavatsky, and quoted in the Notes and Comments for Janu-
ary 1913. Speaking of the Western Avatar, Mme. Blavatsky declares
that he was "beyond any doubt an Initiate of the Egyptian Mysteries":
a Master, therefore, of that Lodge which was, and is, "the secret splendor
of Egypt." It was recalled that the Buddhist books describe the great
Eastern Avatar, before his divine incarnation, as viewing the world
from above, and choosing the time and place of his coming birth, the
land and city in which he should be born, and the father and mother who
should bring him to physical birth. And it was said, on the authority
of an ancient tradition, that the Western Avatar, looking forward in the
same way to his coming incarnation, had at first planned to come to
birth in Greece, and that the Egyptian Lodge had for centuries been
preparing the way for his Greek birth, while a second field was being
prepared in Palestine, through the work of the Hebrew Prophets and
mystics. Owing, it was said, to the degeneration and corruption of
Greece, the Avatar's incarnation there became impossible or inadvisable,
and the Jewish field was chosen instead, in spite of the many and critical
dangers which were seen to beset it.
Here are two vitally important lines of study : the first is, the relig-
ious and philosophical development of Greece, viewed as the mystical
preparation for the birth of the Western Avatar, a preparation inspired
and directed by the Egyptian Lodge, of which the future Avatar was a
Master; the second is, the causes of the failure of Greece, with the
consequences which resulted from that failure, chief among these being
the transfer of the Incarnation to Palestine. The Branch, whose studies
we are describing, followed up both these lines of exploration. We
shall try to record the conclusions that were reached.
First, the tradition that Greek religious and mystical life was in-
spired by the divine forces working through Egypt, to "prepare the way"
for the coming Avatar. This side of the subject was opened by a very
luminous study of Orpheus, who was believed by the ancient Greeks to
have visited Egypt, to have become acquainted there with "all the learning
of the Egyptians," and notably with the Egyptian teaching of the soul,
and its future destiny in the spiritual world. So clear is the connection
of Orpheus with the mysticism of Egypt, that certain scholars have seen
NOTES AND COMMENTS 291
in the story of his death an echo of the great Egyptian mystery drama of
the life, death and resurrection of Osiris.
Orpheus, the members of the Branch were told, had been regarded
by Greek thought, from the sixth century before Christ, as one of the
chief poets and musicians of antiquity, the inventor or perfector of the
seven-stringed lyre, able, by his music and singing, not only to charm
the wild beasts, but even to draw the trees and rocks from their places,
and to stop the rivers in their courses. As one of the inspirers of civili-
zation, he was believed to have taught mankind the arts of healing, of
writing and agriculture, just as Osiris was held to have given wheat and
the vine to the Egyptians. Orpheus was also closely connected with
religious life; he was an augur and a seer; he practised magical arts,
and was learned in the lore of the stars ; he founded, or rendered access-
ible, many important cults, such as those of Apollo and Dionysius ;
instituted mystic rites, both public and private, and laid down a ritual of
purification and initiation.
As a historical personage, Orpheus was believed to have been a
prince, the son of Oeagrus, King of Thrace. He was said to have joined
the expedition of the Argonauts under Jason, who had been told that only
by the aid of Orpheus could he and his company pass safely through the
allurements of the sirens. This would, perhaps, fix his epoch as about
the eleventh or twelfth century before Christ. But Orpheus is a sym-
bolical, as well as a historic figure. This side of his life comes out most
clearly in the story of his wife Eurydice, who was bitten by a serpent, and
descended untimely into the house of death. Thither Orpheus followed
her; he "descended into hell and rose again," an event which is always
symbolic of initiation into the mysteries of life and death. Most signifi-
cant also is the Orphic rite, in which the worshippers ate the flesh of the
sacrificial victim who was believed to be an embodiment of the god; a
materialization of the great mystery indicated by the words : "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."
The life and teaching of Orpheus led to the formation of a mystical
school, which comes into the field of definite history at Athens, under
Peisistratos, in the sixth century before Christ. Its mysteries had a
marked Egyptian coloring, which Herodotus recognizes and comments on,
in his wonderful book on Egypt, wherein are many authentic echoes of
the greater mysteries. Common to the Egyptian and the Orphic schools
292 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
were a certain rigid training for disciples, and a mystical theory of
religion; "neither admitted bloody sacrifices." The Orphic schools
taught the unity of all living things ; original sin, or the fall of the soul
into matter; the transmigration of souls, or, more properly, the doctrine
of reincarnation; the view that the soul is entombed in the body, and
that it may gradually attain perfection through connection with a series
of bodies, that is, through an upward struggle carried on through a series
of incarnations. When completely purified, the soul will be freed from
"the circle of generation," and will again become divine, as it was before
it entered a mortal body. This is, of course, the twin doctrine of reincar-
nation and liberation, which formed the theme of the mysteries, in ancient
Egypt and India alike.
We come, by natural steps, to the teaching of Pythagoras, in which
both ancients and moderns have seen so many points of likeness to the
Orphic ritual and doctrines, a resemblance due to their common deriva-
tion from the mysteries of Egypt. It will be noted that Apollo plays a
great part in the life of Pythagoras, and it will be remembered that
Orpheus is said to have introduced the rites of Apollo, or to have ren-
dered them accessible to the Greeks. It has been said that this is not
without significance, and that Apollo, the god of light and harmony, is a
personification or a symbolic representation of the influence of the esoteric
wisdom in Greece, and, in particular, of the work of the Master, whom
we are considering, for the spiritual life of the Greeks.
Be this as it may, Pythagoras bore the title of "the son of Apollo" ;
a title which finds its explanation in the following story: Mnesarchus,
a rich merchant of the Greek island colony of Samos, on setting out for
Sidon, was told by the oracle of the Pythian Apollo that his journey
would be blest, and that a son of surpassing beauty and wisdom would
be borne to him, who would bring blessings to the human race. At
Sidon, the son of promise was born, and was named Pythagoras, that is,
"he who was foretold by the Pythian" Apollo. lamblichus, the Neo-
platonist, who was "learned in all the wisdom of Egypt," in his life of the
sage of Samos, declares that "the soul of Pythagoras was sent to man-
kind from the empire of Apollo; this may be inferred both from his
birth, and from the all-varying wisdom of his soul." If Apollo be, as
has been suggested, the symbolic representation of a certain spiritual
influence, then the meaning of lamblichus becomes quite clear.
Mnesarchus returned from Sidon to Samos with his wife, to whom
he had given the name of Pythais, "dedicated to the Pythian Apollo," and
their son, who had become a very beautiful and godlike boy. "He was
adorned," says lamblichus, "by piety and discipline, by a mode of living
NOTES AND COMMENTS 293
transcendently good, by firmness of soul, and by a body in due subjection
to the mandates of reason. In all his words and actions he discovered
an inimitable quiet and serenity, dwelling at Samos like some beneficent
daemon." The "long-haired Samian," as he was called, studied under
Pherecydes, Anaximander, the natural philosopher, and Thales of Miletus.
All these sages loved him, admired him and taught him. Thales exhorted
him to sail to Egypt, and associate with the priests of Memphis and
Diospolis, saying that he himself had been instructed by these priests.
Pythagoras, thus urged, sailed to Sidon, where he was initiated into
the mysteries of Byblus and Tyre, that nothing might escape him of the
mysteries of the gods. These mysteries, says lamblichus, "were derived
like a colony and progeny from the sacred rites of Egypt." After he
had remained some time at Sidon, Pythagoras took ship for Egypt. "He
frequented all the Egyptian temples with the greatest diligence, and with
accurate investigation. He was both loved and admired by priests and
prophets with whom he associated. . . . He spent two and twenty
years in Egypt, in the adyta of the temples, astronomizing and geometriz-
ing, and was initiated into all the mysteries of the gods, till at length
being taken captive by the soldiers of Cambyses, he was brought to
Babylon. Here he gladly associated with the Magi, was instructed by
them in their venerable knowledge, and learned from them the most
perfect worship of the gods. Through their assistance likewise, he
arrived at the summit of arithmetic, music and other studies, and after
associating with the Magi during twelve years he returned to Samos,
about the fifty-sixth year of his age."
Thence, after visiting Crete and Sparta, he went to the Greek colonies
in Italy, and landed near Crotona, the noblest city of these colonies, under
the instep of the Italian peninsula. Seeing some fishermen on the shore
pulling in their nets, he foretold the exact number of fish they would
catch, bought them from the fishermen and bade them release them again
in the sea. The fishermen, going to the city, published the fame of the
wonderful man whom they had encountered; and, once public attention
was directed to him, he was able to use it so wisely that the people of
Crotona came to revere him as "one of the Olympian gods, who, in order
to benefit and correct mankind, had appeared in human form, in order
that he might extend to them the salutary light of piety and philosophy."
Coming to Italy in the sixty-second Olympiad, Pythagoras made
Crotona his headquarters, and, by his eloquence, his wisdom and the
magnetism of his personal genius, exercised so powerful an influence
that within a short time he purified and restored to good government
Crotona, Sybaris, Catanes, Rhegium, Himaera, Agrigentum, Tauromenas,
294 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
and other towns of the Greek colonies in Italy. His general precepts
were, that disease should be driven from the body, that ignorance should
be driven from the soul, that luxury should be driven from the appetites,
that sedition should be driven from the cities, that discord should be
driven from the home, that immoderation should be driven from all
things.
But the teaching of Pythagoras had this distinctive quality, that it
was not only general but particular, precise, worked out in detail, to be
applied point by point. The citizens of Crotona were so impressed by
his genius that all classes asked for his advice. He gathered the boys
in the temple of the Pythian Apollo, and read an address to them which
for sympathetic tact and practical knowledge of the nature of boys, is a
model for all time. He began by telling them that the divine powers
loved boys; so that, in times of great drought boys were sent by cities,
to implore rain from the gods, because of the belief that the divine powers
are especially attentive to children. Thus catching the attention of the
boys, and winning their hearts, he began to instruct them in the ideals
of obedience, dutifulness, and mindfulness, adding, among other wise
precepts, "never contradict your elders."
Speaking to the leading citizens, he bade them build a temple to the
Muses, as the types of harmony and concord; to follow justice; not to
swear by the gods, but so to speak, that their words would inspire trust
even without oaths; to love their children; to live in peace and concord
with their wives ; to practise chastity ; to reverence beautiful and worthy
manners; "if you aspire after true glory, be such as you would wish to
appear."
Addressing the women, in the temple of Juno, he bade them esteem
equity and modesty in the highest degree, that the gods might be readily
disposed to answer their prayers; he told them to bring, as offerings to
the gods, things that they had made with their own hands ; he bade them
love their husbands more than their fathers ; saying that they should not
oppose their husbands, or think themselves diminished by submitting to
them; they should use words of good omen all their lives, and should
endeavor that others might speak well of them. "The genius of
woman," he said, "is most adapted to piety. Therefore the oracles in
Dodona and at Delphi are unfolded into light through a woman." It
is said that, as the result of this sermon, the women of Crotona no longer
dared to clothe themselves with costly garments, but consecrated many
myriads of their garments in the temple of Juno; and that the conjugal
fidelity of men and women in Crotona became celebrated.
NOTES AND COMMENTS 295
Besides the miraculous numbering of the fish, many wonders were
related of Pythagoras; among others, how he tamed the Daumian bear,
and having gently stroked it for a long time with his hand, he fed it with
maize and acorns, and compelled it by an oath no longer to touch any
living thing. He brought down an eagle flying over Olympia, and, after
gently stroking it, dismissed it. He demonstrated that he possessed the
same dominion as Orpheus over savage animals, and that he allured and
detained them by the power of his voice.
Pythagoras, says his Neoplatonist biographer, "reminded many of
his familiars, by most clear and evident indications, of the former lives
which their souls had lived, before being bound to their present bodies,
and demonstrated by indubitable arguments, that he had been Euphorbus
the son of Panthus, who conquered Patroclus. He wished to indicate
that he knew the former lives which he had lived, and that from thence
he began his providential attention to others, reminding them of their
former lives."
Pythagoras taught music and medicine, and "how to repress and
expel the diseases both of bodies and souls." The soul, he taught, has
three vehicles; the highest, etherial; the second, aerial; the third, this
terrestrial body. The first is luminous and celestial, connate with the
essence of the soul, and in this celestial vesture the soul dwells in a state
of bliss in the world of the stars. In the aerial body, the soul suffers
punishment for its sins after death. In the terrestrial body, it experiences
earthly life. Pythagoras taught his disciples abstinence, continence,
silence, contempt for wealth and glory, reverence for the reverend, benevo-
lence toward equals, kindness toward the younger, and good will toward
all men. "He taught the unity of cities through sound legislation, and
the unity of husband and wife, or of brothers, through unperverted
communion."
But our theme is growing too great for our space. Needs must, then,
that we leave for another occasion the fuller study of the discipline of
Pythagoras, the wisdom of Plato, and the finer culture of the Greeks;
viewing them, as they were viewed by the Branch whose doings we
chronicle, as preparing the way of the Western Avatar, and making the
mould, as it were, for his future work.
FRAGMENTS
DEEPER than your plummet hath ever sounded, higher than your
soul in its highest aspirations hath ever soared, lies your field
of effort. There, where only the bravest dare, where only the
wisest guess at problems yet unsolved, there you shall make
your goal. Naught short of this shall content you, or satisfy the hunger
of your heart. Through lives of toil, if need be, you will ceaselessly
strive and search; sacrificing joy, triumphing over pain and sorrow.
Burdens shall not turn you aside, dangers affright, or suffering daunt
you. Through the darkness or through the light, you will unwaveringly
hold your way ; swayed by naught, tempted by naught, terrified by naught.
In the dark hours of anguish you will not forget your mission, nor in
the smiling hour of joy. The fire will burn you, and the icy blasts will
freeze, demons assail and mock you; no torments of the outer world
these, but of the inner; a thousand-fold more bitter. But you shall
go on unmoved, treading under foot the quivering heart and mind, grasp-
ing with an iron will the knowledge of your own divinity.
Arise, and seize the power and the knowledge which are yours, won
by your blood of crucifixion.
Arise ! All Nature arises with you to salute and praise. Power and
knowledge for the souls you love, won for them by your life. O noble
destiny! O glorious heritage of Soul!
Arise, and take thine own !
II
Abide a while in the Silence. It is dark and fearsome at first; the
heart will shrink, the mind be dulled and bewildered, the soul dissolved
in an anguish of despair.
Courage and wait ; all these will pass. They are the phantasmagoria
of the lower life, making a final stand against thee, striving once more
to draw thee back into the moonlight of the lower world. Cover thy
head and fix thy gaze. Remain immovable as a rock. Look at naught,
consider naught. All that comes to thee out of this blackness, mouthing
faces of derision, distant wailings of despair, all, all must pass.
FRAGMENTS 297
Beware lest thou shouldst look or listen, lest, feeling the life of
sensation slipping from thee, thou shouldst cling to even these. Some
have, and such go mad. For so it must be : patience and endure.
The blackness grows more dense, the silence deeper. The disciple
feels but the anguished beating of his heart, the mad pulsing of the blood
within his veins. Endure, endure! Those who cannot endure, cry out,
and in that cry oblivion comes; and when they wake, the soul is once
more bound, more fiercely than before, in all the fetters of material life.
Make one last effort; draw together all the powers of the Soul.
Still the beating heart and the pulsing blood. Then comes the moment
supreme of all thy life, the moment when the Silence is complete.
Abiding in that Silence, the cessation of sensation and emotion, at
last the other sounds may come. Faintly at first, but sweet and tender,
they break upon the awakened inner ear. Then thou wilt know that the
Silence was no silence; it was filled with sound. The darkness was not
dark, it was full of light; the sound and light of the heavenly worlds.
But thou wast deaf and couldst not hear ; thine eyes were closed. Now
there is no more silence, no more darkness. Whatever else of sorrow
may betide, these two are ended. And the Master's voice saying, Well
done, is the sweetest sound that greets the new-born ear.
These words are written within the Temple, upon the lintels of the
doorway leading to the third chamber. Within is written nothing; it is
the only chamber absolutely bare. Yet in a certain light, for those who
return there after further progress, may be seen marvellous texts and
pictures flaming in letters of gold across its walls.
CAVE.
CHRIST IN THE TWENTIETH
CENTURY
IT is my good fortune to count among my friends one who is, in
heart and life, a genuine Disciple of the Master. We were gathered
together the other day, in a cool drawing room enriched with
flowers, when the talk turned to Christ's work and mission upon
earth.
"It has always seemed wonderful to me," said one of the visitors,
a clergyman of genuine piety and robust vigor, "it has always been
wonderful to me how much Christ accomplished in the few years,
perhaps only a few months, of His mission. One may say, indeed, that
those few months changed the history of the world. Even setting aside
the purely religious results, look at the tremendous results to civilization ;
results which even a sceptic like Renan or Huxley would have to admit,
and would, indeed, gladly admit: the broadening of sympathy among
different races, the deeper reverence for women, the love of little
children, and, in a wider way, the effect on personal life, on individuality,
on our thought of ourselves. It seems to me that, during His brief
ministry on earth, the Master added to life a new consecration, an element
of poetry and holiness, which has, in its results been incalculable."
"I heartily agree with everything you have said," answered the
friend whom I have spoken of as the Disciple, and to whom the words
of the clergyman had been more particularly directed; "one cannot but
marvel, in reverent adoration, at the Master's wonderful work, its pre-
cision, its beauty, the intense love that breathes through it, the spirit of
holiness which broods over it. And then the crowning sacrifice, the
symbol and model of all subsequent sacrifice; the admonition, indeed,
that sacrifice is a fundamental principle of all real life. Yet it seems
to me," my friend continued, "that the work of the Master during His life
and ministry on earth is in no sense more wonderful, more miraculous,
if you do not object to a good, old word, than His work after His earthly
ministry was closed; His work, let us say, in the next twenty or thirty
years; but I am filled with ceaseless wonderment at His continued work
and accomplishment; His work in every century, in every year, even,
since His earthly ministry began; His work to-day, His work for the
future. That is the real miracle, only greater than the miracle of our
blindness to it."
"You mean the work of His spirit, first among the early disciples,
Peter and James and John, and the rest of the eleven, and then, later,
the influence of His life and death upon Paul and the men of the second
CHRIST IN THE TWENTIETH CENTURY 299
generation; and, through these, on all the later history of Christendom?
Yes, indeed, it is a continued miracle."
"Yes and no," answered the Disciple; "without doubt, the result of
His three years' teaching on the early disciples, and especially on Peter
and John, was profound, so that they who, in His hour of danger,
'forsook him and fled/ later proved their loyalty by martyrdom; and, if
we think of it, how could there fail to be a wonderful power of inspira-
tion and transmutation in daily and hourly intercourse and communion
with Him, with that spirit of sweetness and holiness and love, the gradual
understanding of which, still, I think, only just begun, has marked the
progress and development of Christendom. We must, I think, realize
that a nature so deeply imbued with love, of which, indeed, love was the
deepest principle and foundation, must have had treasures of personal
affection and devotion, and that these treasures must have been poured
out day by day, hour by hour, on the disciples, during the whole time
they spent with the Master. Take the record of John resting on the
Master's breast at the last supper. Why should we not believe that
such ardent personal affection, and the manifestation of it, was habitual
with Jesus. Is not the same almost demonstrative tenderness and love
evident throughout, in His bearing toward the woman accused in the
temple, in His habit of gathering children round Him and taking them
in His arms ? Such a nature, such an inspiration, could not fail to affect
the disciples all their lives, and, once they had rallied, in deep shame,
from their first defection, that influence asserted itself, and, through them
and their successors, has been blessing, inspiring and sanctifying the
world ever since. But I did not mean that. Indeed, my wish was, to
underline the difference between two views. I was thinking, not of
such an influence and spirit, the power of hallowed memories, we might
call it, but of the direct work of the Master Himself, His own direct
intermediation, leadership and guidance, in the years following the cruci-
fixion, and, indeed, in the whole period that has since elapsed."
