Full text of "The Theosophical quarterly"

Theosophical Quarterly

VOLUME XI

JULY; OCTOBER, 1913
JANUARY; APRIL, 1914

The Theosophical Quarterly

Published by the Theosophical Society at
159 Warren Street, Brooklyn, N. Y.

In Europe single numbers may be obtained from and subscriptions
sent to Dr. Archibald Keightley, 46 Brook Street, London, W., England.

Price for non-members, $1.00 per annum ; single copies, 25 cents

THE THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY

The principal aim and object of this Society is to form
the nucleus of a Universal Brotherhood of Humanity, with-
out distinction of race, creed, sex, caste or color. The
subsidiary objects are: The study of ancient and modern
religions, philosophies and sciences, and the demonstration
of the importance of such study; and the investigation of
the unexplained laws of nature and the psychical powers
latent in man.

Entered July 17, 1903, at Brooklyn, N. Y., ai second-clan matter,
under Act of Congreil of July 16, 1894.

INDEX TO VOLUME XL

A PAGE

Adepts and Modern Science, The (Reprint) ; William Q. Judge. . . 356
Allison, Susan W ........................................... 323

Antiquity of Man, The ; John Charlton ......................... 144

B
BERGSON'S PHILOSOPHICAL POSITION; John Blake, Jr ..... 114, 224, 328

Blake, John, J<r ............. ......................... 114, 224, 328

Boehme, Jacob ; Susan W. Allison .............................. 323

C
Cave ............................................... 161, 203, 294

Charlton, John ................................... 32, 144, 215, 306

Checkering, Julia ............................................ 346

Concerning the Real and Concerning Shadows ;

Louise Edgar Peters ........................... 21, 139

Convention Notices See T. S. Activities.

Creighton, Justin ........................................... 234

D
Dreams, John Scho field ...................................... 64

E
EARLY ENGLISH MYSTICS ; Spenser Montague ......... 37, 129, 238, 340

EASTERN CHURCH, THE ; Anne Evans .................. 102, 205, 295

Evans, Anne ........................................ 102, 205, 295

Evolution and Atonement ; John Charlton ...................... 32

F
FRAGMENTS ; Cave ........................................ 203, 294

G., C. A ............ ..................................... 157, 373

Gerard, John .......................................... 7, 109, 212

Hillard, Katharine .......................................... 252

Johnston, Charles ......................................... 13, 124

Judge, William Q ........................................... 356

K
Karma ; Henry Bedinger Mitchell ............................. 313

L
LETTERS TO FRIENDS ; John Gerard ....................... 7, 109, 212

M
MacKlemm, G. M ........................................... 174

Maurice Maeterlinck and Theosophy ; Katharine Hillard .......... 252

Mitchell, Henry Bedinger .................................... 313

Montague, Spenser ---- . .......................... 37, 129, 238, 340

Movement toward Christian Unity, The; Louise Edgar Peters. . . . 255

N PAGE

NOTES AND COMMENTS 1, 95, 191, 287

Notices; Convention Notices See T. S. Activities.

O
ON THE SCREEN OF TIME; T 53, 166, 263, 362

Peters, Louise Edgar 21, 139, 255

Practical Theosophy ;C.A.G.,Jr 157

Psychical "Choir Invisible," The ; John Charlton 306

Purpose of Life, The; C. A. G 373

QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS 73, 183, 282, 379

REVIEWS :

Absente Reo ; by the author of Pro Christo et Ecclesia 377

Ara Coeli : An Essay in Mystical Theology ; Arthur Chandler,

Bishop of Bloemfontein 278

Autobiography and Life of George Tyrrell ; M. D. Petre 69

Constructive Quarterly, The ; Edited by Silas McBee 181

Dante and the Mystics ; Edmund G. Gardner 179

Dharma 279

Gitanjali (Song Offerings) ; Rabindranath Tagore 178

Jean Christophe ; Romaine Rolland 376

Kabir, The Weaver Mystic ; Evelyn Underhill 378

Letters to his Friends ; Forbes Robinson 277

Master, The ; /. Todd Ferrier 180

Master Keys ; Captain Walter Cary, R. N 378

Meditations ; Hermann Rudolph 72

Meditations on the Divine Liturgy ; N. B. Gogol 280

New Order of Sainthood, The; Professor Fair field O shorn. . . 277
Reasonableness of the Religion of Jesus, The ; William S. Rains-
ford, D.D 281

Some Adventures of the Soul ; C. M. Verschoyle 278

Theosophisches Leben 177, 280

Sacred Books of Ancient China, The ; Julia Chickering 346

Scho field, John 64

Servetus 47, 150

SHANKARACHARYA'S CATECHISM; trans by Charles Johnston. . .13, 124
SOME ASPECTS OF THEOSOPHY AS SEEN BY A NEW MEMBER OF THE

SOCIETY ; Servetus 47, 150

Stories of the First Christmas ; John Charlton 215

T" 53, 166, 263, 362

Theosophy and the Family ; G. M. MacKlemm 174

T. S. ACTIVITIES 77, 187, 284, 382

We Cause Our Own Suffering 274

WHY I JOINED THE THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY 161, 234

COMMENT

JULY 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.

"OuT OF EGYPT HAVE I CALLED MY SON"

FOLLOWING the general idea that the civilization of Hellas had
been inspired and developed in preparation for the work of the
Western Avatar, it was suggested, in the meeting of the Branch
whose debates have been in part recorded, that other sides of
Grecian genius, such as the peerless purity of the Parthenon, or the great
dramas of yEschylus and Sophocles, might illustrate this inspiration,
not less than the mystical philosophers like Pythagoras and Plato. An
admirable illustration was drawn from the great trilogy of Sophocles,
the three dramas in which the tragedy of the house of CEdipus is
unfolded.

Just as the three parts of Dante's great trilogy, the Inferno, the
Purgatorio, the Paradiso, mark the three great stages of the spiritual
way: disobedience, penitence, bliss; so, it was said, the three dramas of
Sophocles mark the three great epochs of defiance to the divine will,
the suffering which leads to resignation and acceptance, and, thirdly, a
perfectly consecrated obedience, even in the face of death. The theme
of the CEdipus trilogy is contained, it was said, in the closing words:

Man's highest blessedness,

In wisdom chiefly stands;

And in the things that touch upon the gods,

Tis best in word or deed

To shun unholy pride ;

Great words of boasting bring great punishments,

And so to grey-haired age

Teach wisdom at the last.

To put it in another way, the point was, that this old Athenian play
teaches a characteristically Christian lesson: purification through
suffering.

The trilogy begins with the defiance of the gods by the parents of

2 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

CEdipus, and the consequent sin of CEdipus and Jocasta, begun in ignor-
ance and continued in defiance which mocked the divine powers :

Now, oracles of gods,
Where are ye now . . .

"Ha ! ha ! why now, my queen, should we regard
The Pythian hearth oracular, or birds
In mid-air crying?"

At the moment of apparent triumph, CEdipus exultant exclaims that the
oracles are overwhelmed in Hades. Jocasta answers:

Why should we fear, when Chance rules everything ;

And foresight of the future there is none;

'Tis best to live at random, as one can.

But the blow of the gods falls, and, at the end of the first play, CEdipus
wanders forth, blind and a beggar, over the earth, accompanied by Anti-
gone his daughter.

The second play of the trilogy, 'CEdipus at Colonus, the action of
which is laid several years later. Notice the growth of the soul of the
blind and exiled king, who has passed from defiance to resignation and
acceptance. CEdipus thus makes confession of his faith :
I have learnt contentment; chance and change
Have taught me this, and the long course of time,
And the stout heart within me.

Besides contentment, he has learned reverence:

I am come, as sacred, fearing God.

Acceptance and reverence make it possible for CEdipus to become an
agent for the divine powers. The second play closes in mystery.
CEdipus, about to die, enters a sacred grove. There, holy ones meet
him, and he is "changed" ; he does not die the death of all mankind.

Antigone, the last of the three dramas, depicts a mortal completely
obeying the divine will, though that obedience brings disgrace and death.
Creon, the self-righteous ruler, has issued an edict, which commands
the violation of a sacred duty, universally accepted throughout Greece.
Antigone refuses to obey the edict, though she knows that destruction
will be the result of her disobedience. Creon asks:

Thou didst dare to disobey these laws?
Antigone answers:

Yes, for it was not Zeus who gave them forth,
Nor Justice, dwelling with the gods below,
Who traced these laws for all the sons of men ;
Nor did I deem thy edicts strong enough,
That thou, a mortal man, should'st over-pass
The unwritten laws of God that know not change.

NOTES AND COMMENTS 3

They are not of today or yesterday,
But live forever, nor can man assign
When first they sprang to being.

Antigone passes to her death, refusing to disobey the law of heaven for
the laws of earth,

Revering still the laws of reverence.

In all this, it was suggested, we may see a foreshadowing of the
Christ's teaching of obedience, and his sacrificial death ; a foreshadowing,
not so much in the sense of a vague anticipation, as of a defined and
conscious effort made, by the spiritual powers behind the scenes, in
preparation for the coming of the Western Avatar. It was further sug-
gested that we might, in a sense, identify these spiritual powers with
the inspiration of the Egyptian Lodge. Which brings us again to the
sources of Greek philosophy, and the great leaders who, like Solon,
Thales, Pythagoras and Plato, acknowledged their debt to the Egyptian
wisdom.

Concerning Pythagoras, this may be added: Apulius Floridus de-
clares that Pythagoras, having of his own desire sought for Egyptian
learning, and acquired from the priests of that country a knowledge of
their religion, of the wonderful powers of numbers and of the best
theorems in geometry, was not yet satisfied, but of his own free will
visited the Chaldean Magians and even the Brahmans of India, among
whom he particularly attached himself to the sect of the Gymnosophists
[Sannyasins]. Now the Chaldeans, this writer continues, have a knowl-
edge of constellations, of the regular revolution of the planets, and can
tell the various influences of the heavenly bodies on the birth-fates of
men. They have also collected, with great effort, from earth, air and
sea, medicines for curing people's diseases. But the Brahmans con-
tributed much to his views of philosophy, such as what could be taught
about the mind and the training of the body, how many powers the mind
has, how many changes of life we undergo, and what are the rewards
and punishments dealt out to each, according to his merits, by the gods
of the nether world.

It is recorded that, a century and a half after the death of Pythag-
oras, a leader among the disciples of his school, Philolaus, met Plato the
philosopher in Sicily, at the court of Hiero of Syracuse, and gave him
notes of the esoteric teaching of the Samian sage. It may well be that
these notes contained among other things, the knowledge of reincarna-
tion and of "the rewards and punishments dealt out to each, according to
his merits, by the gods of the nether world," that is, by the occult laws
of Karma ; the "nether world" being the phrase generally used, in Greece
and Rome, for the "hidden world," as it was called in Egypt, the world
behind the physical veil.

4 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

The Egyptian esoteric tradition taught that Osiris, after his sacrificial
death and resurrection, became the judge of the dead in the hidden
world, meting out to them rewards and punishments according to their
merits. India had exactly the same teaching, Yama the king, who first
accepted death for mankind, being there the lord of death and the judge
of the dead. But, whether this teaching came to Pythagoras from India
or Egypt, or both, and whether or not it was transmitted by the Pythag-
orean disciple Philolaus to Plato, it is certain that Plato, in the tenth
book of the Republic, gives a wonderful account of the same teaching,
in which the occult doctrine is but slightly veiled.

As great stress was laid on this by the Branch whose doings we
record, it may be wise to refresh our memories as to Plato's teaching.
He recounts to us a tale of a hero, Er, the son of Armenius, a Pamphy-
lian by birth, who was slain in battle and on the twelfth day returned
to life, and told them what he had seen in the other world. He said that
when the soul left the body he went on a journey with a great company,
and that they came to a mysterious place at which there were two open-
ings in the earth; they were near together, and over against them were
two other openings in the heaven above. In the intermediate space there
were judges seated, who commanded the just, after they had given judg-
ment on them and bound their sentences in front of them, to ascend by
the Lepvenly way on the right hand; and in like manner the unjust were
bidden by them to descend by the lower way on the left hand ; they also
bore the symbols of their deeds, but fastened on their backs ; which is the
way in which Plato indicates what, in India, would be called "Karma of
demerit."

Then Er the Pamphylian beheld and saw on one side the souls
departing at either opening of heaven and earth when sentence had been
given on them ; and at the two other openings other souls, some ascend-
ing out of the earth, dusty and worn with travel, some descending out
of heaven, clean and bright. And arriving ever and anon, they seemed
to have come from a long journey, and they went forth with gladness into
the meadow, where they encamped as at a festival, and those who knew
one another embraced and conversed, the souls which came from earth
curiously inquiring about the things above, and the souls which came
from heaven about the things beneath. And they told one another of
what had happened by the way, those from below weeping and sorrow-
ing at the remembrance of the things which they had endured and seen
in their journey beneath the earth, which journey had lasted a thousand
years ; while those from above were describing heavenly delights and
visions of inconceivable beauty. For every wrong which they had done
to anyone they suffered tenfold; and for righteousness there were bless-
ings as great.

Now when the spirits which were in the meadow had tarried seven

NOTES AND COMMENTS 5

days, on the eighth they were obliged to proceed on their journey, and,
on the fourth day after, he said that they came to a place where they
could see from above a line of light, straight as a column, extending
right through the whole heaven and through the earth, in color resem-
bling the rainbow, only brighter and purer. Another day's journey
brought them to the place, and there, in the midst of the light, they saw
the ends of the chains of heaven let down from above; for this light is
the belt of heaven, and holds together the circle of the universe.

When Er and the spirits arrived, their duty was to go at once to
Lachesis; but first of all there came a prophet who arranged them in
order; then he took from the knees of Lachesis lots and samples of
lives, and, mounting a high pulpit, spoke as follows : Hear the word of
Lachesis, daughter of necessity. Ephemeral souls, behold a new. cycle
of life and mortality. Your genius will not be allotted to you, but you
will choose your genius; and let him who draws the first lot have the
first choice, and the life which he chooses shall be his destiny. Virtue
is free, and, as a man honors or dishonors her, he will have more or less
of her; the responsibility is with the chooser. God is justified.

When the interpreter had thus spoken, he scattered lots indifferently
among them all, and each of them took up the lot which fell near him,
all but Er himself, to whom this was not allowed ; and each, as he took
the lot, perceived the number which he had obtained. Then the inter-
preter placed on the ground before them the samples of lives ; and there
were many more lives than the souls present, and they were of all sorts.
There were lives of every animal, and of men in every condition. And
there were tyrannies among them, some lasting out the tyrant's life,
others which broke off in the middle and came to an end in poverty and
exile and beggary ; and there were lives of famous men, some who were
famous for their form and beauty, as well as for their strength and suc-
cess in games, or, again, for their birth and the qualities of their ancestors,
and some who were the reverse of famous, for the opposite qualities.
And of women, likewise. There was not, however, any definite char-
acter in them, because the soul, when choosing a new life, must of neces-
sity become different. But there was every other quality, and they all
mingled with one another, and also with elements of wealth and poverty
and disease and health; and there were middle states also.

And here, says Plato, is the supreme peril of our human state;
therefore the utmost care should be taken. Let each one of us leave
every other kind of knowledge, and seek and follow one thing only, if
peradventure he may be able to learn, and may find someone who may
make him able to learn and discern between good and evil, and so to
choose always and everywhere the better life as he has opportunity.
He should consider the bearing of all these things upon virtue; he will
then look at the nature of the soul, and from the consideration of all

6 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

these qualities he will be able to determine which is the better and which
is the worse; and so he will choose, giving the name of evil to the life
which will make his soul more unjust, and good to the life which will
make his soul more just; all else he will disregard. For we have seen
and know that this is the best choice both in life and after death. A man
must take with him into the world below an invincible faith in truth and
right, that there too he may be undazzled by the desire of wealth or the
other allurements of evil, lest, coming upon tyrannies and other like
iniquities, he do irremediable wrong to others, and suffer yet worse
himself; but let him know how to choose the middle and avoid the
extremes on either side, as far as possible, not only in this, but in all that
which is to come. For this is the way of happiness.

So far Plato. Such were the preparations made in Greece for the
Doming of the Western Avatar. It was then suggested, and this was
one of the most noteworthy things said at these Branch deliberations,
that, great as was Plato's inspiration, Plato was not free from responsi-
bility, in the general break-down of the plan, which we know took place.
Greek culture fell to pieces ; in morals, corruption ; in mental life, levity
and purposeless, fruitless dissipation of energy; in political life, mean
ambitions and servility: the tree of Greek civilization began to rot.
Plato, then, was in part responsible. In what way? In this way, as it
was suggested: That he violated an age-old law of spiritual life, in
giving out so lavishly the substance of the mysteries, without enforcing
a previous moral discipline. In Egypt, as we saw in the life of Pythag-
oras, the occult teaching was imparted only after long training and tests
of great severity. In India, the same thing: the hidden wisdom was
taught only to pledged disciples. No doubt the spiritual preparedness
which resulted from this did much to make the Avatar of Siddhartha
the Compassionate as splendidly successful as it was.

But this too generous distribution of the things of the sanctuary
to the profane, working with other forces of demoralization, brought
the Greek culture to ruin, and forced the Western Avatar to fall back
on the second line of preparation, which had been laid in Palestine
through the aspiration and sacrifice of the Hebrew prophets. There
were possibilities here, of zeal and earnestness, to set off against the
intellectual levity of the Greeks ; there was a rigid keeping of the law,
as against Greek laxity ; in the hearts of the few, there was a real hunger
and thirst after righteousness. There were possibilities, therefore;
there were also grave dangers: zeal became fanaticism; the narrow
worship of the law was never far from materialism; national ideals
merged into national bigotry. So the great adventure was undertaken.
Was it a success, a failure? Has it been reserved for our day to decide
whether, even at the eleventh hour, the superb courage and devotion
which undertook the great adventure may wrest seeming failure to
supreme success?

LETTERS TO FRIENDS

VII
DEAR FRIEND:

- "T Y" AD I been able, I would have wished to have answered your
I I good letter without this delay, but the past weeks have been
A. ^-. very crowded and it is only now that a free hour has come
to me.

You ask me of the summer : of the three long months before you in
which you are to have the rest and leisure you have so well earned and
so long desired. The gladness of your letter was contagious, I wonder
if we begin to realize what happiness we give to others simply by being
happy, and truly rest and leisure are precious gifts; so precious that
their custody must sober as well as gladden us. To what use are you
to put them? Into what are they to be transformed at your hands?
This is what you ask of me. But it is you who must give the answers,
and few questions are more searching. To what do we turn, when we
are free to turn where we will?

It is so long since you have had a real holiday that perhaps, as your
letter says, you can hardly imagine how it will feel to be without the
"daily grind." It is an illuminating experience; and humourously
humbling in its unexpected self -revelations, if we have been judging
of ourselves, as so many men do, by the appearance of our lives as we
see them reflected in our outer acts. For the mirror of our daily actions
reflects both more and less than ourselves; more, because the reflection
includes necessity, which we confuse with our own will; less, because
it shows us only the surface. But to know the personal self as it is, I
commend you to the experiment of watching it through a summer's
leisure.

I warn you it will not gratify your vanity. The French, the wisest
of all nations, have a law prohibiting offenses against human dignity.
I should hate to have some logically minded and conscientious executive
move, under it, the abolition of all holidays. And yet I think he could
make out a pretty good case. For of all the lesser demons in our nature,
the most beguiling, delusive, tricky, mocking, malicious enemy of human
dignity is that special demon who waits for us at the door of leisure
and smiling offers himself as our guide in the quest for rest. It will
take all the resolution you possess to deny him, and much more than
you possess to prevent his walking by your side, despite your denial, and
telling you pleasantly of the much shorter and more attractive road
which he could show. If you speak to him of me he will doubtless tell
you that he knows me well and was many times my guide on just such
little trips as yours. But he will not tell you of how he robbed and

8 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

cheated me, and stole every shred of self-respect from off my back,
and brought all his companion demons to jeer at my nakedness, and
finally left me in a quagmire. That he did leave me there, at least for
a time, has made me think kindly of quagmires from that day to this.
Beware of him I beg of you. And do not believe him when he tells
you that no holiday can be really such without him; that he is in fact
the very angel of rest. He is a demon and a liar, and, alas, the hereditary
idol of the tired man. His surname, by the way, is Negativeness, and
his first name, I had almost said his Christian name, is Relaxation. He
commands the entire tribe of the Inertias.

"What?" I can hear him say to you, even as you read this, "are
you to work all the time ? Or does he want you to imitate those restless
harried spirits that are never content unless they are 'doing something,'
and who spend their precious leisure hurrying madly from one pleasure
to another, till they return to their proper work more exhausted than
they left it? Are they guides to be compared with me? What do my
very names mean if not that delicious stillness, that 'letting go' of all
the tense strain, which is rest personified? How better can you gain
the quiet calm you need for your best work than by following where
I will lead you ?"

So he talks to us. And it is rather clever of him to bring in "those
restless harried spirits who are never content unless they are doing
something," for in truth they are those who are most completely under
his dominance, dried leaves which he has sapped till they are blown
here and there by every passing gust of interest. You know that this is
anything but my wish for you. And as for what his names mean, let
me see if I can show you, show you them in yourself, as they exist in
all of us, and reveal themselves in our times of leisure.

Day by day, under the firm guidance of duty and the pressure of
circumstance, we have gone about our work; compelled to put self aside,
compelled to maintain a constant level of endeavour and achievement
which has taxed our utmost capacities, but for which, somehow, some-
where, we have had to find the energy and strength. And because they
had to be found we found them. We have been driven by necessity to
reach into the depths of our nature and to tap latent springs of power
which our unaided wills would never have uncovered. With this power
has come inspiration. Our minds have been tired, we thought, but
into them the very pressure which has tired us has poured a flood of
ideas, a thousand suggestions of things which were crying out to be
done, and which it seemed to us we could and would do, if only we
were not so driven, if only we had the time.

Then suddenly the pressure ceases, the compulsion is removed. The
time is given us; and we are free to spend it and ourselves as we will.
It is our great opportunity. But what do we do with it?

What most of us do is to go to sleep. You remember the old lady
who was so busy she had forty different things to do, one of which was

LETTERS TO FRIENDS 9

to take a nap. She took it; and so do we. And if we were really to
sleep and wake again, it would perhaps be the wisest thing which we
could do. But instead of this we listen to the demon Relaxation. We
pick up a book in the evening, and he whispers to us that at last we are
free to read. And so, though it has no bearing on what we had planned
and purposed, and is little more than an opiate which we in no way
need, we read it. And as it grows late and we begin to think of bed
and sleep, again the demon whispers to us of the luxury of reading as
late as we choose, with no thought of having to rise in the morning
until we want to rise. So we continue to read. And in the morning,
when we wake, the demon is right beside us. How pleasant to lie in
bed, to stretch our limbs, and turn over and sleep again! And so we
lie, half dreaming, half waking, through the best hours of the morning,
waiting as a friend of mine once told me was his Sunday habit, until
we are hungrier than we are lazy, and our hunger gets us up with no
effort of our own.

Surely you must recognize the picture, and see its significance. Even
of our sleep relaxation cheats us, substituting for the deep dreamless sleep
of night, which brings new life to mind and nerves and body, the negative
dozing through the morning hours, which tires one part of us even while
resting another, and from which we rise, heavy and langorous, to do
futile, purposeless, time-killing things until another day has slipped behind
us, and left us as tired as before. And when day after day this cycle
has continued, and conscience makes us restless at our constant pro-
crastination, so that we are shamed into beginning some of the work
which we had planned, we find that the whole level of our energies has
lowered. The ideas which crowded upon us when under the greater
pressure of our work, now seem to have deserted us, and will not return
at our call. The will which before would watch for and seize a spare
twenty minutes as a heaven sent opportunity to write to a friend or to
add some pages to a manuscript, now impotently faces hours of idleness.
Our thought is fragmentary, scattered, unconcentrated. Our writing,
and endless rewriting as our hesitating purpose turns back upon itself,
is fit only for the waste basket to which it is destined. Relaxation
and negativeness have worked their work upon us, the mire has us by
the heels, and the climb back to the higher levels from which we have
descended is long and hard. But one thing it teaches us: the debt of
gratitude which we owe to the compulsion we have resented, the high
services which duty and necessity render us day by day.

Sometime, when you have had your holiday, I wish that you would
write of its psychology, putting on record your own experience, and
making of it a text for the discussion of socialistic Utopias. If I remem-
ber rightly you were inclined to resent my allusion to them as schemes
for making every man a corner loafer. But don't begin to write until
you have tried it for yourself, and know just what the temptation is,
and how much of resolution is required to stand against it.

10 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

But here I have been writing all around your holiday when I had
meant to write upon it. And if I am not careful you will be .writing back
to me that the logical consequence of all I have said is that you should
abandon it, and take on another man's job in addition to your own.
Away with logic if that is its consequence. It has been a coward from
the beginning of time. Go forth into your holiday and learn to do
for yourself what, in his infinite compassion, the Master has till now
caused necessity to do for you. Grapple with the demon, and throw
him to the ground, and bind him hand and foot with his own forked
tail, and beat him with your rule until he begins to roll. Then you will
see him transformed before your eyes; for thus are the Inertias trans-
formed into Momentum.

I think you have planned wisely in deciding to spend your full time
quietly in the country. You are fortunate to have such a place to go
to as the little hill-side farmhouse that you describe to me, with the lake
at your feet and the mountains beyond. You should be able to rest
there, and you need rest, not the rest of relaxation, but the rest from
within. Sleep much. It is the best of all forms of rest, the most
positive and the most life-giving. But take it early, and grow acquainted
once again with the freshness of the morning. There is a world of differ-
ence between the sleep we get before dawn and that which comes after it.
Something in us wakes with the waking day and chafes itself to feeble-
ness at long imprisonment in the continued inertness of the sleeping
body. It is well worth while, when the chance is given us, to attune the
currents of our personal lives to the great breath of nature's day. Many
times you and I have shared in the Earth prayer which rises in the hush
of sunset. But how long is it since you have known the prayer of
dawn, the adoration with which life meets the rising of the sun?

Seek rest in beauty. It is strange to me how seldom men think
of the importance of the sources from which they draw their rest. We
are empty : with what are we to be filled ? What is the character of the
new life which is to be poured like water into our empty selves? "The
mind is dyed the colour of its thoughts, its leisure thoughts; as a man
thinketh in his heart, so is he." If this be true day by day, its truth is
most obvious in our hours of rest. For it is then that the subtile sub-
stances of the vesture of mind and feeling are being most rapidly replaced.
At those times we recreate the veils through which we are to see; and,
more than this, we are drawing into the dynamic centers of our life the
powers we are to use. According to the nature of our present rest is
the nature of our later acts.

So again, I say, seek rest in beauty. Learn to look for beauty that
you may rest in it, and gain the eyes to see it always. You will remem-
ber the passage from the Speculum Animae: "What, I think, we have
to realize, as a certain and most important truth, is that the soul of man
is a microcosm, having affinities with all grades of being from the highest
to the lowest; and that the rank of the individual soul, of our own self,

LETTERS TO FRIENDS 11

our personality, is determined by the things we are interested in, by the
things we love. What we love, that we see; and what we see, that we
are. There is no escape from this law. Where our treasure is there
will our heart be also. It is of no use to fill our days with work which
we consider useful, if the moment that the tension is relaxed our minds
fly spontaneously to thoughts of money, ambition, self-indulgence, or
some favourite frivolity."

"The light of the body is the eye. If your 'eye be single your whole
body shall be full of light." We can see the significance and the truth
of this. But the eye is not single save as it is trained. And even in the
outer world we have to love beauty in order to see it. Then we find it
compassing us about on every hand.

As I write, my mind goes back over the years to a day when beauty
was shown me as it was seen by one I loved, beauty which day by day
had surrounded me and which I had dimly sensed and as vaguely loved,
but never till then really seen. The little ferns in the crevices of the
rock; the clouds wreathing the mountains, or beginning to rise and veil
them, as a woman may draw her hair about her face, was the simile in
my own mind. But to my friend it spoke of the mystery of the great
of soul of the way the heights of a great soul must always be half
hidden from the world, veiled by the melting snows of its own purity
in the sunlight of compassion. I remember, too, two little flowers of the
field, so small, so like the others, I would have passed them by, had not
my friend called to me to look at them: "They are like angels there
is such adoration in their little faces." And when I had been shown it
I could see it. I could see, too, the grace and beauty of the grasses,
growing tall at the top of the bank ; the stateliness of a roadside blossom
upon its slender stalk; and the sureness of the bee's poise over its mar-
vellous delicacy. There was the glint of running water, the aspiration
of poplars against the blue of the sky, and the sunlight, lying on the
fields in stillness.

All these things I could see when they were shown to me and
know that somehow I had always seen them, always loved them, and drawn
life and rest from them ; though never before had I seen them with eyes
which really saw. The day stays in my memory as an ever continuing
prayer; as a symbol of our nearness to the Master in the beauty which
he loves. And when I grow tired, here amid walls of brick and stone
where there are no crevices in which ferns grow and lizards creep, I
think of it and rest in it. It is such rest as this, rest which renews itself
throughout the years, which I pray this holiday may bring to you.

Yet much as I wish rest for you I wish achievement more. Indeed
rest is like happiness. If we seek it too directly it eludes us. But if
we cease to think of it, and do rightly the simple duties which lie before
us, it comes to us of its own accord. There is no greater mistake than
to think duty leaves us when it changes its accustomed form, though
\t is a mistake we constantly make. There is always one best thing to

12 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

do in each hour and moment of the day or night. And that best thing
is our duty. We must be ceaselessly watchful that we do not pass it
by. Without its guidance we are lost: masterless vessels adrift in an
open sea. And when it seems to have deserted us, it means that we
must look for it on some higher plane. There are duties of the heart
as well as of mind and of body. There is the work of prayer as well
as of thought; the duty to receive as well as the duty to give. It is this
inner work of prayer, of meditation, of opening the heart to the sources
of its life, and of attuning the will to the Master's will, which is the
peculiar work of the summer. It is as much a duty as is the active outer
work of the winter. The two are but the two poles of the one process :
two halves of the single cycle that makes the year.