"You mean," said the clergyman, "that Peter and John, and, later,
Paul, were inspired by the thought and belief that Christ overshadowed
them and watched them; and that their efforts were wonderfully
enhanced and heightened by this belief, without the driving power of
which, the tradition of Christianity might have died out in the first
century ? "
"I mean," answered the Disciple, "what you have said, and some-
thing more. I mean that not only did Peter and John and Paul believe
that Christ watched over and helped them, but that He did, in fact,
watch over and help them. Can we believe that such a consciousness as
He revealed, during His earthly ministry, a consciousness so deep, so
potent, going to the very heart of things, resting, as He said, in the life
of the Father, could have been checked, annihilated by the death of the
300 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
body? Are there not, in His consciousness, in His power, in His grasp
of the realities of spiritual life, elements which compel us to regard them
as immortal ? "
"Yes," answered the clergyman, "as inspiring principles and illumin-
ating forces. I grant you that. Indeed, that was my thought from the
beginning."
"Once more," said the Disciple, "I mean that, and something more.
I mean the survival, or rather the uninterrupted continuance, not only
of the powers and principles of the Master's life, but of His personal
consciousness, His complete individuality, the whole divine Man, not
weakened but strengthened by the laying aside of the outer vesture with
all its necessary limitations."
"But how could the whole personal consciousness survive the death
on the Cross?" asked the clergyman. "Is not the personal life, the
individual consciousness, so completely wrapped up in the life of the
body, that the one passes with the other? Of course we believe in the
soul, as some surviving essence or aroma, something fine and noble added
to the sum total of things. But the entire personal consciousness, the
complete individuality, how could that survive ? "
"I think," answered the Disciple, with a quiet smile, "that you are
asking exactly the question which the first disciples at Corinth asked
Paul ; and I can only give you Paul's answer : 'the personal consciousness
survives in the spiritual body.' The term is Paul's, and it is an admir-
able one. But let us go back for a moment, and, in reverent love,
explore the consciousness of the Master, as He revealed it to His disci-
ples, and as His disciples have revealed it to us. That the deepest
principle of that consciousness is love, seems certain; love breathes
through it and from it perpetually. Love, for essential principle, and,
as foundation, an enduring realization of oneness with the Father, a
oneness through obedience: 'I have kept the Father's commandments
and abide in His love.' These, then, a deep, abiding, generous love,
drawn from the eternal fountain of the Father's love, and the ardent
desire to communicate that love to others, are the elements of the
Master's consciousness which immediately reveal themselves to us. But
let us look deeper. What, for example, was His consciousness of the
great mystery, the great illusion, of Time? It is noteworthy that we
have His own testimony on this point, testimony handed down to us by
His disciples, to whom His meaning must have been almost unintelligible.
What, then, is the Master's consciousness of Time? First, as to the
past. You remember how He said: 'Your father Abraham rejoiced to
see my day, he saw it and was glad;' and, when the Jews objected, 'thou
art not yet fifty years old, and hast thou seen Abraham?' Abraham,
who had lived nearly two thousand years before, in the great days of
ancient Egypt; to this the Master answered, and the words of His
CHRIST IN THE TWENTIETH CENTURY 301
answer are noteworthy, 'Before Abraham was, I am.' Not; 'before
Abraham was, I was' as one might have expected, but 'I am.' And
again, looking through the long centuries of the future, we find the same
consciousness : 'I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world.'
Not 'I shall be with you,' but 'I am.' For the Master, the division of
time into past, present and future, evidently does not exist. It is all the
'everlasting now,' neither past nor future but the eternal. That He
should thus have expressed Himself, and that His words should have
so impressed themselves on the memory of his disciples, who were so
far from comprehending His full meaning, is evidence to us that this
dwelling in the eternal, this rising above the threefold forms of time,
was habitual with Christ. For the disciples to have recorded him
correctly once, He must have used these expressions many times, must
have used them habitually. If, then, we see that, during His ministry,
during His earthly life, the Master's consciousness was deeper than time,
is it not just to suppose that time, or temporal death, could not affect
or limit that consciousness, and that it was, and is, continuous, above
and beyond time ? "
"It seems to me," said one of the company, "that that thought of the
soul being beyond time, above time, is also found in the ancient
philosophers."
"And the moderns also," commented another; "It is a fundamental
part of the philosophy of Kant; the real, above the forms of time, space
and causation ; which, I suppose, means much the same as succession."
"And do we not also find," interposed the Disciple, quietly checking
the tendency of the talk to run off into dry abstractions, "that Christ
incessantly laid stress on the same quality of consciousness, as the fruit
of following His teaching ? Take the oft iterated sentence, which seems
to me to be the very essence of the Master's message, 'He that loveth his
life shall lose it, he that hateth his life shall keep it unto life eternal.'
There is, for His followers, the promise of the same deeper conscious-
ness, the consciousness going deeper than the three forms of time, which
the Master Himself continuously possessed. By entering into Him, his
followers, his disciples, enter into the quality of His love and
His relation with the Father, and also into this deeper consciousness
which is immortality; an immortality not beginning after death, but
realized here and now, 'even in this present life.' And I think Paul is
valuable, among many things, for this, that he so fully, and in such richly
varied terms, expresses this deeper consciousness, this conscious life in
the Master, which has, as its fundamental quality the sense of immor-
tality. 'I am dead,' he says, 'and my life is hid with Christ in God;' and
again 'I live, yet not I, but Christ liveth in me.' And again, to the
Galatians, 'little children, of whom I am in travail, until Christ be born
in you.' Is not this evidently a question of a new consciousness, a
302 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
deeper consciousness, which has, as one of its elements, the feeling of
union with the Master, and, as another element, the sense of immortality,
of already realized immortal life? And is not the love, which He so
perpetually taught, by His life even more than by His words, the power
which draws us into His life, and so draws us into immortality ? "
"That is very wonderful," said the clergyman in a low voice, medi-
tating, with half-closed eyes which were evidently scanning new inner
horizons. "Very wonderful, if one could only realize its significance.
Why, that thought transforms the world and the whole of life. But
there are so many things, modern science, and all that it implies; the
whole understanding of the universe that science brings us. That is very
strong ! "
"Yes," answered the Disciple, "and very illuminating and inspiring.
You speak as if modern science were a possible enemy to the thoughts
we have been expressing. Is that your meaning? "
"Yes, in a way," answered the clergyman. "Of course, in our
childhood, let us say, in our Sunday-school days, we received an idea of
the world and of history which was little more than a myth, a fairy-tale ;
the creation in six days, Adam and Eve and the Fall of man, the expul-
sion of our first parents from paradise, Noah's deluge, and all the rest
of it. Of course modern science has left us nothing at all of that, unless
it be as folk-lore, borrowed by the Jews from Babylon at the time of the
captivity. It has a scientific interest as folk-lore, but, as a history of the
world and man, it is, of course, no more than a fairy-story. Darwin
and the geologists and astronomers have wholly changed our view."
"And with Adam and Eve and the Fall, the Redemption is neces-
sarily bound up? That is your thought, I think, though you do not
explicitly state it. Will you pardon me, if we linger over this question
for a little? It is very important, and will be a masked battery, a hidden
obstacle, until we clear it up. Let us say, then, that the story of the
Fall and the idea of the Redemption are bound up together. Is that
your thought ? "
"Yes, I suppose so; though I am conscious of having discarded the
Adam story long ago, but I am still, I hope, in the full sense, a
Christian."
"Yes, that is exactly the essence of the matter. It is altogether
possible to discard the Adam story, and yet to remain in the full sense
a Christian. For, in reality, the two have nothing to do with each other.
Pray consider for a moment. What is Christ's own attitude toward
the Adam story? What does He himself say about it and the relation
of the Fall of Adam to His own work of Redemption? Does He neces-
sarily regard the two as correlative, as cause and effect ? "
"Why, yes, I suppose so. Does not the catechism teach? but of
course that is a later growth. Is it not stated in the Creed? no, after
CHRIST IN THE TWENTIETH CENTURY 303
all, the Creed only says : 'Who, for us men, and for our salvation, came
down from heaven ' "
"I was thinking," said the Disciple, "rather of what the Master says
of Himself, than of what His followers have said of Him. What does
He himself say of Adam's Fall? "
"Why, now that you put it to me directly, nothing at all. I believe
He never mentions the one or the other. But where do we get the idea
from? Surely it is deeply ingrained in Christian thought."
"We get it, I think," said the Disciple, "from Saint Paul : 'As in
Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive.' But one of my
friends, who has made a close study of this very question, tells me that
that is a loose translation, and that we should read, 'as in the Adam all
die, so in the Christ shall all be made alive/ a symbolical description of
the very process we have been speaking of, that dying to self that we
may live to the Master, which He himself teaches in the words: 'He
that loveth his life shall lose it, he that hateth it shall keep it unto life
eternal.' Paul, I think, follows Philo in this whole question, and Philo
unquestionably uses Adam as a symbol. The first Adam, he says, was
made 'in the likeness of God ;' that is the ideal Man, the divine prototype,
the plan of the Man that was to be, as that plan lived in the Logos, in the
mind of God. Then there was the second Adam, made of red earth,
of dust, the natural man. And, for Philo, salvation consists in dying to
the natural man, that we may rise again to the divine man, the immortal.
This, I think, is exactly what Paul means, in his famous quotation. So
that we come to this : the Master never makes even the remotest refer-
ence to the story of Adam and Eve and the Fall, much less does He
make His own work in any way dependent on that story; and, if He
did, we should be wholly justified in holding that the story meant for
Him, what it meant for Philo and Paul, an allegory of the rebirth from
above, which is the very essence of His doctrine. Is that the chief objec-
tion on the part of modern Science? "
"Well, yes, in a way," answered the clergyman, doubtfully; "that,
and all that goes with it. It is a question of a view of life, a view of the
world and man, rather than a particular story."
"The flat-earth tradition, to which Galileo was compelled to make
obeisance?" asked the Disciple. "It is true that the world did, for a
long time, associate Christianity with flat-earth theories, but is the asso-
ciation essential? Is Christ committed to the geocentric system? Is
there, indeed, anything in His teaching that has the remotest reference to
it? I think, if we look closely, and look wisely, we shall find that
Christ's teaching is concerned with a wholly different order of ideas, of
experience ; and that He strictly follows the lines of experimental science,
of verifiable experience. But, to make a large generalization, I myself
am convinced that, so far from putting barriers in the way of Christ's
304 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
teaching, modern Science, in the most astonishing way, removes barriers ;
gives us, indeed, material of thought, and new material, which is almost
indispensable to a right understanding of Christ's teaching, and, lacking
which, the understanding of that teaching by earlier times has been
defective, almost lop-sided. Take, for example, the principle of evolu-
tion. You spoke of Darwin a moment ago. To me, Darwin is one of
the most essentially religious spirits, a man whose love for truth was
high and pure and wholly disinterested. And I think that a part of the
reward for his pure love of truth, which is essentially religious, is the
manner in which his thought, though not intentionally directed by him
toward religion, has nevertheless given a new impetus to religion."
"Yet I am old enough to remember," said the clergyman, "the time,
in the seventies and eighties, when Darwin was anathema, when what
Huxley so satirically called 'the thunderings of the drum ecclesiastic'
were incessant, when evolution was held to be rank blasphemy."
"True, but what a change to-day. Do not all religious thinkers now
speak and write of the evolution of religious feeling, the development of
religious life, borrowing their very inspiration, their root idea, from
Darwin ? But my point is, that Christ was an evolutionist two thousand
years before Darwin. I do not wish to press the point that the parable
of the wheat and the tares gives an exact picture of the struggle for
life, in the strictest Darwinian sense, or that the parable of the sower
clearly sets forth the survival of the fittest, but I do wish to emphasize the
truth that, in seeking to make clear the processes of spiritual growth,
Christ incessantly has recourse to images drawn from natural growth.
Take that vivid simile, preserved by Mark, 'So is the kingdom of God,
as if a man should cast seed into the ground; and should sleep, and rise
night and day, and the seed should spring and grow up, he knoweth not
how. For the earth bringeth forth fruit of herself; first the blade, then
the ear, after that the full corn in the ear.' Or that other parable,
'Whereunto shall we liken the kingdom of God? It is like a grain of
mustard seed.' Are not these the similes of an evolutionist, of one who
thinks in terms of growing life, whose world-view is not static but
dynamic? But there is this difference: Darwin outlined only the
development of the body, its growth from lower forms. Christ is con-
cerned rather with the growth of the soul, the transmutation of the animal
into the man, the man into the angel ; and what a superb statement of the
final goal in His admonition: 'Be ye therefore perfect as your Father
in heaven is perfect.' Perfection like the perfection of the Father, that
is the goal, as Christ sees it and sets it forth."
"Yes, I suppose you are right in saying that Christ is an evolution-
ist," answered the clergyman, reluctantly. "Yet I must confess that I
feel something of a shock in the application of the name to Him."
"Only because evolutionist has quite wrongly come to mean material-
CHRIST IN THE TWENTIETH CENTURY 305
ist," answered my friend ; "but development, growth, is the very opposite
of materialism. I am afraid that the thunderings of the drum ecclesiastic
had somewhat to do with it," added my friend, with a smile, "that the
bishops drove the evolutionists into the camp of materialism, by their
violent and narrow-minded opposition to Darwin's work. That was a
reaction, but I think the reaction has run its course ; has, indeed, expended
itself long ago, and that we have already gone far along the path of a
counter-reaction. I am convinced that the true science of our time is the
very reverse of materialistic; nay, that, under its piercing scrutiny,
matter is dwindling to atoms, the atoms are breaking up into ions, and
these, as points of electrical force, are carrying us across the borders
into the invisible world. It is Faraday's dream that, in the so-called
atom, there may be no solid nucleus at all, only the locus of force. Is it
not the truth that science now discerns, behind the visible elements, their
invisible prototypes, their etheric parents ; that we are groping toward a
knowledge of finer forms of matter, finer substances and forces, and are
on the high way towards a conception of the world which is almost that
of Plato's, the visible as the manifestation of the invisible? Perhaps the
same thought came from Plato, through Philo, to Paul, when he says,
'the invisible things are clearly seen, being understood by the things that
are made.' Are we not, then, fully justified in holding that true science,
the really inspired science of our time, not only does not offer any
objections to the view of the Master's teaching we have been considering,
but that, on the contrary, science removed barriers, first, by showing the
universal and fundamental law of evolution, of growth, of development;
and, secondly, by revealing, or at least adumbrating, that hitherto unseen
world, and those finer substances and forces, which provide both the
field and the material for a wider evolution, which shall begin from our
present personalities, and shall end, no, it is endless, a perfection as of
the Father in heaven, because a perfection resting in oneness with the
Father."
"You spoke," said the clergyman, somewhat slowly and hesitantly,
like one sounding a new channel, seeking bearings in a new field, feeling
his way in the twilight, "you spoke, at the beginning of our talk, of
Paul's phrase, 'the spiritual body,' and you suggested, I think, that
Christ's work, after the death of His physical body, might have been
carried on in a spiritual body ? Am I right in thinking this is what you
meant?"
"Yes," said my friend; "and I wish also to suggest that we find, in
the finer substances and forces revealed and indicated by modern science,
the possible substance of that spiritual body. And, further, that we find,
in certain speculations as to a richer and deeper understanding of space,
the suggestion of the possible field for the life and activity of the spiritual
man, clothed in the finer vesture which we may call, with Paul, the
306 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
spiritual body. But I am conscious of a certain inner admonition," said
the Disciple, in conclusion, "that, in following up these abstract and
purely scientific speculations, we are always in danger of allowing our-
selves to be drawn away from the main matter, which is, not the possible
vesture, but the real experience ; the immediately obtainable consciousness
of the Master's power and work and love. We shall be wise if we follow
the example He himself set : never to launch into speculations, but ever
to keep on the firm ground of experience. Only as we live these
things, is it at all possible for us to understand them; and abstract
considerations are only to be allowed, because the over-activities of our
minds in wrong directions and in wrong ways have so tied and bound us
that we are almost incapable of beginning to gain real experience ; almost
incapable of making the required effort and experiment. I think the
mind is valuable only to cut the bonds woven and tied by the mind.
Once this is done, we can go forward, not in the speculations of the mind,
but in the experiences of the soul. We shall learn of the Master, as He
is to-day, not so much by considering what He was once, but by seeking
the way to Him now; we shall find that His work, so far from being
finished during the brief ministry on earth, is even now only begun. The
greater part remains unaccomplished. It may be our high privilege to
help in accomplishing it."
You say you do not wish to be a "Saint"; that virtuous living and
simple manliness suffice. So be it, and yet I wonder. For God's
design for every human Soul is Saintliness; in Spiritual things, perfection.
And I ask: how may a man escape his destiny; cross God's will with his
own; defeat God's plan? Sooner or later it must come, that absolute
surrender. Why postpone the day and its great peace f
BOOK OF MEMORIES.
THE MILITARY RELIGIOUS
ORDERS
AN attempt was made in the last number of THE THEOSOPHICAL
QUARTERLY to give a brief description of the better known
Religious Orders. The inordinate length of that article would
have prevented the inclusion of the Military Religious Orders
even if their inspiring and vividly interesting history did not fully justify
separate treatment. There are few, if any, records of continual heroism
and indomitable courage and ability which surpass that of the Knights
of St. John, during the 600 years of their existence. For centuries they
were almost alone in holding back the Mohammedan hordes from over-
running Europe, and during much of the time they were battling against
ten or twenty times their own numbers.
The fundamental idea of the Military Religious Order was wel-
comed with eagerness in the Middle Ages, when War and Religion were
the two great interests of mankind; and a regular institution which
combined the honor and insignia of Knighthood with the privileges of a
monk, was bound to attract a large and growing following from the
best classes in Europe. Such an Order required recognition from both
Church and State, and perhaps the best test of the validity of the
numerous Orders which were copies of the early and great ones is
whether they had both kinds of sanction. Several kings tried, some
with considerable success, to found Orders not approved by the Pope;
while the Church sanctioned others which were never recognized by a
State.
The three great Military Orders owed their origin to the Crusades,
from which they derive the distinctive badge which is common to them
all, a large cross with eight points, worn on the breast.
There were three types of these Orders of religious knights, those
like the Knights Templars were for military purposes; those like the
Knights Hospitallers of St. John of Jerusalem and the Teutonic Knights,
combined military duties with hospital work and nursing; while minor
orders, like the Orders of St. Lazarus of Jerusalem and the Holy Spirit
of Montpelier were purely hospitaller, though their Commanders claimed
the rank of Knights.
The great Orders were alike in their religious, military and economic
constitution. The members took three vows of poverty, chastity and
obedience, they had their chapters, chapels and clerics free from episcopal
jurisdiction, answerable to the Pope alone. Their lands were exempt
from tithes. They did not, however, all follow the same monastic rule.
307
3 o8 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
The Templars and their derivatives followed the Cistercian Reform, a
modification of the Rule of St. Benedict. The Hospitallers followed the
Rule of St. Augustine.
After the Crusades the rules were relaxed to permit the non-
clerical members of the Orders to marry once and with restrictions.
The Rule bound the brethren to the ordinary exercises of the monastic
life; the recitation of the Hours; it prescribed their dress, their food,
fasts, feasts, abstinences and punishments. It also imposed detailed
obligations in regard to the election of officers and the admission of
members to the two ranks of combatants knights and men-at-arms, and
to the two ranks of non-combatants chaplains and casaliers, or tenants,
who were charged with the management of temporal affairs.
The military organization of the Orders was also uniform. In
those days the strength of an army was in its cavalry, and the armament,
mounting and tactics of the Orders conformed to this standard. The
Knights were the heavy cavalry, entitled to three horses apiece. The
men-at-arms were the light cavalry with one horse. As a rule only
those of aristocratic birth and of proved prowess in war were admitted
as Knights. Consequently the Knights were a corps d'elite and were
never very numerous.
Living together in convents which were also barracks, and with the
usual discipline of the soldier supplemented by the obedience of the
monk, and both infused by the zeal of religious devotion, these Orders
are said to have surpassed in that cohesiveness which is the ideal of
every military organization, the most famous bodies of picked soldier}'
known to history not even excepting the Macedonian phalanx or the
Ottoman Janissaries.
The Military Orders came to have immense possessions all over
Europe. In the I3th Century the Templars possessed nine thousand
manors ; the Hospitallers thirteen thousand, and owing to the centralized
system of administration, whereby the surplus revenues of all their
properties were sent to a common treasury, they came to control an
enormous wealth which could be and was applied to the largest financial
undertakings; and on account of their reputation for honesty and trust-
worthiness, they were often made the trustees of kings and nobles in the
administration of estates and in banking operations. Several times the
papacy employed them to collect contributions for the Crusades.
The three great Military Orders were the Knights of St. John of
Jerusalem or the Knights Hospitallers, founded shortly before the first
Crusade, in the middle of the eleventh century, and which lasted until the
French Revolution; the Knights Templars, founded in 1118-19 and sup-
pressed in 1307-12; the Teutonic Knights who arose during the 3rd
Crusade in the twelfth century, who received full recognition in about
1198, and which ceased as a regular Order in 1526, when the Grand
THE MILITARY RELIGIOUS ORDERS 309
Master and many of the Knights turned Lutheran; the Knights of
Rhodes and the Knights of Malta, are names given to and used by the
Knights of St. John after they had been driven from Palestine and
occupied first the island of Rhodes (1310 to 1522) and later the island
of Malta (1529 to 1798).
The great Orders consisted of (i) knights, (2) chaplains, (3) ser-
jeants or esquires, or men-at-arms, (4) menials and craftsmen. All were
bound by the the rules and enjoyed its privileges. All the higher offices
were filled by Knights, save the purely ecclesiastical, which fell to the
chaplains, and the master of the squires, and the head of the light
cavalry, the tur cop oiler, who could be selected from among the serjeants-
at-arms.
The unit of organization was the commandery or preceptory, a small
group of knights and Serjeants, living in community, under the rule of
the commander or preceptor, and charged with the care of surrounding
properties. The commanderies were grouped into priories, each under
a prior, and these again into provinces under grand commanders. In
the I4th century these largest groups crystallized into national provinces
called "langues" (languages). Over the whole was the Grand Master
and seven great dignitaries, known as the conventual bailiffs; the grand
preceptor, marshal, draper, hospitaller, treasurer, admiral and turcopo-
lier. The Grand Master alone held office for life. His authority, while
very great, was not absolute. The legislative and controlling power was
vested in the General Chapter of the Knights, which alone had power
to pass statutes binding on the Order. The Grand Master was assisted
by four councils, (i) on administration, (2) on affairs of state and
criminal cases, (3) a full council to hear appeals from the two former,
(4) on finance. The Grand Preceptor was the assistant of the Grand
Master, and acted for him, in his absence. The Grand Master appointed
all subordinate officials, save the Grand Commanders. His household,
seneschal, squires, secretaries, chaplains, pages, etc., enabled him to figure
as an equal with the kings and princes with whom he consorted.
There were some differences in the names of the higher officials in
the different Orders, but the foregoing may be taken to represent the
essence of the organization of all the great Orders.
The ceremonies for a reception of a Knight were very impressive.
The postulant presented himself with a lighted taper in his hand, and
carrying a naked sword. After blessing the sword the priest returned
it to him, saying, "Receive this sword in the name of the Father, Son
and Holy Ghost, Use it for thy own defence and against the enemies
of Jesus Christ. Take heed that no human frailty move thee to draw
it unjustly." Then as the knight girded himself, the priest said, "Gird
thyself with the sword of Jesus Christ, but remember that it was not
with the sword, but with Faith that the Saints have conquered King-
310 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
doms." In presenting the sword the priest also said, "Let the brightness
of this sword represent to thee faith; let its point signify hope, and its
light charity."
When presenting the candidate with spurs, it was said, "As the horse
fears them, so must thou fear to depart from thy post or thy vows."
When given his cloak with the eight pointed cross, it was said, "We
wear this cross as a sign of purity; wear it within thy heart, as well as
outwardly. The eight points are the signs of the eight qualities thou
must ever preserve, (i) Spiritual Joy, (2) Live without malice, (3)
Weep for thy Sins, (4) Humble thyself to those who injure thee, (5)
Love Justice, (6) Be merciful, (7) Be sincere and pure of heart, (8)
Suffer persecution." On the cloak were embroidered all the instruments
of the Passion, and the garment was placed about the Knight, with the
following words, "Receive the yoke of the Lord, for it is easy and light,
and will give rest for thy soul. I tie this cord about thy neck in pledge
of the servitude thou hast promised. We offer thee nothing but bread
and water, and a simple habit of little worth. But we give thee and thy
parents and relations a share in the good works performed by the Order,
now and hereafter, throughout the world, Amen." He was then received
with the kiss of peace.
THE KNIGHTS OF ST. JOHN
Like other great human institutions which developed from small
beginnings, such as the Papacy itself, the origin of the Knights of
St. John is the object of controversy and the subject of legend. Accord-
ing to one story, it was founded in the time of the Maccabees, by King
Antiochus. Zacharias, father of St. John the Baptist was one of its first
masters. What is now clearly established is that ever since Jerusalem
became a centre of Christian pilgrimage, there were hospitals there;
served by Benedictine monks, to care for pilgrims. One of these,
founded by Charlemagne, was destroyed in 1010 by the fanatical caliph
Hakim Biamrillah. In 1023 certain merchants of Amalfi purchased the
site and founded a new hospital for pilgrims, dedicated to St. John the
Baptist. In 1087, when the first Crusaders besieged the Holy City, the
head of this hospital, one Gerard or Gerald, earned their gratitude by
some service. Led by the example of Godfrey de Bouillon, donations
and privileges were showered on the establishment, not only by the
Crusaders, but by kings, nobles and prelates all over Europe. In 1114
a whole Portugese province was made over to them. In 1113 Pope
Paschal II took the order and its possessions into his immediate protec-
tion.
During Gerard's lifetime the institution retained its purely hospitaller
function, but upon his death in 1120, under the statesmanlike leadership
of Raymond du Puy, and on account of the renewed activity of the
THE MILITARY RELIGIOUS ORDERS 311
Saracens, it was deemed necessary for the Order to provide pilgrims with
military protection. With the outbreak of war the Hospitallers were
given specific tasks to perform, such as the building and defence of the
castle of Ibelin, and from 1137 onward they took a regular part in all
the wars of the Cross.
Raymond du Pay was a great man. He governed the Order from
1 1 20 to about 1 1 60 and during his leadership the Order ceased to be a
local institution and became far-reaching in its scope and influence, and
acquired immense possessions, by gifts from Popes, Emperors, Kings
and nobles, in all parts of Europe.
In the very early days, the Hospitallers encouraged the affiliation of
women, who, during the first Crusade, founded a hospice for women at
Jerusalem, in connection with the Order. Until 1187, when they were
forced to flee to Europe, they devoted themselves to prayer and sick-
nursing. In Europe they became pure contemplatives, living under the
Rule of Augustinian Canonesses. Several of these ancient foundations
survive to this day.
The habit of the Order originally was a long monastic, bell-like,
cloak, with a slit on each side for the arms and with a large white, eight-
pointed "Maltese" cross on the breast. As this was highly inconvenient
for fighting, it was modified to a red surcoat in 1259.
Under the grand-mastership of Gilbert d'Assailly, the Order took
part in the various unsuccessful expeditions to Egypt in the middle of
the I2th century. These misfortunes led to the resignation of Gilbert
in 1170. He was succeeded by Jorbert who died in 1177. About this
time the growing power of all the Orders received serious setbacks
because of the scandalous rivalry between the Hospitallers and the
Templars; owing also to the growing hostility of the secular clergy of
' Europe; who saw many rich properties removed from their hands, and
who had power enough to get the Lateran Council of 1179 to pass several
restrictive regulations. But the most serious menace was the renewed
hostility of the Saracens, who, under Saladin, undertook the systematic
ronquest of Palestine. The Orders were practically alone in the resist-
ance offered to the victorious Saracens. Jerusalem fell on October 2,
1187. The news led to the third Crusade, in which Richard Coeur de
Lion was the chief figure and the recovery of Acre the chief event.
The Order took an active part in the wars of the next hundred
years, whether dignified by the name of Crusades, or only local disputes.
In 1198 they vigorously opposed the establishment of the Teutonic
Knights as a separate order; they made treaties, and became allies of
various pagan rulers, sometimes actually fighting against the Knights
Templars who supported another party. At one time something very
much like war broke out between the two Orders, and in the quarrel
3 i2 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
between the Genoese and Venetians, the Hospitallers and Templars
fought on opposite sides. In spite of these scandals, and others concern-
ing the personal laxity of the knights, the Order grew in power and
possessions. It was reformed from time to time, by several vigorous
Grand Masters, so that the demoralizing influence of wealth was not
permitted to ruin its essential character, while the very real and almost
constant fighting, had a tendency to keep the members up to a high
standard of conduct and efficiency.
In 1291, Acre, the last stronghold of the Christian on the mainland,
succumbed to the Musselmans. The Grand Master, Jean de Villiers,
was wounded, and with only six surviving knights sailed for the Island
of Cyprus, which for some years became their headquarters and center
of operations. It was at about this time that a new grand dignitary,
the Admiral, was created, for henceforth a large part of the activity of
the Order was maritime warfare.
Under the grand-mastership of Foulques de Villaret, who was
elected in 1305, some radical changes were inaugurated. An alliance
was made with a Genoese pirate, and Rhodes, then belonging to the
Greek Emperor, was attacked and conquered. In 1310, the headquarters
of the Order was moved there; the nominal suzerainty of the Emperor
was soon forgotten; and the Order became a sovereign power. This
profoundly affected its future policy and history, for the island of Rhodes
was not self-supporting and the Knights had to depend upon the Mussel-
man mainland for supplies. This led to commercial treaties and to long
periods of peace during which they enjoyed their wealth and power,
making occasional incursions against pirates, or joining in " semi-political
wars against Egypt. They continued to maintain hospitals for the sick
and destitute, their consuls in Jerusalem and Egypt watched over the
interests of pilgrims, and their galleys policed the seas ; but the crusading
spirit began to die out and they became more and more influenced by
political and commercial considerations.
In 1348, in alliance with Venice and Cyprus, they captured Smyrna,
which was successfully defended against Osman the Turk in 1358, but
lost to Timur the Tatar in 1402. After this disaster, they built the
Fortress of St. Peter the Liberator, on a narrow promontory jutting
from the mainland. For many years, this castle, which still stands, was
a center of refuge for Christians flying from slavery. In 1453 the Turks
captured Constantinople and Mahommed II announced that the island
of Rhodes was his next objective. It was not, however, until 1480 that
the Turks actually came, and then, under the leadership of Pierre
d'Aubosson, the second great hero of the Order, they repulsed the enemy
after a most gallant defense.
In 1522 the Sultan Sulieman the Magnificent led an enormous force
against the Knights who, despite the heroic resistance of the famous
THE MILITARY RELIGIOUS ORDERS 313
Phillipe de Villiers de 1'Isle d'Adam, and partly owing to the failure of
the European powers to send assistance, were forced to capitulate, and
in 1523, withdrew with all the honors of war. The Emperor, Charles V,
declared "Nothing in all the world has been so well lost as Rhodes," and
five years later gave the Knights the island of Malta.
During the two hundred years they had occupied Rhodes, modern
scholars are agreed that the Hospitallers prevented the Ottomans from
appearing on the Mediterranean as a first-class sea-power.
The settlement of the Knights of Malta was contemporaneous with
the Reformation. The Knights of the bailiwick of Brandenburg accepted
the reformed religion, but in England they opposed Henry VIII, who
confiscated their estates, and the English "langue" practically ceased to
exist. The Knights at Malta, however, continued their vigorous warfare
against the infidel. They took a conspicuous part in Charles VI's expe-
ditions against Goletta and Tunis in 1535. In 1550 they defeated the
infamous pirate Dragut, who had long been a menace to commerce in
the Mediterranean. Dragut entered the service of the Turks, and on
May 1 8, 1565, led the Turkish fleet in an attack on Malta. Thus began
one of the most famous sieges in history. Malta was relieved by the
Spanish Viceroy of Sicily, who raised the siege on September 8th, after
the Knights had killed Dragut and 25,000 Turks. Valletta, the chief
town of Malta, is named after de la Vallette who was Grand Master at
this time. ^
The Knights also shared in the victory of Lepanto in 1571, when the
combined fleets of Spain, Venice, Genoa, Malta and the Pope inflicted a
crushing defeat upon the Turks. The next one hundred years however,
ushered in a period of depression. The Order was troubled by the
religious wars of Europe; by quarrels with the Popes, who claimed the
right to nominate the chief officers, a claim relinquished by Innocent XII
in 1697 ; and by rivalry with Venice, then the other great Mediterranean
power. It was also injured by the practice of electing very old men
as Grand Masters, so as to insure frequent vacancies, and by its tendency
to become more exclusively aristocratic. In spite of these drawbacks,
however, it still saw much fighting, as for instance, the expeditions under
de Vignacourt (1601-1622); the defense of Candia, which fell after a
twenty years' siege in 1669; wars under Nicolas Cottoner, 1665 to 1680,
and during the grand mastership of Gregorio Caraffa (1680-1690); a
campaign (1683) with John Sobieski, King of Poland, against the Turks
in Poland, and the attack in alliance with Venice on the Morea in 1687,
which involved the Knights in the defeat at Negropont in 1689. Again
under de Roccaful (1697-1720) and de Villena (1722-1736) the Knights
restored their prestige in the Mediterranean by victories over the Turks.
In 1741, de Fouseca, a man of strong character, became Grand Master.
3H THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
He expelled the Jesuits, resisted Papal encroachments, refused to call
a general chapter, and ruled as a despot.
In 1775, Emmanuel, Prince de Rohan was elected Grand Master,
and made serious efforts to revive the old spirit of the Order. Several
other similar Orders were incorporated with the Knights, a new Anglo-
Bavarian "langue" was established, but these efforts were sterile and the
outbreak of the French Revolution proved fatal. The Knights naturally
siding with the royalists, Malta became a refuge for emigres. In 1792
the possessions of the Order in France were confiscated, and six years
later the Island was surrendered to Napoleon, who stopped there en route
to Egypt.
The real history of the Order ends here, but Baron von Hompesch,
the Grand Master, fled to Russia, and under the patronage of Paul I,
endeavored to maintain some semblance of the Order's former state.
It continues to exist, under a changed form of government, but is now
more honorary than practical.
THE KNIGHTS TEMPLARS
The history of the Knights Templars, or Poor Knights of Christ
and of the Temple of Solomon, is the history of a great tragedy. It was
founded in 1119 by Hugo de Payns and Godeffroi de St. Omar, two
French knights who undertook the pious task of protecting the pilgrims
who flocked to Jerusalem after the first Crusade. Six other knights
soon joined them and they formed themselves into a religious community,
taking an oath to the patriarch of Jerusalem to guard the public roads;
to forsake worldly chivalry "of which human favor and not Jesus Christ
was the cause," and, living in chastity, poverty and obedience, according
to the rule of St. Benedict, "to fight with a pure mind for the supreme
and true King."
Baldwin I, King of Jerusalem, gave the community that part of his
royal palace lying next to the so-called "Temple of Solomon," whence
they took their name. At first they were not exclusive, but on the
contrary made a practice of admitting to membership excommunicated
knights, and others of evil life, who streamed to the Holy Land in the
joint hope of plunder and salvation. The Order did great work in
converting and disciplining this unruly rabble.
In 1127 Hugo de Payns went to Europe to seek official recognition
of his enterprise. He had the good fortune to make a friend and
advocate of St. Bernard, the all powerful abbot of Clairvaux, and his
mission was completely successful. The Council of Troyes in 1128
sanctioned the Rule of the Order, which, if not actually drawn up by
St. Bernard, was undoubtedly inspired by him.
The rule and form of government does not differ materially from
that of the Knights of St. John, already referred to in sufficient detail.
THE MILITARY RELIGIOUS ORDERS 315
Women were not admitted, and the names of the chief dignitaries dif-
fered. The Vice Grand Master of the Templars was the Seneschal.
The third in rank was the Marshal, who was supreme in military affairs.
The commander of the land and realm of Jerusalem was Grand Treasurer
of the Order, and the commander of Jerusalem was the Grand Hos-
pitaller. There was a Grand Drapier, whose duty it was to provide
clothing for the brethren. Originally the Order was served by priests
from outside, but later on by Papal sanction, priests took the oath of
lifelong obedience to the Grand Master and the rank of chaplain was
instituted. The Templars were forbidden to confess to any save a priest
of the Order, if one were available, and such priests were declared to
have greater powers of absolution than an Archbishop.
Members were admitted, either for life or for a term of years and
married men were admitted if they bequeathed half their property to the
Order. The unmarried Knights wore a white mantle, the others a black
or brown mantle, the red cross being common to all. The brethren had
to attend the daily services, but the soldier wearied from a night's watch
could absent himself from matins with the master's consent. They had
two meals a day with meat three times each week. The most implicit
obedience to the master was required; secular amusements forbidden;
letters from home only opened in the presence of the master; gifts only
could be received by consent of the master. For serious offenses, such
as desertion or murder, the Templar could be expelled. For minor
offenses he was suspended. He could only leave the Order by going
into a stricter religious community. In spite of the long and deadly feud
between the Templars and the Hospitallers, each was bound by mutual
agreement not to receive ejected members of the other, but in battle, if
cut off from his own brethren, the Templar could rally to the Cross of
St. John.
Long before the death of St. Bernard in 1153 the Templars were
established in almost every kingdom of Europe. Louis VII of France
gave them a piece of marsh land outside Paris, which in later times
became known as the Temple and was the headquarters of the Order
in Europe. Spiritual privileges were granted them by the Popes as
lavishly as temporal possessions were showered on them by princes and
peoples. Adrian IV gave them the right to have their own churches and
churchyards, free from ordinary excommunications and interdicts. They
were exempted from payment of tithes, and from general censures and
decrees of the Councils and Popes, unless mentioned by name. These
ecclesiastical privileges, of course, led to an open feud with bishops and
parish priests, but so long as the attention of Europe was directed to the
expulsion of the infidels from Palestine, the position of the Templars
was unassailable and efforts to curb their growth were vain.
Fulk, Count of Anjou, was said to have been a Templar before he
316 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
assumed the Crown of Jerusalem in 1131. In the disastrous march from
Laodica to Attalia in the second crusade, the Templars were the only
troops who maintained even a show of discipline. Louis VII was so
much impressed by this that he modeled his army on their organization.
Even at so early a date there is record of the Templars loaning the
French King large sums of money. At the unsuccessful siege of
Damascus, the failure of the expedition was ascribed to the treachery of
the Templars, a charge vehemently denied, but the beginning of a long
series of accusations which led finally to the tragic suppression of the
Order. In 1153 the Grand-Master and forty followers, bursting into
Ascalon, were surrounded and cut off. The scandal of the day said they
merited their fate in their eagerness to possess themselves of the city
treasury. Next year they were accused of selling a half converted
Egyptian prince to certain death, for 60,000 aurei. In 1166, twelve
Templars were hanged for betraying a fortress beyond the Jordan.
In spite of these stories, however, the records show that the
Templars took an active and prominent part in all the wars of the Cross.
In 1170 they beat Saladin back from their frontier fortress of Gaza and
seven years later shared Baldwin IV's great victory at Ascalon. There
seems to be little doubt that there was a treaty of some kind between
the Templars and the Old Man of the Mountains, head of the Assassins,
for during the mastership of Odo de St. Amand, the Old Man of the
Mountains sent word that he would accept the Christian faith if released
from the tribute he was paying. The history of the Order for the next
140 years is the history of the Crusades. The Templars doggedly op-
posed the successful advance of Saladin, and fought gloriously at the
siege of Acre, where the grand master refused to survive the slaughter
of his brethren.