We are wise to follow this cycle, not only through the year but
through each day, making of each a year in miniature. Just as in the
active work of winter we lay aside certain hours for meditation and for
prayer, that we may keep the sources of our inspiration open and receive
the guidance for what we are to do, so in the days of our leisure, we
should set aside certain hours for active outer work, for writing or for
study. We can never be content in idleness; and we reach quickly the
limit of our power to receive when we close the avenues by which we
give. "Be ye doers of the word and not hearers only, deceiving your
own selves. For if any man is a hearer of the word, and not a doer, he
is like unto a man who observeth the face of his birth in a mirror; for
he observeth himself and goeth his way, and straightway forgetteth
what manner of man he was. But he that looketh unto the perfect
law, the law of liberty, he being no hearer that forgetteth, but a doer
that worketh, this man shall be blessed in his doing."

So, in the months before you, look deep into "the perfect law," the
law which makes us free. And seeing there as in a mirror "the face of
your birth" of that "new birth which cometh from above" and without
which no man can enter into the kingdom of the Heavens, recognize it
as the man God meant you to be the man which in the inner world of
the ideal you already are. Then express that man, outwardly as well
as inwardly. Record your vision as a rule of life, and translate it into
daily, hourly, instant action. Plan your days upon it, and adhere to that
which you have planned.

Does this mean that you are never to play? Never to follow the
spontaneous prompting of the hour? You cannot so misunderstand me.
Play by all means. But plan for play, and take it positively not nega-
tively. Be spontaneous. But let the springs of spontaneity flow from the
heights. And when I say plan your play, do not think it means that having
planned tennis, for instance, you must insist upon doing that when your
companion wishes to golf instead. But I refuse to insult your under-
standing further by telling you all I do not mean.

Faithfully yours,

JOHN GERARD.

Ill

BODIES TERRESTRIAL AND CELESTIAL

Such is the group of four Attainments, or Instruments; through
them, men gain the power to discern Reality.

WE must live the life, we must do the will of the Father, before
we can know the doctrine. Before we have gained the moral
and spiritual qualities included under the four Attainments,
it is impossible for us to discern Reality. One of the deep-
seated delusions of our time is the general conviction that truth may be
gained through the mind, through the intellect alone, whether it be the
truth of science or of philosophy. Teachers like Kant, who tell us that
the intellect, so far from revealing, conceals the truth; or like Bergson,
who shows that knowledge of reality comes, not through the intellect,
but through the will, are of the utmost value, because they point the way
to the vital truth, that we must live the life, before we can know the
doctrine.

Here is another expression of the same law, from a different angle.
It is taken from Letters That Have Helped Me:

"If you were now fitted to become an accepted chela, you would
of yourself know how, where, and to whom to apply. For the becoming
a chela in reality consists in the evolution or development of certain
spiritual principles latent in every man, and in great measure unknown
to your present consciousness. Until these principles are to some degree
consciously evolved by you, you are not in practical possession of means
of acquiring the first rudiments of that knowledge which now seems
to you so desirable."

If at this point the question arises in the mind of one who reads:
what, in sum, are these means, these four Attainments, without which
progress on the path cannot even be begun, it must be answered that
they can be really known in one way only : by acquiring them ; by fighting
for them and conquering them inch by inch. This is what life will compel
us to do, whether by the slow way which the bulk of humanity follows,
or more rapidly, if our aspiration is strong enough to arouse the sleeping
life-force in our inner selves.

It would be wholly consistent, if this little Catechism of wisdom,
having enumerated the qualities needed before practical learning can

Copyrighted, 1913, by Charles Johnston.

14 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

begin, were to let the matter rest there, and say no more. This is, in fact,
what life does, for there is no real learning, no discerning of the Real,
until these qualities are gained. But there can be an unlearning of the
unreal; and this is of the utmost importance.

The truth is, that our minds are so restless, so vain, so full of prying
curiosity, that, whether we consciously wish it or not, they are cease-
lessly forming systems and views of life, and these views presently begin
to constrict us, and react upon our moral and spiritual life, checking the
growth of the very qualities which would make true knowing possible.
It is a question, therefore, of giving the mind a bent which shall be as
little harmful as possible; which shall be even helpful; and this the
Vedanta does, with wonderful lucidity and cogency, so that the mind
is made to serve the soul, instead of thwarting it.

This little Catechism of wisdom goes on, then, to sum up the
conclusions of Vedantin thought, with limpid clearness and lucidity.
After enumerating the powers, by gaining which we begin to be able to
discern Reality, the Catechism asks:

What is the discernment of Reality?
The answer follows :

That Atma, the Self, is real Being; that everything other than
Atma, the Self, is delusive.

This is the truth which is contained in the more familiar words:
"What shall it profit a man if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his
own soul? Or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?" The
divine spiritual consciousness, which comes through obedience to the
divine will, is the only good; every other mood, which comes through
waywardness and self-seeking, is the dust and ashes of Dead Sea fruit.

The Self, the divine consciousness, is the goodly pearl of the mer-
chantman, "who, when he had found one pearl of great price, went and
sold all that he had, and bought it."

The Brihadaranyaka Upanishad has a beautiful passage of like
import :

"This is Atma, the mighty Self unborn, who is consciousness among
the life-powers. This is the heaven in the heart within, where rests the
ruler of all, the master of all, lord of all. He is lord of all, overlord of
beings, shepherd of all beings. This is he whom the followers of the
eternal seek to know through scriptures, sacrifices, gifts and penances,
through ceasing from evil toward others. This is the goal in search of
which pilgrims go forth on pilgrimages."

The Bhagavad Gita adds this:

"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

SHANKARACHARYA'S CATECHISM 15

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."

In the Crest Jewel of Wisdom, Shankaracharya himself speaks thus r

"There is a certain selfhood wherein the sense of T forever rests ;
who witnesses the three modes of being, who is other than the five veils ;
who is the only knower in waking, dreaming, dreamlessness ; of all the
activities of the knowing intelligence, whether good or bad, this is the
T;

"Who of himself beholds all; whom none beholds; who kindles to
consciousness the intelligence and all the powers ; whom none kindles to
consciousness; by whom all this is filled; whom no other fills; who is
the shining light within this all ; after whose shining all else shines ;

"Here, verily, in the substantial Self, in the hidden place of the soul,
this steady shining begins to shine like the dawn; then the light shines
forth as the noonday sun, making all this world to shine by his inherent
light."

Then the Catechism, in order to make clear the being of the Self,
picks up the thought of the Bhagavad Gita: "These temporal bodies are
declared to belong to the eternal lord of the body" :

What is Atma, the Self?

He who stands in contrast with the physical body, the finer
body, the causal body; who transcends the five veils; who is witness
of the three realms of consciousness ; being, in his own nature, Being
Consciousness, Bliss: this is Atma, the Self.

This is a condensation from the Upanishads, and especially of the
first part of the Mandukya Upanishad:

"All this is the Eternal, and Atma, the Self, is the Eternal. And
this Atma, the Self, stands in four worlds :

"In the world of waking consciousness, objectively perceiving, of
sevenfold form, with nineteen mouths, an enjoyer of gross substance,
this is the physical self, Vaishvanara, the first foot.

"In the world of dream consciousness, subjectively perceiving, of
sevenfold form, with nineteen mouths, an enjoyer of finer substance, this
is the finer self, Taijasa, the second foot.

"Where, entered into rest, he desires no desire and dreams no dream,
this is dreamless consciousness. Dreamless consciousness, unified, collec-
tive perception, made of bliss, an enjoyer of bliss, perceiving through the
heart, this is the spiritual self, Prajna, the third foot. This is the all-

16 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

lord, this is the all-knower, this is the inner ruler, this is the womb of
all, the forthcoming and indrawing of beings.

"Neither subjectively perceiving, nor objectively perceiving, nor
perceiving in both ways, neither collective perception, nor perception nor
non-perception; unseen, not to be apprehended, not to be grasped, with-
out sign of separation, unimaginable, unindicable, the essence of the
consciousness of the Self, in which the manifest world ceases, full of
peace, benign, secondless, this is held to be the fourth consciousness, this
is Atma, the Self, this is the goal of wisdom."

We may express the same thing in another way : the first step is the
consciousness of the mortal; the second step is the consciousness of the
disciple, which, from the standpoint of the mortal, is dream-consciousness,
but which the disciple knows to be of finer substance, more real than the
consciousness of the physical world; the third step is the consciousness
of the Master, the spiritual self, the all-knower, the inner ruler; the
fourth step is the ultimate divine consciousness, complete oneness with
the Eternal.

The Catechism takes the four steps up, one by one:

What is the physical body?

It is composed of the five states of substance, Eve-folded; it is
born through Karma, the power of works; it is the abode in which
pleasure and pain are tasted; it has these six changes: it comes to
being, enters into birth, waxes, reaches the turning point, wanes,
falls; this is the physical body.

The five states of substance, five-folded, will be fully explained later.
The underlying idea is this : we have five senses : sight, hearing, touch,
taste, smell. Each, we may say, opens up to us a realm of being, a state
of substance, in the world about us. So we may say that, through the
senses, we are brought into touch with five realms of being, five states of
substance. But these substances are not simple; they appeal, not to
one sense only, but to several : we can see a fruit ; we can also touch it,
taste it, smell it; if it falls to the floor, we can hear it fall. So with
other things. They have in them that which appeals to several senses;
they are compounded of the hypothetical substances that excite the per-
ceptions of the senses. This is true of the physical body itself. There-
fore it is said to be composed of the five substances, five-folded.

It is born through Karma: the body which we now wear is the
direct result of our own former actions. It is the expression of the will
and desire, the effort and abstinence, of past lives. We were brought,
by spiritual gravitation, to the parents of this body, because they were
fitted to bring into being just the body that our karmic impulses required.
Thereafter, the body is, physically even, of our own making. It contains
only what we take into it, whether in the simple sense of eating, or in the
more complicated sense, of experience and effort. We are the sculptors

SHANKARACHARYA'S CATECHISM 17

of our own features, writing on our faces the story of our desires or of
our sacrifices.

The physical body is born, waxes, wanes, dies. We must look
deeper for an enduring dwelling-place.

What is the finer body?

It is made of the five states of substance not five-folded ; it is born
through Karma, the power of works; it is the instrument for the
tasting of pleasure and pain; it consists of seventeen divisions: five
powers of perception, five powers of action, five vital powers, the
emotional nature, the understanding; this is the finer body.

The key to the nature of this finer body is contained in the words
of the Prashna Upanishad:

"So this bright one in dream enjoys greatness. The seen, as seen he
beholds again. What was heard, as heard he hears again. And what
was enjoyed by the other powers, he enjoys again by the other powers.
The seen and the unseen, heard and unheard, enjoyed and unen joyed, real
and unreal, he sees it all ; as All he sees it."

The meaning of this seems to be that the life of the finer body begins
as a replica of the life of the physical body, being built up of images of
what the outer eyes see, what the outer ears hear, what the outer under-
standing perceives. At this stage, it is a dream-body, the unregenerate
psychic body, as Paul called it. But this mirror-consciousness can
reflect from above, from the spiritual life, as well as from below, from
the physical life : "The seen and the unseen, the heard and the unheard,
the enjoyed and the unenjoyed, the real and the unreal." The light from
above, the divine light, in time outshines the lesser light of earth, and the
hour of regeneration draws nigh, the new birth from above, which shall
usher the disciple into the kingdom of heaven.

Then, after the new birth, comes a period of growth, of building up,
through the creative power which is beautifully described in the Brihad-
aranyaka Upanishad:

"When the spirit of man enters into rest, drawing his material from
this all-containing world, felling the wood himself, and himself building
the dwelling, the spirit of man enters into dream, through his own
shining, through his own light. Thus does the spirit of man become his
own light.

"There are no chariots there, nor steeds for chariots, nor roadways.
The spirit of man makes himself chariots, steeds for chariots, and road-
ways. Nor are any delights there, nor joys and rejoicings. The spirit
of man makes for himself delights and joys and rejoicings. There are
no lotus ponds there, nor lakes and rivers. The spirit of man makes for
himself lotus ponds, lakes and rivers. For the spirit of man is creator."

The great transition is thus described by Paul :

"It is sown in corruption ; it is raised in incorruption : it is sown in

18 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

weakness ; it is raised in power : it is sown a psychical body ; it is raised
a spiritual body. If there is a psychical body, there is also a spiritual
body. The first man is of the earth, earthy : the second man is of heaven.
And as we have borne the image of the earthy, we shall also bear the
image of the heavenly. For this corruptible must put on incorruption,
and this mortal must put on immortality."

The transformation of the psychical consciousness into the spiritual
consciousness, whereby the interior nature receives the things from above,
and remoulds itself on these, is begun by what we call "conversion," a
process thus indicated in the Katha Upanishad:

"The Self-Being pierced the openings outward; hence one looks
outward, not within himself. A wise man with reverted sight looked
toward the Self, seeking immortality."

Conversion, or whatever we may call the change of direction from
the below to the above, from the earthly to the heavenly, is only the
beginning, the new birth, of which it has been said :

"Except a man be born of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter into
the Kingdom of God. That which is born of the flesh is flesh ; and that
which is born of the Spirit is spirit."

Commenting on a passage of the Upanishads, Shankaracharya says :
"The waters, that is, the currents of Karma." If we were allowed to
interpret the passage just quoted in the same way, taking "water" to
mean the currents of Karma, then we should have the teaching that the
spiritual body is born of Karma, as mother, engendered of the Spirit, as
father. Then one who comes to birth through spiritual power alone,
unconstrained by Karmic necessity, might be called Virgin-born, con-
ceived of the Spirit.

We come now to the detailed description of the finer body. First,
"it is made of the five states of substance not five-folded." This has
been expressed in an analogous way, by saying that this finer body is not
molecular, like the physical body, but atomic. Its birth from Karma, we
have already considered.

Next, it is "the instrument for the tasting of pleasure and pain" ; it
is the real personality, for whose training all experience exists. The
physical personality is but a wraith, a forecast of that which is to come
into being through the second birth. Again, "it consists of seventeen
divisions: five powers of perception, five powers of action, five vital
powers, the emotional nature, the understanding." We shall best com-
prehend this, if we begin from above, with the Spirit, the one Self.
That Self may be regarded as consciousness, as will, as life. It is not
that the Self has consciousness, will and life; but that the Self is con-
sciousness, will and life; or, perhaps better, that consciousness, will and
life are the Self, according to the point of view from which we regard
it. It is all three in one.

In the personal self, which is but the projection or expression of the

SHANKARACHARYA'S CATECHISM 19

Self, each of these three aspects becomes fivefold; so that, instead of
unitary consciousness, the pure power of knowing, we have the five
powers: visual consciousness, auditory consciousness, tactile conscious-
ness, and the consciousness of taste and smell. So, instead of unitary
will, pure creative power, we have five powers of action : speech, hand-
ling, walking, reproduction, rejection. Creative force manifests itself in
these five ways. In like manner, we have, instead of unitary life, five
life-powers: the forward-life, which impels the perceptive powers; the
distributive life, which impels the circulatory powers; the binding life,
which impels the assimilative powers; the downward life, which impels
the rejective powers; the upward life, which impels the power of aspira-
tion. Their qualities are set forth in the Prashna Upanishad:

"From the Self is the Life born. And as the shadow beside a man,
this is expanded in that. By mind's action it enters this body. And as
a sovereign commands his lords : These villages and these villages shall
ye rule over! Thus also Life disposes the lesser lives. For the lower
powers the downward life; in sight and hearing, in mouth and nose, the
forward life; and in the midst the binding life; this binds together the
food that is offered; and thence the seven flames arise.

"In the heart is the Self. Here are a hundred and one channels.
In these the distributing life moves.

"And by one, the upward, rises the upward life. It leads by holiness
to a holy world, by sin to a sinful world, by both, to the world of men."

The Katha Upanishad says:

"A hundred and one are the heart's channels ; of these one passes to
the crown. Going up by this, he comes to the immortal."

All these powers, perceptive, active, vital, are destined to be reborn
into the spiritual man, who, in his turn, shall hear and see, and stand
and speak.

What, then, of the two remaining powers which, with these thrice
five, make up the seventeen, the powers of feeling and understanding?

They too are to be transformed from the likeness of the earthly to
the likeness of the heavenly, so that, instead of emotion, the spiritual
man will possess the noetic power of the heart ; instead of argumentative
reason, he will possess intuitive understanding, the certain knowledge
which springs from inspiration.

This, then, is, in outline, the story of the finer body, and its trans-
formation from the psychical to the spiritual, through the new birth from
above.

Here a word of caution: as was already pointed out, this process
of regeneration can be really known in one way only : by experiencing it.
It cannot even be truly understood until the four Attainments are in large
measure possessed, for the new vista opens only to those who occupy the
standpoint gained by mastering the four Attainments. No amount of
intellectual effort, in itself, will avail to give that understanding, no

20 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

matter how keen and able the intellect may be, which seeks it, no matter
how eager and protracted the effort.

We do not seek, therefore, to make the great transformation under-
stood. Our hope is humble : by citing the testimony of those who have
passed through it, to give such information as may at least diminish
misunderstanding, and in this way make the conquest of the four Attain-
ments easier ; for the great barrier is the lower mind ; by stilling the ques-
tionings of the lower mind, we may open the way for that moral and
spiritual growth through which alone comes the light of real under-
standing.

(To be continued)

"No one can have a true idea of right until he does it, any genuine
reverence for it until he has done it often and with cost, any peace
ineffable in it until he does it always and with alacrity."

CONCERNING THE REAL AND
CONCERNING SHADOWS 1

CONCERNING THE REAL

' '^ A HE future of poetry is immense." This sentence rings out
like a clarion call, a clear positive note from one whose
A_ philosophy was essentially a groping among half -articulated
truths, whose own poetry reflected the "melancholy, long
withdrawing roar" of the religious faith of the last years of the nine-
teenth century. Yet in poetry, we are told, "where it is worthy of its
high destinies our race, as time goes on, will find an ever keener and
surer stay. There is not a creed which is not shaken, not an accredited
dogma which is not shown to be questionable, not a received tradition
which does not threaten to dissolve. Our religion has materialized itself
in the fact, in the supposed fact; it has attached its emotion to the fact,
and now the fact is failing it. But for poetry the idea is everything : the
rest is a world of illusion, of divine illusion. Poetry attaches its emotion
to the idea; the idea is the fact. The strongest part of our religion
today is its unconscious poetry." 2

Strong words these and daring in "an age of prose and reason" !
The question which concerns us, however, is not are they strong and
daring? but are they true? And the first step toward an answer to
this question is another: What does Arnold mean by poetry? The
claim evidently carries with it more than the current definition of
rhymed or rhythmic verse, no matter how exquisite the diction, how
musical the cadences, or how accurately the sound is suited to the sense.
Let him speak for himself.

"We should conceive of poetry worthily, and more highly than it
has been the custom to conceive of it. We should conceive of it as
capable of higher uses, and called to higher destinies, than those which
in general men have assigned to it hitherto. More and more mankind
will discover that we have to turn to poetry to interpret life for us, to
console us, to sustain us. Without poetry, our science will appear
incomplete : and most of what passes with us for religion and philosophy
will be replaced by poetry."

We are now prepared for the definition of Aristotle, that "the
superiority of poetry over history consists in its possessing a higher truth
and a higher seriousness. This is a superiority of matter and substance

1 The terms real and unreal are used here as in Eastern literature to mean permanent
and transitory and imply the theory of different degrees of reality. The shadow of a tree,
for instance, possesses reality of a certain kind; it is a real shadow; but in relation to the
greater degree of reality attributed to the tree it is classed as unreal.

2 Arnold, Matthew; Essays in Criticism, second series, The Study of Poetry.

THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

as well as of diction and movement, but the two superiorities are closely
related and in constant proportion one to the other."
Examples at once suggest themselves for analysis :

"Thou wast that all to me, love,

For which my soul did pine :
A green isle in the sea, love,

A fountain and a shrine
All wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers,

And all the flowers were mine." 8

These lines of Poe are exquisite in manner and diction. Their
imagery is perfect. Do they possess high truth and high seriousness?
We are forced to answer, No. The love is of the earth only. The
egoism of the last line condemns them.

Similar in manner and diction are the following lines of Whittier.
But they are infused with a sense of the sublime logic of faith and
self-surrender that lifts them easily up to a high standard of truth and
seriousness.

"I know not where His islands lift

Their fronded palms in air;
I only know I cannot drift
Beyond His love and care." 4

An illustration from The Marshes of Glynn 5 may make the matter
clearer.

"Sinuous southward and sinuous northward the shimmering band

Of the sand-beach fastens the fringe of the marsh to the folds of the

land.
Inward and outward to northward and southward the beach lines linger

and curl
As a silver-wrought garment that clings to and follows the firm sweet

limbs of a girl.

Vanishing, swerving, evermore curving again into sight,
Softly the sand-beach wavers away to a dim gray looping of light."

"Oh, what is abroad in the marsh and the terminal sea?

Somehow my soul seems suddenly free

From the weighing of fate and the sad discussion of sin,

By the length and the breadth and the sweep of the marshes of Glynn."

The first six lines are musical, unique, perfect, after their kind, in
diction and movement, but they certainly do not attain to a high order
of truth or seriousness. In the lines which follow the substance comes

Poe, Edgar Allan; To One in Paradise.

4 Whittier, John Greenleaf; The Eternal Goodness.

By Sidney Lanier.

CONCERNING THE REAL AND SHADOWS 23

nearer to meeting the requirements of poetry conceived worthily. Later
in the same poem, as will presently appear, the poet triumphs in truth and
seriousness of the highest order.

Arnold, himself, in spite of his keen critical insight, seems to hover
between half failure and attainment. Referring to the inevitable isola-
tion of all human souls under the figure of isles, he writes :

"A God, a God their severance ruled
And bade betwixt their shores to be
The unplumb'd salt estranging sea. 6

Good as to manner and diction, yes! True and serious, yes! But not
the highest. For the poem ends in a negation, a cleavage, and nothing
that does not tend toward the positive and toward unity will ever satisfy
the human soul, or win from it its highest praise.

In the exquisite lines from Thrysis, "A fugitive and gracious light
he seeks, Shy to illumine: and I seek it too," he is tentative. Does he
mean the light of the soul and its knowledge? Is not our hesitation in
interpreting it the reflection of his own half faith. Wordsworth speaks
with firmer voice.

"Once again I see

These hedge-rows, hardly hedge-rows, little lines
Of sportive wood run wild: these pastoral farms,
Green to the very door ; and wreaths of smoke
Sent up, in silence, from among the trees ! . . .

"These beauteous forms,
Through a long absence, have not been to me
As is a landscape to a blind man's eye:
But oft, in lonely rooms, and 'mid the din
Of towns and cities, I have owed to them
In hours of weariness, sensations sweet,
Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart ;
And passing even into my purer mind,
With tranquil restoration : feelings too
Of unremembered pleasure : such, perhaps,
As have no slight or trivial influence
On that best portion of a good man's life,
His little, nameless, unremembered acts
Of kindness and of love. Nor less, I trust,
To them I may have owed another gift,
Of aspect more sublime ; that blessed mood,
In which the burthen of the mystery,
In which the heavy and the weary weight

To Marguerite Continued.

24 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

Of all this unintelligible world,

Is lightened: that serene and blessed mood,

In which the affections gently lead us on,

Until, the breath of this corporeal frame

And even the motion of our human blood

Almost suspended, we are laid asleep

In body, and become a living soul :

While with an eye made quiet by the power

Of harmony, and the deep power of joy,

We see into the life of things ? " 7

Perhaps the height is reached in this phrase of the "divine poet'*
quoted by Arnold : "In la sua voluntade e nostra pace." 8 Its move-
ment and diction need no interpretation. As to matter and substance it
is reinforced by the sublime self-surrender of Christ on the cross and
by the high note struck in the wise old books of ancient India. "When
all desires that were hid in the heart are let go, the mortal becomes
immortal, and reaches the Eternal."

Poetry, then, is a criticism of life, a judgment upon or an interpre-
tation of life. It is "the application of ideas to life." But these ideas
must be "poetic" ideas, that is they must be possessed of a high truth
and a high seriousness not common to all ideas ; and they must be applied
under the laws of poetic truth and poetic beauty.

This is perhaps what Arnold means when he says that " we should
conceive of poetry worthily, and more highly than it has been the custom
to conceive of it." And to conceive of poetry thus means to limit as well
as to elevate it. Much of the poetry of Chaucer or Burns, for instance,
or even of Shakespeare, is a criticism of life in "a harsh, a sordid, a
repulsive world." Such a criticism may be poetry. Often it possesses
the "largeness, freedom, benignity," if not the beauty of truth and
sanity. Yet, just as, in considering whether a certain race of men can
be trained to a particular industry, one selects for experiment those
individuals who already show a certain fitness for the work, so, in
determining whether poetry is fitted to undertake the great task of
answering the religious need of man, one selects such poetry as test
instances which tend already to fill the conditions required. In the
nature of the case such instances are more readily found in Tennyson's
In Memoriam than in Burns' Tarn o'Shanter, more likely to be furnished
by a Hamlet than by a Falstaff. For more and more as we consider the
subject the conviction grows that high truth and high seriousness resolve
themselves into spiritual perception the intuition of unseen values.
And this is not morality; it includes it, just as it includes many other
things such as law, truth, beauty.

'Wordsworth, William; Lines composed a few miles above Tintern Abbey.
* "In his will is our peace," Dante, Paradise III, 85.

CONCERNING THE REAL AND SHADOWS' 25

This spiritual perception, this convergence of poetry and religion, is
finely expressed by Santayana: "That the intuitions of religion are
poetical, and that in such intuitions poetry has its ultimate function, are
truths of which both religion and poetry become more conscious the more
they advance in refinement and profundity. A crude and superficial
theology may confuse God with the thunder, the mountains, the heavenly
bodies, or the whole universe; but when we pass from these easy identi-
fications to a religion that has taken root in history and in the hearts of
men, and has come to flower, we find its objects and its dogmas purely
ideal, transparent expressions of moral experience and perfect counter-
parts of human needs. The evidence of history or of the senses is left
far behind and never thought of; the evidence of the heart, the value
of the idea, are alone regarded." 9

"What the religion of the vulgar adds to the poet's is simply the
inertia of their limited apprehension, which takes literally what he meant
ideally, and degrades into a false extension of this world on its own
level what in his mind was a true interpretation of it upon a moral plane.

This higher plane is the sphere of significant imagination, of
relevant fiction, of idealism become the interpretation of the reality it
leaves behind. Poetry raised to its highest power is then identical with
religion, grasped in its inmost truth; at their point of union both reach
their utmost purity and beneficence, for then poetry loses its frivolity
and ceases to demoralize, while religion surrenders its illusions and ceases
to deceive." 10

"Finely and truly does Wordsworth call poetry the impassioned
expression which is in the countenance of all science . . . the breath
and finer spirit of all knowledge." And Arnold asks : What is a coun-
tenance without its expression? Santayana tells us that "religion is
poetry become the guide of life, poetry substituted for science or super-
vening upon it as an approach to the higher reality."

So, if these critics be correct, we find that religion and poetry as they
reach a higher and higher degree of truth and seriousness tend to come
together; that at their highest point they are one; and that when they
have reached this point they are capable of taking unto themselves the
functions of science in the discovery of truth.

This is a large claim to make for poetry, yet, on the face of it, it
is not without reason. A careful survey of the history of thought has
convinced many that the mind knows only phenomena, that it can, in
the nature of the case, never know the reality behind these appearances.
Some have gone further and said that therefore man himself can never
know. This is certainly not a justifiable position. Negative dogmatism,
or even scepticism, regarding man's power of invention, discovery, and
development are too evidently an anacronism in the age of flying
machines, wireless telegraphy, and international peace conferences. If

Santayana, George; Poetry and Religion, p. 284; New York, 1911.
19 Ibid, 290.

26 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

metaphysical reality has not been apprehended by the mind ; if the intel-
lectual solutions of the puzzle of existence have remained pretty much
as they were two thousand years ago ; if the last word of the philosopher
who advances by this road is scepticism and despair; it is nevertheless
true that there have always been those who have recommended another
approach to the problem; who have maintained against all opposition
and contempt that reality can be apprehended by man, often that they
have to some extent apprehended it: and they have testified of their
knowledge with confidence and joy. These are the seers who see with
the vision of the poet and speak his language.

To some extent the prophecy of a great future for poetry has already
been fulfilled. We find, if we take the trouble to analyse the situation,
that the scientists at the moment when they were most vehemently
denying the value of the poetical approach to reality had already com-
mitted themselves to it. Even while insisting on their empirical method
and carefully weighed conclusions (when conclusions were attempted)
they were dependent on a faculty not of the intellect for their
hypotheses. 11 And the verification of hypotheses is their appropriate
method of discovery. Considering that it is the expression which reveals
the nature of a man and the laws by which he lives, is not the intensely
realized vision of the working of a law behind the facts of nature char-
acteristic of a Newton or a Darwin phrased aptly enough as "the
impassioned expression which is in the countenance of all science"?

For religion the case is even clearer. During the last ten years a
school of theology has grown up which stands for the knowledge of
religion the knowledge of faith as valid in one sphere just as the
knowledge of reason is in another. Religious knowledge is defined as
"our actual experience of the divine," 12 "a sense of superhuman beings
with whom man can enter into practical relations." 13 "Beside the com-
pulsiveness of the laws of thought, there is an instinctive compulsiveness
which tells us that the spirit has found the truth even when reason is
silent or contradictory: . . . Because man is part and parcel of the
spiritual world and of the supernatural order; because in God he lives
and moves and has his being, the truth of religion is in him implicitly,
as surely as the truth of the whole physical universe is involved in every
part of it. Could he read the needs of his own spirit and conscience he
would need no teacher. But it is only by groping, by trying this or that
suggestion of reason or tradition that he finds out what he really wants,
what explains and satisfies that restless discontent of his, which is
nothing else than the truth within him struggling to clear consciousness.
Reason can but offer him this solution or that. It is Conscience that by
an act of eager recognition leaps forward at times to grasp its own,

11 Cf. Brent, Charles; The Sixth Sense, Chapter III.

" The Programme of Modernism, p. 96.

"Tyrrell, George; Through Scylla and Charybdis, p. 271.

CONCERNING THE REAL AND SHADOWS 27

and to lift the assent of reason to the level of a Faith that can then
afford to dispense with reason's suffrage." 14

This "revelation" Father Tyrrell compares to poetry. To both he
ascribes an authoritativeness and a finality to be sharply distinguished
from the "steady accumulation of experience and information" which is
the product of the mind's activity.

Like causes should produce like effects. The effect of poetry is, in
fact, similar to that of religion. No one sensitive to the influence of
poetry questions its power to sustain and inspire. It supports the weak
in time of hardship, consoles the afflicted, and spurs on the strong to
new conquests. Whence comes the enormous inspirational power of
a battle hymn or of a national anthem if this is not so. And it is
particularly true of religious poetry. Otherwise our hymns might be
written in prose, and crude as the verse often is we cling to it. A
prose hymn is a contradiction in terms. For were it in substance a
hymn this substance would overcome the form and transform the prose
into poetry.

Those sections of the Bible which have held men most firmly and
goaded them on to triumphant effort, if not verse, are poetry of the
sublimest sort. Who can imagine a chapter of Leviticus sending a man
singing to his martyrdom? But one can think such a thing of portions
of the Psalms or of Isaiah.

Christ was the greatest of unconscious poets His life was one
great poem: it was an expression of spiritual law. Even "the good
man is a poet whose syllables are deeds and make a harmony in Nature."
But Christ was the poet of poets in word as well as deed. How could
it be otherwise? He came to feed our souls that we might have life
more abundantly. And what is this food but poetry of deed and word.
It is the meat that perisheth not "to do the will of him that sent me."
It is the bread of life by which man should live "every word that
proceedeth out of the mouth of God." It is the water "springing up
into everlasting life" of which whosoever drinks he shall never thirst.
"Come unto me," he said, "all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and
I will give you rest . . . rest unto your souls." And we, if we contain
within ourselves more than the mere germ of poetic appreciation or
spiritual understanding, which all men have, know that it is true. We
know that "In la sua voluntade e nostra pace."

A similar tendency in the method of approach to reality is noticeable
in modern philosophy. Beginning with the cautious tentative, experi-
mental attitude of Professor William James the question of the validity
of the intuition as a means to apprehend reality has received more and
more serious attention from metaphysicians, until in Professor Henri
Bergson it has become a consciously held epistemological theory. Berg-
son teaches that knowledge exists for life, not life for knowledge. The

"Ibid, p. 276-277.

28 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

function of the intellect is to serve action by ranging our experience
before us in the guise of many possible lines of conduct.

From the standpoint of the intellect reality is something external
to ourselves to be analysed and recombined. "The intellect is char-
acterized by a natural inability to understand life." 18 But life is directly
known, and known so far as we enter into it sympathetically. Intuition
is the direct insight into the simplicity of reality, which has been distorted
by our intellectual attitude toward it. "For we cannot too often repeat
it intelligence and instinct are turned in opposite directions, the former
towards inert matter, the latter towards life. Intelligence, by means of
science, which is in its work, will deliver up to us more and more com-
pletely the secret of physical operations ; of life it brings us, and moreover
only claims to bring us, a translation in terms of inertia. It goes all
round life, taking from outside the greatest possible number of views
of it, drawing it into itself instead of entering into it. But it is to the
very inwardness of life that intuition leads us by intuition I mean
instinct that has become disinterested, self-conscious, capable of reflecting
upon its object and of enlarging it indefinitely." 16 Consciousness has,
in the course of evolution, split up into intelligence and intuition because
of its need to apply itself to matter and to life.

"In the absolute we live and move and have our being. The
knowledge we possess of it is incomplete, no doubt, but not external or
relative." . . . "the effort we make to transcend the pure under-
standing introduces us into that more vast something out of which our
understanding is cut, and from which it has detached itself. And, as
matter is determined by intelligence, as there is between them an evident
agreement, we cannot make the genesis of the one without making the
genesis of the other. An identical process must have cut out matter and
the intellect, at the same time, from a stuff that contained both. Into
this reality we shall get back more and more completely, in proportion as
we compel ourselves to transcend pure intelligence." 17 In the intuition
lies our hope of solving the puzzle of existence, which, from the beginning
of history, the intellect has attacked in vain. It is a question of "a simple
plunge into the flux of reality."

It is by this time evident that all these poets, theologians, philosophers
are, in their different ways, saying one thing that the poet makes a
more direct attack on reality than 'the thinker. He not only reaches
a, higher reality, but he reaches it by a different line of approach.
Instead of climbing laboriously by the circuitous road of the intellect,
the poet takes the steeper short cut of intuition straight up the mountain
side to its summit. The reality he reaches is a true reality. His method
of approach is the appropriate way to the goal.

We now perceive that the particular essence of poetry, its seal of

11 Bergson, Henri; Crtative Evolution, 1911, p. 165.
"/btrf, p. 176.
"/bid, p. 199.

CONCERNING THE REAL AND SHADOWS 29

genuineness, lies in that word intuition. Intuition is the method of
spiritual perception. It is the gate of entrance to the garden of the
gods, the bridge to the real world of the spirit. By intuition the poet
passes into regions where the reason is impotent to follow. He becomes
not an originator, a creator of ideas, but a discoverer and transmitter. He
"speaks from a higher self and tells more truth than he knows." One
hears of poets who write forethought fully, as they would draw a chart,
carefully making the outline and punctiliously filling in the details, all
with an eye to the literary market. I doubt if poetry of a high truth
and high seriousness is ever written thus. Real poetry is not written,
it comes. True, it can be called for, a more or less effective appeal can
be made, the way prepared, but, in the last analysis, poetry writes itself.
Often it is so far beyond the personal consciousness of the poet that
it is almost safe to infer that he does not, in the ordinary sense of the
word, know what he writes because he could not.

Many phrases of great poets spoken with the clear ring of certain
knowledge come to mind to illustrate this truth. For instance Shake-
speare's well known phrase:

"There's a divinity that shapes our ends,
Rough-hew them how we will." 18

Or take the lines from Wordsworth's sonnet, "It is a beauteous evening
calm and free":

"Listen, the mighty Being is awake,
And doth with his eternal motion make
A sound like thunder everlastingly."

An equally good illustration is given in Goethe's Faust, through the
mouth of the Earth-Spirit:

"So schaff ich am sausenden Webstuhl der Zeit,
Und wirke der Gottheit lebendiges Kleid." 19

These statements as criticisms of life are characterized no less by a
calm certainty than by high truth and seriousness. Yet their authors
did not know them with their minds as one knows how many apples a
basket contains. If they knew them, it must have been otherwise than
intellectually. Yet many others by the intuition which grows out of
living have found that they are true.

But one expects such things of the poets. They are poets, to be
used as a source of rapture, a spiritual stimulant, or neglected as closed
books according to the temperament, vision, and life philosophy of
readers. More convincing, even, as proof of the validity of intuition
as an approach to reality are less exalted instances, cases of mere mortals,

"Hamlet, V, 2.

18 "Thus at the roaring loom of time I work,

And weave the living garment of deity." Faust, I.

30 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

the question of whose inspiration can not with a label of "genius" be
barred from the divine curiosity of science. Yet these, too, speak what
they know not under pressure of forces which they do not consciously
control.

A little girl of ten, known to the writer, composed a poem on the
occasion of the severe operation of a friend. The last verse runs
as follows :

"Heed not the body's burning pain

But ever reach and strive to gain

The highest, noblest, and the best ;

For now is God's eternal test."

This fragment not only shows a certain sense of rhythm and diction
but reaches a standard of truth and seriousness not often attained by
acknowledged poets. Has this child not stated in her own spontaneous
language the burden of the great teachers of the East? "The better is
one thing, the dearer is another thing; these two bind a man in opposite
ways. Of these two, it is well for him who takes the better; he fails
of his object, who chooses the dearer." And is not this true to the
universal spiritual consciousness of man?

Another instance of a child, known also to the writer, who wrote
beyond his personal consciousness, suggests itself. A boy of seven, who
could neither read nor write, asked his mother to take down a poem for
him. "Mother, dear," he said, as she produced pencil and paper for the
dictation, "you won't understand it unless you are holy." The poem
follows :

"I who have a bent back, was not laborless, for I preached and
healed, and paid all that I owed out of one silver nickel, but suddenly
I was struck blind, and when I recovered I had the stone of holiness and
liberty in my hand, but the stone of self I threw to the devil that was
near me."

After he had finished he said, leaning over: "When you walk like
this because you are old is that a hump back? Put bent because I'm old."
So it was changed to bent. When his mother asked him why he called
it a poem (it being unrhymed), he answered: "Because it felt like
poetry." He recognized the quality of the matter and substance, though
the form was not that of verse. Then his mother asked him what it
meant. "Mother," he said, "if you held in your hand the stone of
holiness and liberty, wouldn't you wish to throw away the stone of self? "
This child of seven had, we must presume unconsciously, set down what
might well be the last word of a philosopher saint in the summing up
of a well spent life.

Such instances, I am convinced, could be multiplied indefinitely. If
"there's a divinity that shapes our ends," there is also a power that
fashions our speech to ends we know not. And this power, name it as

CONCERNING THE REAL AND SHADOWS 31

we may, has a striking unity of method and of message. 20 Its method
is response to the direct attack of an awakened intuition. Its message
is that the real and desirable as we see them are not really the real and
desirable. Truth resides not in the phenomena of nature nor happiness
in the prizes of human life. We must look deeper. And we have the
power to find them where they are if we so will.

M It is interesting in this connection to compare Bergson's theory of the Vital Impulse
in evolution as duration, movement intuitively perceived with the lines of Wordsworth and of
Goethe quoted on page 29. The phrases "eternal motion," "sound like thunder" and "the
roaring loom of time" are suggestive as illustrations of the unity of message delivered by the
intuition.

LOUISE EDGAR PETERS.
(To be continued)

"Really to serve and please him we must perform, not merely the
minimum that is required, but the maximum that loving zeal can discover."

BOOK OF MEMORIES.

EVOLUTION AND ATONEMENT

THERE have been two clearly marked periods in the attitude of
writers on the Christian religion toward the great discoveries of
Darwin and his fellow-workers. The first, unhappily, was that
of hostility, of attack, the storm that Huxley wittily described,
with keen irony, as the thundering of the drum ecclesiastic. The combat
raged most fiercely about a dead letter view of the story of Adam, which
theological argument had closely related with the teaching of the redemp-
tion.

Then came a wiser mood, when it was seen that the revelation of
Darwin, the great idea of evolution, though not given a religious signifi-
cance by him, was, nevertheless, in its vital essence, profoundly significant
for religious thought: if there was evolution in the physical life of
organic beings, then there was evolution in the spiritual consciousness of
the human race; if the development of the body was true, the develop-
ment of the soul was also true, a growth and splendor that have no limit.
The first writer of power to seize this truth was Henry Drummond, in
his noteworthy book, Natural Law in the Spiritual World, in which he
very lucidly and cogently shows that the law of development works
uniformly in both worlds, or rather in the one greater world of which
these two are phases ; that the growth of the body is the foundation and
preparation for the growth of the soul. About the same time, two men
eminent in the domain of physics, Tait and Balfour Stewart, wrote
The Unseen Universe, in which they developed a remarkable argument
for immortality based on the teachings of the higher physics; showing
how, since every molecular movement causes an etheric movement, the
sum of our personal activities expressed through bodily movement or
molecular change in the substance of the brain, may be continued in an
etheric body which we ourselves build up during life. As keynote of his
book, Henry Drummond took a phrase of Herbert Spencer's, the dictum
that, since life consists in correspondence with environment, immortal
life would spring from perfect correspondence with a perfect environ-
ment. Drummond sought to show that the divine life, as manifested in
Christ, is a perfect environment, and that by perfect correspondence with
this, we enter immortal life.

A very similar line of thought is followed in a noteworthy book,
Evolution and the Need of Atonement, by Stewart A. McDowall (1912),
which embodies some of the best conclusions of modern thought. Essen-
tially the book falls into three parts: first, a lucid summary of certain
aspects of organic evolution, which resolves itself into a very refined,
ingenious and somewhat complicated attempt to explain the mysteries
of our hearts and wills by analogies drawn from afar ; from the begin-

EVOLUTION AND ATONEMENT 33

nings of life in the ocean, through the slow, momentous days when the
first dwellers between the tides crawled up high and dry, and entrusted
themselves to the wild novelties of air and sunshine, and thence through
the long generations which led up to man. The second part is concerned
with the life of the Master in Palestine, his inspired obedience and his
sacrificial death, with a summing up of the elaborate reasonings, patristic,
scholastic, dogmatic, which have been built about every event of that
wonderful life; and especially about what is known as the doctrine of
the atonement. The third part is an effort, very ingenious, and in some
ways very luminous, to bring these two complex bodies of thought into
harmony; to show in what way the doctrine of the atonement may find
a place in the wider view of life which begins with a multitude of worlds,
and then, on our own earth, traces the panorama of unfolding life from
the first stirrings in the protoplasmic slime; the wide horizons which
Darwin and his fellow workers opened up.

One of the most striking things in the book is an analogy which
Mr. McDowall draws between that momentous transition by which life,
hitherto confined to the waters of the ocean, suddenly emerged and
began to develop on the land, and that still more momentous transition
from merely physical life to a life which is mental and moral, the transi-
tion from the bodily to the spiritual. Let us imagine, he says, a "recep-
tive" organism, that is, an organism capable of large responsiveness to
environmental change, an organism on the main line of evolution, sud-
denly drifting to a new threshold, and now and again left stranded on
a shore where new conditions, not of sun and air, but of supersensual
influences act on it. Is it pressing analogy too far to suppose that a
whole set of variations again limited in direction will be initiated, leading
to a higher degree of consciousness and at last to self-consciousness?
This last, giving the power of greatest response to the "new" conditions,
will lead up to the ethical and spiritual phenomena of self-conscious
organisms. Such a sudden change the appearance of phenomena
different in kind from all that preceded them would be nothing more
than a marked case of "discontinuous variation." Is it not possible, at
the very least, that the reason for the appearance of moral and spiritual
phenomena, for their sporadic and imperfect appearance in certain lower
groups of animals whose colonial or gregarious habit has favored their
manifestation to a certain degree, their omnipresence and importance in
the highest creatures, men, may be that the organism has developed to
a stage when a fresh environment, more different in kind than even water
and land conditions, is able to influence it? It must of course be clearly
understood that this environment has not suddenly come into being ; what
has happened is simply that a fresh factor of the total environment has
become operative owing to the organism having reached a stage where
it can be influenced by that factor.

Of the theological part of the book, I shall not try to give even an

34 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

outline. I can only illustrate it by a single paragraph: If a man is to
be saved, says the author, he must accept Christ. That is certain, if
Christianity means anything. But there is no time-limit set. God is
the timeless One. Death is a great physical change, certainly, but it is
not the severing of personal continuity. In personality lies the natural,
as opposed to the revealed, promise of immortality. To the person, death
is only a change: for some it may be the change to the imago, but for
some there must surely be other larval existences.

So far, Mr. McDowall's book. There is much in it that is sterling
and sincere. So far as I can judge, he has made himself master of both
fields, the biological and the theological, and I doubt not that a great
many people who, like him, have felt the insistence and importance of
both, and yet find themselves wholly unable to reconcile them, keeping
them in water-tight compartments in their minds, will gain from his
reconciliation genuine relief and light.

All this I willingly acknowledge; yet I find within me a wonder
whether much of the discord and need for reconciliation may not be due
not so much to any real disharmony as to the tremendous activity of our
argumentative minds, which cannot take life simply and quietly, but are
ever piling Ossa on Pelion, building up mountains of ingenious reasoning,
until almost crushed beneath their weight.

Much, very much of mental pain and anguish might have been saved,
these many centuries, had we followed the wiser example of the Master
and his method of taking life quite simply, of resting in spiritual experi-
ence, deferring all argument and cosmogonic theory. He had, very
likely, a deep and practical reason for this avoidance of world-hypotheses,
which so marks his teaching. His aim was practical, his touch dynamic.
He set men doing certain things, in order that they might, through the
working of the life-powers, become certain things. He led them into
paths of growth and transformation, and he may have seen very clearly
that, after they had grown even a little, they would see the world with
new eyes ; would see that all things had changed about them through the
changes in themselves, so that it would be no metaphor to say that they
beheld a new heaven and a new earth. Jesus was an evolutionist through
and through; teaching the development of our life, he used the growth
of the natural to make clear the growth of the spiritual. Again and
again it is the unfolding of the plant, the tree, from the seed. So is our
spiritual life to unfold and grow, not limited even to the measure of
fruitful wheat that bears a hundredfold, or the expanse of the great tree
in which heaven's birds build their nests, but limitless, wide as heaven,
perfect as the Father is perfect. He set men on the path of illimitable
development, by the dynamic force of his own life, his will, his love, and
deferred all theorizing for the time when, with new-opened eyes, they
should look upon the real world. Again and again he made it clear that
our growth must lie in a new direction, not along the line of more

EVOLUTION AND ATONEMENT 35

complicated bodily life; he practically anticipated the modern scientific
belief that the physical body has already almost reached the limit of
possible development; had, indeed, reached that limit decades of millen-
iums ago ; if we are to continue to grow, we must take another direction,
not limiting ourselves to the material, or overburdening ourselves with
material things, but boldly breaking through into a new realm, dying
that we may live, becoming transformed as completely as the larva is
transformed when the husk of the chrysalis is broken and the imago,
the winged creature of beauty, soars in the sunlight.

If we think of the new realm we are to enter as already possessed
by consciousness, let us say the consciousness of the Master, then it may
well be that we enter it by blending our consciousness with the conscious-
ness which is already there ; that this consciousness is thus the mediator,
bringing us into at-one-ment with the divine; bridging over for us the
chasm between what we are and what we are to be, so that we may pass
from death into life. It may be that this is the reason for the sacrificial
death ; to show us, by a tremendous example, the process of our trans-
formation, and at the same time to build the bridge to the unseen, by
which we can cross thither. In the tragedy of the Master's death, there
may be much more, but surely there is this : the revelation of that change,
through pain and splendor, which shall set our feet on new, illimitable
ways. We are here on the sure ground of verifiable and oft verified
experience. "I die and rise with him," says Paul, "a new creature;"
and countless generations of those who, through love, have dared, repeat
it after him. Here is not theory, but life, the great, sacred thing which
abides with us always, while theories and reasonings pass with the seasons
and fitful fashions of the mind.

And if we ourselves, by obeying the rules, can enter into a renewed
life, and, following it, can die and live, ushered into a new splendor of
being; if in our very selves, even in this present life, we can enter into
immortality and know ourselves immortal, by the direct and certain in-
tuition through which we know ourselves to be alive; is it not wholly
natural and inevitable for us to believe that the Master of the rules, who
gave them to us, long ago passed through the same mutation, and lives
as he declared that he would live, tremendously dynamic and effective,
yet now as then scrupulously regardful of the freedom of our wills;
waiting for the free motions of our hearts, because he is determined not
to infringe on our divinity? Through direct experience we believe in
the resurrection from death to immortality, for ourselves and for him;
we believe in the resurrection because of what we can verify in ourselves,
our own growth and mutation, our transformation which opens to us
new worlds. We interpret the experience of the first disciples by our
own. We do not believe in spiritual transformation in ourselves because
of what they tell us of the resurrection; we believe what they tell us
of the resurrection because of what we can verify in ourselves.

36 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

And here we may, perhaps, say something of what appears to us
a deficiency in Mr. McDo wall's book, which we have taken just because
it is so good an example of the best thought to-day. He has much that
is striking and beautiful to say of the death of Christ, but very little, it
would seem, of his resurrection. I may be doing him injustice, but it
seems to me that in this he goes with many sincerely religious men who,
like Renan, believe that the visions of the disciples were illusions, the
generous illusions of an ardent faith. But is not this view due to just
such an incomplete understanding of the teaching of science as that which
Mr. McDowall sets himself to remove : the belief that there is a contra-
diction between the teaching of evolution and the teaching of redemption ?
Have we not the clue in the modern teaching of the invisible world of
finer substances and forces ; in the possibility, already formulated by Tait
and Balfour Stewart, of an etheric body, and the likelihood that the body
of the resurrection was an etheric body, the corporeal body having been
dissipated after death? Would not this make possible both the appear-
ances after the resurrection and the strangeness of some of them, as, for
example, the appearance in a closed room ; and the inverse disappearance,
which is called the ascension? Does not what we now know of matter
and of its dependence on something finer and more durable behind it,
make this not only possible, but almost inevitable?

So it seems to me that this very elaborate contrasting of the teaching
of evolution and the doctrine of the atonement, and their even more
elaborate reconciliation, with the painful mental and moral effort it
involves, might, perhaps, have been rendered unnecessary by greater
simplicity of heart. If we were only willing to rest in our own direct
experience, to follow the rules given us, and thus to deepen and enrich
that experience; if we could gain some practical knowledge of what it
means to die that we may live, to obey that we may be free, how much
happier we should be; happier, because few things in human life are
more strained, fruitless and painful than these vast processes of reason-
ing before experience, which lead people into bitter controversies, so that
they kill each other in thousands for an argument about infinite Mercy;
happier, therefore, not only for what we may avoid, but far more, for
what we may gain, something of the splendor, the superb tenderness, the
high serenity of our real and immortal life. The Master of men from
the beginning bore many burdens; few, perhaps, more painful than the
mountain-weight of "religious" controversy among those whom he asks
instead to become as little children that they may begin to grow into real
life.

JOHN CHARLTON.

EARLY ENGLISH MYSTICS

III
THE VENERABLE BEDE

^ w ^HE venerable author of the Ecclesiastical History was born in

673. His entire life was that of a recluse and scholar. He

JL carefully investigated information and traditions about Christian

teachers in Britain, during the early Roman period, and gives an

account of it. But the portion of his history for which he takes

responsibility as an historian is that which covers the period from 596

onward the year of the landing of Augustine (the minor) at Thanet,

and also the year of Columba's death at lona. Bede's history thus deals

with the very interesting period after the departure of a great leader

when the leader's disciples are put to the test of standing alone and

standing true. From Bede's narrative of Columba's disciples, Aidan,

Colman, and others of the settlement at Lindisfarne the offspring of

lona one feels that the seed Columba scattered brought forth abundant

harvest.

Bede's fascinating history brings very conspicuously before the
reader, a new element in British Christianity, a new attitude, that finally
hindered and checked the valiant monks of lona as the savage Picts and
Saxons were never able to do. This new and strange element entered
into British Christianity with the coming of Augustine. It is the self-
aggrandising, intolerant policy of the Vatican.

That detestable policy of Peter's descendants with which the four-
teen centuries since the landing at Thanet have made us too unhappily
familiar asserted itself, at the very beginning of Augustine's mission,
against the devout monks who continued the apostolic teaching of St.
John. Augustine found among the Irish and Welsh monks certain dif-
ferences in reckoning the calendar, wearing the tonsure, etc. The posi-
tion he took in face of these differences is that which has become the
chief characteristic of the Vatican; namely, that whatever is contrary
to the custom of the Roman Apostolic Church is unrighteous and leads
to damnation. The synod of British bishops which Augustine called in
603 is a striking manifestation of that most untheosophic attitude. Bede's
account of the synod is very dramatic. "This being decreed, there came
(as is asserted) seven bishops of the Britons, and many most learned
men, particularly from their most noble monastery, which, in the
English tongue is called Bancornburg, over which the Abbat Dinooth
is said to hath presided at that time. They that were to go to the
aforesaid council, repaired first to a certain holy and discreet man,
who was wont to lead an eremitical life among them, advising with

38 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

him, whether they ought, at the preaching of Augustine, to forsake
their traditions. He answered, 'If he is a man of God, follow him.'
'How shall we know that?' said they. He replied, 'Our Lord
saith, Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me, for I am meek and
lowly in heart; if therefore, Augustine is meek and lowly of heart,
it is to be believed that he has taken upon him the yoke of Christ,
and offers the same to you to take upon you. But, if he is stern
and haughty, it appears that he is not of God, nor are we to regard
his works.' They insisted again, 'And how shall we discern even
this?' 'Do you contrive,' said the anchorite, 'that he may first
arrive with his company at the place where the synod is to be held ;
and if at your approach he shall rise up to you, hear him submis-
sively, being assured that he is the servant of Christ ; but if he shall
despise you, and not rise up to you, whereas you are more in number,
let him also be despised by you."

Unfortunately Augustine did not display the urbanity which is connected
(etymologically, at least) with great cities, but in the most gauche and
rustic manner reminded the British bishops of the smallness of their
island, its remoteness from the great centres, and of their consequent
ignorance of all which it behooves a Christian to know and to do.

The intolerance and gaucherie that marked the synod of 603 was
no more auspicious for Augustine if one takes a long view than for
the sons of lona, though it won a speedy triumph for the embassy from
Rome. Before Columba's shroud lay a century in dust, Roman arro-
gance effected the withdrawal of the Abbot from lona. In 667 Colman,
a successor of the valiant Founder, went back to Ireland, to continue in
an islet of the West the tradition that reached Ireland from Patmos
through Lerins and Marmoutier.

Bede was not an eye witness of the council that resulted in the with-
drawal of Colman ; he got his facts from others. But in the disposition
of his information he shows the splendid power of imaginative por-
traiture which won laurels for the great Elizabethan dramatist. Like
Shakespeare, Bede brings kings and priests from the dust of the chron-
icle, and invests them with the vividness of individuality and life. He
dramatizes. He presents entirely concrete personalities, who are at the
same time, generic types types that have become familiar, the eccle-
siastic and the saint. The council assembled at Whitby, where Hilda,
like Brigid of Kildare, was the revered Abbess of a group of monks as
well as of a community of nuns. The Northumbrian King presided at
the council. Hilda, Cedd, and other loyal children of lona gathered
around Columkill's successor who was accused of damning deeds by the
Roman legate. The King commanded Abbot Colman to speak first and
to declare the origin of his Scottish customs and traditions. The Abbot's
replies are very brief, very explicit. They are answers to questions, not
a defence of any mooted point (Qui s' excuse s'accuse). The customs

EARLY ENGLISH MYSTICS 39

and doctrine taught from lona are those of "our forefathers, men be-
loved of God." And that this doctrine may not seem to any contemptible
or worthy to be rejected, the Abbot declares that "it is the same which
St. John the Evangelist, the disciple beloved of our Lord, with all the
churches over which he presided, is recorded to have observed." Wilfrid,
ambassador for Rome, speaks in just the manner that marked Augustine's
interview with the Welsh bishops. He has travelled. Everywhere he
has found conformity to Rome except among these priests and monks,
"and their accomplices in obstinacy, I mean the Picts and the Britons,
who foolishly, in these two remote islands of the world, and only in part
even of them, oppose all the rest of the universe." The Abbot replies
very briefly, very quietly, "It is strange that you will call our labours
foolish, wherein we follow the example of so great an apostle, who was
thought worthy to lay his head on our Lord's bosom, when all the world
knows him to have lived most wisely." But the Vatican triumphed, and
Peter's shadow supplanted John's disciples.

Bede's history, fortunately, covers Christian activity throughout all
England, not merely the mission of the Roman embassy. The com-
panions of Augustine had the smaller share in the privilege of teaching
the "way" in England; the larger share fell to the sons of lona. So
that though Bede's history does make conspicuous what we have called
the policy of the Vatican (the figure is an anachronism, since the Popes
were not then dwelling in the Vatican), it gives also a narrative of deeds
as heroic and noble as those that make the lives of Patrick and Columba
radiant.

Aidan seems most closely to have walked in his great Founder's
footsteps. By the charm of his piety he won over all the North of
England, Northumbria as it was called. Oswald, heir of the Northum-
brian crown, was a fugitive from his kingdom, which the Picts temporarily
held. In his exile, Oswald found his way to lona, and became a student
of the "way." Afterward he was able to return to the duties of govern-
ing. His first act was to ask the Abbot of lona for a teacher who might
bring down into Northumbria the mysterious wisdom of the Cross.
Bede tells how the choice fell upon Aidan. "There was first sent to him
another man of more austere disposition, who, meeting with no
success, and being unregarded by the English people, returned home,
and in an assembly of the elders reported, that he had not been able
to do any good to the nation he had been sent to preach to, because
they were uncivilized men, and of a stubborn and barbarous dis-
position. They, as is testified, in a great council seriously debated
what was to be done, being desirous that the nation should receive
the salvation it demanded, and grieving that they had not received
the preacher sent to them. Then said Aidan, who was also present
in the council, to the priest then spoken of, 'I am of opinion, brother,
that you were more severe to your unlearned hearers than you ought

40 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

to have been, and did not at first, conformably to the apostolic rule,
give them the milk of more easy doctrine, till being by degrees nour-
ished with the word of God, they should be capable of greater per-
fection, and be able to practise God's sublimer precepts.' Having
heard these words, all present began diligently to weigh what he had
said, and presently concluded, that he deserved to be made a bishop,
and ought to be sent to instruct the incredulous and unlearned ; since
he was found to be endued with singular discretion, which is the
mother of other virtues, and accordingly being ordained, they sent
him to their friend, King Oswald, to preach ; and he, as time proved,
afterwards appeared to possess all other virtues, as well as the
discretion for which he was before remarkable."