After the fall of Acre they bought the Island of Cyprus from
Richard, whom they supported in the disputes for the Latin Kingdom of
the East. When Acre was recovered they were given back their old
quarters which became the center of the Order. In 1217 they began
building their famous fortress of Castle Pilgrim, near Acre, on a rocky
promontory, washed by the sea on every side save the East, where they
built a strong wall, from sea to sea, fortified by strong towers. Within
the enclosure was a spring of pure water, fish ponds, salt mines, woods,
pastures and orchards, and all things needed for an abode in which the
Templars could await their restoration to Jerusalem. It was from this
castle that the 5th Crusade started against Egypt.
The Templars were the heroes of the Siege of Damietta; "first to
attack and last to retreat," they saved the Christian army from annihila-
tion on the 29th of August, 1219. But they opposed the Sultan's offer
to restore Jerusalem and Palestine, and they actively opposed Frederick
II in 1228, going so far that the Emperor actually besieged Castle
THE MILITARY RELIGIOUS ORDERS 317
Pilgrim and on his return to Europe gave orders to seize all their estates
and chase all its members from his realm.
In the Seventh Crusade the Templars shared in the great defeat at
Joppa, and in the negotiations that followed they took sides against the
Hospitallers, carrying matters to the point of warfare. They besieged
the Hospitallers in Acre, drove out the Teutonic Knights and were
successful on all sides, until the Sultan called in the barbarous Kharaz-
mians, whom the Mongol invasions had driven from their native lands.
These savages swept down on Jerusalem and annihilated the Christian
army at Gaza in 1244. Only 18 out of 300 Templars survived ; only 16
out of 200 Hospitallers. The masters of both orders were slain or taken
prisoner. The Christian power in the East never survived this blow.
It is said that in spite of their valour, the policy of the Templars had
been a mistaken one and that they are much to blame for the disaster.
Too weak for expeditions against the infidel, the Christians were
still strong enough to quarrel among themselves, and the next few years
are a record of disgraceful internecine warfare, until all the different
elements were once more united to defend, first, Tripoli, which fell in
1290, and then Acre which succumbed a year later after a fiercely con-
tested siege of six weeks. The Grand Master de Beaujeu, with most
of the Knights, were slain. The few survivors, elected a new master,
and forcing their way to the coast, sailed to Cyprus which now became
the headquarters of the Order.
It was not only in the East, however, that the Templars were a
power. For a hundred years, they had been one of the important factors
in European politics. Their wealth was prodigious, and they were the
great money-lenders of Europe. The Temple in Paris was the center
of the world's money market, and they rivaled the great Italian banking
companies in their financial undertakings. They were ideal bankers for
such an age, with their strongholds scattered throughout Europe, while
their military power and discipline ensured the safe transmission of
funds, and their profession of monks guaranteed their integrity.
It was, indeed, their wealth which led to their undoing. Never had
the Order been more powerful than immediately before its ruin. It
excited the cupidity of Philip IV of France. He had borrowed much
money from them, and after the disastrous campaign in Flanders, was at
his wit's end for funds. He deliberately plotted a treacherous attack on
the Order, and, secretly laying his plans, and endeavoring to excite the
cupidity and support of neighboring monarchs, on October 13, 1307, he
caused the simultaneous arrest of the Grand Master, Jacques de Molay,
and all the important Knights and members of the Order in France.
Under the system of jurisprudence then in vogue, they were caught
in a trap from which there was no escape. Once accused a man was
doomed. He was tortured in an effort to make him confess. If he
3i8 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
confessed, he was punished for his crimes. If he withstood torture, he
was still more severely punished as an unrepentant heretic and criminal.
In Paris alone thirty-six Knights died of torture, but others, under the
pressure, confessed to everything and anything their tormentors sug-
gested.
Their principal accuser was a renegade knight named Esquin de
Floyrau, although there is now considerable doubt if he ever had been
a member. Philip of France promised him a share of the spoils for
turning traitor.
The Knights were accused of a curious and grotesque mixture of
black magic, heresy and immorality. As their initiation into Knighthood
was in secret, this ceremony was the focus of the charges. It was said
that each Knight had to disavow his belief in Christ, and submit to
indecent ceremonies. Out of 138 Knights examined in Paris in the Fall
of 1307, some of them old men who had been in the Order nearly all
their lives, 123 confessed to spitting on (or "near") the crucifix. They
were accused of devil-worship, and of practices too repulsive to be
described in print. The Grand Master himself "confessed," and made
public protestation of contrition. Several years of confusion and delay
followed, owing to the intrigues of the Pope and King to get the affair
in their own hands. Several different sets of inquisitors were appointed,
and at different times many of the knights retracted their "confessions,"
but as the punishment for retracting a confession was death by fire, this
did not help them much. Fifty- four were burnt in Paris on one day for
retracting. The so-called trial, before a tribunal packed with Philip's
creatures, dragged through 1310 and 1311. Meanwhile the Pope and
Philip came to terms and the Pope condemned the Order. A Council
called for the purpose, was not permitted to consider the matter, but the
Order was formally abolished at a private consistory, March 22, 1312.
The actions of the Grand Master throughout, and until the very
last, were pitiable. He utterly failed to rise to the requirements of his
great position. Confession, public recantation, reiterated confession, and
humiliation after humiliation had been heaped on the poor man. It
was not until 1314, when Jacques de Molay was brought out on a scaffold
erected in front of Notre Dame in Paris, to make public confession, and
receive sentence of perpetual imprisonment, that he regained sufficient
courage to withdraw his confession, to declare the Order innocent of
all charges and to defy Philip. He called upon Pope and King to follow
him to the judgment seat of God. The King was furious and had him
burned on an island in the Seine belonging to the Augustinians. When
Philip and the Pope both died shortly afterwards, the people remembered
the Grand Master's dying words, but the sole recorded contemporary
protest is that of the Augustinians against the King's officers for
trespass.
THE MILITARY RELIGIOUS ORDERS 319
The question of the guilt or innocence of the Templars has been a
subject of controversy for 500 years, but modern scholars unite in
believing, not only that they were entirely innocent, but that their destruc-
tion had three fateful consequences to Christendom.
(1) It facilitated the conquests of the Turks, by preventing the
Templars from playing the part in Cyprus which the Hospitallers played
in Rhodes and Malta.
(2) It partly set a precedent for and partly confirmed the cruel
criminal procedure of France, which lasted until the Revolution.
(3) It set the seal of the highest authority on the popular belief
in witch-craft and personal intercourse with the devil; sanctioned the
use of torture to wring confessions from those accused of such inter-
course, and so made possible the hideous witch persecutions which dark-
ened the later Middle Ages, even in Protestant countries, until long after
the Reformation.
Save in the Kingdoms of Castile, Aragon, Portugal and Majorca,
the property of the Order was transferred to the Knights of St. John.
It was never formally declared guilty, but on the contrary, in the Pope's
Bull, was dissolved because of the doubt of its innocence.
THE TEUTONIC KNIGHTS
The Teutonic Order, or Teutonic Knights of St. Mary's Hospital
at Jerusalem, is not so picturesque and so interesting as the other two
great Orders, if for no other reason than that its field of activity for
nearly all of its existence was in the lands now forming the north-eastern
part of the German Empire. The history of the region is confused and
obscure and the average English speaking person knows little about it,
until, at any rate, the time of Frederick the Great.
The Teutonic Order was a child of the Third Crusade. For some
time previous, some pious Germans, merchants of Bremen and Liibeck,
had maintained a hospital in a vessel which they drew up on the shore
at Acre. It became attached to the German Church of St. Mary the
Virgin at Jerusalem. In 1198 the great men in the East, who happened
to be mostly Germans, raised the brethren of the hospital to the rank
of Knights. The original members were thus ennobled, and henceforth
it was the rule that only Germans of noble birth could join, thus depart-
ing entirely from the cosmopolitan character of the other Orders. In
other respects, however, the organizations were the same. The Teutonic
Knights lived a semi-monastic life under the Augustinian Rule, having
their own priests and lay brothers. It began as a charitable society,
developed into a religio-military club and ended as something like a
chartered company, exercising sovereign rights over the countries in
its charge.
For a hundred years (1198-1291) the headquarters of the Order
320 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
was at Acre. On the Fall of Acre the Grandmaster moved to Venice,
but in 1309, he established himself in his own city of Marienburg on the
Vistula, a move which is said to have saved his Order from the fate of
the Templars, because from the security of Marienburg he was able to
make favorable terms with the Pope.
The Teutonic Knights did not restrict their activities to the East,
but early in their career, sent expeditions against the heathen in Prussia
and Livonia. They were given the land they conquered, and gradually
acquired a huge domain. By 1283, less than a hundred years after their
foundation, they possessed all the country between the Vistula and the
Memel, Prussia, Courland, part of Livonia and Samogitia. Com-
manderies were established, with headquarters in huge fortresses, around
which important towns arose. Among these were Dantzig, Konigsberg,
Elbing, Marienburg and Thorn. It was indeed the importance of these
possessions, and the activities of the Order in connection therewith, which
made impossible the plan of the Pope to amalgamate the three great
Orders. The Teutonic Knights pointed out that while the Templars
and Hospitallers had a common object in view, the recovery of
Palestine, their Order had to maintain its conquests in the north of
Europe and to spread the true religion among the heathen nations there.
The Grand Master and his Knights started in vigorously to settle
and govern their country. They passed many laws, fixed the rate of
wages for the different trades, forbade the speaking of any language but
German, devised laws for the control of slaves and servants, forbade
gambling, regulated the number of glasses of beer people of different
lanks could offer their guests, issued a new coinage, made treaties for
commerce with surrounding powers, and in all ways acted as an
independent sovereign power.
In order to confirm themselves in the undisputed possession of their
territories, some of which were claimed, and often fought for by neigh-
boring princes, they went through the form of giving everything they
owned to the Pope, who accepted their gift and then gave them back the
lands to be held by them under him as suzerain. The Grand Master
was made a member of the Imperial Court by Frederick I in 1214, and
later on a Prince of the Empire. The Order, as a whole, was given
many privileges which increased its power and sphere of activity. In
1237 the Ancient Order of Christ, or the Sword Bearers of Livonia, was
absorbed by the Teutonic Knights. They continued under the Grand
Master with a master of their own. They separated during the con-
fusion of the Reformation, and in 1561 this Order was dissolved and
the Master made Duke of Courland.
It would be useless to attempt any description of the countless
campaigns waged by the Teutonic Knights in northern Europe. For
three hundred years they pushed forward the frontier of Christendom,
THE MILITARY RELIGIOUS ORDERS 321
or fought fiercely for the retention of their possessions, or retreated
doggedly against vastly superior forces. There were internal dissen-
sions; at one time rival Grand Masters dividing the allegiance of the
Knights; at another a Grand Master was assassinated, and there were
the usual records of violence and oppression which were the features
of such an age. On the whole, however, in spite of the jealousy, envy
and rapacity of neighboring monarchs, the Knights moved steadily for-
ward with their conquests, their conversions, and the bringing of a fair
degree of law and order to their possession.
The height of its wealth and power was reached about 1400. Be-
sides large possessions in Germany, Italy and other countries, its sover-
eignty extended from the Oder to the Gulf of Finland, and there must
have been over five million people subject to the Order's rule. Its great
prestige was ruined by a single blow. In 1410 Ladislaus, King of
Poland, helped by large bodies of Russians, Lithuanians and Tartars,
inflicted a crushing defeat upon the Knights at Tannenburg. It is said
that 60,000 Poles and 40,000 of the army of the Knights were slain.
The Grand Master and many hundreds of Knights were among the dead.
A valiant leader, Henry de Planau, was elected Grand Master and
successfully withstood a siege at Marienburg, but the spirit of the Order
was broken. Many feudatories volunteered their allegiance to Poland.
Henry de Planau endeavored to stem the tide, and was deposed for his
pains. East Prussia was ceded to Poland, and a little later in 1466, the
Prussian nobles making common cause with Poland, West Prussia was
also given to Poland, and henceforward the Grand Masters ruled as
vassals of Poland. The Master in Livonia and the German Master
refused to accept orders from a Polish vassal and went their own way.
The German Master took the Grand Master's place as Prince of th*
Empire.
In 1526 the Hohenzollern Albert of Brandenburg, who was Grand
Master, turned Lutheran, secularized his territories and made them into
a hereditary duchy as a fief to the King of Poland. Few of the brethren
resisted, and the Order quietly ceased to exist in the land which had been
its center of activity for three hundred years.
The Livonian remnant of the Order kept its independence for 100
years, but in 1561 the Master followed the example of Albert and was
made hereditary Duke of Courland, as a fief of Poland. Henceforth the
Order was confined to Germany alone, with headquarters at Mergentheim
in Swabia. Supported by its remaining estates it survived for a while,
but was not powerful enough to be a factor in European politics. It
lost its estates and right of existence in France during the wars of Louis
XIV and was deprived of all its estates by the French Revolution. In
1809 Napoleon abolished it entirely. It was resuscitated in Austria as
an honorary Order of Knighthood in 1840.
322 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
LESSER ORDERS
Even a list of the unimportant copies of these great military Orders
would occupy too much space. There are over a hundred of them.
Quite a number were in Spain and Portugal and were formed to fight
the Moors there as the great Orders fought against the infidels in the
East. The chief ones are the Order of Avis, the Order of Montesa
which was the Spanish remnant of the Templars, the Order of Christ,
the Portuguese remnant of the Templars, the Order of St. James of
Compostella, the Order of Calatrava, who were at first Cistercian monks
and who fought valiantly against the Moors for 300 years, and the Order
of Alcantara. These were purely military. The Order of Santiago was
both military and hospitaller. One or two others, like the Order of
St. Lazarus of Jerusalem and the Order of the Holy Spirit of Montpelier,
were entirely hospitaller. The Order of our Lady of Ransom was
formed to ransom Christian slaves. Several of these survive as honorary
Orders associated with the several European Kings.
JOHN BLAKE.
"The tendency of the true Christian is to seek the truth and not the
error in any doctrine, and to use every exertion to find it there his
utmost efforts 'jusqu'au sang' as one plucks a rose through thorns."-
The Abbe R. P. Lacordaire to Madame Swetchine; in a letter of
January 9, 1840.
LETTERS TO FRIENDS
VI
DEAR FRIEND :
YOUR letter reached me some days ago, but to-night is the first
time I have been free to answer and to thank you for it. I am
deeply glad of what you tell me, glad that the shadow of your
fear has lifted, but still more glad that in its removal you have
been able to see the Master's hand.
It is not strange that your mind should be confused and feel the need
of readjustment to a new perspective. Perhaps, as you suggest, I may
be able to help you in making it with regard to the points on which you
write. But remember that it is not the mind which knows or can know
the things of the spirit. We lay hold upon them by a direct perception
of the heart: and all that we should ask of the mind is to accept this
perception and to adjust our action to it.
I do not think you will misunderstand this statement as it has often
been misunderstood. To some it seems to make the spiritual world
appear remote and unknowable. Others have taken it as meaning that
the mind is valueless, or that reason should no longer be our guide.
Neither is the truth. The spirit eludes the mind, not because it is too
remote, but because it is too intimate ; not because its voice is uncertain,
but because it is so direct and immediate as to admit of no interpreter.
Between it and consciousness no intermediary can come. The mind faces
outward from the Self. In its normal action it is the interpreter of outer
circumstance, and guides the action of the will into the objective universe.
The voice of the spirit speaks from within the Self, behind the mind.
It is, therefore, to be known by the mind only as a new element in the
will, as a factor in that which animates it rather than as a fact with
which it can deal. Do not look to your mind to prove your inspiration.
Look to your will. "By their fruits ye shall know them." It is only
as our inspiration passes into will and thence, guided by the mind, into
action, that it can be known as the mind knows, objectively.
But this is very far from saying that we are not to use our reason.
As well say that we should desire a mindless love. No man ever loved
from his mind; nor can the mind judge of love or analyse it. Though
the lover give you countless reasons why he should love, you know that
were his love really founded in their logic it would be no love at all.
Love is of the heart, of the Self. It is a union and a perception of a
union which is behind the mind, a power entering the will from its source,
a light shining through the mind from within. But surely the more we
love the more we know the need for wisdom, for clearness of mental
3*3
324 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
vision, that, through the mind, the will may be led rightly to the service
of love. To this end, and so inspired, our minds become alert and
attentive as never before, and study anew each outer fact and circum-
stance that it may be rightly related to the new birth in the heart and
to the new desire in the will. So use your mind, and learn to use it more
effectively, not as the critic of your inspiration, but as the servant of
your will.
And now, What is that will? Perhaps you have not phrased the
question to yourself in just that way, or grown used to thinking of life
in terms of will. But your letter speaks of wish and desire, and these
grow into will. What, then, is your desire? You say that, in the illu-
mination which drove you to your knees, the one desire of your heart was
to know the Master and to serve him, to answer the call of his love to
you, which "seemed" to bid you to come. Why "seemed" ? At the time
there was no uncertainty. You felt what you felt. But afterwards you
listened to the mind. And because it could not share the knowledge
of the heart, you doubted, and let yourself think of it as "appearance," as
"seeming," as less real than your heart knows it to be. So doubt made
desire waver, made you think its object could not be for you. And yet
that is your desire, and, if you will it, its object is for you. Do you
remember the passage from Fragments? "Let not Humility, that tender
presence, become a stumbling block. By so doing you sin against the
Higher Self."
Let me come back later to the question of your true desire, for in
this matter of humility there is a barrier which your thought opposes to
your will, and which should be cleared away. How can I make you
see it ?
Let us look at it from two different points of view, and first from
that of the personal self. When we put vanity aside we see ourselves
as very ordinary persons, with little of genius or special gifts to lift us
from the commonplace. We know our own weakness. We know how
incessantly we have failed to fulfil even our own homely personal duties
as we wish to fulfil them, or to live up completely to the mere worldly
standards we have set ourselves. It is no wonder, therefore, that we
find it difficult to believe that we, being what we are, should be called
to such service as the saints have laboured in, or that we should scarcely
dare to trust a promise whose greatness is so disproportionate to what
we have to give. We may not be particularly humble in our daily thought
of ourselves, but even the smallest measure of humility seems to forbid
such wild presumption as this appears.
But, paradoxical as it sounds, if we were wholly humble we should
not fear to trust. It is the imperfection of our humility which is the
barrier, as it is always the half truth which is the most misleading.
Could we peceive that in ourselves we are nothing and can do nothing,
LETTERS TO FRIENDS 325
that as personalities we have no rights, but only debts, that all which
conies to us, joy and pain, love and service and life itself, are all free
gifts from the Lords of Life, then I think that in the marvel of that
generosity we should lose thought of greater or less, as in the infinite
all inequalities of finiteness are leveled. But as it is, we think of what
we receive as measured to our worth. So much we believe we have
deserved, so much we believe we can, of ourselves, render in payment for
what we ask. We think in terms of barter and exchange, and forget
that the very coin in which we would pay was given us. We cannot
barter with God, and He who gave us life can give us all things else.
Yes, even the perfection of the Father in the Heavens. Is the one gift
more marvellous than the other?
Humility is a power. He who has it may dare all things, accept all
things, accomplish all things. For he works not with his own power,
but by the power of the Master working in him.