Oswald gave Aidan the isle of Lindisfarne for his residence an island
which at ebb tide is connected with the mainland. As Aidan could not
speak the Northumbrian language, the King journeyed with him as inter-
preter, delivering to his subjects the priest's message. The people joy-
fully flocked together to hear the King and the monk, and many more
monks came from lona to assist. Oswald granted to all land for mon-
astic centers. Aidan built up a school at Lindisfarne, similar to the
parent group at lona, and left many famous disciples, Hilda, Cedd, etc.
In the latter part of his life, he withdrew, for more intimate study, to the
barren rock islet of Fame, which is at a distance of nine miles from
Lindisfarne. There, in a cave, closed by a goatskin, and looking out on
sea and sky, Aidan gave himself up to the arduous and pleasant labor of
meditation, leaving to his disciples, the care of the outward work.

Though Aidan and his helpers, with the assistance of the royal inter-
preter, King Oswald, brought Christianity into the North of England, and
established centres there which became renowned, Oswald was not the first
Christian King of the North. His uncle Edwin accepted, after cautious
deliberation, the new doctrine from the teaching of Paulinus, who with
three others was sent by Pope Gregory to aid Augustine. King Edwin had
sought in marriage the daughter of the King of Kent, who had become
a convert. Her sponsors were not willing to let her depart to the north-
ern kingdom to a pagan husband unless he promised to receive a priest
along with his bride. Edwin consented. And Paulinus was sent to
accompany the bride, Ethelberga. Edwin was a student and a man of
thought. His conversion was not like that of so many chieftains, a
sudden impulse and emotion. He listened attentively and pondered the
new doctrine. "And being a man of extraordinary sagacity, he often
sat alone by himself a long time, silent as to his tongue, but deliberating
in his heart how he should proceed, and which religion he should adhere
to." At last, unwilling to proceed alone in so important a matter as
religion, the King called a council of his nobles to confer with him.
Hrst spoke Coifi, High Priest of Paganism with a sort of commercial
view-point. "O king, consider what this is which is now preached to

EARLY ENGLISH MYSTICS 41

us; for I verily declare to you, that the religion which we have hitherto
professed has, as far as I can learn, no virtue in it. For none of your
people has applied himself more diligently to the worship of our gods
than I; and yet there are many who receive greater favours from you,
and are more preferred than I, and are more prosperous in all their
undertakings. Now if the gods were good for anything, they would
rather forward me, who have been more careful to serve them. It
remains, therefore, that if upon examination you find those new doc-
trines, which are now preached to us, better and more efficacious, we
immediately receive them without any delay." One understands that the
thoughtful King could not have been closely held to a religion represented
by such a priest. Much more to the King's mind must have been the
poetic nobleman who used the famous simile of a winter sparrow to
picture earthly life. "The present life of man, O king, seems to me, in
comparison of that time which is unknown to us, like to the swift flight of
a sparrow through the room wherein you sit at supper in winter, with
your commanders and ministers, and a good fire in the midst, whilst the
storms of rain and snow prevail abroad; the sparrow, I say, flying in at
one door, and immediately out at another, whilst he is within, is safe
from the wintry storm; but after a short space of fair weather, he
immediately vanishes out of your sight, into the dark winter from which
he had emerged. So this life of man appears for a short space, but of
what went before, or what is to follow, we are utterly ignorant. If,
therefore, this new doctrine contains something more certain, it seems
justly to deserve to be followed." The result of the deliberation was
that the King gave Paulinus license to teach publicly, and inquired of
Coifi what should be done with the pagan shrines and altars. The royal
philosopher would seem reluctant to act with violence against what had
represented his ideals. But the shrewd Coifi was not willing to cloud
his future by leaving any suspicion in the minds of men as to his loyalty
to decrepit gods. He buckled on armor, leaped upon a horse (practices
forbidden to the priesthood), and rode at once to his former shrines,
which he set afire, after hurling his spear at the statue of the god. The
legends say that such a golden age of peace was ushered in by the King's
acceptance of Christianity that "a woman with her new-born babe might
walk throughout the island, from sea to sea, without receiving harm."
But that reputed era of peace could not have been of long duration, for
shortly afterward Edwin was slain in a battle against neighbors, and all
was confusion until Oswald returned from lona, in the manner already
described.

Bede's plan of including in his history of the English Church all
those who worked for Christianity in the British Isles, leads him to men-
tion among others St. Fursey, whose life belongs more to Ireland and to
France than to England. This great mystic came out of his native Ire-
land to escape the throngs drawn to him by his odor of sanctity. He

42 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

built a monastery and established regular discipline among the East
Saxons (Suffolk). But when the public turmoils became so disturbing
that even a monastery was no longer a retreat for spiritual students, he
crossed over to France, and under the protection of Clovis built there
a monastery to continue his study. The accounts of his life that
have come down show there in the seventh century the teaching of a
secret doctrine that has continued through all centuries, and that came to
splendid poetic expression later, in the thirteenth century, in the work
of Dante. Dante has been called an Initiate. If so, one inclines to
regard Fursey and others like him as chelas. Fursey, much more than
Patrick or Columba, is the typical mediaeval Saint who is such an abhor-
rence to the modern world. The verdict to-day, upon his life, would be,
"an unfortunate, afflicted with fits that filled his eyes and ears with
fearful sights and sounds." Yet when read with sympathetic eye and
heart, the record of those so-called epileptic sights and sounds is seen
to be a portion of that wisdom which is hidden from the wise of this
world. Fursey narrated his inward experience in a manner similar to
Dante, but without Dante's magnificent architecture. Like Columba,
Fursey was of royal Irish birth, and was a student from boyhood, and
early sought the secret teaching that found its centres in the monasteries.
During some physical illness which to so many becomes a medium for
the conveying of truth, Fursey attained a new and higher plane of con-
sciousness in which he was not mindful of the incidents and events that
usually fall under observation or as Bede relates it, he "quit his body
from the evening till the cock crew." In that period of high conscious-
ness Fursey beheld the choirs of angels, and heard the praises which are
sung in heaven. "He was wont to declare, that among other things he
distinctly heard this: 'The saints shall advance from one virtue to
another.' And again 'The God of gods shall be seen in Sion.' " Three
days later, Fursey had a similar experience crowded with perceptions of
truth ; he saw the great joys of the blessed, and the extraordinary combats
of evil spirits who endeavor to molest and thwart those who struggle
toward righteousness. "When he had been lifted up on high, he was
ordered by the angels that conducted him to look back upon the world.
Upon which, casting his eyes downward, he saw, as it were, a dark and
obscure valley underneath him. He also saw four fires in the air, not
far distant from each other. Then asking the angels, what fires those
were? he was told they were the fires which would kindle and consume
the world. One of them was of falsehood, when we do not fulfil that which
we promised in baptism, to renounce the Devil and all his works. The
next of covetousness, when we prefer the riches of the world to the love
of heavenly things. The third of discord, when we make no difficulty
to offend the minds of our neighbors even in needness things. The
fourth of iniquity, when we look upon it as no crime to rob and to
defraud the weak. These fires, increasing by degrees, extended so as

EARLY ENGLISH MYSTICS 43

to meet one another, and being joined, became an immense flame. When
it drew near, fearing for himself, he said to the angel, 'Lord, behold the
fire draws near me.' The angel answered, 'That which you did not
kindle shall not burn you.' " The angels parted the flames for Fursey,
and he then had a more extended view of the heavenly troops. He saw
also holy men of his own nation from whom he heard many salutary
things. It was popularly said of Fursey that his body was branded by
those hell-flames as he passed through them, just as Dante's face was
said to be clouded with hell-smoke. For his own part he kept discreet
silence about his experiences : "he would relate them only to those who
from holy zeal and desire of reformation wished to learn the same."
Bede got oral information about the Saint from a brother monk who
had talked with a religious man to whom Fursey himself related the
experiences.

The Irish influence extends also over four devout brothers who

went out from Lindisfarne to labor. Chad, the most famous of the

four, afterwards became Abbot of Lindisfarne, and succeeded his brother

Cedd as bishop of Lichfield. Chad formed a school at Lichfield, and

continued as far as possible the traditions handed down from lona to

Lindisfarne. He accepted for intellectual study those fitted for it, and

tiained differently those for whom some other approach was easier than

the intellectual. At Lichfield there was one monk, Owini, of singular

devoutness, but incapable of severe mental application. Bede relates

that to this devout brother was granted through the perfectness of his

devotion, a knowledge of spiritual things that some of the more learned

monks did not gain by study. One day, this humble Owini was working

in the garden, while the other monks were at their books, and the abbot

was praying in the Chapel. On a sudden, Owini heard "the voices of

persons singing most sweetly and rejoicing, and appearing to descend

from heaven. Which voice he said he first heard coming from the

south-east, and that afterwards it drew near him, till it came to the

roof of the oratory where the bishop was, and entering therein,

filled the same and all about it. He listened attentively to what he

heard, and after about half an hour, perceived the same song of

joy to ascend from the roof of the said oratory, and to return to

heaven the same way it came, with inexpressible sweetness. When

he had stood some time astonished, and seriously revolving in his

mind what it might be, the bishop opened the window of the oratory,

and making a noise with his hand, as he was often wont to do,

ordered him to come in to him. He accordingly went hastily in,

and the bishop said to him, 'Make haste to the church, and cause the

seven brothers to come hither, and do you come with them.' When

they were come, he first admonished them to preserve the virtue of

peace among themselves, and toward all others ; and indefatigably

to practice the rules of regular discipline, which they had either

44 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

been taught by him, or seen him observe, or had noticed in the
words or actions of the former fathers. Then he added, that the
day of his death was at hand ; for, said he, 'that amiable guest, who
was wont to visit our brethren, has vouchsafed also to come to me
this day, and to call me out of this world. Return, therefore, to the
church, and speak to the brethren, that they in their prayers recom-
mend my passage to the Lord, and that they be careful to provide
for their own, the hour whereof is uncertain, by watching, prayer,
and good works.'

"When he had spoken thus much and more, and they, having
received his blessing, had gone away in sorrow, he who had heard
the heavenly song returned alone, and prostrating himself on the
ground, said, 'I beseech you, father, may I be permitted to ask a
question?' 'Ask what you will,' answered the bishop. Then he
added, 'I entreat you to tell me what song of joy was that which
I heard coming upon this oratory, and after some time returning
to heaven?' The bishop answered. 'If you heard the singing, and
know of the coming of the heavenly company, I command you, in
the name of our Lord, that you do not tell the same to any before
my death. They were angelic spirits, who came to call me to my
heavenly reward, which I have always longed after, and they prom-
ised they would return seven days hence, and take me away with
them.' "

A similar reward of devotion came to a humble servant, Caedmon, of
Hilda's monastery. Hilda is the Brigid of England. She was a great-
niece of King Edwin, and received her first teaching from Paulinus. She
proved an apt pupil, and was preparing to go over into France for more
intimate instruction when Aidan of Lindisfarne took her under his own
direction, and gave her a retreat for herself and a few women. She was
gifted as a teacher, and handed on to her pupils the instruction which
Aidan and other devout men gave her, drawn to her by her "innate
wisdom and inclination to the service of God." She was so able in bring-
ing souls under the sweet yoke of regular discipline that she was given
the singular task and honor which had been St. Brigid's ; she was made
the teacher of a group of men, and became the Abbess of a monastery
and of an affiliated nunnery. It was in her monastery that the verses
were written down which are to-day the oldest example of our language
Caedmon's Anglo-Saxon verses on the Creation. Caedmon was not a
religious but a menial. His sympathy with the work done by the monks
was expressed in his humility and reverence, and earned him the privi-
lege of serving in the stable of the monastery. He was not a young
man but "well advanced in years," and up to the time of his inspiration
knew nothing more of the world of life and letters than any other hostler.
He was different from his fellow workers in that he could not find a sem-
blance of satisfaction in their dissipating revelry. But he was not

EARLY ENGLISH MYSTICS 45

morose. He was sociable ; he desired companionship, and sought it in
the proper place, among his comrades. He could not, however, join in
their songs, both from musical ineptitude and moral aversion. One
night he left a house where his comrades were seeking diversion, and
went to the stable "where he had to take care of the horses that night;
he there composed himself to rest at the proper time ; a person appeared
to him in his sleep, and saluting him by his name, said, 'Caedmon, sing
some song to me.' He answered, 'I cannot sing; for that was the reason
why I left the entertainment, and retired to this place, because I could
not sing.' The other who talked to him replied, 'However you shall
sing.' 'What shall I sing?' rejoined he. 'Sing the beginning of created
things,' said the other. Hereupon he presently began to sing verses to
the praise of God, which he had never heard."

Many of the monks imitated Casdmon's example in turning Scrip-
tural story into verse, but Bede says none of them could equal Caedmon,
because he was wholly taught by God. The rest of his days Csedmon
spent in the monastery "serving God with a pure and simple mind in
undisturbed devotion."

One other great Saint and Abbot lived and prayed at Lindisfarne
Cuthbert. He was trained in Scotland. When he was sent to Lindis-
farne, he chose for his outer work preaching in villages remote and
inaccessible among crags and rocks, inaccessible also on account of the
barbarous hearts of the inhabitants. But the historian says that Cuth-
bert's sweetness drew men to him and compelled them to give up the dark
secrets of their hearts. After much self-sacrificing labor, Cuthbert
transferred his cell to the bare rock of Fame, praying there alone, with
only sky and sea in sight, and raising by miracle, it would seem, from
the rock soil the meagre crop of barley which gave sustenance. But,
like St. Martin, Cuthbert could not escape the solicitations of men. He
refused a bishopric. King, bishops and priests, however, came to his
rock and on their knees implored him to aid in the work of the Church.
He sacrificed his solitude and study to serve them. For two years he
labored in episcopal activities. Then with a premonition of death, he
retired again to solitude on Fame. Before death he reluctantly con-
sented that his body should be carried back to Lindisfarne. He died in
687.

Bede was born in 673, a few years before the death of Cuthbert.
Bede wrote, or finished, the History in 731, four years before his own
death. Cuthbert is the last churchman of this period who shows the
influence of lona. Bede himself was. altogether of the Roman tradition.
He was born almost in a Roman monastery. Actually he was born
at a place which shortly after his birth was granted to one Benedict
Biscop for a monastery. Bede's parents sent him at seven years into the
monastery that Biscop founded at Wearmouth, for education, and Bede
spent all the rest of his life there. Biscop was of English birth, but his

46 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

temperament took him to Rome, and not to lona. He had many inter-
views with the Pope of the day, and each time he returned from Rome,
Biscop brought with him customs and usages of the Roman Church.
The monastery at Wearmouth in which Bede passed all his life was
dedicated to St. Peter. There Bede learned the manner of chanting the
Roman liturgy from the priest John, whom Biscop had brought with him
from Rome for the purpose of instructing the English nation. Grad-
ually the Roman liturgy and traditions supplanted the older Gallican use
which had come to Britain with St. Patrick. In the differences between
the Roman and the native ecclesiastics, Bede always presents his country-
men as in the wrong. His history ends with a picture of all Britain
brought into conformity with the true Roman Church. But Bede was
a scholar, and had a great deal of the scholar's pride about the correct-
ness of his information, etc. In carrying out his purpose of glorifying
the Roman authority, he makes quite clear the nature of the older tradi-
tion in Britain and the older claims though he does not himself approve
that tradition. His testimony is of high value and his record of the
century and a half following Columba's death is of very great interest.

SPENSER MONTAGUE.

(It is a singular pleasure to record thanks to an appreciative reader
in England. I have never had the good fortune to know any one who
delights in Bede's History as I do. It is therefore a great surprise and
a lively pleasure to receive through the Editor, two interesting books and
many lovely photographs sent by an English reader of the QUARTERLY
who has the most loving interest in the church and monastery where
Bede lived. S. M.)

SOME ASPECTS OF THEOSOPHY

As SEEN BY A NEW MEMBER OF THE SOCIETY

VII

"PRAY FOR THEM THAT PERSECUTE YOU"

THE beginner was dining with some charming friends. The seat
on the hostess' right hand was vacant. "A faithful doctor is
never free from calls to duty," it was explained.

When the Doctor came in he was amusedly irate: "For
once," he declared, "I was really tempted to abandon a very sick patient
by refusing a call. It would have been a warning and a lesson to him
and to others to keep away from quacks."

"What variety was it this time?" was the host's query.
"A very sick man did not think that Nature knew her business in
rebuilding slowly after years of neglect and abuse, so, the other day
when I called, I was told that the case had been placed in the hands of
a Theosophist !"

"A what?" cried the hostess, with a glance of fun at the beginner,
with whom she had recently attended a meeting of the local Branch.

"That's what he advertises himself as a Theosophist; and on his
cards he specifies himself as a 'Practitioner of Medical Theosophy.' "

This is the sort of experience that may confront the seeker for
light in his first contact with the Theosophical movement. Perhaps
comfort may lie in the suggestion that such experiences may be in the
nature of a test or a warning. If egotism be so strong as to be mortified
or chagrined it may be well for the seeker to turn away after this stumble
rather than to risk a harder fall later. This, however, is an afterview
and was not clear the night of the dinner, while the beginner tried to
meet with faith, yet without assertion, the raillery of his friends.

Yet there came to him later the question, "why do they permit the
abuse of the name?"

So, at the next of those memorable lunches ; all too-soon cut off, that
the inquirer might be forced to think and act for himself after being
given loving guidance and well-tempered wisdom; the Modern Mentor
was asked, "All sorts of people, and most of them decidedly queer, use
the name of the T. S. and even do what none of you do call themselves
Theosophists. Why don't you get out an injunction and at least stop
the abuse of the Society's name, even if you cannot prevent the other?"

The Mentor leaned back and laughed. "My dear boy, do you really
and truly think that you are sincere in wishing to join the T. S. ?"

"Of course I am," was the instant answer.

48 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

"But how can you be when you evidently have not taken in one of
the very first principles of the Society?"

"What do you mean, please ?"

"Tolerance."

"But what has that got to do with the abuse of the Society's name
by people who offend all of its principles?"

"Do they not each of them believe that they have a right to use the
name? You must, if you would join the T. S., learn to be tolerant and
see only their sincerity, always remembering the warning of the
Bhagavad Gita, 'the duty of another is full of danger.' Would we be
tolerant, if, by force, through turning to the civil law, we sought to
prevent by external means, others from doing what they believe?"

"But think of the cruel harm done the T. S."

There was no amusement left in the Mentor's manner ; he was grave
almost to severity and his voice was reverent when he answered, "Think
of the cruel harm that has been done our great Master Jesus Christ by
those who call themselves Christians, yet can you think of His stretching
forth His all-powerful hand to save His Name? Does He not rather
pray for those who hurt Him and persecute Him?"

The luncheon was left in silence and the beginner had learned to
see that what the T. S. stands for must be accepted, with all its hazards,
in absolute sincerity and literalness. And some understanding of all that
this involves was given him when, the next time they met, his Mentor
gave him, without comment, a copy of Professor Mitchell's Theosophy
and the Theosophical Society.

To advise another may not be safe, yet risks must be taken, so this
beginner ventures to express a wish that all those in his static relation to
the movement would take the trouble to get this guide to some apprecia-
tion of what the T. S. is and why its members absolutely carry out in the
Twentieth Century the Rule of the Master of our Christian church,
"Pray for them that persecute you." Matthew v. 44.

VIII
"LEARN YE TO FOLLOW; ERE YE SEEK TO GUIDE"

A young business man had activities that took him to several cities.
In one of them the chance of business relations brought him again in
contact with some family friends and through these friends he met a
Group of people, of which they formed an integral part. He found all
of the Group to be most charming socially and, where business also
brought contact, he found them to be equally as able. So strong was
the impression of real greatness that he was shocked when chance brought
to him from the outside the news that they were all active members in
the local Branch of the T. S. He went so far as to try to brush out of
his mind the remembrance and to maintain the relationship on the familiar

SOME ASPECTS OF THEOSOPHY 49

basis of social appreciation and affection and business confidence and
respect. He even felt a bit apologetic in his own mind that he should
have chanced upon this "mortifying secret" for as such he found himself
regarding the fact.

But into the blank chaos and utter blackness, into which the kind
rigors of a kinder Fate threw him ; to sorrow and despair, until he should
hunger for help and welcome it, even in the lesson he was learning ; came
a soft light. It was dim and perhaps diffuse, but it lighted him onward.
Soon without knowing it his feet were fumbling for a Path he knew not
existed, thinking only of the comfort that there "was light." At the
time unwittingly he turned to his friends of the Group. They were not
close friends in the conventional sense. Those closer to him convention-
ally often wondered why he went where he did for "comfort." The
secret was perhaps in that word. In the ordinary sense he was not given
"comfort." Pity was a foreign thought, but infinite tenderness and
sympathy were offered him in even thought-silence. Out of the stiffen-
ing of will and effort, all but entirely dissipated in the reaction from the
Lesson of Grief, came an interest in subjects which had been lost sight
of in the pressure of active business and great happiness. From this
came a tide that changed the drift into a current. The "mortifying
secret" came back into his intellectual consciousness and he remembered
that his friends were of the T. S. and he began to ask questions. Before
he realized that he had formulated a want that was not to be satisfied
until he should have been enrolled with them in the T. S. ; he reached,
through purely intellectual processes of observation and conviction, the
conclusion that the secret existed. He saw that it was their endeavor to live
up to the spirit of the Theosophical movement that was the explanation
of their power on all the planes on which he had contacted with them
socially, financially and in their sympathy in his sorrow. In other words
he grew to believe absolutely that the charm, the ability, the loveableness,
the unselfishness and the all-round power of this Group was an expression
of that Something which also made them active members in the T. S.

If you knew of people who had found gold in an open and unpre-
empted region, geographically adjacent, would you not seek to follow
them and endeavor to get them to share their discoveries with you, even
if you knew nothing about mining and metallurgy? In a crude way this
analogy illustrates the feeling that led the young man to fasten himself
upon one of the Group, seeking every opportunity of obtaining some idea
of that far Land of Spiritual El Dorado, that to his friends seemed as
if but across the road, but which to him still seemed as distant as the
mountains, shining white above forbidding crags, away, 'way off against
the horizon. The friend to whom he turned, while remaining a friend
soon became a Friend, and later was adopted as a Mentor or Guide to
the Path that began to be outlined dimly stretching toward the distant
horizon.

50 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

When this happened it came back to the hungry Inquirer that his
Guide, during all the years that had passed, had again and again, with
seeming carelessness and with the lightness of play of a finished angler,
offered him opportunities for questions. Every once in a while some book
"that you might find of interest" in regard to this or that point had
come up in conversation. Some of these books had even been secured at
the time, but had been cast aside after feeble efforts to open them at all
after the momentary stimulus had waned in its effect.

Crouched like a dog at heel waiting for his Friend to look less tired
under the battering of questioning, the Inquirer seized upon a physical
movement that broke the momentary repose to dash forward to express
something he had grown to feel strongly :

"Think, dear Mentor, of the years that I have wasted, of all that
I have lost just because you did not take me by the throat and knock
my silly head against a wall and punctuate the thumping by saying
'you're starving and even if you don't know it I am going to make you
eat and drink !' " The Inquirer spoke jestingly just because he knew
that at last he was expressing the regret that had grown ; the lament that
could no longer be stilled.

It was to his real feeling and not to his surface manner that the
Mentor replied, "Again and again through all these years I have wished
that I might do that very thing, but it was not to be then. Some day
you will learn that there must be a demand before it can be supplied and
that mere need will not suffice. This is the price we pay for the terrible
yet wonderful Gift of Free- Will. The Masters Themselves may crave to
reach us and enlighten us, but even They are powerless until the Soul
first cries out for Their Help."

Now must be confessed something that to those who are also begin-
ning will sound like a more-or-less "silly paradox," to quote from the
writer's own too-recent vocabulary. The truth of this simple statement
by his Mentor was so absolute and complete that not even a tiny inkling
of its significance and possibilities of ramification reached the would-be
student for a long, long time. And then only after weary and moment-
arily-bitter experiences. Take this letter "O" ; it is simple and insignifi-
cant ; yet it can be used as a symbol of the Very Highest and yet to some
it also expresses a baby's first unthinking cry.

"Bumps open the brain," a wise old nurse used to tell the mother of
a large flock, and there may be occult truth contained in her wisdom as
well as the cheery comfort she thus expressed. Is it not a fact that most
"freshmen" or "new chums" or "tenderfeet" or however you would
describe that familiar state, seem convinced that they "know it all" ? And
worse than that have they not usually the "fool courage of their callow
convictions?" A favorite manifestation of this is in the application of
various "new discoveries" to their own lives in the face of older coun-

SOME ASPECTS OF THEOSOPHY 51

sellers. Let not the beginner think that when he turns toward the occult
he automatically sheds his old faults and his old difficulties. There seems
to be but one Law, though it may have many Aspects, as you view it from
any one of its six sides. Only in the fourth dimension (as so wonderfully
and charmingly explained that even a child may follow) may you see it
in its entirety. And for this explanation turn back to John Charlton's
little gem of making plain occult phenomena published in a recent number
of THE QUARTERLY.

This is a digression but it is also an illustration that while you must
keep your feet on the Path it is well to know where you are going lest
you wander off !

Servetus was a spiritual freshman, indeed, he was a "prep-school"
freshman at that, but he did not know it. He too had need to learn from
the Primer of Life that Humility is a Power "Learn," why that is a ridic-
ulous assertion "hope to appreciate something some day of that great
Truth that Humility is Power" were the safer phrase. "Learn" do we
ever "learn" is not our very best an ardent yearning to Learn?

Of course the Mentor was wise, but he was a bit old-fogyish, or so,
at least, thought his pupil. Look at the mistake that had been made in the
pupil's own case. He would not be so cruel. He would not stand by idly
and let others suffer. Even if they did not know that they were suffering
he could tell from his own pain and agony ; and simple decency required
that he should go to their aid. Mentor was a wonderful fellow ; one of
that group designated as "saint-men" by the pupil's little boy, but warrior
saints have not been seen by modern men to their own knowledge. The
time had come to be brave. The whole spirit of the age is "progress" ;
why not progress in matters spiritual ?

So then reasoned the pupil. He had been told but he had to find
out that the truth never changes and that he was expressing the same
reaction that every inquirer has experienced since first the Divine came
into Human life. As a matter of fact he had "become" nothing. He
was yet to learn that mere feeling or intellectual enjoyment or even
acceptance may be worse than nothing. All he had was a job-lot of
unassimilated information; a hodge-podge of fructifying ideas (not ideals
as he thought) ; a veritable mess of fermenting but utterly unformu-
lated desire. It was about as safe a situation for him, had he but heeded
the sign boards, the shouted warnings and the open perils in his path,
as if he had filled his pockets with nitro-glycerine and had started for a
stroll over Mt. Washington without changing his dancing pumps. But,
remember, he "knew" that he was that exceptional boy who may be
trusted with grown-up things !

The full and detailed story of the disaster would be too autobio-
graphical and probably not of interest except to the sufferer himself.
He emerged ultimately in the state of the Captain's parrot in the old
China trade story, which carried the candle into the magazine. Torn,
denuded, naked and flayed he too was ready to exclaim as he looked in

52 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

the mirror, "Heaven only knows whether I ever was a parrot or not,
but I know that I have been a fool."

Here are a few fragments to be picked up from the ruins of the
structure the spiritual freshman sought to erect: Sincere seekers, who
might have become students, driven off bored or terrified; two clergy-
men hurt and offended by a kindly endeavor to explain to them what they
really believed ; former business associates divided in their opinion as to
whether the Inquirer was hypocritical or merely insane, when he talked
about the fundamental spiritual basis for all forms of activity, a fact, but
one about which he really knew nothing, for he was not even trying to
live accordingly; members of his family, whose "conversion" was
attempted have since confessed that they had begun to believe in the
possibilities of demoniacal possession; and classes and committees the
Inquirer sought to help and organize on spiritual lines inevitably waned
in attendance and as inevitably died solitary and anaemic deaths. To use
a mathematical form of expression as the self-righteous proselytizing
effort, so the failure and repulsion. And, to crown it all, the freshman
found that even according to his old and unregenerate standards he
himself had gone back while he had been working, as he pretended even
to himself, for others. And here came another lesson that the New
Testament may be a hand book of practical instruction to a life theo-
sophical, as it so often appears to any student who struggles on the Path,
for the parable of the Mote and the Beam proved to be true and "common-
sensible."

There must have been some inspiration to common sense in the
realization of this, for when it came to the freshman he did what he
should long before have done, what he should have done before he tried
to guide others. He went to others himself and asked some of the older
members for help out of the bog in which he had stranded himself. The
experience was like the holding up of the mirror by the Captain to the
parrot.

Many pages had Servetus written in comment upon and elucidation
of this truly not exaggerated personal experience. He was hoping that
he might be able to save some other from the pangs he suffered. But
there has come back to him the formal evidence that he heard presented
at the Legislative hearings when one of our Northern states passed the
first law requiring Guides to the trackless woods to be publicly licensed
and only licensed after they had proved their competency. And again
he realized that there is nothing spiritual or occult that is not to be
parallelled out of our everyday experience if only we will look around us
with eyes of sympathy and understanding. And to teach Servetus the
possibilities of conciseness he has been given the quotation with which
this chapter is headed, "Learn ye to Follow ; ere ye seek to Guide." And
this is why one very new student of Theosophy has learned to accept
that to proselytize is at best not profitable to "either party to the
transaction." SERVETUS.

ON THE SCREEN OF TIME

PRACTICAL OCCULTISM

THE summer should be given to inner activity, to meditation, to
spiritual reading and to prayer, just as the winter should be
given to consecration by means of outer work. In this, the
lower kingdoms of nature reflect the higher reversely, the
spiritual forces indrawing as the material forces expand. And because
they indraw, they need to be followed, on the principle that we should
always work with the tide of spiritual life and should turn our effort in
the direction in which it flows.

The Disciple, the Gael and the others whose conversation usually is
recorded in this department of the QUARTERLY, announce without regret
or apology that they have "gone out of the talking business" ; they refuse
to provide me with summer "copy." In this extremity I, as Recorder,
have had the great good fortune to have placed in my hands a record,
unique in exoteric literature so far as I am aware, which should be
of immense service to those who are interested in discipleship whether
theoretically or practically.