So much for the view of the personal self. Let us try to see also
from the standpoint of the soul. The soul is the true Self. You have
but to realize that, to have all your doubts resolved. Must not the
Father love the child? Is it strange that he should call him to himself
or promise him his heritage? And this is the heritage of the soul, to
know the Father and to serve him, not in some dim and distant heaven,
but here and now. For the Kingdom of Heaven is literally at hand, the
inner world within the outer, and the life of the soul, eternal and
immortal, is in the present as in the ages past and to come. You are
the soul, your life drawn from the soul's life; your powers and your
virtues but the deadened and muffled action of the soul's powers; your
faults and vices but the deflection of these powers turned backward by the
curve of self-will till they act against themselves. Dare, therefore, to be
what you are. Dare to face and to accept the fact of your own great-
ness, the mystery of Being. And dare to act upon your acceptance.
Cease to identify yourself with the personality, with the mere outward
husk of your life and the vacillating shadows of self-will. Claim the
heritage that is yours, not yours by reason of any personal merit, but
yours through Him who brought your soul to birth, who fashioned you
in His image, and who gave you of His own life that you might live.
You may not belittle His gift. "By so doing you sin against the Higher
Self."
Perhaps you see now why I wished to make this as clear as I could,
before I asked you to formulate your own desire. Do not be content
with small ambitions, but have the courage to desire greatly. The utmost
heights to which your will can reach are less by far than those to which
you are called, and to which the Master waits to lead you. Your desire
is but the dim echo of his urging; your will but the acceptance of his.
Look, therefore, into your own heart to find what that desire is. Deem
326 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
nothing too great to be attainable by reliance on his power, nothing too
small to be the concern of his love. Measure what you find by no
standard of greater or less, but test all things by taking them in thought
to him. As you do so, as you look at your desires with the thought that
you are showing them to the Master and that he is looking at them with
you, something of his vision will illumine your own and you will find
many transformations wrought. You will see as of vital moment much
that before seemed trivial, and other things will lose their pompous self-
importance and sink to insignificance; all will be purified, and through
their greater purity you will see further into their depths.
I think that such a self-examination should be one of the first things
that you should attempt, if for no other reason than to help you to gain
the new perspective of which you rightly feel the need. Perspective is,
after all, only the perception of the relation which the external universe
bears to the action of the will. With each new element in the will there
comes a new perspective, and for this to be clear we must be clearly
conscious of the will, or element in the will, to which it has reference.
Our view of life depends upon our purpose in life, and if our purpose
be uncertain our view must be confused.
But of course perspective is only of importance as an aid to the
fulfilment of our will, as a means for guiding it rightly into action, so
that it is a reversal of emphasis to speak of seeking clearer consciousness
of our desires in order to gain clearer perspective. It is for their own
sakes that we must become conscious of them, and keep them consciously
before us. A desire which is not remembered has small chance to be
fulfilled, and it would be ludicrous, were it not for the pathos of its daily
truth in all our lives, to set out upon a journey only to forget its purpose
and its goal. We have need, therefore, to set our desires as definitely
and concretely before us as we are able, to co-ordinate and synthesize
them into a definite purpose, and to fix and hold our will to its fulfilment.
It is necessary to do this not once but many times, daily at first, then
hourly, and, ultimately, from moment to moment, that we may not
forget and wander purposeless from our path.
Let me come back now to the desire, which, in the truest moment
of your life you felt to be the deepest and the best : the desire for disciple-
ship. Ask yourself what is involved in this desire, so that, seeing it in
detail, you may set your will to its fulfilment.
What makes a man a disciple? To act as one. The answer is as
simple as that. But it makes us see the importance of another question :
How would a disciple act?
You, I know, are not one of those strange people who seem to think
that discipleship, if possible at all, could only be possible in some very
distant place and by the doing of very queer and spectacular things,
generally involving the sacrifice of all the other members of their families,
LETTERS TO FRIENDS 327
and the turning away from their most obvious duties and responsibilities.
But I do not know how clearly you have asked yourself and answered
the question I suggest. How would a disciple live the life that is given
you to live? Picture this to yourself as vividly and in as much detail as
you can. How would a disciple do your work? How would he act
toward the members of your family were they his family? How would
he sit, stand, speak? Would he disregard the "little things" of life, the
little courtesies, the small attentions and kindnesses? Would he ever be
too absorbed in self, too tired, or too busy to think of these and to fulfil
them ? What would be his attitude in little and in big, in each and every
department of your life and circumstance? These are the questions
whose answers are vital to your undertaking, for they contain the moulds
which you are to fill by your will.
You see that, however difficult it may be to carry out, the principle
is a very simple one. The disciple becomes a disciple, and is not made
such, from without. In every process of "becoming," of growth or
change, there are but three main things to be considered. The first is
our goal. The second is where we now are. The third is how we may
move from where we are to where we wish to be. You wish to know the
Master and to serve him. That, let us say, is your goal. But in those
terms it is too vague. To say you want to serve is like saying you want
to do something. What do you want to do? You must answer that
question before you can set about doing it. And so we must ask our-
selves with regard to service. How do we want to serve? If we are
wise we will not attempt to choose this or that service according to our
own wish or whim. We realize that this would be a very limited offer,
and we wish to give ourselves wholly ; so probably we answer to ourselves
that we wish to serve in whatever way we can, to fulfil the Master's will
in any field or in any way that is open to us. Our question changes its
form and becomes: What is the Master's will for me, and how may
I accomplish it? For to do the Master's will is clearly the first step in
becoming his disciple.
When we face this more definite form of our desire, and bring it,
as it were, from the abstract to the concrete, we perceive that its fulfil-
ment can depend in no way upon circumstances, but solely upon the way
in which we meet and deal with circumstances. They can determine only
the form of service, not whether we are to serve. So we cease to regard
them as barriers, and begin to recognize them for what they are, the
special field appointed for our service. It is, I suppose, natural for us
to think other fields would be much richer, just as in picking wild flowers
the richest clusters seem always on the other side of the road from where
we are, yet when we cross there those which we have left again seem the
more desirable. It may be natural, but it certainly is both unwise and
untrue. If we cannot serve where we are we could serve nowhere else.
328 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
We must begin by acceptance, acceptance both of circumstances and of
ourselves.
As I write this it seems to me that I have put it all too negatively.
Can you not see the wonder of it? We do not have to wait to serve.
The instant the will to do so is born in us that instant we can begin.
Discipleship is a state of constant becoming, and we can begin to become,
to transform ourselves and the world in which we live from the moment
that the desire to do so is recognized. It does not matter where we are
or what. Let us say we are at tea together, or in the most formal and
banal of social gatherings. Is there not a way of service open to us at
once, a way of living in that moment as a disciple by fulfilling perfectly
the duty of that moment? Would it be the Master's will for us that we
should begin to preach to our fellow guests? Or to talk about our souls,
or theirs, or the mysteries of the Kingdom of Heaven? We have but
to formulate such questions to see their utter absurdity. Did Christ
preach at the marriage in Cana in Galilee? Was he less the Master
because the first miracle of his public ministry was to make a social
function a success, to meet the needs of the occasion, and to contribute
to the happiness of those about him in a way they could understand? In
the same circumstances should not our aim be the same? Perhaps we
Jiink we have no social gifts. Then, more than ever, should we welcome
this opportunity to gain them through conscious effort, knowing that they
are powers which may be used in our discipleship, which, sooner or
later, must be used, as must all powers. Surely part of our ideal is
charm, the ability to put others at their ease, to interest them and to
give them pleasure, and our ideal is but our vision of the Master's will
for us. There is no circumstance that does not carry with it a challenge
to our ideal, revealing more of what it in fact demands of us, of what is,
for his disciples, the Master's will. And therefore there is none which
does not present the opportunity for service and for training.
So we begin our discipleship, our service and our "becoming," from
where we are. Fixing our eyes upon our goal, the doing of the Master's
will, we use each circumstance as it presents itself, not as a barrier to be
overcome, but as the appointed means by which we are to win our way.
The same is true of our knowledge of the Master. We do not have
to wait to know him, or to commune with him. Though our knowledge
and our communion should deepen and grow clearer day by day as we
advance, it may begin at once. There is no barrier. He is not in some
distant heaven, but close at hand, in the kingdom of heaven that is at
hand, and we have but to turn to him to find him. Does this seem a
wild or merely metaphorical statement to you ? I mean it quite literally
and simply.
Think for a moment. What does it mean to know a man? It
means first to know his will, to know his aims, his purposes, his likes
LETTERS TO FRIENDS 329
and his dislikes. Surely we are not without knowledge of the Master
here. We have but to look into our own hearts to see what is loved by him
and what is hated. The trouble is not that we do not know his aims,
but that, too often, we do not share them, and turn away, lest, being
compelled to face our knowledge of them, we should find them shame
our own. Our life is drawn from him, and, so long as we live, something
of him will live in us to be found whenever we will look.
I know very well that this will seem at first but a very unsatisfactory
answer to your need. One cannot feed the heart on metaphysics. But
this is more than metaphysics. It is the fact. Within you, in the voice
of your conscience, in the aspiration of your will, in the movement of
your desire and the inspiration of your mind, something of the Master
lives. And the way to him, to all the fulness and richness and objectivity
of personal intercourse with him which your heart craves, lies through
clearer consciousness of this inner life, and a closer attuning of your
personal self to it. Ask yourself again how it is that you come to know
any man better than you did at first. Is it not by working with him,
or by coming to share more completely some interest of his, so that there
is established a common ground for intercourse? The Master is to be
known by no other means.
Yes, I can hear you say, but what I want is really to know him,
to be able to see and talk with him as with any friend, as the disciples
of old walked and talked with him. It seems to me that you are right in
wanting this, to want from the greatest of friends all that any friend
can give. The universe has not changed in nineteen hundred years, and
all that ever was possible is possible today. Knowledge, not "as in a
glass darkly" but face to face, exists and is obtainable. Discipleship, in
the fullest and most complete sense, is a present day possibility and fact.
But these things are your goal. What I am concerned to point out to
you is how much of them you already have, or may have for the taking
and the recognizing.
Is it difficult for you to kneel down and "put yourself in the presence
of the Master" ? Do you find it hard to believe that he is actually there
beside you and that you can speak to him and commune with him? Is
the fact that you cannot see him, such a barrier? Consider further:
suppose you did see him. Would that content you? You know that it
would not, for it does not content us to see any friend, if "seeing" is all
that results. What we want is a sharing of consciousness, a sense of
closeness and of love, or the inspiration of high counsel, or the illumina-
tion and self -revelation which come in the presence of sympathetic under-
standing, though no word be spoken. And this does not depend upon
seeing, but upon something far more vital, the attuning of heart and
mood.
You will, I am sure, recognize this as within your own experience
330 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
in all personal intercourse. Again and again it must have happened to
you to have sought some friend when you were nervous and depressed,
and though you found her at home, and sat and talked with her, you felt
all the time that you were not getting what you had come for, that
somehow she was not wholly there, that her spirit eluded yours, and
gave you only the form and not the substance of the intercourse you
craved. All this though you were quite certain of her sympathy and
friendship, and knew that you were seeing her and talking with her, and
that it was only the dissonance of your own mood, your mental and
nervous preoccupation, which was the barrier between you. I am sure,
too, that you have had the exactly opposite experience ; that you have sat
with your friend in silence and stillness, looking perhaps into a fire and
not at all at her, and yet, though you neither saw nor heard her, you
were keenly conscious of her nearness, and it seemed to you that moment
by moment and breath by breath you were sharing each other's feeling
and each other's thought.
Now it seems to me that such common experiences as these have
much to teach us of our true desire in friendship, and of what true inter-
course or communion means. It is a sharing of life and consciousness,
not dependent upon physical sight, but upon an attunement of heart and
mind and mood. Such attunement may be made quite consciously and
purposefully. It is prayer. And when we have prayed, if we so desire
and ask for it, we may remain with the Master, our thought, our feeling,
our consciousness, all taking such forms as are induced by his presence
and as reflect his own, so far as our hearts can reflect his. We do not
have to wait for this. It is within our reach today.
Faithfully yours,
JOHN GERARD.
SHANKARACHARYA'S
CATECHISM*
II
THE SIX TREASURES
What is Peace?
It is mastery over the mental-emotional nature.
MOLINOS, the Western mystic, whose Spiritual Guide we have
chosen for comparison with the work of the Eastern Master,
writes thus concerning this treasure:
"Know that although exterior solitude doth much assist
for the obtaining of inner Peace, yet the Lord did not mean this, when
He spake by His Prophet, / will bring her into the wilderness, and speak
comfortably unto her. But He meant the inner solitude, which together
with the other conduces to the obtaining of the precious Jewel of the
Inner Peace. Inner solitude consists in the forgetting of all creatures,
in detachment, in a perfect abnegation of all purpose, desire, thought
and will. This is the true solitude, wherein the Soul reposes with a
sweet and inward serenity, in the arms of the Highest Good."
Both the Eastern Master and the Western mystic, therefore, make
the treasure of the inner Peace depend on that true detachment, which
is the ceasing from self-indulgence, whether of body, mind or will, that
true detachment which is one with acceptance.
This single principle of acceptance of the divine will, called in
Arabic Islam, is the inspiring principle of one of the world's great
religions; and, in spite of many deficiencies in other directions, it has
kept the soul of that religion strong and vital for centuries, teaching its
men to sacrifice by valor and endurance, its women to sacrifice by self-
surrender.
All self-indulgence is a preferring of one's own will to the divine
will, the will of the Master, in the particular event or moment we are
concerned with. In essence, therefore, it is an impulse of disobedience,
of rebellion. It must be overcome by submission to the divine will in
that event or moment, acceptance of the divine will for that event or
moment. This is not a passive but a supremely positive act, and its
reward is the inner Peace.
That Peace will contain two things: a positive acceptance of the
divine will, whereby, in the Western mystic's words, we rest in the
arms of the Highest Good; and a continuous victory over one's own
Copyrighted, 1913, by Charles Johnston.
332 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
self-will, the rebellious and tumultuous motions of our own thoughts and
feelings, the mastery of the mental-emotional nature.
What is Control?
It is mastery over the eyes and the other outward powers.
Molinos writes that, "to be truly solitary, the soul ought to forget
all the creatures, and even herself; otherwise she will never be able to
make any near approach to God. Many men leave and forsake all
things, but they do not leave their own liking, their own will, and them-
selves ; and hence the truly solitary ones are few. For if the Soul does
not detach herself from her own appetite and desire, from her own will,
from spiritual gifts, and from repose even in spiritual things, she never
can attain to this high felicity of inner solitude."
Detachment, the conquest of self-will, comes first; from this comes
inner Peace; in the serene stillness of that Peace, the soul can begin the
complete training of the outer personality, the mastery of the powers
of sense and the powers of action.
This does not mean that complete inner Peace must be won, before
any attempt at control is made. On the contrary, the process is pro-
gressive: a first small victory, within the heart, over self-will, over our
own wish; a first faint and fearful acceptance of the divine will. Then
the measure of peace that flows into us, from the divine will. Then the
effort of action, the exertion needed to give effect to the divine will, the
exertion of obedience which will mean a certain mastery over the outer
personality and its powers. This will open the way for a fresh battle,
a new conflict and victory; each act of self-surrender opening the way
to further self-mastery, the divine will progressively replacing self-will
in us, as we seek and obey the wish of the Master, rather than our own
wish.
What is Silence, Cessation?
It is bringing each power back into its own proper sphere.
We have tried to show elsewhere that the whole of our morbid
psychical life, the complete battery of selfish and sensual tendencies that
make up our "personal" selves, spring from transgression, from carrying
some natural power beyond its proper sphere, using it not for work, but
for self-indulgence. The two most obvious examples are the sensual
habit by which we live to eat and drink, instead of eating to live; and
the abuse of the powers of sex, turning them from the simple purpose
of race-continuity to degrading indulgence and sterility. Both are ex-
pressions of one sin: the turning the God-given power of will in us from
its proper use, the expression of the divine will, to its abuse, the service
of self-will. This is the "original sin," which is the sin of our "first
SHANKARACHARYA'S CATECHISM 333
parents," as these are symbolical of our former lives. Therefore we are
really born in sin, and need to be redeemed. The divine will works our
redemption, when we begin to obey.
Considered from without, this begins a long conflict, one sacrifice
of our self-love and self-will opening the way to the next sacrifice; the
withdrawal from one transgression making clear the need of withdrawal
from another transgression; one battle opening the way for another
battle.
But from within the whole process is constructive. The felling of
forests without is answered by the building of the temple within, a
building carried on in silence, in the field of the inner peace. The outer
self may be conscious only of the pain of sacrifice and surrender, as,
one after another, the ties of self-indulgence are broken; but there is
another side to all this suffering, a side revealed in the inner world.
What appears from without a process of destruction, reveals itself within
as a process of growth. All the powers which had transgressed and gone
astray, all the golden grains of divine energy which were being wasted
in these transgressions, are now redeemed and turned to divine uses.
The impulse of self-indulgence is the cause and source of all
psychosis, all "psychical" development, in the restricted sense. So self-
surrender, the silencing of all impulses which do not obey the divine
will, opens the way for the creative work of spiritual life.
What is Patience?
It is the power to endure heat and cold, pleasure and pain, and
all that comes from without.
The essence of the teaching of Endurance is set forth in the
Bhagavad Gita (II, 11-30) :
"Thou hast grieved for those who need no grief, and thou speakest
words of wisdom! The wise grieve neither for the dead nor for the
living;
For never was I not, nor thou, nor these princes of men ; nor shall
we all ever cease to be, in the time to come.
So the lord of the body in the body here finds boyhood, youth and
age, so is there the gaining of another body ; the wise err not concerning
this.
These things of matter, that bring us cold, heat, pleasure, pain,
come and go again; they last not, therefore endure them, O Son of
Bharata.
Whom these perturb not, equal in pain and pleasure, wise, he builds
for immortality.
For the unreal there is no being, nor any end of being for the real ;
the truth as to these two is seen by those who behold reality.
334 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
But know that to be imperishable whereby all this is stretched forth ;
and none can cause the destruction of the everlasting.
These temporal bodies are declared to belong to the eternal lord of
the body, imperishable, immeasurable ; therefore fight, O son of Bharata !
He who sees him as slayer, or who thinks of him as slain, both
understand not; he slays not nor is slain.
He is never born nor dies, nor will he, having being, evermore cease
to be; unborn, eternal, immemorial, this Ancient is not slain when
the body is slain. . . .
This lord of the body dwells ever immortal in the body of each,
O son of Bharata ; therefore, deign not to grieve, even for all beings ! "
The same thought is expressed in Light on the Path:
'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."
Trials must be endured, if the spiritual man is to come to consistency
and strength. The power to endure them is to be gained by living in the
eternal. Therefore this power comes after the inner Peace, which is the
entrance into the eternal, there to abide forever.
Molinos writes of this same stage of the way : "So in the beginning,
when God intends after an extraordinary manner, to guide the soul into
the school of divine and loving knowledge of the internal law, He causes
her to suffer darkness, and dryness, that He may bring her near to
Himself because the divine Majesty knows very well, that it is not by
the means of her own reasoning, or industry that a soul draws near to
Him, and understands the divine precepts, but rather by silent and humble
resignation.
"What most concerns thee, O redeemed soul, is Patience, and not
to desist from prayer, though thou canst not enlarge in discursive
thought. Walk with a firm Faith, and in a holy Silence, dying to thyself,
to all thy natural efforts, because He that is and changeth not, neither
can err, intends no thing but thy good. It is clear that he who is
dying, must needs suffer; but how well is time employed, when the soul
is dead, dumb, and resigned in the presence of God, there, without
trouble or perplexity, to receive the Divine Influences.
"The senses are not capable of divine blessings; hence if thou
wouldst be happy and wise: be silent and believe, suffer and have
Patience, be confident and press on ; it concerns thee far more to hold
thy peace, and to let thy self be guided by the hand of God, than to
enjoy all the goods of this world. And though it seem to thee, that thou
SHANKARACHARYA'S CATECHISM 335
dost nothing at all, and art idle, being so dumb and resigned; yet the
advantage is infinite."
What is the nature of Faith?
Faith is firm confidence in the Master and the sacred teaching.