Not long ago a woman, a member of the Theosophical Society, died.
She had been a member for a great many years, and at one time had
been effectively active on behalf of the Society. She had known Mr.
Judge and had been helped greatly by him. Not long after his death, her
activity ceased. She allowed herself, as she afterwards realized, to be
washed onto a sand-bank in the river of life, and to lie there, gasping,
for as long a period as she had before given to working for Theosophy.
She had been a disciple "on probation." She had done splendid work.
She forced herself forward where the fire was hottest: and she failed.
But she was brought back to life, and to a more complete discipleship
was "raised from the dead" as she expressed it to me later through the
instrumentality of the individual known to readers of the QUARTERLY
as "Cave." For this she was boundlessly grateful, and, before her actual
death, instructed her heirs to loan me her papers and records, believing
that I might be able to extract material which would help others.

Not more than half a dozen members of the Society ever knew her,
even by name. She wrote for the magazines, but always under noms-
de-plume. Her husband was a great traveller and, with him, she roamed
the world Europe and Asia and Africa many times over.

Among the papers loaned to me are a number of letters to her, written
by Cave, and the record of her daily meditation with comments by
Cave. She showed and explained these to me when I last saw her, so
that I am able to some extent to speak of the preliminaries as well as to
elucidate the sequence of the letters, whenever that seems necessary.

54 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

She was washed off her sand-bank at last. The river of life rose
and freed her. The prayers of her friends, she said: although, in a
way, she had never ceased her "general aspiration." And at first she
resented hotly the way in which she had been freed. In part she was
frightened and in part angry like a man, praying for death, struck dead
on the street: aware that he has been killed; frightened by the strange-
ness of his situation, and angry with the man who had knocked him over.
So she tried at first to reject her release. But that folly passed. She
came in time to realize that the shame and disgrace which had overtaken
her were the greatest negative blessing that had ever come into her life.
She had been living in Hell, and she knew it. Even Hell had spewed
her out, or so it seemed. What next? She felt, at that time, that she
had long ago ruined her life; that it could hold no future. She looked
forward to nothing but a dull grind of duty, and then death, and perhaps
after that, "another chance." But even in Hell she had clung to some
of the Rules which at one time she had accepted in simple and wise
literalness. She had continued to meditate. She had sought guidance
within the limits of her own self-will. Now she tried to surrender her
own will. She sought guidance genuinely. Yet because she had in some
respects deliberately made herself deaf, she could not hear except occa-
sionally and along the narrowest of tracks. Finally she decided to seek
her fellows, whom she had not seen for so long. She believed in Masters.
She had known that they exist. And she found her fellows doing what
she knew was Masters' work.

It was then that I met her again. Her shy efforts to pick up the
thread where she had dropped it, were altogether pitiable. Her hand
had lost its cunning. Her heart had dried and she did not know it.
Years later she told me that pride and vanity had held her compressed,
as between steel plates. But she began to work. She did what she
could. And she gave more time to meditation.

Finally it dawned on her that while she had known the Masters out-
wardly, as the supreme Workers, and herself as one of their instruments,
she had not known them at all in the deeper sense, and that she had
never given them her heart. It was example, she said, that taught her
this; it was observation of one disciple in particular whose love seemed
centered in them. Her desire to help returned with increasing intensity.
She was told that she must learn to love if truly she would serve; and
she, this woman of forty, set her will grimly to the task of learning
how to love!

She had at one time ranked as wiser, or as older in spiritual things,
than most of her companions. And her first surrender of vanity, she
told me afterwards, was made when she put herself unreservedly into
the hands of another, body and soul, with a voluntary promise to do
anything that might be required of her if only she might be taught how
to love as she believed that other loved. She was in deadly earnest.
Hope was coming back to her and made her desperate. Her time was

ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 55

limited. She had to leave. Having made up her mind to do, to obey;
having swallowed her pride at least in one direction; having learned to
hold life, when governed by herself, as cheap as dirt there was nothing,
in my opinion, that woman would not have done in a material sense in
order to gain her end. She would have jumped off the highest roof.
She would have walked to Cape Horn. And she must have intimated
as much, half jokingly, in her letter of appeal, judging by the reference
to South America in Cave's reply. Of her own letters she kept no record.
So the correspondence, as given here, necessarily is one-sided.

On November 27th, 1903, Cave wrote to her as follows :

"My dear friend I want to thank you with sincere gratitude and
affection for your most kind letter. I have taken it deeply to heart, and
feel the seriousness and responsibility of the trust you place in me.
I shall do all in my power to justify it, and aid you in every way I
can. ... I am not going to send you to South America! not yet,
at any rate : but ask of you the far harder task of taking yourself stead-
fastly in hand, cultivating confidence that you can do it lean on my
faith there, when you lose your own in other words devoting yourself
chiefly to that branch of the work which has never appealed to you nor
awakened your enthusiasm: your own training. But it will interest
you when I assure you that that is your path to the Master. There always
is one path for each of us, and usually it is the one way we do not care
to go.

"I do not think you in any sense lethargic, only your great mental
activity has dulled and deadened your inner faculties. Here is something
for immediate attack.

"Please remember that when you want to talk to me I am here,
waiting. I shall speak, of course, when I see need; but usually I shall
wait for you. That is my way."

Two days later she received from Cave "Some Notes and Sugges-
tions."

"If you do not already keep a Diary, please do so, not merely the
ordinary kind, but what is called a 'Chela's Log Book.' Note in it the
inner events, and, as far as you can perceive them, the inner meaning
of outer events. This will keep your attention upon that side of your
daily happenings and occupations ; and putting them down every night
before sleeping, will give them sequence, and, in the course of time,
coherence and a consecutive meaning. In this you will find the guid-
ance of your life, not flash-lights out of the darkness now and again,
which bewilder as often as they illumine, and which, thus torn from the
context as it were, one is more often than not prone to misinterpret;
but a steady, even light, which though very small at first, if we follow
after with eyes steadfastly fixed upon it, grows brighter and brighter.
(This Ledger should be referred to often and re-read at regular
intervals.)

"Try therefore to notice things. Realize that they are happening

56 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

all the time, and try to see them. You have to be steadily on the look-
out to do this. You cannot expect much if you only try at intervals
during the day, with your mind full of a thousand details of outer work
and outer things between. Do not force; do not strain; do not get
out of breath; keep down anxiety; leave results alone. Remember,,
results belong to the Master, and that the disciple must never take
what does not belong to him. The disciple has no 'rights' (save to be
tried) not even the right to himself.

"By an effort of will you should keep the doubt, distrust, ridicule
and cynicism of the mind, down and away. No difference whatever that
these are turned against yourself, since you are no different from the rest,
and must eliminate that which is due, partly to the sense of separateness
in a larger way, and, in a smaller way, to a subtler form of self-love
and vanity. These feelings, if not kept at bay, lead always to discour-
agement and despair. So sharpen the blade of your will upon these
inevitable defects, which must, however, be completely eradicated.
Make it a point of honour. You cannot realize no one can before a
certain stage how insulting such feelings are towards the Master.
How often we place him upon a throne, with purple robe and sceptre
and a crown (a crown of thorns alas!), and then bend the knee and
mock and buffet him! And his prayer is always the same Father,
forgive them for they know not what they do. This may seem exagger-
ation, but it is not : it is the same thing on a higher plane.

"Occultly speaking your mind is undisciplined. Your first task
therefore is to discipline it, and you will do this by your will. Say
to it first So far and no further ! And never let it cross the line.

"If you can arrange it, I should like you to fix an hour when you
can meditate with me, daily. Of course, I do not mean that we should
be together. The morning is a better time, and I can arrange for any
hour save . . . Take five minutes, if possible. Insist upon yourself
as a disciple, and then turn to the Higher Self by way of the Master.
Sometimes I shall try to speak to you at such times, and please keep
careful notes of any impressions you have, which I would like to see.

"One personal matter. Be always simple and direct with me.
I shall make it a point to accept what you say just as you say it not
looking under or behind your words for your meaning. So you must
be careful, or you might unintentionally mislead me. You are shy, and
so am I. We must both try to get over this with each other. It is
foolish and a barrier. Let us be frank and simple and trust each other
and ourselves. . . . You know most of these things : have taught
them many times. Now you must do them."

Mrs. S. (for it will be easier to give her some appellation) took this
advice to heart and, so far as she was able, seems promptly to have acted
upon it. She told me that she had found the earlier part of the advice
almost meaningless, it was so far removed from her practice and
experience. She had lived hurriedly and superficially. She had, at all

ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 57

but her best and highest, been far too "extroverted" sacrificing every-
thing for what she had imagined to be the needs of the outer work.
But she began at once to keep a diary. The day after the receipt of the
"Suggestions," I find outer events and conversations entered in consider-
able detail, with this brief paragraph added: "It has been a confused
day interiorly. I have been trying new things and new methods. The
result this evening is that I seem, if anything, to have lost ground.
Transition, I suppose." Certainly she lost no time in measuring her
growth !

On the next day, she divided her diary into "inner" and "outer,"
devoting all of the "inner," however, to the five minutes of meditation
with Cave ! This is her first entry.

"Reading letter from . When concluded, and before the clock

struck, I suddenly and without premeditation, stood up and raised my
fingers to my lips conscious of some presence. After a moment or two
the clock struck, and then I found myself saying in part of my mind,
Of course I hear you, dear friend' with an inner smile. But, as a
matter of fact, I did not hear anything in my outer mind. Then I tried
to do as advised: to insist upon myself as a disciple (which I did feel),
and then to meditate through the Master on the Higher Self. Also, at
the same time, to listen. It seemed that you [it should be understood
that this record was intended for Cave, and was afterwards read and
returned by Cave] were saying something about 'help' urging me, as it
were, to get busy in order to help. But I could trace a sort of sub-
conscious question in my own mind, previous to this, asking myself
'What would Cave be saying anyhow ?' Still, I am inclined to think that
there was the idea in your mind that I ought to help. I tried to meditate
on the Higher Self in my usual formula: as That which we all are
'Where all hearts are One; all being is One; all Consciousness is One;
all Love is One.' Was helped."

Three days later there is this brief entry.

"The meditation this morning I described to myself afterwards as
colourless. And it had very little force. I think this must have been
due in part to lack of sleep."

On the same day, under "outer" events, she speaks of going to bed
that night at 3.30 A. M., and then adds emphatically : "I am not seeing
the inner meaning of outer events."

Cave, presumably, allowed these entries to pass without comment,
for it is not until much later that written comment appears. It should
not be inferred from this that the method followed met with approval.
The use of the phrase, "usual formula," suggests a habit, and, when
attempting to change the whole direction of a life, it is necessary at first
to allow much to pass without correction until essentials have been
grasped. Furthermore it should clearly be understood that every case

58 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

requires individual diagnosis and treatment. Meditation of one kind is
needed by one person and would be a hindrance to another. No one
should attempt to prescribe for himself. Even a physician goes to
another physician when he is sick: and who is not sick in a spiritual
sense! Consequently it would be folly for anyone reading these pages
to say, "I will do that: that will suit me." It would be just as foolish
as it would be to adopt a prescription because it had cured a friend of
gout the only similarity between our case and his being, perhaps, a
pain in the same general region. Our gouty friend doubtless was treated
from day to day, or from week to week, according to his changing con-
dition and need : which is something that must be taken into account, as
well as the probability of essential difference between his malady and our
own.

The problem in any case is the recovery or the conquest of spiritual
life and health, which includes the discovery and recognition of that
Master on whose "Ray" the neophyte stands. That Master is the Way,
the Truth, and the Life. It is He alone who can lead us to our "second
birth" and, in the occult sense, no one is alive until thus born. There-
fore that Master must be sought. Therefore, again, "Silence thy
thoughts and fix thy whole attention on thy Master whom yet thou dost
not see, but whom (at one stage) thou feelest."

Returning now to the record of Mrs. S., who was by no means a
beginner, but who had been following wrong methods, I find this entry
on December 8th, some ten days after her beginning with Cave.

"Sat down to meditate with a mind that felt dead and without
sufficient energy to concentrate. Then, without effort [the deadness of
mind had helped not hindered], in two or three seconds, the current
seemed to change, and it became almost easy. It came into my mind
that : 'The chela thinks only of the Master' perhaps in general comment
on my mind of yesterday and this morning. So I tried to apply it now
[She was in any case learning one lesson]. Not much success. But
then came the rest of the sentence, as it were after a considerable pause,
during which I tried to think only of the Master : 'and of what the
Master tells him to think about.' So I tried then to pass to the Higher
Self : from the Master to within the Master, rather in the sense of 'the
Great One, in whom we live and move and have our being,' and in whom
all consciousness is one. The best meditation as such for some time at
this hour" [She was meditating at several other hours of the day, and
for longer periods than this special five minutes] .

Next day there was this entry.

"This was a complete failure. I was tired and dead and my mind
would not stay still. There was no impression, and the only comment
I could make on it to myself afterwards was that it was an insult."

There are many entries which throw side-lights on her character.

ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 59

Thus : "I read the second volume of Mr. Judge's Letters, and am more
impressed than ever with his energy." Then, on December 12th: "Not
a good day, but I suppose a shade above the average. And this is not
saying much. There is lack of clear recollection, and of moving and
doing as in the Lodge, which I am trying to do at present." On the
19th : "Last thing at night : must be prepared to keep this up for ever ;
and if present strain too violent, modify it, or even it in such a way as
to make it attainable permanently. What is a chela's attitude and effort ?
You cannot win. Leave it to Him."

A few days later there is this record of the special five minutes :

"The strongest sense of Cave's presence I have ever had with a
sense, as it were, of entreaty possibly to listen and hear after so many
efforts. And I did try. Yet all I could get in my mind was the thought
the words 'Turn your heart.' The presence was very strong and
clear, and held me for several minutes beyond the ten [this looks as if
the original five had been extended] with a great longing to get away,
to get through, forcing a prayer to the Master to take whatever of me
can be taken."

The next entry of interest is that while dressing for dinner she had
the idea very vividly "Do not look up ; look down." On the following
day, this : "All day on the verge of tears ! with constant effort to keep
them back. Looking for results and sense of failure ! . . . Don't look
for results ! Be all that you can be and let the rest go."

Meditating with Cave by this time they were on different con-
tinents, Mrs. S. being in Japan she had, on Christmas Day, the feeling
of great help "and was deeply grateful." " 'Take yet more courage,'
was the thought I got out of it, after the foolish hope that Cave would
not lose patience with my stupidity. 'Within you is the Light of the
World. It is still. Feel it. That is the Master.' This came to me at
a later meditation, but I think as a deposit from the meditation with
you."

Perhaps this is the best point at which to include the next letter
from Cave, because it was sent in reply to one written on Christmas
Day:

"My very dear friend,

". . . But above all I must thank you for your Christmas letter,
which meant a great deal to me. Your personal expressions of trust
and affection are dear to my heart the love of my friends and
fellow-workers is something I am very dependent upon. But above all
I see you turning with strong faith and effort to the Master: turning,
so that I do not believe you could ever again under any delusion whatever,
turn away. O do not be discouraged ! We must all feel our failings
and inadequacies, but what do they matter. Press on ! After all, that
is the Master's concern, not ours. If we were worthy of his choice,
then he knows that we have within us the possibilities of what he desires.
And he loves us ! Surely we can never disappoint that marvellous love.

60 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

And we can cling to that and forget about results. After what we know
of the difference in his outlook and ours, we must realize that his results
are far other than ours, even ours at their best; and that our safety
for ourselves and for his work lies in leaving them absolutely alone.

"Can you doubt that I, who require so much patience, would not
find it for you? What would keep me humble, were there nothing else
to do so, is that I can see so clearly how much more is shown me than
I have ever need to show."

That letter, Mrs. S. told me, nearly broke her heart. She felt so
utterly unworthy of it. And as I hold it, writing, its envelope is soiled
with wear and with handling. She must have carried it with her for
many months.

In her record of the special meditations, I find the first of the
comments by Cave on an entry dated January 6th. Mrs. S. had written:
"I described this to myself as a meditation of love and of worship. It
was deep and real . . ." Cave notes: "These 'meditations of love
and worship' are the best of all."

At the end of an entry a few days later, Mrs. S. wrote: "But I
should write these records at the time." Cave underscores "at the time,"
and adds: "This is important where possible. When notes are made
later they may, unconsciously to ourselves, be elaborated or obscured by
mental images that grow up about them. The first clear-cut impression
if only of success or failure inspiration or flatness is important.
This does not preclude adding later, what may come through later, in
a supplementary note."

On January 10th there is this :

"Better than yesterday, but still not best. It improved with every
minute, until quarter past, when I stopped. A strong sense of co-opera-
tion. It seemed that Cave said something the first words of which,
although this is only three minutes later, I have already lost No: this

is what it seemed, 'All is well. I trust you to .' The balance I

missed, but it may have been 'to make good.' "

On this Cave comments : "The idea intended was 'forge ahead.' "

There are entries of complete failure, or of what evidently seemed
like it. Then, on the 16th, this: "In a 'rickshaw. After a minute or
two, I decided that to try to hear, or to listen, is perhaps the wrong
method ; and that I would just do it, and talk with Cave anyway. So I
told Cave . . . Then Cave replied that the Master has been immensely
and wonderfully kind, and . . . Then I continued the meditation in
a more abstract sense, feeling a great love for the Master, and with more
and more encouragement to assume, without question, the full responsi-
bilities and privileges of chelaship. There must be more self-confidence."

Cave comments: "This was well done. Many years ago,

taught me (inside) to go to him and talk to him just as if he were stand

ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 61

ing right there before me. It was an old habit of childhood, which, in
my years of green fruitage, I considered foolish and looked back upon

with indulgent amusement. showed me that the child's instinct and

method was the true one. It took a little time, and both my faith and
patience were tested : but I know from experience that it is an unfailing
method."

More "wretched failures," one of them "due perhaps to a slight
earthquake which upset me." Then, on January 20th, this:

" 'Be patient and persevere/ again was impressed on my mind. The
idea occurred to me to assert mentally and to feel myself as being the
highest qualities, such as they exist in the Master. Thus, I am that love
which is His and to feel the utmost that one can of His love as being
one's own and one's Higher Self. I think the effect is good."

In a footnote Cave writes : "This is a good exercise : for remember
the Manas of the Master and chela is one that is to say, all the Manas
of the chela is the Master's, and the chela has as much of the Master's
as he can reach and assimilate. So of his other qualities, since the
chela lives in the Master's aura."

Next comes this : "I tried hard to hear Cave's voice. .
Cannot understand why I can hear nothing audibly. No result in this
case either, but after I had been trying for a few minutes to listen, it
did seem as if Cave were saying, several times in succession 'Turn your
heart, turn your heart!' Mentally I asked 'Is that you?' and then
'Yes, it is I,' and the same words again."

The comment by Cave is: "Audible hearing is not necessary: in
your case might easily be a barrier. Let that go. Do not worry about
it. Get the impression as vividly as you can."

On January 24th: "This was a good meditation. It seemed that
someone said : 'There is a Path. It is a Path of great endeavour. You
may follow it.' I noted that it was not 'can' or 'should,' but 'may.' This
was not in answer to any known or recognized mental question of mine.
It did not come with the clear-cut precision or 'shock' of a 'message.'
It might easily have been an inner process of my own. So with all of
these impressions. Yet when I asked Cave if present, a very strong
impression of 'Yes.' "

The comment reads : "Have more faith in your impressions. Better
to go it blind and be deceived, than to chill everything with doubt. Puri-
fication casts out doubt : it really has nothing to do with others or with
circumstances."

The next entry by Mrs. S. is: "Tried to carry out the idea of
interior silence: with what result I hardly know. But it seemed to cut
me off from all possibility of 'hearing' any distinct thing, though, when
I had practically finished, the sentence came into my mind 'The love of
the Master is the joy of the world' which, so far as I can see, means
nothing, and was not even the result of a mental process !"

On this Cave wrote: "Sometimes our minds extinguish spiritual

62 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

ideas as a burning torch is extinguished by plunging it in water this
when psychic (astral or emotional) influences dominate the mind. Or
again, in the aridity of over-activity in outer events (lack of Detach-
ment), the Divine Spark goes out as a hot coal is smothered by ashes.
. . . There is much meaning in your message of today. For if joy
be the very heart and essence of life, as the Master has told us, then
his love is the road to it in being one with it. Thus he becomes truly our
Mediator: Love, the essence of Life as of the Master, being the Way,
the Truth, and the Life universal and individual."

An entry on the 29th evoked a particularly valuable comment. Mrs.
S. had written as follows : "This was a good meditation as such. Then
there came into my mind the words, 'Be kind and gentle' ; later 'Rejoice
in the Lord alway, and again I say rejoice' ; then 'Turn your heart.' But
these all seemed like mental echoes, and I asked (not hearing any voice)
is that your voice Cave? To which camej:he answer 'Yes, this is
my voice.' So I asked 'How can I tell it from the voice of my own
mind?' to which the answer was 'It is more gentle!' But I did not feel
the least sense of conviction with any of this, and note it only because
Cave said 'Note all impressions carefully.' In a sense the meditation
took me above the mind, but then, looking down, I saw merely these
mental processes."

Cave commented (and it will be understood that Mrs. S. did not
receive these comments until many weeks had passed) : "The trouble
here was that you did not look down : you sank down, and saw, not from
above, onto it, but with it. When you are really above it, you can always
distinguish your own mental voice, because it will come up to you from
below. A fellow disciple will speak on a level, as it were ; and the Master
or a Master, from above. When you grow into close communion with
the Master (your own Master), you can always distinguish his voice
from that of any other Master because it will speak in your heart."

Next day, "there was no definite impression." But on the 31st there
was this: "I am grateful for this meditation. Whether by induction
from Cave, or by more direct means, I do not know. But I certainly
could feel, and feel strongly, Cave's unbounded love for Master, and I
think it was this that liberated in me I will not say the same feeling,
but in any case a real and deep feeling of the same nature. Then, very
dimly, I seemed to see His brow, crowned with a band of gold; and
the thought flashed into my mind that it is our love that crowns him:
that it is the only crown he wears or can ever wear the golden love
of His chelas. Then I asked Cave if 'to love Him' was all that she had
wanted to say to me, and Cave's reply seemed to be, 'It is all I can ever
have to say.' I am very, very grateful."

Then this brief comment: "Bless you dear friend for this!"

She had made a real beginning. For the rest, lack of space compels

ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 63

postponement until the next issue of the QUARTERLY. In case, however,
the reader has become interested in the human side of the record in the
efforts of my friend, of the woman as such it would be natural to wish
to know the outcome. Briefly, then, she did find her Master. Her
experience in some respects was extraordinary. One of the last entries
she made, several years after those given above, is of an inner conversa-
tion with her Master, which she recorded from memory as follows :

"Do better. You can. You shall. I require it of you. You owe

it to me, to . Take heart yes, and take heart in hand. Hold it.

Control it. Use it. Spiritual will my will must govern. It is above
the heart, as heart is above mind. Now sleep, giving your life to me:
your will, consciousness, feeling. Sleep, and through that door come to

me with . Hold that need in mind. Rise tomorrow to read this

first, and look for the memory before you read another thing. My child,
rejoice that you learn. Slowly it is true: but you learn. It is not
my fault that you are slow. I would give so much to increase your
speed ! But take heart, energy, hope. I love you. Now go. My peace
I give unto you always."

Next morning there is rather a long entry, the essence of which is
contained in this sentence : "You must give yourself ; and how can this
be done except by eliminating self from all your motives !"

But the story of her progress to that point, with the letters and
comments by Cave to which she owed, as she said, her "life," must be
told "in our next." T.

ELEMENTARY ARTICLE

DREAMS

WE sometimes hear the present time spoken of as a Scientific
age, and we are told that with the exception of the more
ignorant of our people we have outgrown all the ancient
superstitions. This is evidently a mistaken idea, for there
is still much extravagant zeal manifested in the pursuit of every seeming
novelty of the occult. It is not only the poor and ignorant who run after
these things, but the rich, the select and exclusive people who seek out
and patronize them. Even those whose minds have been carefully dis-
ciplined find it hard to resist this tendency to be superstitious. In spite
of all our scientific education there is still a considerable amount of
popular belief in the presence and power of agents that are invisible
and intangible. Multitudes still believe in ghosts, wraiths, haunted
houses, second sight, prophetic dreams, presentiments and other aspects
of prevision. The glory of dreamland has not yet departed, but it has
passed from the throne to the footstool, from the palace to the cottage.
Monarchs used to consult the dream interpreter, rather than his minister,
or the general of his army. Armies were marched and halted, decrees
issued or suspended, according to the indications of these nocturnal reve-
lations. The King's sleep, and therefore his digestion, was a state affair
of great importance, for upon this often depended the coming in or going
out of Grand Viziers, and the appointment or recall of the mighty Satraps
of ancient Oriental monarchies. We have an example of this in the
experience of the Babylonian Nebuchadnezzar, and when there was not
a Daniel to come to judgment a great deal of uncertainty resulted to all
the parties most nearly concerned. The influence of the Royal bed-
chamber must have proved a constant source of vexation and anxiety.
It is obvious that there must have been some foundation for a belief that
through thousands of years found comfortable berths for so many magian
interpreters, and by which so many statesmen and great commanders
were forced to retreat. These Kings were no more fools than our
modern rulers are, and they would no more allow their public and private
affairs to be regulated by cunning priests and imposters than kings and
kaisers would today. The fact underlying this belief was that experience
had taught them that the dreams of a lucide or a natural seer, were often

DREAMS 65

prophetic or retrospective, and afforded revelations of distant or secret
circumstances. It is the rarity, and not the impossibility, of such phe-
nomena that renders the attention to ordinary dreaming as a guide in
the affairs of life such an absurdity.

In our own time we witness the occasional development of this
power, and there are many well-authenticated cases of these "remarkable
dreams" that is, dreams that later were found to be true. Not only
do we find these direct revelations in dreams that need no interpreter,
but also another class of dreams that required an expert to unravel their
mysteries. These dreams were symbolical, and physical objects were
supposed to represent complex ideas. Trees, mountains, stars, etc., stood
for empires, principalities, powers, and systems, and a certain class
devoted themselves to the translation of these hieroglyphics into the
common tongue.

Men's belief in dream lore commenced with the direct dream revela-
tions that rested on the sure and simple basis of reality, but that belief
perished under the mystic pretensions and high-sounding fallacies of
these professional dream interpreters. Of the essential difference
between lucid dreams and the chaotic dreams of ordinary sleep, the
wisest of the ancients were fully aware and typefied them under the
figure of the ivory and the horny gate, those coming through the ivory
being reliable and those through the horny deceptive.

In addition to these dreams that are of a prophetic character, there
are others that are retrospective and in which a clairvoyant power seems
to be developed. An instance of this was related in a north of England
newspaper a great many years ago. A young woman named Maria
Martin left her mother's cottage one evening stating that she would take
a short walk, but she never returned. All search and inquiry proved
ineffectual. After the lapse of two or three weeks the mother dreamed
that her daughter had been murdered and her body buried under the
floor of a building known as the red barn. This dream was repeated
and made a deep impression on the old woman's mind. She told her
poor neighbors and then got the clergyman of the parish interested and
through him some other influential people. These people rather to satisfy
the bereaved mother than for any faith in the undertaking had the barn
searched, and a few feet below the surface found the remains of the
unfortunate girl. Evidence was later gathered from other sources which
led to the conviction of a farmer's son, named Condor, as the murderer
and he made a full confession of the crime. What is the real explana-
tion of this seeming wonder that had been dismissed by the learned men
of the neighborhood as a remarkable coincidence? This mother living
in the comparative solitude of a rural district was a woman of few ideas.
This disappearance of her daughter occupied her whole being so that she
thought about little else day after day. This onepointedness, combined
with grief as an absorbing passion, by a well understood law, produced

66 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

lucidity. Everything that we do, say, or think is pictured in the astral
light, and the more intensely we think the more vivid the picture becomes.
The agitating thought and accusing conscience of this murderer would
be often turned to this cottage and to the girl he had lured to her death,
thus vivifying the picture, and this mother in a lucid dream, came into
contact with this evidence of the young man's villainy. Besides these
revelations of actual fact, there are some dreams that may be called
sympathetic, that is, two persons at the same time experience the same
dream, or perform their respective parts in the one scene. Cases of this
kind have occurred where letters detailing the impressive experiences of
each person have been received by each at the same time to the great
astonishment of all the parties concerned. Dr. Abercrombie in his work
on The Intellectual Powers, gives a case of this kind. This book was
written more than fifty years ago, but it is still worth reading.

To savages sleep is a great mystery and they have a superstitious
regard for dreams, believing them to be revelations from God. Dan
Crawford in his Thinking Black, recently published, gives some interest-
ing examples of this. It used to be believed that to sleep in certain places
would bring good and prophetic dreams. The Temple of Asklepios, the
Temple of Serapis, or the grotto of Trophonius were such places.
Sometimes experimenters would fast or take certain drugs prescribed
by priests in order to produce the dream required. According to the Old
Testament there existed among the Jews a good deal of superstition in
regard to dreams and the general teaching of the Bible seems to be that
dreams in some cases may be genuine revelations, but there are false
dreams and lying dreamers against which precautions are necessary.
Jeremiah stoutly denies that habitual dreaming is a sign of Divine inspira-
tion. There is a very striking passage in the book of Job on the use and
purpose of dreams. In Job 33:14-18 Elihu speaks of the dream as a
warning, a purpose it may sometimes serve today. "For God speaketh
once, yea twice, though man regardeth it not. In a dream, in a vision
of the night, when deep sleep falleth upon men in slumberings upon the
bed ; Then he openeth the ears of men and sealeth their instruction, That
he may withdraw man from his purpose, and hide pride from man : He
keepeth back his soul from the pit and his life from perishing by the
sword."