Molinos writes thus:
"When the soul is already accustomed to reason concerning the
mysteries, by the help of the imagination, and the use of corporeal
images; being carried from one object to another, and from knowledge
to knowledge (though with very little of that which she desires) and
from these to the Creator; then God is wont to take that soul by the
hand (if indeed He calls her not in the very beginning, leading her
without reasoning through the way of pure Faith), and, causing the
understanding to leave behind all considerations and reasonings, He
draws her forward, and raises her out of this material and sensible state.
Thus He causes her by means of a simple and obscure knowledge of
Faith, to aspire only to her bridegroom upon the wings of love, so that
in order to love Him, she has no need of the convictions and instructions
of the understanding. . . .
"The more the Spirit ascends, the more it is detached from sensible
objects. Many are the souls, who have arrived and do arrive at this
gate; but few have passed or do pass it, for want of the experienced
guide; or, if they have had, and actually have such, for want of true
and complete submission.
"It may be objected that the will cannot love, but will remain idle
if no clear conception be given to the understanding, it being an acknowl-
edged maxim that that which is not known cannot be loved. To this
I reply that although the understanding does not instinctively recognize
certain images and conceptions by a discursive act or mental conclusion,
it nevertheless apprehends and knows by a dim and comprehensive faith.
And although this knowledge be very cloudy, vague and general, yet,
being supernatural, it produces a far more clear and perfect cognition
of God than any sensible or particular apprehension that can be formed
in this life; since all corporeal and sensible images are immeasurably
remote from God."
Faith is a power of the spiritual will. It springs up, because the
adventurous soul, which has already passed through so many stirring
experiences, is now ready to enter a new world, in which, indeed a part
of its being already dwells. From that supernal part, and from the
Master who stands above the soul, come the first stirrings of faith. If
the soul is to enter the new world that lies open before it, it must respond
with trust. It must be able to say, with Paul: "I was not disobedient
unto the heavenly vision."
336 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
What is Onepointedness?
It is singleness of heart and thought.
The best description of this power is Paul's: "I count not myself
to have apprehended : but this one thing I do, forgetting those things
which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are
before, I press toward the mark."
"The way is not found," says Light on the Path, "by devotion alone,
by religious contemplation alone, by ardent progress, by self-sacrificing
labor, by studious observation of life. None alone can take the disciple
more than one step onward. All steps are necessary to make up the
ladder. . . . The whole nature of man must be used wisely by the
one who desires to enter the way. Each man is to himself absolutely
the way, the truth, and the life. But he is only so when he grasps his
whole individuality firmly, and, by the force of his awakened spiritual
will, recognizes this individuality as not himself, but 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."
This firm grasping of one's whole individuality, this pressing toward
the mark, with every power of one's being, seeing in the divine relation
the whole purpose of life and of all one's powers, is the true onepointed-
ness, the real concentration.
What is the longing for liberation?
The ardent desire: "May Freedom be mine!"
The best description of this power is this: "Grow as the flower
grows, unconsciously, but eagerly anxious to open its soul to the air.
So must you press forward to open your soul to the eternal. But it must
be the eternal that draws forth your strength and beauty, not desire of
growth."
The Imitation beautifully indicates the same effort of the soul :
"Others there are who, being illuminated in their understanding,
and purged in their affection, do always pant after things eternal, are
unwilling to hear of the things of this world, and serve the necessities
of nature with grief ; and these perceive what the Spirit of truth speaketh
in them. For He teacheth them to despise earthly, and to love heavenly
things ; to neglect the world, and to desire heaven all the day and night."
CHARLES JOHNSTON.
(To be continued)
EARLY ENGLISH MYSTICS
II
ST. COLUMBA
St. Columba, or Columkill (Colum of the Churches), was born a
quarter of a century after St. Patrick's death, and took back to Scotland
the "good news" which Patrick had brought thence to the Irish. Columba
was born an Irishman, a descendant of old Irish kings. He was a pupil
of the Bards and several poems are accepted as his genuine compositions.
He left Ireland in 563, built a monastery on lona, and, a warrior, ad-
vanced the Christian standard among the Picts, who, since the withdrawal
of- the Romans, were lords of the land.
An authoritative life of St. Columba, in Latin, was written by a
monk of lona who was born twenty years after the founder's death.
This monk became abbot of lona in 679, and was the ninth in order after
Columba. He was himself Irish by birth and descent, and was canon-
ized St. Adamnan. He is thought to have written his founder's life
about 695. The book has been many times edited and translated.
Adamnan makes three divisions. In the first, he narrates several inci-
dents which illustrate Columba's power to foretell events. In the second
he records Columba's miraculous deeds; and in the third, he describes
the celestial sights that were seen by Columba, and that others saw
around him.
Columkill's father and mother were both descendants of kings. His
father was a grandson of King Nial, a famous warrior. And Nial's
fighting blood flowed in his great grandson's veins. It was a fight, a
battle resulting from a personal quarrel, and the large number of slain,
that filled Columba with remorse and drove him forth an exile to Scot-
land. And he had part in contentions and disputes many times after-
ward. Adamnan uses the name "warrior of Christ" for Columba and
his disciples: that description recalls the old word applied to Polycarp
and early students of the "Way," namely "athletes." It was St. Paul's
figure of those who strive in the games, that suggested, perhaps, the
gymnastic name for the early Christians.
Early in youth Columba was in training with one of the Irish Bards,
those who have been mentioned as receiving friendly treatment from
Patrick. Patrick found that the pupils of these Bards, saturated with
the poetry and folk lore of archaic Ireland, were by no means badly
fitted for receiving instruction in the Wisdom of the Cross. And he
accepted them, as has been already said, for postulants. Columba never
turned his back upon poetry as a thing hostile to religion, as Justin
22
338 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
Martyr and Augustine are reported to have repudiated their first
teacher, Plato. When his priest's and monk's career were chosen, he
offered up his poetry at the altar along with his zeal and his vigor.
Delightful would it be to me to be in Uchd Ailiun
On the pinnacle of a rock,
That I might often see
The face of the ocean;
That I might see its heaving waves
Over the wide ocean,
When they chant music to their father
Upon the world's course ;
That I might see its level sparkling strand,
It would be no cause of sorrow ;
That I might hear the song of the wonderful birds,
Source of happiness;
That I might hear the thunder of the crowding waves
Upon the rocks ;
That I might hear the roar by the side of the church
Of the surrounding sea;
That I might see its noble flocks
Over the watery ocean ;
That I might see the sea monsters,
The greatest of all wonders;
That I might see its ebb and flood
In their career;
That contrition might come upon my heart
Upon looking at her ;
That I might bewail my evils all,
Though it were difficult to compute them;
That I might bless the Lord
Who conserves all,
Heaven with its countless bright orders,
Land, strand, and flood.
Columba had his training in several of the monastic schools that
were founded immediately after the mission of St. Patrick, and that
became renowned before the middle of the century. The renown of
these schools continued through several centuries, and in the ninth
century we shall find that it was in these Irish schools that Charlemagne
found the scholars whom he charged with the responsibility of reviving
learning on the continent notably Alcuin and John Scotus Erigena.
The monks who after Patrick's death formed these spiritual groups, Enda
of Aran, the two Finians (Finian of Clonard and Finian of Moville),
Brendan, etc., trace their discipleship back to the same three teachers in
EARLY ENGLISH MYSTICS 339
France who moulded St. Patrick. But these sixth century saints are a
step further removed; they connect with France through Wales
through the Welsh disciples of St. Martin and St. Germain. Mention
has already been made of Ninian and the Candida Casa which he built in
Galloway in 397 and dedicated to St. Martin. That monastery became
a centre for aspirants from the north of Ireland, as St. David's for
aspirants from the south. One of the abbots who succeeded Ninian
joined St. Patrick in his labors for Ireland. The connection thus made
between Ireland and Candida Casa was not broken. Perhaps the great-
est of those who were trained in that British monastery of St. Martin
was Enda St. Enda whose life on the island of Aran so strikingly
resembles the life at Lerins, and who forms another link between lona
and Patmos. Enda was a wild warrior, son of a minor King. His
sister had been converted by Patrick's preaching and had made the
monastic vow, gathering around her a small band of novices and nuns.
Enda, returning victorious from the defeat of some rival clan, passed his
sister's undefended retreat, and demanded the surrender of one of her
novices. But his flush of victory and madness was checked and awed
by his sister's moral power, and he ended by asking her of the "Way."
She counselled study in Ninian's monastery. On his return to Ireland,
after years of discipline, Enda sought some desert spot where he might
continue the study of the interior life, and pass it on to disciples. He
was led to the West, to a barren Atlantic island, and obtained from a
relative, a King, the grant of this island Aran More, for his group.
The learned and Most Reverend Archbishop of Tuam has carefully and
lovingly visited the holy islands of Ireland and gives an interesting
account of his observations. Aran More is so barren that soil has to be
carried in pails from one boggy section and spread over the rocks on
which scant supplies of food are raised. This barren rocky island, the
Archbishop says, is most picturesque in its league-long prospect upon the
Atlantic. It is full of great fortress-like remains that ante-date history,
and the Archbishop's opinion is that these forts were built by some of the
prehistoric peoples of Ireland a very powerful race of warriors, he says
they must have been against invaders who were pushing them ocean-
ward. Similar remains, he says, are found in other countries all along
the Atlantic coast down to Spain (On account of the proximity of these
ruins to the Atlantic Ocean, some writers suggest Atlanteans as a name
for their unknown builders). The largest of these fortresses in Aran
is built on the edge of a cliff that rises perpendicularly three hundred feet
from the ocean. In that remote fortress of an earlier race, St. Enda
made his cell and his church, and gathered sons around him. And
thither came all the saints of Ireland rather aspirants who sought the
path of sanctity. Among these came Columba and "learned from Enda's
340 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
lips the virtues of a true monk, as practised by the saints and fathers
of the desert."
A second Abbot who received training at Ninian's monastery was
Finian, founder of the group at Moville. Born some time before 500,
Finian went as a boy to be trained by Mochae, who was one of Patrick's
earliest converts. Very shortly after his conversion, Mochae had settled
with St. Patrick's blessing on a little river island, and soon had a group
of students around him. There were very friendly relations between
Mochae's group and the monks of Candida Casa; and during Finian's
years of study, some of the monks from Britain came to visit Mochae to
learn from him. When they returned to Galloway, Mochae advised
Finian to accompany them. Finian built his cell at Moville in 540, and
around him, as around all the saints we are considering, a celebrated
group formed. The report of his wisdom and sanctity drew bishops
from their dioceses. In his school, Columba passed several years of
training.
The other men who will be mentioned as founders of spiritual
groups that became renowned, received their training from teachers in
South Wales. These Welsh teachers were disciples of the French
abbots, in whose groups St. Patrick learned the meaning of the religious
life ; their names are St. Dubricius, St. David, and St. Gildas. Dubricius,
a contemporary of Patrick, was ordained by St. Germain during the visit
to Britain in the interest of orthodoxy against the Pelagians. Dubricius
became the head of a group of students at Llancarvan. The second
Welsh abbot to whom many aspirants from the south of Ireland re-
sorted was St. David. St. David, likewise, is in the spiritual line of
St. Germain. A third Welsh abbot was Gildas, who went down to
Marseilles to the monastery founded by Cassian, and brought thence
many Greek manuscripts. It is said that these Welsh Abbots had a
Greek Liturgy, and that when Brendan from Ireland visited Wales, and
was asked to celebrate the mysteries, he was astounded to find his
Service Book written in an unknown language. But by fervent prayer
he was enabled to proceed with the sacred office as if the words were the
familiar Latin. Finian of Clonard is the greatest of the Irish saints
who were trained in Wales. He remained under a single priest in Ireland
until his thirtieth year, when he crossed over to St. David. There he
seems to have spent twenty years, returning to Ireland, and building his
own cell in 520, when he was fifty years old. The Reverend Archbishop
who has already been quoted says that the saints of Ireland passed their
novitiate with Enda in Aran, but that Clonard, where Finian prayed, was
their college. Like Aran More and the spots where other holy men built
their cells, Clonard was a wilderness. There seems to have been no
thought at all of a settlement in the minds of these men. They chose
remote, barren spots, where they might with some measure of freedom
EARLY ENGLISH MYSTICS 341
continue the study of interior living. Finian went quite alone to the
barrenness of Clonard without a single friend. But the aspirations of
other men paved a way to his cell. Saints as all these early heroes were,
Finian of Clonard seems to have reached a higher degree of holiness, for
he became known as the "Tutor of the Saints." Twelve of the great
saints of Ireland were trained in his group. His peculiar gift seems to
have been the imparting of wisdom through the study of Scripture. But
it is difficult for us with our superficial notions of schools and study to
understand Finian's method. "School" and "study" mean to us intel-
lectual effort. Whereas Finian's method of teaching Scripture was
through contemplation of the Crucifix.
Columba was a member of every group that has been mentioned.
He was with St. Enda in Aran More, and also with Finian of Moville,
and the greater Finian of Clonard. He seems to have drawn into him-
self some portion of what was heroic and lovely in all his teachers, and
thus to have become the typical Saint of Ireland. Patrick, the great
Apostle, was not an Irishman.
An incident in Columba's life at Clonard is very closely associated
with his apostleship to Scotland. The tradition is that Columba asked
the Abbot where he should build his cell, and was answered "At the
Church door." Afterward the Abbot found that Columba had made
his cell some distance away, and reproved him for disobedience. "But
this is where the Church door will be," Columba replied. A certain
aggressiveness shown in this incident leads to a more serious altercation
later. Finian owned a precious Latin manuscript of the Psalms, richly
and finely illuminated. Columba was an illuminator himself, and ar-
dently admired the treasure of the monastery. He so passionately
desired to have such an exquisite work of art for himself, that he got
possession of the manuscript and furtively copied it. The labor must
have been arduous. And his burning enthusiasm and admiration win
one's sympathy. It is difficult to see any dishonesty in the procedure.
And a penance for the furtive hours of work would seem sufficient.
But the Abbot discovered Columba's copy of the precious Psalter, and
claimed it as his own property. Columba would not give it up. An
appeal was made for judgment, and this decision was given: "Unto
every cow her calf ; unto every book its copy." Columba could not brook
the injustice of the decision, communicated his wrongs to his clan, and
hostilities resulted. His aggressiveness and resentment may seem out of
place. They certainly did not smother the fire of his devotion. There is
a story about him fleeing through the hills to his clansmen, singing as he
goes, mingling the old religion with the new.
Alone am I on the mountain:
I adore not the voice of the birds,
Nor chance, nor the love of son or wife,
My Druid is Christ the Son of God.
342 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
The battle that at last was fought between the two factions was a
victory for Columba's clan. But the bloodshed filled him with remorse.
And he seems to have accepted as just a sentence of banishment passed
on him. He sailed away with twelve companions to Alba (Britain) to
win as many souls for Christ as he had destroyed lives in battle. A poet,
an artist, a scholar, and a royal scion, he goes to exile in the wilderness.
Many of the verses that express his sorrow and regret over the
departure from Ireland have been preserved and are felicitously trans-
lated. Of course it is possible that the translator may have used
Columkill's verses to express a real and deeper nostalgia of his own.
But the genuineness of rhythm and feeling whosoever they are are
unmistakable.
We are rounding Moy-n-Clurg, we sleep by its head and
We plunge through the Foyle,
Whose swans could enchant with their music the dead and
Make pleasure of toil. . . .
Oh, Erin, were wealth my desire, what a wealth were
To gain far from thee,
In the land of the stranger, but there even health were
A sickness to me !
Alas for the voyage, oh high King of Heaven,
Enjoined upon me,
For that I on the red plain of bloody Cooldrevin
Was present to see.
How happy the son is of Dima; no sorrow
For him is designed,
He is having this hour, round his own Kill in Durrow,
The wish of his mind.
The sound of the wind in the elms, like the strings of
A harp being played,
The note of the blackbird that claps with the wings of
Delight in the glade,
With him in Ros-grenca the cattle are lowing
At earliest dawn,
On the brink of the summer the pigeons are cooing
And doves on the lawn. . . .
In a very recent book of Irish verse, there is a song of longing by another
exile for the home tree and folk. Fifteen hundred years separate the
poets. But the same magic of rhythm beats in their verse. Both have
gotten away from the self-annulling noises crossed and confused by
human thoughts and emotions, and have come through to the deep music
which Carlyle knew to be at the heart of everything.
EARLY ENGLISH MYSTICS 343
Oh tell me, will I ever win to Ireland again,
Astore! from the far North- West?
Have we given all the rainbows, an' green woods an' rain,
For the suns an' the snows o' the West?
"Them that goes to Ireland must thravel night an' day,
An' them that goes to Ireland must sail across the say,
For the len'th of here to Ireland is half the world away
An' you'll lave your heart behind you in the West.
Set your face for Ireland,
Kiss your friends in Ireland,
But lave your heart behind you in the West." *
At the age of forty-two, in the year 563, Columba and his followers
sailed to the north-east, to Alba. They reached a haven too soon,
quickly leaving behind "the salt main on which the sea-gulls cry."
How swiftly we travel ; there is a grey eye
Looks back upon Erin, but it no more
Shall see while the stars shall endure in the sky,
Her women, her men, or her stainless shore. . . .
Small huts of wood on a court and a Church constituted the monas-
tery. And as at Lerins, the life was perpetual prayer and discipline.
"There was never an hour's idleness on the island," St. Adamnan says.
It seems bleak, that rock island in the Atlantic harsh, almost, as the
later Scotch covenanters without the Catholic grace that makes auster-
ity charm. But there is gentleness and urbanity on that bare rock, as
well as at Assisi and Siena. One of the wooden huts is for the stranger
who may come as guest and remain as postulant. One would think that
the little band had a fair degree of certainty for freedom from interrup-
tions. But the aspiration of the Abbot and his disciples was sincere,
and secured them from the false Paradise of smooth and easy days.
Hardly does the little band resolve to enter upon a more strict seclusion
and fast for the purpose of getting firmer control of the subtle lower
nature, than an unwelcome voice comes "shouting across the straight"
the mile of water that separates island from mainland. Immediately the
retreat has to be deferred, and one of the monks rows over to the shore
to fetch the stranger who may come truly "seeking" as George Fox
would say. And the fast, well planned to mortify the impetuous and
rebellious self-will, must be relaxed, as courtesy will not permit the
stranger to be included, an involuntary participant of their austerities,
nor to be uncomfortably solitary in his indulgence. It is not difficult
to imagine the Abbot's humor as he secretly smiles at the grumbling of
* Songs of the Glens of Antrim; by Moira O'Neill.
344 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
his disciples because of the worldly-minded who retard their progress;
and there come to mind some words that Mr. Judge is reported to have
said, to the effect that interruptions, cheerfully accepted, are more disci-
plinary than much fasting. The dangers of the sea and the ocean storms
gave more frequent opportunities at lona for kindness especially to
animals, than a milder clime offers. There are scenes with birds and
beasts as sweet and picturesque as St. Francis's sermon to the birds.
One day the Abbot sent a brother to watch on the rock for a guest that
would arrive from Ireland a crane, beaten and bewildered by the winds.
Just at the hour the Abbot had named, the forlorn creature flutters down
at the water's edge to die. The obedient monk gently lifts the Irish
guest and carries it to shelter in one of the huts where for three days the
brothers soothe and cherish it. The food and rest revive the bird, and
on the third day, the exiled band carry it down to the water again.
There the Abbot blesses it, it rises on firm wings and flies in quiet
weather to their home Ireland.
Very sweet, too, is the Abbot's solicitude for his sons wistful as a
father for very young children.
"Once, as the Brethren after harvest work, returning to the
monastery in the evening and arriving at that place which is called
in Scotic (Irish) Cuuleiline, which place is said to be midway
between the western plain of the Island of lona and our monastery,
they seemed each one to feel within himself something wonderful
and unusual, which, however, they dared not speak of the one to
the other. And so for some days, in the same place and at the
same evening hour, they perceived it. But in those days St. Bai-
thene was the superintendent of labours among them, and one day
he spoke thus to them saying, 'Now, Brothers, if ye unexpectedly
experience anything unusual and wonderful in this place, half-way
between the harvest field and the monastery, ye ought to declare it,
each one of you.'