Our tendencies and our purposes which the business and other good
influences of the day have kept down, act themselves out in our dreams
and we see the character as it would be unmodified by the restraints and
considerations of our conscious hours. Our vanity, our pride, our
malice, our impurity, and every evil passion has full play, and shows us
its finished result, and in so vivid and true, though caricatured a form,
that we are startled and withdraw from our purpose. The evil thought
we have allowed to creep into our heart seems in our dreams to become
a deed, and we wake in horror, but are thankful that we can yet refrain.

DREAMS 67

A woman in deep poverty began to find her child a great burden and a
hindrance to earning her living, dreamt she had drowned it, and woke
in horror at the fancied sound of the plunge. She woke to clasp her
little one to her bosom with a thrill of gratified affection that never again
gave way.

The Theosophical theory is that dreaming is a state of consciousness.
Scientific writers tell us that dreams arise through reflex impulses trans-
mitted to the brain, and are caused by indigestion, uneasy postures, and
a multitude of other similar stimuli. They may also arise out of a sort
of mechanical action of the brain which, temporarily aroused into
activity in some portion of its mass, converts the slight stimuli into a
kind of text upon which it builds a whole panorama of after pictures.
This may be all true, but the question comes back to us, what is it that
dreams? However absurd, illogical, or even vicious the dream may be,
there must be an entity who dreams the dream. Every picture seen in
a dream is the creation of some entity who is pleased or horrified by the
scenes and events it creates. Animals dream, and occultists are agreed
that there is a synthesizing center of consciousness in animals, that is, an
animal elemental ruling the organism, and that it is the dreamer. So
far as the physical organism is concerned, man is an animal with an entity
controlling, but to this is added a reasoning Soul Manas. During sleep
this Higher Ego almost wholly withdraws its influence, leaving this
kamic elemental to think and imagine after its own senseless manner.
Having no reasoning power and not being guided and warned by the voice
of conscience (the Higher Self) it will commit the most silly as well as
the most heinous acts without remorse or recognition of their ethical
bearing. Just in proportion as the dream is reasonable, the influence of
the ray of Manas is apparent. So then as our ordinary dreams are the
imagination and thought-creations of a senseless entity with whom we
are karmically bound by incarnating in these human-animal bodies, we
may by closely observing our dreams find the key to our average mental
life. The general tone of our everyday thoughts reappears even in the
most senseless dreams, and while we are not responsible for the lack of
sequence and the reasonless vagaries of the dreaming entity, yet we are
responsible for the substance and general tenor of what is dreamed.
"Whosoever hateth his brother is a murderer" (/. John 3:15}. The mur-
derous thought arising in the mind may have been immediately cast out
by conscience and reason, but the lower conscienceless animal remembered
it and acted it out when opportunity offered in sleep. When we have
thoroughly conquered this lower self and prevent such thoughts from
arising in the mind, such dreams will entirely cease. All dreams are the
effect of reflected thought, a power borrowed by this elemental from
Lower Manas, or brain mind, so that as we change our life we change
our dreams. All dreams are the result of stimuli coming from some
source, and it is well to remember that stimuli from the higher nature

68 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

may reach the dream consciousness as well as those from the lower. This
is the explanation of the higher intellectual dreams like those of Con-
dorcet who solved a mathematical problem in a dream that had baffled
his waking consciousness, and of Coleridge who dreamt the poem of
"Kubla Khan." The divine inner Ego may try to express some high
thought, or some coming event upon the lower brain mind, but it may not
be clearly received ; so that when we awake we may not be able to make
anything of the dream, but we can by persistent practice train ourselves
to receive this wisdom from above. It is not the foolish waste of time
that some would have us believe it is to pay some attention to our dream
consciousness. We have conquered self -consciousness on this objective
plane and it is not too much to hope that we may in time conquer it on
the higher planes. Do you ever dream that you are dreaming? Do you
recognize the pictures before you as unreal? To recognize the illusion
is the first step towards overcoming it. It is something to know that
we may cultivate the power to control our dreams, and that by a faithful
cultivation of our highest spiritual faculties we may sometime be able
to hear the voice of God in this natural way and so, "In My Dreams I'd
Be Nearer My God to Thee."

Blessed is the man who has so controlled his lower nature as to be
able to control his dreams and to bring back to his waking consciousness
each morning some of the precious experiences of the soul on the inner
planes.

JOHN SCHOFIELD.

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Autobiography and Life of George Tyrrell, by M. D. Petre (London,
Edward Arnold, 1912), is in two volumes and is the record both of Father Tyrrell
and of his biographer. Though full of interest and alive with the personality of
its subject, it yet leaves something to be desired as a biography. If Miss Petre
brought to her work great personal devotion she failed to bring sufficient synthetic
power, system, method. Events are left to be inferred, themes are interrupted
without adequate reason to make way for other themes, extracts from the same
letter are quoted in several different parts of the book without consideration for
chronological or other sequence.

In her analysis and description of the man, Miss Petre shows a laudable desire
to let herself be guided by strict justice rather than by her strong personal friend-
ship. But over zeal for justice gives sometimes the impression that she is unjust.
The frequent mention of such faults as irritability leave an impression which is
difficult to reconcile with the charm which Father Tyrrell is said to have possessed
in such great measure.

Father Tyrrell's own account of his childhood and youth gives the impression
of being incompatible with the history of his later development. His father, to
be sure, was a journalist of some standing. His mother was brave, unselfish and
truly religious. But the boy, according to his own record, was indolent, dull,
selfish and negatively sceptical.

Nor was his transference from Anglicanism to the church of Rome character-
ized by a deep spiritual awakening. Apparently he was led to Rome by minor,
trivial causes. Yet one cannot be sure that underneath these trivial causes there
was not a strong if immature spiritual pressure. One thing, however, is clear : in
entering the service of the church of Rome his desire was rather to serve humanity
than to gain peace for himself.

He at once joined the Jesuit Order. During the first years of his membership
he submitted quietly to its discipline and carried out faithfully his pastoral and
pedagogical duties. At the same time he was an indefatigable student of the
church and of the Order to which he belonged.

These studies led to the final rupture. He became convinced that the Church
of Rome had departed from the true ideal of Catholicism and that the Jesuit Order
no longer expressed the spirit and purpose of its founder. With both organizations
in their pure form he declared himself to be in entire accord; with neither in the
reactionary policy to which it was then committed. It was this reactionary policy
which prevented them from sensing the difficulties and meeting the needs of the
age.

Many perplexed catholics turned to him for help. His private religious corres-
pondence became enormous. Those who blame Father Tyrrell for the rupture with
the Roman Church and find his writings destructive of simple faith, should remem-
ber that the desire to find some foothold for those whose faith had already been
disturbed was, to a great extent, his inspiration in the study of the religious prob-

70 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

lem. Toward these he felt a keen "sense of responsibility. For their sakes he
persisted in his search of spiritual light. For them he wrote.

The light he found in and through the church of which he was a member:
a divine treasure hid in an earthly vessel. "The Catholic Church may not have
known how to set forth her treasures, but she has at least kept them all, and not
cast out essentials in her endeavor to suit each age ; she has kept the ore, but she
has not thrown away the gold, as some purer, but more limited institutions have
done. Above all has she maintained, in spite of worldliness, that transcendentalism
of outlook which is of the essence of religion, if religion be more than a mere
department of social life." This is the heart of his message and is developed in
his posthumous work Christianity at the Cross Roads. Tyrrell "clearly and posi-
tively faced the problem of Christ and His message," and he found the solution in
the super-normal character of both. Of Christ he writes : "Eternal life, which
was the substance of His Gospel, was not the moral life but the super-moral.
Morality was but its condition like the faith which shall be done away. He was
not primarily but only incidentally an ethical teacher of an ethic he found ready
to hand, but did not originate. . . . Liberal Protestantism is the development of
the ethic He adopted and exemplified in common with the prophets and saints of
all times ; but not of His Gospel, His Message. Of that Catholicism is the develop-
ment."

Roughly speaking the mission of Tyrrell was to help to restore to the church
the sense of the transcendant element in her religion cleared from the incrustations
of superstition and reconciled with the discoveries of modern science. If his
message was incomplete, his mission unfinished, so much the greater is his power
to stimuate others to complete his work. In reading the record of the struggles
and sufferings of this devoted soul, one cannot help regretting that the esoteric
wisdom of the East was only superficially known to him. For to the East we look
for the light that will make such a task as his possible. L. E. P.

A fascinating biography, yet how disappointing! It comes shattering an idol.
I have known Father Tyrrell only by hearsay. I have heard him talked over by
newspaper readers and quoted in the speeches of college presidents. And I have
listened to discontented ritualists longing for the time when Tyrrell should have
purged the Roman Church, making it into a fold. I thought he must be a truly
spiritual leader a great prophet risen in the Roman Catholic Church, aware of the
golden store that the centuries have accumulated there, and eager to make that
true coin current ; and I have revered him. Now with his own hand he overturns
my hero. His Autobiography and the Life written by his closest friend show
a man of fine intellect, but reveal moral lapses that chilled the ardor of his
staunchest friends.

His conversion was an amazing affair because it was a conversion from
nothing to nothing. It occurred when he was a boy of nineteen. His childhood
has none of Newman's occupation with crosses and crucifixes. He was merely
indifferent. His mother sang hymns, and he was told stories of God and Heaven.
He conceived of Heaven as a buxom dame with capacious arms. But he had not
even the superficial interest in religion that marks some children. A scholarly older
brother, a hunchback with embittered disposition, became agnostic after some
dabbling in college courses in philosophy. George Tyrrell, a youthful dunce, in a
spirit of emulation, looked into some of the books that his intellectual brother
read with ease. He reacted against that brother's agnosticism in this strange way.
He seemed to feel extraordinary strength in the agnostic position that it is
impregnable to every opposed system except to one that should be endowed with
infallibility. He found a system the only one in the world that declares it is

REVIEWS 71

infallible the Roman Catholic. Therefore George Tyrrell betook himself to that
system as a defence against atheism. Of religious experience, of spiritual aspira-
tion, of "sin" and "faith" and "saving grace" there is no evidence and no record.
There is a second motive apparent, besides his aversion from atheism ; it is the
desire of the "natural" man to act for himself, to go his own way unadvised, to
differ conspicuously from those with whom his lot is cast.

It is altogether misleading to call by the name of "conversion" Tyrrell's change
from the Anglican to the Roman Communion, for "conversion" is a word of deep
significance. One may say that Tyrrell's reason for the change is as good as
Newman's is, in fact, the same as Newman's. True. But Newman made the
change in maturity, as a man of forty; he had taken into himself some of those
"last enchantments of the Middle Ages" that haunt the Oxford towers. He threw
himself heartily into the cause he had accepted. A glamour of romance and charm
protects him. Tyrrell accepted first the shelter of the Roman wall, and afterwards
Jesuitism, as a bulwark of that wall. He embraced both as a boy. Then very
slowly his intellectual powers developed, and he saw the chasm yawning between
his "infallible system" and the Roman Catholic Church as it has always actually
been (witness Dante, St. Francis, et alteri). Had there been great spiritual powers
dormant in the boy, these might have been awakened and brought to vigorous
activity as he faced the problem of the ideal and the actual Church their diver-
gence and their possible reconciliation. The calendar might have contained another
Saint, the compeer of Francis and Catherine and Theresa. Unfortunately the
germ of spirituality was too deeply planted to be brought to the surface by the
heat and tears of opposition and disappointment. There was no spiritual develop-
ment pari passu with the intellectual. Instead of a Saint we have only a destructive
censor. He erects, indeed, certain intellectual scaffolding to aid in the structure
of a new building. But he neglects the true building, the house not made with
hands, the eternal structure of his own character.

His life is a stupid tragedy. So simple a thing as obedience could have saved
him and ennobled his life. As we read it in these two volumes it seems ignoble and
mean. Opportunity after opportunity was offered him of sanctification. He neg-
lected them all. Plain obedience to his Jesuit vows, however mistakenly he may
have taken them, would have brought him triumph the triumph of his Higher
Self. But with pretext after pretext he refuses his manifest duty. At last he
reaches the disgraceful conduct of sending his Superior a letter numbered 67, in
order to threaten that Superior with the fear of the sixty-six other persons who
had read the letter previously. And he writes in a secular journal a condemnation
of the pastoral letter issued by the General-in-chief of the whole Church. Preju-
dices blind us to righteousness and unrighteousness. The arrogant and persecuting
spirit of the Vatican seems to some to justify all means used against it. But very
few, I think, will wish to defend the bad taste of Father Tyrrell's conduct in these
matters.

The publication of these volumes weakens Tyrrell's cause. His cause was the
reforming of the Church (though he himself thought revolution was necessary,
not reform). The Church has not been kept alive by hostility and destructive
criticism. It has been kept going by the prayers of its saints and mystics who
outwardly had many painful struggles. But in crises, they submitted to outward
authority, and by thus stooping, have, in the end, conquered, permeating the mass
by the leaven of their lives. The Blessed Marguerite Marie is an example of the
conduct I mean. In her conversations with her Master, Christ, she was given
certain instructions, which, when she endeavored to carry out, brought her into
conflict with her duty to her Mother Superior. She referred the difficulty to her
secret friend. Could she risk disobedience to Him, her Lord, for the sake of mere
earthly obedience to a fellow mortal. "By all means," was her Master's reply.

72 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

That outward obedience was her first duty. She could not serve Him by breaking
her vow. Is not that a plain statement about simple duty and the higher duty of
which we hear so much? Higher duty, duty to humanity, is often a delusion that
masks self-indulgence. The result of such submission as Marguerite Marie's, has
made it easier for the external Church to absorb the doctrines of the saints. The
exemplary life makes the doctrine convincing. What Tyrrell saw of the faults of
the Roman Church is true. Reformation is needed. But his life stands between
the reforms he longed for and their acceptance. His disobedience will cause a
longer period to drag on before the Church is willing to reform itself as he
suggested.

Thus "Modernism" proves disappointing. Instead of moral and spiritual re-
form, exemplified in the lives of its advocates, it appears an intellectual and revo-
lutionary effort to reform everything and everybody but oneself. This character-
istic accounts for the wide sympathy "Modernism" has excited among nominally
religious people. For the religion of churches and seminaries in large measure
to-day ignores or disbelieves in the soul, and is directed solely to humanitarian
effort and social reform. S. M.

Meditations, by Hermann Rudolph, published in English at Leipzig. This book,
described by the author as "A Theosophical Book of Devotion," is a striking
example of what Theosophy is not. With pathetic and sometimes with exasperat"
ing unconsciousness, it violates every theosophic principle; it stultifies, while per-
petually quoting, everything that Madame Blavatsky wrote or said ; it adopts an
attitude and method the exact opposite of those for which the Society exists, and
rivals both the Vatican and the late Mrs. Eddy in self-satisfied, blighting exclusive-
ness. Worse than this, there are Hatha Yoga practices recommended, which at
best would provoke psychic intoxication, and which might lead easily to insanity.

E. T. H.

ANSWERS

QUESTION 154. What is this so-called conversion by which everyday people
appear to reach a place of peace? Is it a delusion? What does happen to them?

ANSWER. "Conversion" represents derivatives of the Greek strepho or epi-
strepho, meaning a "turning," a change of direction in life and will ; closely con-
nected with "repentance," the Greek meta noia, meaning "a change of the under-
standing," a change of heart.

That the process is real and universal may be inferred from the fact that it is
recognized by authorities as diverse as the Katha Upanishad.- ("A wise man
looked toward the Self with reverted sight, seeking deathlessness") ; Schopen-
hauer, who calls it the "reversal of the will-toward-life," a turning back to the
universal will ; and Bergson, whose view will be set forth in a later number of the
QUARTERLY.

What happens, seems to be that the spiritual consciousness, or the consciousness
of the spiritual, breaks through, with the aid of spiritual powers. C. J.

ANSWER. Two small country boys are fighting hotly ; desperately ; in seeming
futility. One cries "Nuff," and there is a surcease of fighting; followed by rest,
and often a peace that is not merely momentary. Is not this like "conversion," and
ought we not to recall that as either small boy may win the fight, so may either side
of our nature that we can be converted to evil as well as to good only, as I
believe, we have Helpers in the endeavor to overcome evil. From whichever way
you look at it, "conversion" might seem to be a momentary consciousness of a
victory, by the Allies, over Sin or a consciousness of real self surrender; of the
lower self having cried "Nuff" in the eternal warfare for growth."

G. V. S. M.

ANSWER. It is only, I think, by a real conversion that one enters the path that
leads to peace. Such a conversion as the Master declared with emphasis to be the
first requisite for salvation can be no delusion, for it is not primarily nor neces-
sarily the excitation or exaltation of the emotions, which are more or less decep-
tive, but a new direction of the will. Whatever may have been the incentive to
produce that radical "turning about" of the will of a man, thenceforth his life
becomes a constant grim struggle to hold the vision and to live by it. Perfect
peace is the reward of such a victory. S. W. A.

ANSWER. There are three distinct questions here. To take the first one: to
me, a conversion is simply changing one's point of view. For years one's habit has
been to think things over, to weigh this or that in one's mind and then to act;
while with the new point of view one learns slowly to still one's mind, to pray to
the Master for guidance and help, and then to listen in one's heart for his voice.
"Seek ye first the kingdom of God." Far from being a delusion it is all so satisfy-
ing that one marvels at one's past blindness, at one's long refusal to accept that

74 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

which the Master had stood close by, offering hourly. What happens to those
who are converted? Surely the answer would be different in the case of each soul
born again, but sunshine comes and rough places are made easier to cross, not
necessarily by removing the obstructions, by no means, for so we grow, but by
giving one the help, moment by moment, to take the next step. One comes to
understand that the hours belong to the Master, that he stands by watching and
helping and he will not over-tax our strength. A. W. B.

ANSWER. Conversion is a change of heart or mind or attention, however one
prefers styling it. The consciousness is turned away from the personality, its
desires, cravings, dissatisfactions, to something higher. This higher thing can be
differently named the Higher Self, Christ, the Master. Conversion is a thing of
experience, a fact, as real as anything in the world. To find out what happens to
people, listen to the "testimonies" of crude, uncultivated minds ; and read the
biographies of men like St. Paul, George Fox, Jonathan Edwards, Wesley, St.
Francis, etc. From the various narrations of one and the same spiritual experience,
any reader will be able to abstract the general and essential laws of conversion.

A. W.

QUESTION 155. What is the meaning of the big nameless longing that I feel
the desire for some unknown good? Surely I am not alone in this dumb desire
for light; the literature, the art, and the music of the day give voice to a surging
demand. Where is the answer? The church does not possess it. Science gives
some hints, but only faint ones. If there is an answer to the longing where can
I find it?

ANSWER. May it not be your longing for the Soul, which to most, alas, is an
"unknown" good? Doubtless you are not alone in your longing, for it is the
driving power of all life, though too often misunderstood and turned to baser ends.
Say rather that you have not found it in the church. True science, which is divine
science, possesses it fully. You can find the answer to your longing in one way
only : by finding the Soul. C. J.

ANSWER. The big nameless longing you feel is for Infinity nothing less.
You will try to satisfy your hunger with many things. Only when you are des-
perate starving, will you take the thing which is even now at your hand. Then
you will find that Infinity is not a vague intangible thing, you will touch a mani-
festation of it the logos made flesh the hand of the Master. A. W.

ANSWER. The Church does possess the answer. We are learning slowly that
in the Church is the help and light we need. Hidden, yes, by much misconception
but remember that Christ was born into the world to bring light. That he died
and rose again to bring light, and that to-day as ever he stands ready to aid us
if we really turn to him. By no means are you alone in this "dumb desire for
light." The longing you feel is the call of your higher self, but you must learn to
listen to its voice. How to begin to listen? Here and now. Do the work of this
moment whatever it is, pleasant, or unpleasant, to the very best of your ability and
gradually clearer understanding will come ; very slowly, yes, but very surely.

A. W. B.

ANSWER. The phrase, "the Church does not possess it" makes one wonder just
how anxious the querist is for light. If he were to follow the rule that seems to
run through all the Scriptures, Eastern and Western, and all advice to aspirants,
and transmute his "big nameless longing" into action and effort, it would seem that

QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS 75

he would find an answer in the Book of Common Prayer as well as in the Scrip-
tures, and probably would find, as the writer has found, that the Church does
possess it but that church men do not. Perhaps the real answer is to advise the
querist to turn the energy given up in longing and feeling into work in an effort to
find the answer. G. V. S. M.

ANSWER. "The big nameless longing" is the universal pulse of man's quest of
Reality. The soul is forever restless until it finds God. The signs of this longing
come upon us from all directions, because it is Life; many who know not its
name have been touched by its spirit. Its answer is everywhere, once we have
discovered that entrance to the Path is within, in each individual soul. "Seek
the way by retreating within." Then, and only then (we are ever making the great
mistake of turning this order about). "Seek the way by advancing boldly without."
Then we will see that the church does possess the answer lightly veiled ; science
shows the beginnings of the Way ; all nature is alive with the answer. "The true
order of going," said Plato, "is to use the beauties of Earth as steps along which
one mounts upwards for the sake of that other Beauty." Of the goal, the Voice
of the Eternal said to St. Catherine of Siena, "How glorious is that soul which
has indeed been able to pass from the stormy ocean [of self] to Me, the Sea
Pacific, and in that Sea, which is Myself, to fill the pitcher of the heart." He who
possesses God has attained the quest. Y.

ANSWER. Our souls, divine and immortal, can be satisfied only with what is
divine and immortal. As the outward appearance of things makes up the environ-
ment of the outer man, so, within all visible forms, within all mental conceptions,
lies that essence which is reality and divinity, and which is the true home of the
soul. Plato says, "For there is no light in the earthly copies of any of the higher
qualities which are precious to souls ; they are seen but through a glass dimly : and
there are few, who, going to the images, behold in them the realities, and they
only with difficulty." (Phaedrus.) The Sacrament of the Eucharist tells sym-
bolically this same truth. The only satisfaction of the longing is to "seek those
things which are above." S. W. A.

QUESTION 156. During the Theosophical Convention attention was called, in
a brilliant address, to the fact that the devoted, keen-eyed search for truth is to-day
to be found among the scientists rather than among churchmen. Cannot some-
thing be done to turn the attention of science, with the same splendid zeal and
integrity, to the investigation of the spiritual world and man's relation to it?

ANSWER. This is one of the things the Theosophical Society is striving for
and is accomplishing very quietly, very slowly, but very surely. Remember that
while we must neglect nothing, while each moment is important, each bit of work
to be done is vital still there is infinite time. B. W. A.

ANSWER. Much can be done by example. Let each of us make a beginning
in that way. C. J.

ANSWER. May it not be because scientists work and church men do not?
How many of the most devout church goers of any creed give any time to real
meditation or to concentration, particularly in the matter of effort to find the
Truth. It has been suggested that if we look for it we may find it in the heart
of a child, the life of a man, the love of a mother, to say nothing of the golden
treasury of Scriptures and other religious works, but is it not all a question of
sloth in not making an effort to find it? Is it not possible that too many church

76 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

goers think their duty is done when they have observed the forms and that they
lack either the courage, or the willingness, or even the desire to labor in obedience
to the teachings, to be found on every hand, to find the Truth? Are not scientists
patient, persistent, unceasing, hard workers? G. V. S. M.

ANSWER. Modern science has rediscovered much that mystics knew, and
affirmed to unbelieving generations throughout the ages, even some of those finer
forces transcending our definition of matter. The writer once heard a famous
chemist assert: "We seem to have reached a point where matter ends and spirit
begins." A.

QUESTION 157. / want to venture a question on the large subject of cycles in
reincarnation: We are told that a certain period in the life of a nation is made
brilliant because the great artists of a previous time came to incarnation there.
From this statement we might generalize to a certain extent we might say, once
a great artist then frequently an artist in later incarnations? Is that true? If so,
what is accomplished in Devachan? If the lessons of the artist life were really
learned would not the individual return in very different guise, say as a priest, to
learn a new set of lessons?

ANSWER. Is it wise to speculate on reincarnation, until we really know more
of it? What is an artist? Is he not one who expresses a revelation of beauty?
But beauty is as infinite as God, so its expressions may be infinitely varied. We
are all destined to be artists, expressing the beauty of holiness, all of divine
perfection, in our lives and in ourselves. Therefore the perfect priest must also
be an artist. C. J.

ANSWER. Is it not taken for granted that a lesson is learned in a single
incarnation? Perhaps that is true. I have never read such a statement. But do
artists show such detachment from their work, that it could be assumed their
desires would not draw them back to similar experience in other incarnations?
Might there not be progression in artistic excellence in successive incarnations,
so that an artist who was only a beginner in the Cretan civilization, would come
to flower as a consummate genius sometime during the present European period?
Perhaps only when he had become consummate would he be able to assimilate his
lesson and pass on for new experiences. A. W.

ANSWER. Probably if one were willing to work, the answer could be found
in the Secret Doctrine, but does not the question itself suggest over-emphasis on
the individual. As one recalls the Ocean of Theosophy and the Secret Doctrine,
was not emphasis placed upon "Group Reincarnation"? Using Light on the Path
for illumination, why should not a great warrior in a given group be something
else in his next reincarnation? Are we qualified to judge of the benefits and
opportunities of a particular position in life? If we substitute the group
standard for the individual, need we trouble what happens in Devachan? The
simile of the rungs in a ladder used in Light on the Path may prove helpful to
the querist in seeking for the answer. G. V. S. M.

REPORT OF THE ANNUAL CONVENTION OF THE THEOSOPHICAL

SOCIETY

The Annual Convention of The Theosophical Society was held at 21 Mac-
dougal Alley, New York City, on Saturday, April 26, 1913. At 10.30 A. M. the
Convention was called to order by Mr. Charles Johnston, as Chairman of the
Executive Committee.

MORNING SESSION

Upon motion of Mr. E. T. Hargrove, seconded by Mr. C. A. Griscom, Mr.
Charles Johnston was nominated Chairman of the temporary organization and
Mr. G. V. S. Michaelis temporary Secretary. The motion was put before the
meeting by Mr. Hargrove and was carried.

Upon motion of Mr. J. F. B. Mitchell, seconded by Mr. Acton Griscom, the
Chairman appointed the Secretary (Mrs. Gregg), the Treasurer (Prof. Mitchell),
and Miss Isabel E. Perkins a Committee on Credentials.

The Committee on Credentials retired to prepare their report and the Chair-
man addressed the meeting.

ADDRESS OF WELCOME

Mr. Johnston began by extending a cordial welcome to the delegates and
members. Mr. Johnston spoke of the interesting feature of membership in the
Society whereby we come to feel friendship for those we have never seen, yet
with whom we have worked, and of the joy it is when finally such friends in
spirit become friends in person. To illustrate this Mr. Johnston said :

"For the first time the numerous brothers and sisters in Germany are repre-
sented at this Convention by Mr. Paul Raatz, who has been unsparing of his time,
work and enthusiasm in building up the work in Germany on true and constructive
lines. It is also a pleasure to have the Canadian members represented. We are
glad to welcome Mr. Harris. Mr. Harris has been looking forward for many
years to attending a Convention and it gives great pleasure to us all that he has
at last been able to come. Everyone here, delegate or member, is cordially wel-
come and the welcome is sincere.

"We have had many Conventions of the Society in many different countries
and many different places, in India, America and Europe. There have been large
Conventions, big Conventions, great Conventions. It seems to me that this
Convention will be remembered as a deep Convention, possibly the greatest we
have ever held because so deep. Only now are we beginning to realize the real
scope and the immense importance, the enormous effect, of the Theosophic move-
ment upon life, and through its inspiration upon the world. Great things have
been accomplished by the Theosophic movement, of which the T. S. is a part.
They have been accomplished, not by surface extension, but by that really potent work
which is done below the surface. At times there have been many more nominal
members of the Society, but some were members whose interest was merely on

THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

the surface. These members do not count in such work as this. Only hearts
count. The deep sincerity and earnestness of each individual member living the
life, or seeking to live the life for which the T. S. stands, is what has given
vitality to the movement.

"We should each take our membership as opportunity and we should each
take our membership as responsibility. The great need of the world today in all
lines is that people should take to heart their individual and collective responsi-
bility, and this applies as fully to the Theosophical Society. While we receive
privileges from our association with the movement these privileges are duties.
We should face with earnestness, courage and depth of spirit the responsibility
upon us, realizing that each in part embodies in himself the whole movement, and
as we conduct ourselves and present ourselves so is in part the movement
conducted and presented to the world."

REPORT OF THE COMMITTEE ON CREDENTIALS

The Committee on Credentials submitted their report, showing 31 branches
represented in person or by proxy, making the Convention entitled to 187 votes,
representing something over 600 active members. Upon motion by Mr. K. D.
Perkins, seconded by Mr. Acton Griscom, the report of the Committee on Cre-
dentials was accepted with the thanks of the Convention and the Committee
discharged.

The following 32 Branches were represented (one Branch with five delegates
reporting after the Committee was discharged) :

Aurora, Oakland, Calif.
Baltimore, Baltimore, Md.
Blavatsky, Washington, D. C.
Blavatsky, Seattle, Wash.
Brehon, Detroit, Mich.
Cincinnati, Cincinnati, Ohio.
Ft. Wayne, Ft. Wayne, Ind.
H. P. B., Toledo, Ohio.
Indianapolis, Indianapolis, Ind.
Middletown, Middletown, Ohio.
New York, New York, N. Y.
Pacific, Los Angeles, Calif.
Providence, Providence, R. I.
Queen City, Seattle, Wash.
Shila, Toledo, Ohio.
Southern, Greensboro, N. C.

Stockton, Stockton, Calif.
Toronto, Toronto, Canada.
Virya, Denver, Colo.
Unity, Indianapolis, Ind.
Swedish, Arvika, Sweden.
Auranga, Christiana, Norway.
Karma, Christiania, Norway.
Aussig, Aussig-Obersedlitz, Germany.
Berlin, Berlin, Germany.
Dresden, Dresden, Germany.
Flensberg, Flensberg, Germany.
Munich, Munich, Germany.
Neusalz, Neusalz, Germany.
Suhl, Suhl, Germany.
British National, London, England.
Krishna, South Shields, England.

PERMANENT ORGANIZATION

Upon motion of Mr. C. A. Griscom, seconded by Rev. Dr. C. C. Clark, Prof.
H. B. Mitchell, President of the New York Branch, was elected permanent Chair-
man of the Convention.

Prof. Mitchell took the chair and upon motion by Mr. Griscom, seconded by
Dr. Clark, the thanks of the Convention were unanimously extended to the tem-
porary Chairman, Mr. Charles Johnston, for his services as such.

Upon motion by Dr. Clark, seconded by Mr. J. F. B. Mitchell, the temporary
Secretary was made permanent Secretary of the Convention.

Upon motion by Mr. Charles Johnston, seconded by Mr. Acton Griscom, the

THEOSOPHICAL CONVENTION 79

Chairman was authorized to appoint committees on Nominations, Resolutions, and
Letters of Greeting. The Chairman appointed the following :

Committee on Nominations :

Mr. C. A. Griscom, Chairman,

Judge McBride, Mrs. Gitt,

Miss Hohnstedt, Mrs. Armstrong.

Committee on Resolutions :

Mr. E. T. Hargrove, Chairman,

Miss Richmond, Mr. Acton Griscom,

Miss Evans, Mrs. Thompson.

Committee on Letters of Greeting:

Mr. Charles Johnston, Chairman,

Dr. Clark, Mrs. Allison,

Miss Hilliard, Mrs. Vaile.

REPORTS OF OFFICERS

The Chairman called for reports of officers, and in behalf of the Executive
Committee, its Chairman, Mr. Charles Johnston, addressed the meeting:

REPORT OF THE EXECUTIVE COMMITTEE FOR THE YEAR ENDING APRIL 25, 1913
"The Society during the past year has been like a happy country, for you must
all recall the old saw that 'Happy is the country which has no history.' Our work
has been quiet, steady, unsensational and constructive. The most vital part has
been the forming of new Branches, but new Branches and new members are only
valuable as, and to such extent as, they embody the spirit of the movement, and
only to that extent are additions permanent. It is worth emphasizing that our
growth has been very steady, firm and deep. With growth and opportunity there
is added responsibility resting upon every member.

"The Executive Committee has worked on simple lines, realizing that it has
its part in the responsibility which rests upon the individual, the Branch, and the
Society as a whole. We do not measure a life of inspiration by length but by
depth."

Mr. E. T. Hargrove moved to accept the report of the Executive Committee
with thanks and said :

"As a member of the Executive Committee myself I realize that what Mr.
Johnston has said gives little idea of the enormous amount of work done by the
Chairman. As a rule I have found that any work which goes well may be
analyzed as a situation where there is one man who does the work, and in this
Committee it sometimes seems as though one's entire duty was to watch Mr. John-
ston working. Mr. Raatz has spoken of his work in Germany and from every-
where has come a tribute to the tremendous energy and interest of Mr. Johnston.
Few of us can realize how he works, morning, noon and night, in the service of
the T. S., and no formal thanks can express the appreciation we should feel for
the sacrifices he makes and the effectiveness of his work."

Mrs. C. A. Griscom seconded the vote of thanks, which was extended by a
unanimous rising vote.

Mrs. Gregg submitted her report as Secretary of the Theosophical Society as
follows :

REPORT OF THE SECRETARY FOR THE YEAR ENDING APRIL 25, 1913

NEW BRANCHES AND MEMBERS

The Secretary begs to report that during the preceding year diplomas have
been issued to 144 new members, as follows : In the United States, 37 ; in South

80 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

America, 40; in Germany, 33; in England, 21; in Norway, 10; in Sweden, 2; in
Bermuda, 1. Total, 144.

During the same period the Society has lost by resignation 14 and by death 6.

Since the last Convention, charters have been issued to 3 new Branches, as
follows :

Rama Occidente, El Tocuyo, Venezuela, South America, chartered December
10, 1912.

Norfolk Branch, Aylsham, Norfolk Co., England, December 10, 1912.

Rama Altagracia de Orituco, Venezuela, South America, March 14, 1913.

BOOK AND MAGAZINE DEPARTMENT

It is gratifying to report that the sale of books greatly exceeds the number
sold in any previous year each new book added to the Society's publications
has met a want of our students and created a demand among inquirers and
seekers after knowledge along similar lines. Outside of the Society's publications
the greatest demand has been for mystical and devotional books reviewed by the
QUARTERLY or mentioned and approved in its articles.

It is encouraging to note, however, that the inquiries for the sale of books are
by no means limited to members of the Society and readers of the QUARTERLY.

The book department also assists in the propaganda work of the Society by
sending to inquirers such of the Society's pamphlets as seem to be suited to the
need.

The Secretary is struggling with another order for the earlier magazines
Path, Lucifer and Theosophist, which are extremely difficult to obtain with any
degree of completeness.

CORRESPONDENCE

I find by an examination of the letter books that the number of letters written
has increased but a mere statement of the number of letters received, read and
answered does not convey a proper idea of the amount of the work which has been
found necessary, and which has really been done in the office. In many cases it
involves considerably more than the mere reply itself for instance, there are the
sending the literature asked for, keeping the necessary accounts which a business
of such a nature requires, replying to numerous queries with reference to the sale
of books already printed or that are in preparation.

Much time and labor are required for the proper keeping of all the records
in receiving applications for membership, entering them and sending diplomas
together with hints as to courses of study and reading about which information is
often asked. Subscriptions for the QUARTERLY have to be received, entered; bills
and receipts rendered; accounts kept; notices of expiry sent; and prompt reports
made to the Treasurer.

A most important branch of the Secretary's work and one demanding most
devoted attention, is the correspondence with those who are seeking more light on
the problems of life ; asking for guidance, that they may better fulfil their duties,
and find peace and a fuller life. In this branch of the work the Secretary grate-
fully acknowledges the help so often given by members who never fail to respond
to her call for assistance thus strengthening her by the knowledge of the help
given really more help than she could have given followed by the appreciation of
the grateful recipients.

"THE THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY"

The person or magazine which preaches the gospel of good-will, preaches
Theosophy. This aspect of Theosophy has never failed to receive due and full
recognition in the pages of the QUARTERLY a journal of which the Theosophical
Society has good reason to be proud. It is a teacher and a power; and that such
a periodical should be produced and supported speaks in eloquent praise both of

THEOSOPHICAL CONVENTION 81

its Editor and its readers. It was called into existence to help those who needed
guidance and light especially to supply that guidance and assistance to the members
of the Society who were isolated and deprived of the advantage of study in
groups or branches.

One typical letter of the many received by the Secretary referring to help
received says : "The contributors to the QUARTERLY would be very much encour-
aged if they knew how abundantly their efforts bore fruit and I am sure every
member of the Society would give whatever he could in the way of contributions
to it if he realized how much its pages meant to those who are still struggling in
the dark."

A reader contemplating joining the Society writes: "I am, I think, in sym-
pathy with the purpose of the Society, as far as I can determine from reading and
re-reading the QUARTERLY, and it is this feeling which impels me to send this letter.
I would like to belong."

The libraries keep us reminded of their appreciation by acknowledging the
receipt of the magazine, by purchasing back numbers to complete their files for
binding and by renewing their subscriptions.

It is most encouraging to report the increased circulation of the QUARTERLY.
Branches, individual members and subscribers many of whom subscribe for their
friends aid in this work.

So far through the kindness of members I have been able to furnish bound
volumes and back numbers to all applicants.

A PERSONAL ACKNOWLEDGMENT

In various ways I am constantly reminded of the sustaining force of kind
thoughts and help given, in every possible way, which call forth my grateful thanks
and especially the constant and immediate response to all my appeals and there
have been many for advice and assistance from my associates in office.

May Theosophy grow more and more a living power in the lives of each one
of our members, and may the coming year be yet more full of good work and
healthy progress than the one just closing, is the wish of your humble co-worker
and fellow-member.

Respectfully submitted,

(Signed) ADA GREGG,

Secretary T. S.

Mr. C. A. Griscom moved a vote of thanks to the Secretary, as follows :
"The Society owes our Secretary such a debt of gratitude that I feel it a privi-
lege to attempt to voice our thanks. To anyone who has known her work these
thanks are not formal but come from the heart in a true appreciation of the
amount, character, and extent of the work done by Mrs. Gregg. I have been in
a position to follow this in detail for nine years and I have seen Mrs. Gregg give
her time and herself, without stint and without pay. She never takes any rest,
never has taken a real holiday, has only been away a few times for very short and
absolutely necessary absences. She has worked evenings as well as all day long,
and during these nine years I have never once heard a word of complaint, a record
which I regard as extraordinary.

"But it is not only the enormous amount of work, with its numerous detail,
that has impressed me. The thing that appeals to me is the sweet, gentle spirit
which Mrs. Gregg has succeeded in instilling into everything she does. It may
seem that she is only replying to a letter enclosing twenty-five cents for some
pamphlet, but when the letter of acknowledgement goes back, a bit of Mrs. Gregg's

82 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

heart goes back with it. Much of the work of the Society may be traced to per-
sonal, constructive work by Mrs. Gregg, as her real contribution, and I regard it
as an honor and privilege to move that the thanks of the Convention and of the
T. S. be extended to her for her devoted and faithful service as Secretary."

Mr. Johnston, in seconding the motion, said :

"The Executive Committee wishes the privilege of saying a word in endorse-
ment of Mr. Griscom's motion, and I therefore, in behalf of that Committee,
second the motion."

The thanks of the Convention and of the Society were extended to Mrs. Gregg
by a unanimous rising vote.

REPORT OF THE TREASURER

Mr. Charles Johnston was asked to take the chair and Prof. H. B. Mitchell
presented his report as Treasurer.

REPORT OF THE TREASURER OF THE THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY FOR THE YEAR FROM

APRIL 27, 1912, TO APRIL 20, 1913
Receipts Disbursements

Dues $583.06 Secretary's Office $250.90

THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY ... 392.55 Brooklyn Eagle, for four

Contributions 591 .70 issues of THE THEOSOPH-

Balance, April 26, 1912 838.36 ICAL QUARTERLY 1,154.21

Balance, April 20, 1913 1,000.56

$2,405.67 $2,405.67

Total receipts for 1912 $1,567.31 Total expenditures for 1912. . $1,405.11

Total receipts for 1911 1,553.52 Total expenditures for 1911. . 1,396.76

(Signed) H. B. MITCHELL,

Treasurer.
April 24, 1913.

In response to a question from Mrs. Griscom as to the apparent falling off of
dues, the Treasurer explained that a change in the closing of the financial year
caused this, as it had always been noticed that the last days of the fiscal year
were those in which dues came in most quickly. The Treasurer expressed
his indebtedness to Mr. and Miss Perkins for the assistance they had been
to him, "doing by far the greater portion of my work for me." He had received
authority two years ago to appoint an Assistant Treasurer, and he begged again
to acknowledge the effective aid that he received from Mr. and Miss Perkins.

Dr. Clark moved, and Mr. G. V. S. Michaelis seconded the motion, that the
thanks of the Society be extended to Prof. Mitchell for his work as Treasurer.
This was voted unanimously by a rising vote.

Prof. Mitchell asked that his assistants should be included in this vote of thanks,
and Mrs. Griscom added that in expressing approval of the work of Mr. and Miss
Perkins, the Convention should not forget the work that Mrs. Gordon and Mrs.
Helle have done in the Secretary's office ; that she could not help thinking of these
four very sincere, devoted members hiding behind the Society's officers and doing
very effective work, and that she therefore moved that the thanks of the Convention
and Society be extended to these four faithful co-workers.

Mr. Johnston said it gave him the heartiest pleasure, from his personal knowl-
edge, to second this. It was carried unanimously by a rising vote.

Prof. Mitchell then resumed the chair.

THEOSOPHICAL CONVENTION 83

REPORT OF THE EDITOR-IN-CHIEF OF THE "THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY"

Mr. C. A. Griscom, as Editor-in-Chief, was then called upon to report upon
the work of the THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY.

"As this is the tenth time I have appeared before a Convention to report, I
thought it would be well to avoid monotony by getting a fresh point of view, and
I therefore called upon my son to analyze the contents of the QUARTERLY for the
past year, and I must give him credit if anything of interest develops from this
analysis. We find that there has been an apparent tendency to place increasing
emphasis on topics covering three or four factors of human interest. These might
be expressed as follows :

First : The Eastern Department of the work ; the translations by Mr. John-
ston deserving special notice.

Second : The Western Department of the work, which includes a number of
articles on Christianity and its various aspects.

Third : What might be called Personal Articles, perhaps best typified by
"Letters to Friends."

There have also been a series of articles making comparisons and drawing
parallels between expressions of theosophic thought in the past and in our modern
time.

"I doubt if we realize how extremely fortunate we are to be able to get
adequate translations of the great Eastern Scriptures. There must be three
factors in an ideal translation. There should be a thorough knowledge of
the original tongue, a thorough knowledge of the language into which the
translation is to be made, and a thorough knowledge of the subject dealt with
in the work translated. Many translators have the first two qualifications, but
very few are really fully equipped as to the third, particularly in the case of
the Eastern Scriptures. I do not know of any one in the world who is better
equipped in knowledge of Sanskrit than Mr. Johnston, and the pre-eminence
I accord to him is not due to my personal predilection, but to the tribute of great
Sanskritists for his thoroughly scholarly knowledge. As we all know, few men can
write English as well as he writes it; and finally, he understands the subjects the
ancients were writing about. For these reasons it is my personal belief that there
never have been translations from the Eastern Scriptures equal in all-around excel-
lence to those from Mr. Johnston's pen which the QUARTERLY has been privileged
to print.

"Under the second head, many aspects of Christianity as the religion of the
West have been given attention in notable articles.

"The third class, of more personal articles, has developed an interesting
expression in the 'Letters to Friends.' No series in recent years has excited so
many comments and letters of praise. It is still amusing to find that, in spite of
the explanations that have been made, a great number of people believe these
letters to have been written for them personally. They do not know the author,
but they do believe that he knows them. From all over Europe and America such
letters have come, some indignant at the exposure of their personal character to
the world, but most of them expressing gratitude for help received. Attention has
been called to facts presented in the Letters as indicating personal knowledge.
While this is interesting, it is more important because it indicates the vitality under-
lying these Letters. We know the unity of the spiritual world, and it is encour-
aging to see how these Letters strike home to so many people, though it is not to
be wondered at that spiritual truths, expressed with such unusual lucidity, should
have wide effect.

"Under the fourth head have been articles drawing attention to the close
parallels between the more ancient manifestations of the work of the Lodge

84 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

through the medieval period and in the present time. For instance, there were arti-
cles that called attention to the close parallels that exist between the work and
methods of St. Patrick and St. Columba and modern thought and methods in
expressing the same ideas.

"But to the editor no analysis of the QUARTERLY would be complete if it did
not include reference to Fragments which are not wholly Eastern, not wholly
Western, but which are really the synthesis of all that the QUARTERLY does and
stands for.

"We have already blessed Miss Perkins for her work in other directions, but
the editor of the QUARTERLY must pay his tribute to her work in proof reading
and assisting him in other ways."

The Chairman, Prof. Mitchell, said that he wished to bring out a factor in
the development of the QUARTERLY which Mr. Griscom had passed over, but which
the Convention and the Society could not possibly ignore, and that was the personal
work of the editor himself, who had started the QUARTERLY ten years ago, and at
the start had watched over it as one watched over a delicate, beloved baby ; doing
all the constructive work, from that which devolved naturally upon the editor-in-
chief to that which devolved upon the proof reader and the office boy; that he felt
it must be a satisfaction to Mr. Griscom, as it has been to the Society, to see the
QUARTERLY growing in value and fulfiling all his hopes for it; that he believed
the Society was fortunate in the possession of the magazine and the spirit which
gave it birth and which has contributed to its growth and vitality ; that he also
felt that the vote of thanks moved by Mr. Hargrove and seconded by Mr. J. F. B.
Mitchell, would please Mr. Griscom more if it were to include the contributors and
assistants to the editor. This amendment being accepted, the motion was carried
by a unanimous rising vote.

Mrs. Griscom called attention to the fact that Mr. Mitchell's remarks were
typical of his magnanimity, because only those who had been close to the QUAR-
TERLY could know how much it owed to him.

Upon motion by Mr. E. T. Hargrove, seconded by Mr. Acton Griscom, at
11.30 A. M. the Convention adjourned until 2.30 P. M.

AFTERNOON SESSION

The Convention was called to order for the Afternoon Session by the per-
manent Chairman, Prof. Mitchell.

ELECTION OF OFFICERS

Mr. C. A. Griscom for the Committee on Nominations reported on the two
vacancies in the Executive Committee and recommended the re-election of Dr.
Archibald Keightley, of England, and Mr. Paul Raatz. For Treasurer, the Com-
mittee recommended Prof. H. B. Mitchell, and for Secretary, Mrs. Ada Gregg.
In all four cases the present incumbents were nominated to succeed themselves.
Mr. K. D. Perkins moved, and Mr. Saxe seconded, that the Secretary be instructed
to cast one ballot for the nominees of the Committee for their respective terms, and
that the Committee be discharged with the thanks of the Convention. As this
motion received a unanimous vote the Secretary cast the ballot and the Chairman
announced the election of Dr. Archibald Keightley of England, and Mr. Paul
Raatz of Germany as members of the Executive Committee; Prof. H. B. Mitchell
of New York as Treasurer ; and Mrs. Ada Gregg of New York as Secretary.

RESOLUTIONS

Mr. E. T. Hargrove, Chairman of the Committee on Resolutions, submitted
a unanimous report from the Committee.

The first resolution as follows:

Resolved, That Mr. Charles Johnston, as Chairman of the Executive Com-
mittee, is requested hereby to reply to the messages of greeting from foreign

THEOSOPHICAL CONVENTION 85

Branches in the name of and in behalf of this Convention, and to extend to the
Conventions of the European Branches our fraternal greetings and good wishes.

It was adopted by unanimous vote upon motion of Mr. E. T. Hargrove, sec-
onded by Dr. Clark.

The second resolution, as follows :

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.

It was, upon motion of Mr. Hargrove, seconded by Mr. C. A. Griscom, also
adopted unanimously.

The third resolution, as follows:

Resolved, That this Convention of The Theosophical Society hereby expresses
its great pleasure at the presence and participation of Mr. Paul Raatz, a member
of the Executive Committee of the Society, President of the Berlin Branch, and
representative of the German members.

It was moved by Mr. Hargrove, seconded by Mr. Johnston, and adopted by
unanimous rising vote.

REPORTS OF DELEGATES

The Chairman then called for Branch reports from the delegates present and
suggested that the custom of having the local Branch present the first report might
well be followed. He therefore asked Mr. Hargrove, the Chairman of the New
York Branch, to speak of the work in New York.

NEW YORK BRANCH

Mr. Hargrove said :

"Mr. Chairman, there is no need to remind you that you are the President
of the New York Branch, and I am sure it would be the wish of the members of
the Convention to hear later from you. It is true that I act as Chairman and in
this capacity I speak here this afternoon.

"I am rather in doubt what to report, for I feel sure that dry statistics as to
numbers of meetings, percentage of attendance and so forth will not be of the
most value to us. Possibly if we consider the aim and principles of our work,
we shall profit. It is true that there has been a large increase in membership in
the New York Branch, but that increase in membership we would not regard in
any way as a test of our expansion. We do not think that increased membership
necessarily is advancement. The important thing is, who are the new members ;
are people interested in the meetings and with what motive do they attend? As
a test of our own work we should keep in mind what the purposes of the T. S. are
and note if there is in our Branch a real and honest desire to further those great
purposes. If such a desire animates the members, then increase in membership
helps, but otherwise, not.

"What is our purpose? I would urge upon you all to get Prof. Mitchell's
pamphlet upon "Theosophy and the Theosophical Society" and read it, and re-read
it, and find out what we are about and what we exist for. This little book, which
it seems to me should be in the hands of every member, dispels all kinds of
unfortunate delusions, tragical in their effects, and brings out the truth and helps
clear away injustice and misunderstanding. The New York Branch has been
trying to live in the light of the pamphlet and it would be an act of injustice to
Prof. Mitchell and one against which he would be the first to protest, to place
upon him the sole responsibility for its authorship. He would tell you that it
really expresses the experience of group consciousness and the reaction on his
own mind of working together with and in the New York Branch for the past
fifteen years.

86 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

"Theosophy is a leaven, and the Theosophical Society is an enterprise for the
conversion of others to their own ideals. It might be described as an organism
that converts so-called Theosophists to Theosophy. If it be true, and I believe it
to be true, that Theosophy is Divine Wisdom, and that the movement is under
the personal care and guidance of the Masters, I believe it is the duty of the T. S.
to convert us and the world at large to living up to and acting up to and really
being our own best and highest ideals. The purpose of the New York Branch is
to apply this, and it is our ambition to act as leaven with which to leaven New
York City and if possible, the world. We must begin in ourselves, we must change
ourselves, make at least an equal effort, if not a greater one, to convert ourselves
to our own standards if we would command success in the outside world. Even
then, we must help others to live according to their own ideals, instead of trying
to convert them to some strange foreign doctrine. Theosophy is light which
illumines all religions and all philosophies. It should be regarded as the leaven
with which to leaven the lump ; but leaven does not transform that which it leavens
into itself, but transmits itself, vitalizing that which it leavens, working by contact
and contagion. It vitalizes what was before inert.

"If we adopt that principle and succeed in living as Theosophists and doing
the work for the Master and the Lodge in the world, we must work as leaven
works, and not ask merely to make others like unto ourselves. What else is it that
They do? Do they not work from within out, and never from without in. If we
would be more truly a leaven of power, be more truly the leaven of the Lodge,
we must slowly transform ourselves, and be our true selves in whatever we do,
so that when we come into contact with others we may exemplify the real spirit
of Theosophy, which we shall then find contagious. But it will be by what we are
and not by what we think we are, or try to make others think we are.

"The New York Branch seeks points of contact but does not try to proselytize.
There is no notoriety about our work. We simply permit it to be known among
our friends and acquaintances and tell them we conduct open meetings to which
anyone is free to come as often as he may be really interested. What do we do
when people come to us, has been asked. We try to find out what they need and
want and try to supply what they really need and want. We try to speak to their
condition.' We do not attack them and say we have this or that book, that is
divine wisdom itself. We try to use terms with which they are familiar. We
most ardently desire that people shall find not only what they have been seeking
in their hearts, but what they believe in their hearts.

"We have had some strange experiences. At a recent meeting we were dis-
cussing discipleship, and we felt that we had had a successful meeting. At its
close two ladies came to me and said :

" 'Mr. Chairman, when are you going to talk about Theosophy ?'

"I replied: 'We have been talking about Theosophy this evening.'

" 'Ah, yes,' said they, 'but we mean real Theosophy.'

" 'Pardon me,' I said, 'what kind is that ?'

"They answered, 'We are Theosophists and very active ones, and we would
like to know when you are going to discuss Theosophy.'

"I found that these ladies regarded Theosophy as a synonym for Astrology,
Palmistry, something about Rounds and Races (which the ladies said was very
interesting but which they did not quite understand) and different Magic Arts,
whatever they may have been! Therefore the New York Branch feels that the
members of the Society have a double task to perform, not only to do what they can
for those seeking more light, but also to vindicate the name of the Society dragged
in the mud by individuals and organizations which violate in every way the prin-
ciples which Madam Blavatsky lived and died for; which Mr. Judge lived and
died for. We must seek to live down the prejudices which exist and with which

THEOSOPHICAL CONVENTION 87

we cannot but sympathize and which are due to the use of the name of the Society
for a kind of psychic materialism which so often masquerades under the name
of the T. S. The task is not an easy one and yet I feel very deeply and strongly
that at no time in the history of the movement has the outlook been so bright.
It is no longer something of a reproach to be known as a member of the T. S.
It is today looked upon as a title of honor, as it always has been where the work
is understood or known. Now it is gradually becoming known in that light to
the public generally.

"The work of the New York Branch has not been confined to its fortnightly
meetings. We have endeavored to carry the work into the world through the
activity of the members, and some of these activities have been far-reaching in
their effects. Some of you know that members of the Branch have been fairly
active in one of the churches, and this typifies the way that we have been working
to convert people to their own ideals, not to change the form of their faith, but
to intensify it, to make it living. We try to imitate and to work with and in
nature: for that is the way of the Spirit, of the Lodge, of the Higher Self, of
the Master."

THE GERMAN BRANCHES

Mr. Paul Raatz was next called upon to speak for the German Branches.
Mr. Raatz began by a graceful, introductory apology for his use of English and
then proved by his complete command of the language that this was merely
modesty. He read the following report :
"Dear Friends and Comrades:

"First of all it is my duty to bring you heartfelt greetings and good wishes
from all your comrades in Germany and Austria, in Berlin, Munich, Dresden,
Flensburg, Neusalz, Suhl, Aussig and Vienna.

"It is the first time in my life that I have been able to take part personally in
a Convention of the Theosophical Society, and I consider it a great favor from
Karma and from those Beings who are destined to direct Karma.

"It is true, that the spiritual inner world unites us all, and we can fulfil our
spiritual, religious duties, no matter where we live, or if we are personally sepa-
rated. We can always form a channel between the spiritual world, where our
Masters and Teachers live, and the outside world. And still, there lies a peculiar
force in personal contact between human beings. The spiritual world is continually
endeavoring to manifest itself. The degree is different in the case of each one;
it is also different in each country. Now when those in whom the spiritual force
is manifested in only a slight degree come in personal contact with those through
whom a strong spiritual force streams, latent power becomes active and awakes
to life. As a thousand lights can be made to burn from one light, so can the
weak ones in theosophical life be strengthened by those who have progressed
further. America is much favored in this respect; here in this country and in this
city, our beloved Theosophical Society was founded by the Masters through
H. P. B. and W. Q. Judge. Here live most of the oldest, most faithful and
experienced members of the Society. Here the greatest manifestation of spiritual
force takes place. It is not surprising, then, if the members of the Theosophical
Society in other countries long to take part in the Convention held here every
year. These feelings accompanied me on my journey here. I am glad to be able
to be present in your midst and sincerely hope to learn much while here, and to
bring to life some of that latent power present in every one. May that which
I learn and experience here be able to promote and consolidate the movement in
Germany.

"Perhaps it will interest you to hear a very short account of the movement,
as it has taken place in Germany. In the year 1884, with the help of President
Olcott, a Theosophical Society was officially founded. In the so-called H. P. B.

88 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

crisis, which took place shortly after, this society went to pieces. A very loosely
formed Theosophical Union' was founded later on, a few members of which
became members-at-large of the Theosophical Society. I was one of these. At
the crisis in the years 1894-1895, I found it impossible to remain in this union,
where W. Q. Judge was slandered and the principles of the Theosophical Society
were being violated, but was unfortunately the only one who determined to resign.
I sent my diploma to Mr. Judge and had it rectified and signed by him. One
year later, on the 24th of June, 1896, a short time after the death of Mr. Judge,
I was successful in forming a 'Berlin Branch of the Theosophical Society,' with
a few friends. Twenty-five members were registered, and our charter was re-
ceived from our dear comrade Mr. Hargrove, then acting as President of the
'T. S. in America.' This charter was also valid for the founding of the 'T. S. in
Europe' (Germany).

"Towards the end of August in the same year, the 'Theosophical Crusaders'
visited Berlin, and with their help the Theosophical Society in Germany was
officially founded. Those, whose good fortune it was to take part personally in
the proceedings, experienced much joy in those days. They were days full of life
and force. But unfortunately, only three of our members at that time have held
out till now : Mrs. Frink in Neusalz, Mrs. Raatz and myself, and only one of the
Crusaders is still a member of the Theosophical Society and that is Mr. Hargrove.

"This Society in Germany, founded by the Crusaders, was not meant to be
long-lived. The Crusaders had hardly left, when the crisis came. Dr. Franz
Hartmann had been elected President, but it was he, who, in 1897, declared our
Society dissolved and broke every connection with England and America. Our
Branch in Berlin was not able to recognize this step as correct ; we maintained our
connection with America and worked on, in spite of all attacks, holding fast to the
principles of the Theosophical Society as well as we could. We had to face
many difficulties for a few years, but we learned a great deal. You remember
the Society was composed at that time of national branches and that we were told,
the duty of each was to learn to work independently and to stand alone. The
inner unity with America was however never broken.

"At the last crisis with Dr. Hartmann, the six branches, which Berlin had
awakened to activity, when the Crusaders were with us, left us. We worked on
alone, earnestly and sincerely until 1903, when new branches were formed, working
according to the principles of the Theosophical Society, and in harmony with the
Berlin Branch, thus forming a part of the 'Theosophical Society in Germany,'
which name we had always retained.

"In 1908 this national Society united with the 'Theosophical Society in
America,' as you remember, and two years later, the National Branch was made
international by dropping the national ending of 'America.' Since that time your
comrades in Germany sense no separation from their comrades in America. We
feel the unity of our Society, which forms, or must form, the nucleus of universal
brotherhood. We feel as brothers and sisters, and not as Americans and Germans.

"When I recall the time since the founding of the first branch of the Theo-
sophical Society in Germany in 1896, I am aware that we have had many difficulties
to contend with, but that these were more than outweighed by the joyous experi-
ences we have had. If our Society in Germany has withstood all its trials, if we
have had outer and inner growth, so we must humbly confess, that this is not due
to our merit, but that we owe all to those, who work in the invisible world, to the
Masters, in whom very many of our members in Germany believe. Without being
importunate or dogmatic, we have availed ourselves of every opportunity to declare
the existence of the Masters ; and although we are far distant from a conscious
connection with them, still our endeavors in this direction fix the lines of our
spiritual growth. Without fail They hear our call, and They answer also, even if
we have not learned to hear and understand Their replies.

THEOSOPHICAL CONVENTION 89

"I beg to be permitted here and now in the name of so many members in
Germany to express our heartfelt thanks to the Masters for all the love and
consideration which they have always shown us.