"Then one of them, a senior, says: 'According to thy order
I will tell thee what has been shown to me in this place ; for in these
days past, and even now, I perceive some fragrance of a marvellous
odour, as if that of all flowers collected into one; and also a certain
burning as of fire, not painful, but as it were soothing; and, besides,
a certain unaccustomed and incomparable joy spread abroad in my
heart, which of a sudden consoles me in a wonderful way, and so
greatly gladdens me that I can remember sadness no more, labour
no more. Aye! and the load, albeit heavy, which I am carrying
on my back from this place until we come to the monastery, is so
much lightened, how I know not, that I do not feel that I am
bearing any burden.'
EARLY ENGLISH MYSTICS 345
"What more shall I say? So all the harvest workers one by
one declare, each one for himself, that they had felt exactly as this
one of them who had first spoken, and one and all together on
bended knees besought St. Baithene that he would let them know,
ignorant as they were, the cause and origin of that wondrous con-
solation which he himself felt just as the rest perceived it. To
whom, thereupon, he gave this answer saying: 'Ye know that our
senior, Columba, mindful of our toil, thinks anxiously about us and
grieves that we come to him so late ; and by reason that he comes not
in body to meet us, his spirit meets our steps, and that it is which
so much consoles and makes us glad. And hearing these words, still
kneeling, with great joy and with hands spread out to heaven, they
venerate Christ in the holy and blessed man.' "
When the monastic life had been established, the Abbot and his sons
began their courageous journeys among the islands and on the mainland,
to bring to the "world" the knowledge of the "Kingdom," and to draw
from the crowds who in some measure responded to the preaching, the
few valiant souls who would bravely buckle on the armor of light and
become veritable soldiers of the Cross. In 565, the Abbot in person
brought Brude, King of the Picts, to a profession of faith. Through
that royal adherence, open opposition became less violent. And it is
said that Columba's followers preached even in Iceland. Gradually
Columba's power made itself felt as power and men turned to him for
counsel in matters of rule as well as of faith. He seems to have chosen
the King for one province. And it was the Abbot, not a Bishop who
consecrated the King. Columba went back to Ireland to confer upon
matters of Church and State, but returned to his island monastery as his
altar. lona, not Ireland, is his life's centre. He died there surrounded
by his sons in 596, leaving them to extend southward through England
the work he had begun in Scotland. St. Adamnan records very simply
the last days.
"The Saint enters the church for the vesper mass of the vigil
of the Lord's Day, and as soon as this is over, he returns to his cell
and sits up throughout the night on his bed, where he had the bare
rock for pallet and a stone for a pillow, which to this day stands by
his grave as his monumental pillar. And so, there sitting up, he
gives his last commands to the Brethren, his attendant alone hearing
them, saying : 'These my last words I commend to you, O my sons,
that ye have mutual and unfeigned charity among yourselves, with
peace : and if, according to the example of the holy Fathers, ye shall
observe this, God, the Comforter of the good, will help you; and I,
abiding with Him, will intercede for you; and not only will the
necessaries of this present life be sufficiently supplied by Him, but
346 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
the reward of the good things of Eternity, prepared for those who
keep His Divine commandments, shall also be bestowed.'
"Thus far, told in brief narrative, are put down the last words
of our venerable patron as he was passing away from this weary
pilgrimage to the heavenly country.
"After which, as the happy last hour gradually approached, the
Saint was silent. Then when the bell began to toll at midnight,
rising in haste he goes to the church, and running faster than the
others he enters it alone, and on bended knees falls down in prayer
at the altar. At the same moment Diormit, his attendant, who
followed more slowly, sees from a distance the whole church filled
within with Angelic light round about the Saint. And as he drew
near to the door, the same light which he had seen suddenly with-
drew, and this light a few others of the Brethren who stood afar off
also saw. Diormit, therefore, entering the church, moans out with
mournful voice: 'Where art thou, Father?' And as the lights of
the Brethren had not yet been brought in, groping his way in the
dark he finds the Saint lying before the altar, and raising him up a
little and sitting down by him he lays the holy head on his bosom.
And meanwhile the community of monks, running up with lights,
began to weep at the sight of their dying Father. And as we have
learned from some who were there present, the Saint, his soul not
yet departing, with open eyes upturned, looked round about on either
side with wonderful cheerfulness and joy of countenance on seeing
the holy Angels coming to meet him, Diormit then lifts up the holy
right hand of the Saint that he may bless the choir of monks. But
the venerable Father himself at the same time moved his hand as
much as he was able, so that what was impossible to him to do
with his voice at his soul's departure he might still do by the move-
ment of his hand, namely, give his blessing to the Brethren. And
after thus signifying his holy benediction, immediately breathed
forth his spirit. And it having left the tabernacle of the body, the
face remained so ruddy and wonderfully gladdened by the vision of
the Angels that it seemed not to be that of one dead, but of one
living and sleeping. Meanwhile, the whole church resounded with
sorrowful wailings."
Adamnan's Life of Columkill narrates many marvellous and miracu-
lous deeds and sights in which the saint is concerned. Bede, later, gives
account of similar marvels that happened around the priests and monks
of early England. A certain remoteness of these saints, and a certain
opinion of the modern world as to the credulity of the early ages, has
brought it about that for a long time these visions have been laughed
at: "Hysteria," "the morbid product of monasticism," etc. Yet it is
EARLY ENGLISH MYSTICS 347
difficult to see wherein a warrior like Columkill is morbid. Any one
who is not determined against "visions" will have no difficulty in recog-
nising that sanity and not hysteria is the foundation of the experience
now narrated.
"At another time, when the holy man was dwelling in the isle
of Hinba (Eilean-na-Naoimh), the grace of holy inspiration was
marvellously poured forth and abode upon him in an abundant and
incomparable manner for three days, so that he remained three days
and as many nights, neither eating nor drinking, within the house
which was locked and filled with celestial brightness, and he would
allow no one to approach him. And from this same house rays of
intense brilliancy were seen at night bursting from the chinks of the
doors and the keyholes. And certain hymns which had not been
heard before were heard being sung by him. But he himself, as he
afterward declared in the presence of a very few persons, saw
openly manifested many secrets hidden since the beginning of the
world. And some obscure and most difficult passages of the Sacred
Scriptures became plain and clearer than the light to the eyes of
his most pure heart."
It is interesting, and perhaps it will lend deeper conviction, to place beside
that chapter of Adamnan's, a passage from George Fox's Journal.
George Fox was of a most robust type: anything less than iron would
have broken under the brutal persecution he suffered, and it is not easy
to connect morbidness with such stalwart physical health. Then Fox is
very near to us, so that the objections "monkish superstition," "deliberate
falsehood," etc., are unreasonable when urged against his narrative. The
experience Fox records in his journal occurred about 1670, when he was
forty-six years old.
"As I was walking down a hill, a great weight and oppression
fell upon my spirit. I got on my horse again, but the weight re-
mained so that I was hardly able to ride.
"At length we came to Rochester, but I was much spent, being
so extremely laden and burthened with the world's spirits, that my
life was oppressed under them. I got with difficulty to Gravesend,
and lay at an inn there; but could hardly either eat or sleep.
Here I lay, exceeding weak, and at last lost both
hearing and sight. Several friends came to me from London: and
I told them that I should be a sign to such as would not see, and
such as would not hear the Truth.
"In this condition I continued some time. Several came about me;
and though I could not see their persons, I felt and discerned their
spirits, who were honest-hearted, and who were not. Divers friends
348 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
came to see me, and would have given me medicines, but I was not
to meddle with any ; for I was sensible I had a travail to go through ;
and therefore desired none but solid, weighty Friends might be
about me.
"Whilst I was under this spiritual suffering the state of the
New Jerusalem which comes down out of heaven was opened to me;
which some carnal-minded people had looked upon to be like an
outward city dropped out of the elements. I saw the beauty and
glory of it, the length, the breadth, and the height thereof, all in
complete proportion. I saw that all who are within the Light of
Christ, and in His faith, of which He is the author; and in the
Spirit, the Holy Ghost, which Christ and the holy prophets and
apostles were in ; and within the grace, and truth, and power of God,
which are the walls of the city ; I saw that such are within the city,
are members of it, and have right to eat of the Tree of Life, which
yields her fruit every month, and whose leaves are for the healing
of the nations.
"Many things more did I see concerning the heavenly city, the
New Jerusalem, which are hard to be uttered, and would be hard to
be received. But, in short, this holy city is within the Light, and
all that are within the Light, are within the city; the gates whereof
stand open all the day (for there is no night there), that all may
come in."
The year of Columkill's death, 596, is the date of Augustine's (the
minor) landing at Thanet. When Augustine proceeded to Canterbury
and assembled his company for worship, they gathered in a little church
that bore the name of St. Martin of Tours; so the first period of British
Christianity quite naturally connects with the second. And while the
missionaries of Augustine were working from the south upward, the
island monastery of Columba was sending down into England its monks
who made a second lona at Lindisfarne. Of this second period, the
Venerable Bede is the historian. We shall consider it as the venerable
historian records it in his celebrated and beautiful Ecclesiastical History.
SPENSER MONTAGUE.
LIGHT AND SOUND
A"T~A HEOSOPHY throws its light into everything," is a favourite
saying of mine.
A If that be true, then everything must let itself fit into
Theosophy, and it is from this latter point of view that I read
newspapers, essays, books, etc., which are not written by so-called theo-
sophical writers.
As far as I know Blavatsky wrote The Secret Doctrine for just such
a reason. The thoughts and teaching expressed in it shall serve to help
us grope our way through Life and at every new discovery made by
our science to seek a connection which is consonant with the doctrine of
the East.
An article entitled "Die Kunst der Tone und der Farben" (The Art
of Sounds and Colour), by Dr. Alfred Schiiz which appeared in 1910
in the October number of the Neuen Musikzeitung fascinated me greatly
on account of the above-named reasons. In it the writer tried to prove
a connection between the two arts of Music and Painting. He says for
example, that a picture is often metaphorically termed a Symphony of
Colour, an orchestral composition a Tone or Musical picture (Tonge-
m'dlde), that one hears a musician speak of colour of the tone (timbre)
musical colour, while the artist uses the expressions Tones of colouration-
hue, harmony of colours, etc., and argues that the mind vividly suspecting
a hidden relationship throws a bridge across the apparent chasm between
Painting and Music. He continues :
"We do not wonder any more now-a-days how one can dare to create
a suitable picture for certain music a Beethoven Sonata for example,
or corresponding music for a picture. The artist Moritz von Schwind
has given an ingenious illustration of Beethoven's Fantasia for the Piano,
opus 80. In Dusseldorf the Pastoral Symphony has been performed with
limelight pictures of landscapes. Schumann's Kinderscenen can be had
illustrated by A. Zick, with poetry composed by A. Trager. Fr. Liszt has
tried to reproduce Kaulbach's magnificent masterpiece 'Die Hunnen-
schlacht' in music by means of a Symphonic poem and Kaulbach writes
of it : 'Your original and clever thought of giving a musical and poetical
form to the historical picture in the Berlin Museum has affected me
deeply. The representation of this powerful subject in poetry, music,
and picture must form a most harmonious and mutually perfect work.
It must resound and shine throughout all lands.' It may be that this
kind of characteristic music has a future before it."
It is also interesting with respect to the physical aspect to draw
* Translated from Die Theosophisches Leben.
350 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
attention to the point of contact between Sound and Light, Tone and
Colour, Music and Painting, to which new discoveries always give rise.
I have already formerly spoken of singing light and photographed sound
in these pages. The subject then was a discovery of Dr. Simons', in
consequence of which a musical composition can be transformed into a
visible picture and this again turned into music. It has further been
discovered that an intermittent ray of light falling on a caoutchouc disc
produces a musical sound. As a result of this discovery, three such
intermittent rays of light the vibrations of which corresponded to the key
note its third and fifth, were thrown on the disc at the same moment,
whereupon the latter sounded a complete and perfect triad. So then
the bridge between that perceived by the eye and heard by the ear,
between Light and Sound, and the possibility of turning impressions of
light and finally also colours into sound has been proved. If such
experiments should not lead to further practical results, they show at
any rate, how right musical imagination is, if it can translate all kinds of
impressions into sound. The relationship between sound and colour is
already given in the principle that the pitch depends on the number of
vibrations of the body from which the sound comes; the perception of
colour on the number of the vibrations of the luminiferous ether, and the
scale of sound corresponds to the scale of colours of the Spectrum, in
which violet has the lowest number of vibrations and deep red the most ;
which latter as the colour most quickly perceived, strains the eye more
than any other, as the ear is most strained by the highest tones (while
green which is very restful to the eye lies in the centre of the Spectrum,
even as the middle notes or tones are the most agreeable to the ear).
The fact that there are people who never hear a musical note without
at once perceiving a colour (in the case of instruments around the
object which emits the sound, and by singers around and over their
heads), whereby the colour becomes deeper as the tone increases in
sound, also points strongly to this relationship.
Now just this last observation of seeing a colour when one hears a
tone or musical sound would at once be met with ridicule if expressed
by a theosophist. People exclaim instantly, that is pure imagination,
gullibility, an unhealthy frame of mind. I am exceedingly glad to find
it expressed by a professed scholar founded on scientific proofs.
It is also interesting to compare a few lines from the Buck der
Kindheit, by Ludwig Ganghofer. In the sketch of his own life he writes
as follows:
"When the organist conducted the mass in the church, played the
organ, and let the lovely sounds float down from his invisible place in the
choir on us kneeling boys, a dreamy, curious feeling which I cannot
explain, came over me. And when he improvised on the organ in
varied strains, the whole church became one deep uniform colour.
LIGHT AND SOUND 351
Everything looked either red, or yellow as ripe corn, or beautiful blue.
This vision of colour only lasted a few seconds and then again dis-
appeared. I generally saw only one colour, and when that disappeared
everything assumed its former appearance. But sometimes, if the strain
changed very quickly while I had one colour before my eyes it also
changed just as rapidly into another which was deeper and brighter than
the first. It was so unutterably beautiful that a feeling of awe and joy
always went through me. In later years this colour effect caused by the
deep impression made on me by good music grew stronger. I have not
been able, until now, to associate any legitimate reason for this phe-
nomenon. But there are several musical works which always bring a
vision of colour before my eyes. If I hear Wagner's Rheingold an
instant comes in which the entire scenery an^ stage are flooded for
several seconds with a bright-golden yellow. If I play the I Trio by
Haydn with my children, towards the end of the first movement the
music becomes a pale red-violet, which is at once transformed into deep
steel-blue when we begin to play the Adagio Cantabile. In the Allegro
non troppo of Brahm's Symphony in C minor, which I have only heard
two or three times I always saw the same bright scarlet, and once in this
colour a vision of a broad distant sky across which fiery scarlet clouds
were stretched and gliding over them the figure of a woman clad in
deeper red. All music, which expresses passion or deep feeling, raises
pictures or visions before my eyes which I see, while for seconds and
minutes I do not hear the music. The works of Beethoven and
Schumann cause these impressions of colour and scenes most often and
most clearly. Formerly Wagner's music did the same but during the
last five years or so it is no longer the case, the effect of the music of
creating pictures has almost disappeared." (Page 224.)
It would be very interesting if it were possible to find by means of
experiments the laws which Ganghofer sought and thereby prove that
this is not due to a vivid imagination, or unhealthy state of mind, but that
the effect of a natural power on a physical plane has to be taken into
consideration which can only be subjectively perceived through organs
the development of which would bring about the progressive evolution.
The composer Robert Franz offers another example. It is said he often
used peculiar expressions when conducting, for example: "This part
must be played more sulphur coloured ! " One should rather ask oneself
what vibration of thought is connected with sulphur yellow? It seems
that with Franz it was sensitiveness, to cover interpretation! Who is
then peculiar, the one who sees or the blind ?
I was very delighted during a stay in Berlin, in September, when I
saw the announcement in a newspaper of a lecture with lime-light pic-
tures and numerous experiments to be given at the observatory at Trep-
352 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
tow by Professor W. Pauck. He called it "Sichtbare Tone tonendes
Licht," "Visible Sound (music) Sounding (musical) Light."
"i. Some important laws of oscillation in experimental repre-
sentations The making of a curve of sound (Tonkurve) visible
with the help of Professor Dr. J. Martin and O. Leppin's Schall-
kurvenapparatus Warmth or colour of the tone and harmonics
Practical meaning of visible curves of sound.
"2. Photophonic tests by help of Selenium cells Transmitting
the sound to luminous brushes (luminous telephony) Speaking and
Singing Arc Rays (die singende und sprechende Bogenflamme),
(Simon) and their importance on luminous telephony The sound-
ing voltaic arc (Der tbnende Lichtbogen) (Dudell) The problem
of the photographic Phonograph and its solutions up to the present
day."
Of the many highly interesting things given in the programme of
this lecture space does not permit me to mention more than a little which
caused me particular reflection.
At first "the sounding Voltaic Arc" by Dudell. A current of electric
light was shut in an arc lamp, the heat produced by the alternating cur-
rent caused a change in the volume of the air causing it to oscillate and
thereby produced a clear ringing sound. It was then said that if the
current of light should be increased the alternating current would accord-
ingly increase in warmth and the tone would be raised. It was done and
instead of the expected higher tone only silence ensued "Apparent fail-
ure of the experiment," said the lecturer, "but the current was too strong,
the tone consequently too rapid for the human ear to catch." He regu-
lated the current of light, making it weaker, and the lamp sang a higher
tone than before.
It made me again think our physical ears are not able to perceive
every sound around us, as we have neither the strength nor power, but
there is no need that it should be a reason for mockery if someone says
that he perceives more than another without it being scientifically proved,
because it is only subjective and the laws for this have not yet been
discovered. This may also be no reason for conceit in the person in
question, it would be distinctly dangerous if such a thing led to vanity
or ambition.
Dr. Pauck had to shorten his lecture a little on account of the time
limit, consequently the Singing and Speaking arc ray of Professor Simon,
mentioned also by Dr. Schiiz could not be shown. It was, however,
exhibited in the Reichspostmuseum in Berlin and I went there in order
to see it. It is again light and heat which produce this phenomenon. It
happened as follows: We were shown up to the third story and after
LIGHT AND SOUND 353
the arc lamp was lighted, we were told that someone in the cellar would
sing into the circuit of a microphone in which the electric voltaic arc was
shut. We very soon heard the lamp distinctly singing a popular song.
The light was switched off for a few seconds, so that we could convince
ourselves that we did not hear the melody through a telephone, now
there was not a tone of the song to be heard. As soon as the light was
switched on again the lamp once more began to sing, but naturally left
out the bars which had been sung while the light had been switched off
and which we consequently did not hear. After the melody came to an
end they telephoned to the cellar and said that we had heard very well
and thanked the singer, whereupon the lamp instantly, clearly said,
"Bitte, bitte" (don't mention it). We all laughed, it sounded so strange
and was at the same time so wonderful. And just the wonder of it I
could not forget, it turned my thoughts into another channel, which finally
took entire possession of my mind. I said to myself:
If this power which we call Electricity can produce tones through
its light and heat by means of an apparatus which are perceptible as light
and sound on a physical plane, what would this power be called in the
sense of unity on a spiritual plane, what apparatus would it use there?
I could not help meditating on it and came to the conclusion that man
himself must be such an apparatus, and that this power in a spiritual
form through its light, i. e., through perception and knowledge, and
through its heat, i. e., devotion and thankfulness must produce sounds,
i .e,, Speech or Communication. It is not difficult to find passages in our
spiritual writings which allow it to be regarded in this light.
In the case of all physical experiments it is said that they can only
succeed if the apparatus acts perfectly. One lecturer asserted that it
often depended on a millimeter. If we are the apparatus through which
the spiritual power shall work, it is then also right when our Christian
Master demands, "Be ye also perfect" or, as it is written in a theosoph-
ical work, "Not a shadow of wrong dare be proved in a single thought."
It is certainly very difficult to build such apparatuses. There is, however,
a direction given, it is to be found in the Sermon on the Mount.
In another place it is written, "What the heart thinks the mouth
speaks" so as the knowledge and devotion of the heart (light and heat)
so the speech or communication (the sound). And what shall the sound
be like ? The Apostle Paul says in his Epistle to the Philippians, "What-
soever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things
are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely,
whatsoever things are of good report: if there be any virtue, and if
there be any praise, think on these things."
The sound of quarrel and dispute would suggest a light which burns
badly and therefore gives very little heat.
All toleration would come under the heading of good sound, at least
23
354 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
one could draw this inference from Schiller's words when he says that
"a good sound is given when severity and gentleness, strength and
clemency pair together" (das Strenge mit dem Larten, das Starke).
Sound is the result, light and heat the causes. Therefore we must
first strive after Light, after the good treasure in the heart out of which
good people bring forth good and then speak accordingly. That agrees
wonderfully well with words taken from Light on the Path: Desire
only that which is within you. For within you is the light of the world
the only light that can be shed upon the Path. It is peace you shall desire.
And in the stillness of peace man becomes disciple and is able to speak
for speech comes only with Knowledge. Attain to Knowledge and you
will attain to speech. Look only on that which is invisible alike to the
inner and the outer sense and then you will find there is a fount within
you from which speech will arise.
Strive above all after the Kingdom of God, the Kingdom of God is
in you, and God is Light and Love, and the moral and oneness of Light
and Sound is Brotherly Love.
THERESE PANIZZA.
As between Master and disciple, the Master "is the divine artificer
of our sanctification" ; it is he who, for the glory of his Father, labours
in us tirelessly; and, in the words of St. Fulgence, "kneads us with his
own divine hands, forms us interiorly in his likeness and image, that each
one of us may become another son of God, by adoption, a new Christ,
all glorious with holiness"
THE reason why the writer joined the Theosophical Society lay in
the fact that that organization was discovered to hold the key
to what, for many years, she had longed for and sought, viz:
first, a method of correlating the activities of body, mind and
soul into a harmonious and interdependent whole : second, a way of
infusing into religion dynamic enthusiasm, sufficient to sustain and carry
it on when the wings of the soul hang lifeless : third, a warrant for the
growing conviction that no particular faith, not even her own, could
stand alone, as the exclusive care of the Shepherd of Souls, the favored
vehicle of the oracles of God.
In order to make clear in just what specific ways the Theosophical
Society met these demands, it seems necessary to review, in some detail,
the mental life of the writer, its particular needs and dangers, and the
circumstances that finally led to her decision to join the Society. This
might better be done in the form of a personal narrative.
As a child, I was called "peculiar," with an inflection suggestive of
disapprobation upon the adjective; the fact being that as only a portion
of my inner workings lay open to parental and public inspection, the
explanation of their eccentricities was lacking. From earliest recollection
I had divided my life into an "outer" and an "inner" field, the latter a
sacred spot, jealously guarded from every eye. To the outer life belonged
all the activities, thoughts, pleasures and pains of the usual normal healthy
child, including Church and Sunday-school doctrines and attendance.
The inner life was made up of certain concepts of Deity, derived, I know
not whence, certainly not from my Anglican teachings, but coming into
focus by means of a picture of the ascended Lord that decorated my
father's Prayer-book. Such a vision I worshipped in strange and, to me,
unheard-of rites and penances. To His altar, set up in a small unoccu-
pied room in the cellar, I brought flowers, illustrations from story books,
whatever of my possessions I deemed beautiful enough to offer. And
what was the Vision? A glorious Being, emanating light, standing in
air, who was able to lift one up into an ecstacy of "silent joy" (I always
gave the experience that name), if one could but hold Him steady, steady
before the mind's eye ! So intense was the effect, that it made the inci-
dents of my ordinary life pale by comparison; nor do I remember that
the one otherwise materially affected or touched the other; on the con-
trary, I never considered a possible relation to exist between them.
These childish experiences are recounted only for the reason that
this conviction of the lack of connection between the personal and spiritual
355
356 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
parts of us if one may speak thus persisted and tormented me, as I
grew older. Yet the child's vision, though gradually growing less bright,
remained in the background of my girlhood, as a beautiful and haunting
holy of holies, and in the midst of the absorption of the demands of a
busy social and intellectual life, there lay ever the inspiring feeling that
some day whenever one chose one might turn away from it all, offer-
ing upon that dim mystic altar within all that made life so glorious love,
and the passionate worship of Beauty, and the power of the intellect,
and so be absorbed in that flame of joy, once experienced but now only
a recollection.
But what if it all were an illusion of the excited imagination
perhaps a form of hysteria and better forgotten, so that one might
develop normally in the safe, sane paths of the outer life? Surely these
things, the joy of feeling and knowing and blossoming to beauty in the
sunshine, developing all potentialities of one's nature, and, at the same
time, of course, being moral and charitable and kind surely these offered
opportunity enough for full and rounded growth. Was it right to
sacrifice them?
"Wilt thou take all, Galilean?
But these thou shalt not take ! "
my soul would cry out with the poet. And so, swaying between two
ideals, irresistibly called by both, and seeing no reconciliation between
them, I came to the time when Oriental thought burst upon me. A cousin
sent me The Light of Asia, and about the same time Emerson fell into
my hands. With pulses beating and tears running down my cheeks I
read The Oversoul and Spiritual Laws, feeling that somehow bonds,
hitherto holding me, had been loosened and that I was free free to seek
and find that something of which my childish experiences were the
promise and the anticipation free to seek it in other forms of Chris-
tianity than my own; nay, to seek it, if need be, in other religions, for
here, in The Light of Asia, was there not the record of a great soul, a
"heathen," who had sought and found the priceless gift? The doctrines
of re-birth and Karma seemed singularly familiar, and then and there
I recognized them as belonging of old to me. Thenceforth the law of
the sins of the fathers visited upon the children, tormented me no more.
One was shown to be one's own moral ancestor, and it was good and just
to pay in one's own person for the evil committed. Thus conditions in
the world as they exist could be reconciled with the justice of God.
I added the twin doctrines to my scheme of Christianity, but, not being
able to harmonize them with the dogma of a Vicarious Atonement, I
dropped the latter into the background, and considered it as little as
possible. Jesus Himself was slipping further and further away: first
I had sublimated Him, as it were, holding Him apart from every day
WHY I JOINED THE THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY 357
life : now I was come to the other extreme, my views gradually, taking
on a humanitarian cast. Nevertheless, with a deep-rooted instinct of
loyalty to the Church, I strove to square my Unitarian tendency with its
ritual and dogma, by interpreting them to suit my ideas. The cleavage
between my worlds was growing wider, the satisfaction of the intellectual
nature achieved at the cost of the inner vision. To supply this lack,
I again turned to Oriental philosophy, reading the Bhagavad Gita and
the Upanishads.
About this time, in an article written for the propaganda of the "New
Thought," I first heard of "Masters," who, the author averred, had
throughout the ages been custodians of some secret doctrine, which con-
stituted the common foundation of all religions : that the vivifying, from
age to age, of dormant and dying faiths, might be traced to the out-
cropping of this hidden teaching, and that these Masters, descendants
of an august line of predecessors, were now for the first time in history
opening their sealed treasures and offering their wisdom doctrine to any
one capable of receiving it. This fired my imagination. I now sought
and found confirmatory references to this assertion in the Gita, the
Upanishads and in the philosophy of Shankaracharya. But where was
a Master of Wisdom to be found, who would teach me what I was
longing to know? Up to this time I had heard little or nothing about
the Theosophical Society. But now I was to meet some "Theosophists"
who, to my joy, announced themselves in communication with the Lodge
of Masters! There was much talk of things new to me auras and
elementals, astral bodies, and discussions on the shape of thought forms,
but of spiritual aspiration, of the great idea of underlying unity, not a
syllable! Small wonder that Theosophy came to be associated in my
mind with Spiritism and kindred cults, and thinking it merely a western
perversion of Hinduism, I brushed it aside as unworthy of serious con-
sideration. Nevertheless the platform of the Society attracted me
strongly, in spite of myself. Coming to New York, I listened to several
Theosophical lectures but got little from them. Then I tried to read
Jsis Unveiled but without success; whereupon I dropped the subject and
for years the existence of the Society passed out of my mind.
A residence in the Orient, where the ideals that had attracted me in
Aryan literature, I found incorporated into the life of the people with
whom I came in contact, led me finally to the conclusion that my peace
was to be found in the philosophy and methods of esoteric Buddhism.
The time had come for decision: my family cares grown less exacting,
I had leisure to think and turn the question over in my mind. Was the
step I contemplated God's will for me? If so, would my strength be
equal to the sacrifice demanded? In the agony of the conflict I prayed
as I had never prayed before: God of my life, give me light! Vision
of my childhood, give me to know the path make the decision for me.
That night I dreamed, or was it more than a dream ? I had entered a
358 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
massive doorway from which descended steps of rough hewn stone worn
by time. Thence a path wound upward by a steep ascent, and here was
a multitude climbing, men and women, all Orientals, and I alone of my
race with them. Suddenly a sense of loneliness overwhelmed me, so
awful and so appalling that I sunk to the ground, the throng passing
silently on. One only paused, a woman wrapped from head to foot in
a strange garment. "Why do you stop on the Path ? " she asked. And
the answer was given me slowly word by word, so that I had no
knowledge of what was to come: "I have made a mistake: I will go
back, I will climb the steps, and take another way the Way of Jesus
Christ."
Does this dream seem a trivial thing in a soul's experiences? To
me it was a command. My feet had been turned back to the old path
now stretching dreary and uninviting before me. For what did "the
Way of Jesus Christ" signify to me? This: nineteen hundred years
ago, a human life, perfect by virtue of an inherent and unique divinity;
the Divine nature now ascended to its own plane, remote, save in rare
moments of the soul's exaltation, the human nature a memory. To make
anything else of the Humanity seemed perilously near idolatry the
idolatry of the man Jesus the idolatry of the Mass, wherein I felt my
brothers of the Roman Church had erred. Hence there remained
nothing of the Man but the example, nothing of the God sufficiently
related to enkindle love, but only a Christ Abstraction, forever distant in
his Divinity. It was the same old problem, "the great gulf fixed" between
the outer and the inner life.
And so I stood, sure of nothing but the Voice, waiting for what
was to come. At this juncture, I was to meet a noble woman, calling
herself a student of Theosophy. Again I listened, but to a new version
of Theosophy, compelling my respect and arousing my interest. She
gave me Mr. Johnston's translation of the Bhagavad Gita. Then I saw
its teaching in a new light, not set over against Christianity, but illu-
minating and rationalizing it. Still, all this was "Orientalism," I thought,
from the brink of which I had been snatched. Finally I decided to attend
some of the meetings of the Society, feeling myself all the while a moth
playing about a flame. I should never be one of them, but perhaps I
might steal from their Oriental doctrines fire enough to rekindle my
smoking torch. At the first meeting there was opened out to me that
splendid vista of universal Brotherhood and of the solidarity of religion,
the glimpse of which had been so attractive from the beginning. At those
first meetings, with other visitors, I was invited to join in the discussion
of the given subject, when I always conceived it my duty to throw in a
sly word or two for Christianity.
One day, happening to visit a mission church in a crowded section
of New York, to my amazement I discovered that its most active workers
were the members to whom I had listened at the Theosophical Society.
WHY I JOINED THE THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY 359
Christians and Theosophists ! Churchmen and Theosophists ! There
were men and women moving in the great sweep and range of Theosophic
thought, with its hospitality to all aspects of religion and philosophy, yet,
at the same time, loyal sons of the Church, living the Life and following
the Example, and evidently reconciling Theosophy with their faith!
I went to the next meeting in a chastened and humble frame of
mind, not to teach, but to learn Christianity. In such a mood there
flashed a sudden illumination. Had I longed for the Master of Wisdom,
at whose feet I might sit and learn the deep things of God, thinking to
find him only in alien lands and faiths ? There, all the while, nearer than
hands or feet, guiding, directing, loving, stood a living Master, Christ
Jesus, who, in His glorified Humanity, still shares my nature and therefore
capable of being known and loved, as friend by friend. Love, then, for
this living human Master (human still, however and in what degree
transcending our conception of ordinary humanity), love was the flame
to the torch !
This is the Church's doctrine, you say? True, but Theosophy
discovered it there for me. With new sight I read "He is not two, but
one Christ : One ; not by conversion of the Godhead into flesh ; but
by taking of the Manhood into God."
Do you already divine the logical corollary to this Catholic and
Theosophical conception of the nature of Jesus Christ? "As above, so
below." The interpretation of my own nature and the solving of my
own problem by means of this key were further aided by the argument
of a member of the Society, to this effect: that the spirit of man, the
eternal Self of each, in order that it may arrive at perfect self-conscious-
ness, for this end needs all the experiences that the personal self (i. e., the
physical, the emotional, the mental man) may gather in its earth sojourn.
But such experiences and activities must become transmuted, by the sub-
stitution of the divine will for the personal will before they are fit to be
laid up as permanent wealth for the real man, the Spirit. But, once
lifted to the plane of the spirit, which is the plane of Reality, they neces-
sarily partake of the quality of the new environment, which is permanence.
Thus, by transmutation, the mortal becomes immortal, and we have
passed from death into life; become "One altogether, not by confusion
of Substance, but by unity of Person."
Do you wonder that I hastened to join a Society that had thus led
me to step clear of my life long difficulties that gave me to see that not
alone my salvation but that of men of all religions was to be accomplished
by transmutation and not by mutilation that by the law of the Spirit
the whole man was to be lifted up joyously into life and immortality?
Finally, the Theosophical Society gave me back Jesus Christ, even the
Divine Vision, radiating light, yet none the less living Master and Friend.
"Theo-sophia" "The Wisdom of God and the Power of God."
S.
ON THE SCREEN OF TIME
DESPONDENCY
"^ 1 ^O rise above depression and discouragement? There are
several ways," said the Disciple; "and the answer must depend
1 upon the cause of the depression in any given case. Funda-
mentally, depression is a negative condition, and the problem
is how to induce positiveness. Any cure involves some effort of will,
unless circumstances conspire to divert suddenly and actively the atten-
tion and interest. For instance, good news of a compelling kind; a
sense of some danger quickly to be escaped; sharp pain and the desire
to control it. These and other external means induce automatically a
positive attitude. Naturally, we cannot depend upon their occurrence,
so it is of immense importance that we should learn how to manage such
moods, which are life-draining and injurious both to ourselves and to
others.
"The first step is to learn to take them in time. Do not wait until
you are submerged, because far greater effort will then be necessary and
it will be more difficult to make the effort. Remember Lao-Tze : 'What
is small is soon dispersed. Transact your business before it takes form.
The tree which fills the arms grows from a tender shoot.'
"So, at the first hint of depression, do something: make yourself
lake rapid exercise a quick, sharp walk to some place, if possible for
the purpose of obtaining or accomplishing something for another.
"Or, if that be unwise or impracticable, count your blessings,
including your pains, and offer ardent thanks for them. It has been
said truly that 'thanksgiving is the sovereign remedy for despondency';
but just as a child needs to be taught to say 'thank you,' long before he
knows why or in any real sense can feel gratitude, so we need to acquire
the habit of thanksgiving if it is to become a bulwark against despond-
ency. It cannot be invoked in times of crisis unless our life as a whole
tends to be one of thanksgiving. Most people are hideously ungrateful.
Some have so misunderstood the doctrine of Karma (that whatsoever a
man sows, he reaps, and whatsoever he reaps he has sown), that they
do not believe in thanksgiving 'on principle'! They forget the 'Guar-
dian Wall/ built by 'the accumulated efforts of many generations of
yogis, saints and adepts,' who, by their continual sacrifice, still protect us
from evils far worse than those from which we suffer already. The
Vicarious Atonement is a fact ; not a theory or a creed : for unselfish love
gives the least of those who possess it the power to suffer on behalf of,
and to take into their own hearts the sin and therefore the sorrow of
those whom they cherish. Further, if we could see behind the scenes
ate
ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 361
of life, we should discover that we owe thanks for every breath we draw.
Love and wisdom and self-sacrifice (which alone is power), poured out
for our sakes by some being or beings more advanced than we are, alone
makes our existence possible. Our very aspiration, which we are
tempted to take to ourselves as truly our own, is, in fact, but a feeble
response to the gift of greater, living hearts.
"But that is a digression, my point being that our normal attitude
ought to be one of thanksgiving, and that, if it were so, we should be
positive, not negative, and that despondency would then be impossible."
The Objector interrupted. "Suppose," he said, "that a man feels his
life to have been a failure, in every direction and sense: suppose, even,
that his friends think so too, or that he imagines they do, which amounts
to the same thing so far as his feeling is concerned, and suppose that,
by criticism or otherwise, they seem continually to remind him of his
ineffectiveness and insufficiency. In consequence of this, he feels de-
pressed. Would you suggest thanksgiving as the cure?"
"As part of the cure, yes. You imply that he has nothing to be
grateful for. How about his real or supposed failures? We will
imagine him to be a Christian although you can change the terminology
to suit the case. He ought to give thanks like this: 'Merciful Father
and Master, in thy wisdom thou hast seen fit to visit me with affliction.
I have laboured to serve thee and seem always to have failed. I thank
thee that thou hast not permitted me to succeed. Tomorrow may bring
success. Being human and blind, I pray that it may. Yet I know that
what has been must have been right and best in thine eyes, and that,
because thou lovest me far more than I love thee, thou must have suf-
fered more than I have for the failure of my life. Perhaps, if I had
succeeded, I should have become vain and insufferable and self-willed.
Perhaps thou hast sought to teach me lessons which for my happiness I
need to know. In any case, in so far as I have honestly tried, thou wilt
hold me guiltless, and in so far as it would have been easy for thee to
give me great success in spite of my ineptitude, I thank thee that thou
hast not done so, but that always thou hast kept me, for my soul's sake,
insignificant and humiliated in my own eyes and in the eyes of others.
Kind thou art, and wise. Thy way on earth was through failure and
humiliation to the dawn of a divine resurrection. Teach me to be grate-
ful that at least in this I can follow in thy footsteps.'
"He could of course say that prayer negatively if he were to try
hard enough. But it would be a step in the right direction, and would
help him, I think, to throw his effort on the positive side in all depart-
ments of his effort.
"You may remember the illustration of the man who leaves his home
on a cold day. If he begins by huddling himself together and by shrink-
ing from the cold, he will feel it far more than if he will inhale deeply to
362 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY
receive and welcome all that may come to him of coldness. So with the
criticism of friends : let him meet it, welcome it, seek for the truth in it,
grasp it, be grateful for it, and it will exhilarate, not discourage him.
If, on the other hand, he contracts from it ; if, instead of positive accept-
ance or rejection there be either negative acceptance or negative rejection,
the effect on himself will be depressing, whether the criticism be just or
unjust.
"The same thing is true of his efforts to conquer his faults sup-
posing he be so fortunate as to be aware of some of them, which few
people, relatively speaking, are. If he attacks them negatively 'I must
not be impatient; I must not do this or that' the general effect will be
calamitous, unless at the same time he throws himself aggressively at the
task of acquiring the opposite virtues. He must strive to be more than
patient: he must cultivate active sympathy; he must seek opportunities
to do and say kind things; he must be generous with appreciation of
others. Above all, he must be specific in his resolutions, not saying
vaguely that he will try to do better, or that he will try to be good, but
that this very day he will do or say a particular thing, to give happiness
to another, and that tomorrow also he will do or say a particular thing,
with the same end in view. Vagueness is both unproductive and dis-
couraging. The true mystic is the most practical of men. He leaves
nothing to chance. He does not wait for opp 