"Before I close I would like to express a wish that is very strong in the
hearts of all our German members. This wish is, that Mr. Johnston may make
it possible to visit us this year again. We would be very grateful if such would
be the case. The blessings that accompany his visits, are not to be expressed in
words."

The Chairman, replying to Mr. Raatz, said that all present had been sharing
an experience common in the history of the T. S. The Chairman went on to say:

"Many of us have had the great pleasure and good fortune to come into contact
through correspondence with men and women we have never seen yet grow to
know well as we work with them for a common ideal. This gives a richness to
our lives and a feeling that we are not strangers in other lands ; and it is one of
the privileges and great rewards of attendance at the conventions to meet in person
these friends hitherto unknown in fact. Mr. Raatz and his associates have long
been our good friends, but this year it has been given to us not merely to know
him by his work and letters and his contributions to the QUARTERLY, but to know
him personally.

"Another member of the Executive Committee from a foreign land has given
us this pleasure. After promising and hoping to attend several Conventions Mr.
Harris of Toronto has at last been able to come to this one. Mr. Harris and his
message are most welcome."

THE CANADIAN BRANCHES

Mr. Harris, addressing the meeting, said : "I bring to the Convention and
wish to express, both personally and for the Canadian Branches, the heartiest greet-
ings of the T. S. in Canada. I am not come here to speak. My object has been
to listen and to obtain help from others to aid in carrying on the work in Canada,
and I feel that my visit has been well worth while.

"To report on Canada I think it may be enough to refer to one great success
and to one great failure. Our great success has been in circulating the QUARTERLY.
We have, for instance, sent forty-eight copies to libraries and universities and we
believe that they have been widely read because of the comment and interest we
know they have excited. The QUARTERLY is now being sold by booksellers and we
feel that our efforts to make the QUARTERLY known and to increase its field of
influence in Canada has been our great success. Our great failure was during the
period when we depended upon dogmatism ; when there was a tendency in our
constructive work to attach the Branch to certain lines of teaching, until it became
almost dogma and we were departing from the principles of the T. S. Nowhere
is H. P. B. held in greater respect as a great exponent of Theosophic principles
and on account of her great knowledge, but there was a tendency to limit these
operations to authoritative statement. What success we have had has come since
we returned to the principles of Theosophy and have held to the perfectly open
platform, not trying to teach but trying to help others to reach their own ideals
along lines that Mr. Hargrove has expressed."

CINCINNATI BRANCH

Miss Hohnstedt, from the Cincinnati Branch, presented a written letter of
greeting, but supplemented this with a speech full of humor and affection which
was one of the features of the Convention.

Miss Hohnstedt spoke touchingly of the death of Dr. Tenney, so long Presi-
dent of the Branch, and of how difficult it had been to continue the work except
from a sense of duty in the endeavor to carry out what he had begun. He had

90 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

always placed great emphasis upon doing one's duty as a practical evidence of the
teachings of Theosophy. Frequent meetings have been held and new members
taken in. There has been a class in the study of the Ocean of Theosophy and
Patanjali's Yoga Sutras. Once a month there is an open meeting for the discussion
of Theosophical principles with those who are beginning to be interested.

The Chairman reminded the older members of the Convention of the charming
reception and the delightful hospitality received from the Cincinnati members and
from Miss Hohnstedt in particular when the Convention met there.

BLAVATSKY BRANCH OF WASHINGTON, D. C.

Mrs. M. F. Gitt, from the Blavatsky Branch in Washington, presented the
report of that Branch, and said she felt that the great achievement of the Blavatsky
Branch had been the doing of a great deal of work along the lines outlined by
Mr. Johnston and confirmed by Mr. Hargrove, that is, in bringing home to church
members their real ideals and the beauty they may find in their own services when
interpreted in the light of Theosophy.

Mrs. Thompson, of the Blavatsky Branch, said she believed the Branch had
been well represented by the President's address, and expressed her great pleasure
in meeting once more with the members, renewing the feeling of other years.

VIRYA BRANCH OF DENVER, COLO.

Miss Evans, for the Denver Branch, reported that while their membership is
small, their meetings have been held every first and third Sunday since October
and have been fairly well attended. The membership is increasing slowly but the
most valuable feature has been that the work has proved so helpful to the members
personally and, as they hope and believe, to others who have attended the meetings.

PROVIDENCE BRANCH

Mrs. Sheldon, for the Providence Branch, reported continued activity by this
Branch, with meetings every Sunday evening, study classes every Tuesday night,
a class for beginners Wednesday afternoon and a recently formed ladies' class.
All have been showing very sincere effort and study. Mrs. Sheldon said that this
Branch has been founded for many years and for a long time the Presi-
dent practically had to carry it alone, but that there are now nineteen active
members and the Branch is full of hope and faith and energy.

Mrs. Regan, from the same Branch, extended her greetings to the Convention
and said that the Branch President had said all that could be said.

MlDDLETOWN BRANCH

Mrs. Gordon, from the Middetown Branch, spoke of her pride in being a
member of that Branch and of the help she had received from its simplicity and
honesty of effort. She read a personal letter from the Branch President as a
letter of greeting.

The Chairman paid a graceful tribute to the President of that Branch and to
his wife and to the help the Branch and its representative in the east, Mrs.
Gordon, have been to all with whom they have come into contact.

MEMBERS AT LARGE

Under the call for expressions from members at large, the Chairman asked
Miss Richmond, of Massachusetts, to give her greetings to the Convention. Miss
Richmond said that she belonged to the little group of people who are studying
as best they may the great principles of Theosophy, with increasing recognition
of their underlying spirituality and truth.

Mrs. Balderson, of Philadelphia, said: "I took great joy and peace from the
Convention last year, so I came back, and I know that I shall go away filled with
the same feelings."

THEOSOPHICAL CONVENTION 91

Mr. Saxe, of Niagara Falls, next spoke, saying, "I am glad to say that I am
pleased with this Convention and to tell you how very much I am getting out of
it. I joined the T. S. from reading the QUARTERLY and took a chance and I am
glad I did. It has been an inspiration and a pleasure to attend this Convention
and I hope to come again."

THE NEW YORK BRANCH.

Mr. Hargrove called for statements from members of the New York Branch,
and the first to be called upon was Mr. K. D. Perkins, who said : "Not very many
days ago I was present at a gospel mission, a wonderfully interesting meeting,
where those whom we would call 'down and out' testified how they had come to
the mission and had reached directly to the Master and had found great help.
What was most impressive was that all this testimony was so direct, so simple,
so convincing and so profound. I have something the same feeling about this
Convention and the New York Branch meetings. It is the same essentially; per-
haps not so simple yet equally direct. There is a special power locked up in the
T. S. to be released by contact, and I am glad to give my 'testimony,' and indeed
am glad all the way through, for I feel that the longer I am in the T. S. work the
more I come to feel that I go on reforming from day to day."

The Rev. Dr. C. C. Clark said : "I came to my first Convention five or six
years ago and then felt that I was all right and extended my approval to the T. S.
I have kept coming every year and I now feel that the Convention is all right and
that I have hopes of improving.."

Mr. J. F. B. Mitchell, of the New York Branch, said: "I think that we are
all glad to be again the hosts of the Convention and I know that we are glad to
meet again those who attend. I listened to what Mr. Hargrove said for the New
York Branch and I was struck by the way that he was expressing what we have
felt, but may not have realized particularly, about the T. S. being a missionary
body to bring people to the realization of their own ideals. The New York Branch
meetings have been of great help to many of us in considering the relations between
Christianity and Theosophy, and in bringing out in great detail, and to me with
great clearness, that Theosophy is Divine Wisdom in its universal aspect and
Christianity a concrete manifestation."

Mrs. Allison, of the New York Branch, said that as her membership con-
tinued she had come to feel that the Theosophical Society is a spiritual organ of
humanity and that in working for its splendid platform a great work was being
done to unify thought in general and to clarify and purify thought in each indi-
vidual. That it was giving an idea of breadth to Christianity without formalism
or punctiliousness and had shown Christianity with a spirit of love and underlying
sympathy.

Mr. Michaelis, of the New York Branch, spoke of the benefit he and others
had received from contact with the Fort Wayne Branch and particularly the help
given by its faithful and untiring President, Mrs. Lillian F. Stouder, speaking of
the splendid and courageous work she is doing.

Mr. Alden, of the New York Branch, said : "I have indeed a word to say. I
want to give thanks for the QUARTERLY. I feel that we are all proud of it. Each
last number seems the best. I think we all feel that in literature and scholarship
it ranks with any publication in the world and in its philosophy and spirituality
I believe it leads them all. I am convinced that the Theosophical Society and
the world itself owe to Mr. Griscom and his associates a great debt of gratitude
and I feel that we cannot say too much in expressing our appreciation."

The Chairman announced that several requests had reached him for a word
from Mrs. Judge, who expressed her pleasure in meeting those at the Convention,
some of old and others of new acquaintance, but all being friends.

92 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

Mr. Hargrove expressed the desire of the meeting for a report from Prof.
Mitchell as President of the New York Branch. Prof. Mitchell said: "We have
already had presented to us, by those who have spoken, a review of the work of
the New York Branch, of what its spirit is and what it stands for, and it is
not necessary to go into details of the form of its activities and the number of
its members, though this number has increased nearly fifty per cent, in the last
year. The important thing in any Theosophical work is its spirit and its aim
and the spirit and aim of the New York Branch is the spirit and aim of the
whole Society. Mr. Raatz from Berlin, Mr. Harris from Toronto, Mrs. Gordon
from Middletown, have been speaking to-day of the work and ideals of their own
Branches. But in so doing they have portrayed no less clearly the work and ideals
of our Branch in New York. This is a symbol of our unity, of the true unity
of the Society, of the true nucleus of an universal brotherhood which is our first
object, a unity of aim and identity of spirit. What this spirit is may be partially
expressed in many different ways as today we have heard it expressed yet
always it is one and the same, and always it escapes definition. It lives in what
is behind words, in what is behind all acts and all manifestation. Yet it is the
life and animating power of them all the true life and power of the Theo-
sophical Society and of all its branches. Where that spirit lives, Theosophy lives;
where that spirit does not live Theosophy does not live, though its name be on
every tongue.

"The New York Branch is perhaps specially privileged in that it is able to
share in so many different departments of work. New York is a tremendously
dynamic center. Great nerves and arteries run from it to all parts of the country
and all over the world, carrying the currents of thought and ideals, of power and
effort and accomplishment, in every form of human activity. The opportunity
to pour into these great currents the living, quickening power of the theosophic
spirit is the opportunity of the New York Branch. And in the effort to fulfil it
to accept and meet the challenge of our privilege our members are working in
many fields : in Church and University, in literature and in business, seeking to
leaven with the leaven of the theosophic spirit the thought and ideals and life of
our time. The opportunity is limitless. There is no limit to what we see when we
face the great an* 1 vital services that may here be rendered to humanity. The
door is wide open. The only limit lies in ourselves. We cannot blame circum
stances.

"Gravely and humbly we have been forced to recognize our responsibilities.
We can only do the work before us the work which the world so desperately
needs as we can accomplish it first within and upon ourselves. We can bring
the leaven of theosophy to nothing else upon earth until we have first leavened
with it our own lives. We can kindle no flame if we ourselves are without fire.
The work is infinite and can be done only by the Infinite; by the infinite power
and spirit of Theosophy Divine Wisdom and Divine Power acting through us.

"This which is true in New York is true everywhere. However it may appear,
there are no barriers in circumstances. The limitations are only within ourselves.
The door is open wide to each and every one of us. But before we can enter it,
and do the work which calls us, the spirit of Theosophy must transform our lives
as we would wish it to transform the life of the world. It must conquer in us
before it can conquer through us. And by it we must gain the indomitable will,
the strength and integrity of principle and purpose to make us equal to our
opportunity.

"Humility, which makes us see our own littleness and inadequacy, thus makes
us see no less clearly the tremendous worth of the individual ; the infinite
importance and potentialities for world-wide good that each life possesses, could
it but be made the servant of the Spirit. Each life is the universe in little. This,

THEOSOPHICAL CONVENTION 93

which is true in general, is true of your life and of mine. And so to serve the spirit
or to spread its reign upon earth, we have to begin within ourselves. I think that we
can do this. I think that we will do it. And the vista which is before us is a
vision of splendour, drawing us forward to the light beyond, never to be reached,
but satisfying us by the constant effort to reach it and motion toward if

"Mr. Perkins spoke of the personal benefit he has received from the New
York Branch, and his personal tribute is a better argument for our work than all
that I may say."

REPORT OF THE COMMITTEE ON LETTERS OF GREETING.

The next business of the meeting was the presenting of the report of the
Committee on Letters of Greeting. Mr. Charles Johnston, Chairman, spoke for
the committee. He read first a letter from the Stockton Branch and said : "We
who have the privilege of association with members do not realize the courage
and faith required of members in these remote branches, where perhaps there
may be only two or three members within a thousand miles. I think we may gain
great inspiration from the pluck, courage and aspiration they manifest."

A letter of greeting from Dr. Keightley was read, and with a statement by Mr.
Johnston that no convention would be complete without a cable from Dr. Keightley,
his greetings by cable were presented.

From Karma Branch in Christiana had come a letter to the Executive Com-
mittee and from it may be taken a message to the Convention. There has been
a complete consolidation of what has been a national branch. This has been one
of the last to transmute its condition as a separate national branch into a regular
part of the international, unified Society, of which now the Christiana Branch is
one of the most esteemed and respected members.

Mr. Johnston also said : "We all have been, without exception, conscious of the
spirit of the Convention and of the T. S., and I know that there is a desire to
express our real feeling. One of the members has said that the T. S. Convention
is a benediction. This is a true saying and represents what is a great privilege
for us all. How great I doubt if any of us realize. I doubt if any of us realize
the tremendous spiritual powers that stand behind the T. S. and its work, but we
must remember that privilege always brings with it responsibility. As the privi-
lege is great so is the responsibility great. Let us realize this each day. Let us
realize it for the coming year and for all the years, let us realize it collectively
and individually. From participation in this movement we become trustees of
certain powers and these bring with them certain duties. We must face great and
grave responsibilities, but we should undertake our duties happy at heart and
rejoicing through and through that we are thus privileged. We have not done our
part to discharge our obligations unless we have worked into the fabric of our
lives the principles of Theosophy. We should go away from the Convention with
a sense of debt, of outstanding obligation, which we may only faithfully and hon-
estly pay back by what we do for others, and in this way we may give to others
what we have so abundantly received ourselves."

Mr. C. A. Griscom moved, and Dr. Clark seconded, that the report of the
Committee on Letters of Greeting be accepted with thanks and the Committee
discharged.

Mr. J. F. B. Mitchell moved, and Dr. Clark seconded, that the Committee on
Resolutions be discharged with the thanks of the Convention for its work.

Mr. Hargrove said that he did not believe that the Convention would be
satisfied to adjourn without an opportunity to express its thanks to the Chairman,
and that he therefore moved that a vote of thanks be given to the Chairman,
Prof. Mitchell, and to the Secretary of the Convention. Mr. Griscom seconded the
motion, which was carried.

94 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

The thanks of the Convention and the Society were extended to the New York
Branch for its courtesies to the Convention.

Upon motion by Mr. J. F. B. Mitchell, seconded by Mr. K. D. Perkins, the
Convention adjourned without day.

G. V. S. MICHAELIS,
Secretary of Convention.

On Saturday evening after the close of the official sessions of the Convention
the delegates and visiting members were the guests of the New York Branch
at an informal reception for personal conference and discussion.

On the afternoon of Sunday, April 27th, Mr. Charles Johnston lectured upon
"Theosophy" to an audience of about two hundred at the Hotel St. Denis. Mr.
Johnston's theme was the deeper vision into the significance of modern religious
and scientific movements which resulted from viewing them in the light of Theos-
ophy. In illustration of this he considered three widely diverse movements : the
new school of Biblical and theological criticism, as represented by the recent work
of Oxford and Cambridge scholars ; the philosophy of Henri Bergson, as typical
of the new view of life which science is yielding ; and the so-called "New Thought"
and "Christian Science" systems, which Mr. Johnston dealt with as perversions and
misunderstandings of the principles of the Vedanta.

We hope that this address may be printed in full in a later issue of the
QUARTERLY, and we regret that lack of space which has compelled the omission
of the many "Letters of Greeting" sent to the Convention, makes a more extended
outline impossible at present.

COMMENT

OCTOBER 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.

RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE

RELIGIOUS experience is universal. In saying this, we do not
mean that all human beings, men, women and children, are in
present possession of religious experience, though there is a
sense in which this is true, but rather that religious experience
is the same in all times, for all races, with all temperaments; that this,
more than anything else, binds mankind together, and makes it possible
and necessary to speak of humanity as a single life. The culture of
races and epochs varies endlessly, as does their language and physical
type, as between the red races, the black, the yellow, the white, but in
essence their religious experience is one, resting on a common principle,
leading to a common life.

The reason that religious experience has the universal character,
common to all peoples, through all times, seems to be this : it is a neces-
sary stage in the development of the soul, a passage from one condition
+> another condition of life, from an old to a new realm of experience.
And all who quit the old, and pass to the new, must go by this way, just
as all those who, living on the eastern bank of a river, desire to change
their abode to the western bank, must cross the river in essentially the
same way, no matter what tribe they belong to, what village they inhabit.

In this simile, the eastern bank of the river is the familiar one of
personal life; the essential character of which is, that it is an existence,
half-animal, half-human, which is largely motived by self-interest: by
the sense of a separate self, which must be defended, supported, ad-
vanced, by one's own vigilant effort, in rivalry, in contest often, whether
of force or craft, against the like personal selves of others. One is
consciously or unconsciously fighting for one's own hand.

8 95

96 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

And, just as in a struggle or contest of any kind, whether in a street
brawl, a game of hazard, or a larger battle of armies, the rigor of the
contest, bending all faculties of will and vigilance to a single point, cuts
off the power of attention in other directions, so that there is oblivion of
all other things, whether duties or dangers, in the single thought of the
contest; so in this struggle for self, there is oblivion, a hemming in
of consciousness, a narrowing of horizons, a blindness to many things,
which the same spirit, if cool and detached, would instantly see to be
vital and real.

The weapons in this warfare for self are as varied as those in an
armory. The main purpose is, that the self shall be strengthened and
defended; and expedients of every sort are tried, to accomplish it.
The whole range of ambitions, the search of power, of wealth, of fame,
of recognized achievement: all these are but weapons whereby the self
seeks to fortify its position, holding out against natural forces, holding
its own against rival selves also in violent contest, holding its own, also,
though in this case almost always unconsciously, blindly, against the
larger spiritual life which is destined to succeed the life of the personal
self.

Ambitions and desires are weapons in this contest. So are all the
vices and sins whereby we seek stimulants and sensations for our per-
sonal selves, or seek oblivion of danger or failure. All, without excep-
tion, are the means whereby the personal self seeks to fortify its position,
to heighten the personal sense, to make keen and vivid that kind of con-
sciousness, the essence of which is the sense of a separate being and a
separate fate, to be upheld and defended at all costs.

We spoke of personal life as half-animal, half-human. As it is an
emergence from simple animal life, the successor of that, just as it is in
turn destined to be succeeded by a wider and deeper life, it has carried
over from the simple life of animals many elements and powers, which
are gradually transformed, or deformed, under the stress of personal
desire. Here arises much confusion, a blending of forces, half-earthly,
half-astral, by which the personal self is presently beset and encumbered,
making its darkness deeper, the work of its redemption more difficult
and painful.

But the time comes when the soul, having learned the lessons of
personal life, as before it learned the simpler lessons which animal life
teaches, is ready to pass to the next great stage of experience, to cross
the river from the eastern to the western bank. And, as the crossing is
in essence the same, no matter at what place on the bank of the great
river of life it is undertaken, so religious experience is in essence the
same, without regard to the race or creed, the time or clime, of those

NOTES AND COMMENTS. 97

who pass through it. Therefore, it may be said that religious experience
is universal.

Religious experience is subversive. A characteristic of it, as uni-
versal as the experience itself, is a revision of values, a new measure of
things, and especially of the very things on which the personal self set
the greatest store, the very weapons which seemed most essential for the
fight, and the prizes which seemed worth any effort and sacrifice. So
characteristic of religious experience is this subversive force, this
thorough-going revision of values, that it is worth while to illustrate it
with some completeness. Three illustrations offer themselves: the neo-
phyte Nachiketas, of the Indian Upanishad, milleniums old; the Roman
emperor, Marcus Aurelius Antoninus; and the Spanish nun, Teresa of
Avila: three witnesses sufficiently far apart in character and time.

Nachiketas, whose religious experience is superbly dramatized in his
colloquy with Death, speaks thus to the great destroyer, who has offered
him sons and grandsons of a hundred years, and much cattle, and ele-
phants and gold and horses, wealth and length of days, and the beauties
of the world:

"Tomorrow these fleeting things wear out the vigor of a mortal's
powers. Even the whole of life is short; thine are chariots and dance
and song.

"Not by wealth can a man be satisfied. Shall we choose wealth if
we have seen thee? Shall we desire life while thou art master? But
the wish I choose is truly that.

"Coming near to the unfading immortals, a fading mortal here
below, and understanding, thinking on the sweets of beauty and pleasure,
who would rejoice in length of days?

"This that they doubt about, O Death, what is in the great Beyond,
tell me of that. This wish that draws near to the mystery, Nachiketas
chooses no other wish than that."

Thus did this neophyte of most ancient India make his choice, ages
ago, ages before the great renunciation of Siddhartha the compassionate,
who, giving up the world, conquered the world, and became the Buddha.
Here, as we have said, religious experience is subversive. There is a
sudden revision, even a reversal of values. The weapons and treasures
of personal life are suddenly seen to be worthless, useless, needless to a
life that is stepping beyond personality.

To turn now to the Roman Emperor. Marcus Aurelius, in the
second century of the Christian era, was not in name, or in his own
thought, a Christian; nay, he was either indifferent or even hostile to

98 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

those who then bore the Master's name and some of whom, in the
Master's name, followed courses quite adverse to the Master's teaching.
In the deeper sense, the "pagan" emperor was the better Christian, far
closer to the spirit and temper of the disciple ; expressing certain qualities
of the disciple : disinterestedness, poise, humanity, reverence, in a perfec-
tion that has rarely been excelled, rarely equalled by disciples who have
been called to wear the crown of earthly empire.

Marcus Aurelius expresses with thoroughness and depth the sub-
versive quality of religious experience, the revision of values, which the
great awakening always brings :

"Soon, very soon, thou wilt be ashes or a skeleton, and either a name
or not even a name ; but name is sound and echo. And the things which
are much valued in life are empty and rotten and trifling, and like little
dogs biting one another, and little children quarrelling, laughing, and
then straightway weeping. What then is there which still detains thee
here?"

This is not pessimism, in the accepted sense, for the emperor was no
pessimist. And is not much of what passes for pessimism to be more
truly understood as a stage in religious experience, in the awakening
from personal life, and the consequent revised valuation of the treasures
and weapons of that life?

Fourteen centuries later, Saint Teresa expressed the same sense of
personal life : "Oh, what an affliction it is for the soul, who sees herself
in this state, to be obliged to return and converse with the world, and to
behold the farce of this life, so badly acted and arranged ! To be forced
to spend so much time in the things of the body, in sleeping and eating !
All this wearies the soul, which knows not how to escape from thence,
for she finds herself a captive in chains. She then feels more sensibly
the captivity we endure by means of our bodies, and also the misery of
this life. She seems like one sold as a slave in a strange land."

We must understand this seeming pessimism rightly, whether in the
Indian neophyte, the Roman emperor, or the Spanish nun. It is not that,
standing as personal selves, they have gradually become disillusioned,
finding the things of personal life growing ever more bitter to the taste,
though this is one aspect of their experience. It is rather that they have
found themselves plunged into the life which is beyond and beneath
personal life ; and that their sudden consciousness of this new life, with
its real values, has brought a new standard of values to the things of
personal life, before which they show as trivial, dross, nothingness.
The essence of this new consciousness is the death of the personal
self : a complete and final blotting out of that self which has fought for
its own hand, against nature, against others, against divine law. The

NOTES AND COMMENTS 99

soul suddenly realizes that it is an undivided part of the great life : that
it has no separate fate which needs to be defended or which can be
defended. Egotism is dead. It has died into a larger life. It is not
that the man has become unconscious. On the contrary, he is now, for
the first time, truly conscious ; but conscious as an undivided part of the
whole divine element, not as a separate self that needs defence against
the rest. He becomes conscious of the oneness of all divine life, and
realizes that that life is his true self.

Therefore the defences, the aims, of the fancied separate self seem
to him ridiculous and futile, like withered leaves, like little dogs snapping
at each other, like a farce badly played. He has stepped over into a life
which supersedes these things and makes them superfluous, as completely
as husk of the chrysalis is to the winged butterfly in the sunlight.

But it must not be fancied that this subversion of values makes the
soul careless, anarchical, or sets it adrift on a sea of idleness. If religious
experience is subversive, it is also constructive, with an intensity and a
thoroughness which ordinary human life can in no-wise rival. Im-
mersed as we are in ordinary human life, we cannot yet gain a fully
illumined view of the intense, incessant building which fills the spiritual
realm; but we can see that the great religious spirits are the great
builders; first building, in sacrifice and terrible toil, their own splendid
personalities; then building in other souls that they draw about them;
then building these into orders and divine relations, like the well-tuned
strings of a heavenly lyre, or the stones of a dwelling not made with
hands.

Ceaseless building, intense constructive power, is, therefore, the
next element of religious experience. All things are made new, through
the divine element working in perfect co-operation with the exertions of
the soul. And the building is to last. He builds for immortality.
Eternal life is seen and known, when the obscuring encasements of the
personal self are broken away, as the free air and sunshine and the love-
liness of flowers are known, when the blind, dry husk of the chrysalis is
broken. But the building is no longer a private fortress, possessed in
exclusive separatism and hostility. It is rather a rest-house of the divine
element, through which the holy breath of divine air flows unimpeded.
There is a selfhood within the dwelling, but it is a divine selfhood, in-
cluding, not excluding, all other souls ; at one with all in the unity of the
Most High.

Religious experience is humane. The revised standard of values,
which makes so many of the prizes of human life seem trivial and tawdry,
which shows much of its treasure to be "fool's gold," does not, therefore,

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harden the heart to human sorrow, or render it scornful of human
endeavor. On the contrary, only after the great spiritual rebirth is there
genuine compassion, a deep love for human beings, which loves all the
children of men without distinction.

It is well worth while to give examples of this generous human
love ; and it will give point to what we have said, if we cite them from
the same sources as before, from the witnesses to the spiritual glory
which shows our world the shadow-play it is. The Upanishads have
given the most universal expression to this large-hearted compassion,
declaring that he who has attained: "Sees all beings in Self, and Self
in all beings," therefore, he will be full of tenderness for all, since Self
cannot injure Self. This is the note which is struck, with splendid
resonance, in the superb life of Siddhartha the Compassionate, "whose
heart was heavy with a whole world's woe."

The first Upanishad phrase is almost verbally echoed by Marcus
Aurelius: "Enter into every man's ruling faculty," says the Roman
Emperor, "and also let every other man enter into thine." In Sanskrit,
one of the names of the Self is the ruling faculty, the "inner compeller."
The wise Emperor completes the expression of divine compassion: "If
thou art able, correct by teaching those who do wrong ; but if thou canst
not, remember that forgiveness is given to thee for this purpose. The
divine powers also forgive such persons; and for some purposes they
even help them to get health, wealth, reputation ; so kind they are. And
it is in thy power also; or say, who hinders thee?" And what gentle,
practical wisdom there is in this little sentence of his: "Men exist for
the sake of one another. Teach them then, or bear with them."

Hear now the Spanish nun, on this theme of divine compassion.
"Do you fancy," she says, of the perfect, "such hearts can love or think
of none except God alone? Indeed, they love others far more, with a
truer, more generous and intense affection. In a word, this is true love.
These souls are ever more ready to give than to receive, even with their
Creator. This, I say, merits the name of love. ... If they care for
anyone, they do not arrest their eyes on the body, but at once look into
the soul, to see if it contains aught they can love, or if not, whether it has
germs or inclinations which show that, by digging deep enough, they
will find gold within the mine ; loving this soul, no trouble wearies them,
no service is too hard for them willingly to render it."

Religious experience is personal. Not in the sense in which selfish
human life is personal, but with a high and divine consciousness, of which
ordinary human life, ordinary personality, is seen to be the perversion,
the inversion. Now, for the first time, true personality is experienced;
it is felt to rest always on the oneness of the whole divine element, the

NOTES AND COMMENTS. 101

ultimate selfhood of all that is. Therefore this new and truer person-
ality, the life on the western side of the river, is a communion of bound-
less joy. For, whereas ordinary human life seeks joy in separate self-
hood, and never finds it there, the awakened soul finds joy in universal,
divine selfhood, even without seeking it. And the universal divine ele-
ment always answers the soul with a personal note. The awakened soul
meets no abstraction, no attenuated breath of negative spirit, but a life,
intensely, superbly real, at once humane and divine, heart answering to
heart, love answering to love, divinity to new-born divinity, the Master
to the disciple, who awakes from darkness into that marvellous light.

The death of the body is a benefit to humanity rather than a punish-
ment, though it be thought of as the penalty of sin. We should call it
rather the death of death than the death of the body. For our real body
is not this fleshy lump of corruption. Rightly do the wise call our present
bodies the prison and death of life. And when the life principle is liber-
ated from this prison and living death, it is death that dies.

JOHN SCOTUS ERIGENA in De Divisione Natures.

When it is said, "Death and life are from the Lord" I do not think
the writer speaks of that death which humanity dies through sin but of
the death to which the Psalmist refers when he says, "Blessed in the sight
of the Lord is the death of His saints." The death of the saints is their
passage to an intimate contemplation of truth, in which true happiness
consists. This is the death which religious persons die, even while they
remain dwelling in this life.

JOHN SCOTUS ERIGENA in De Divisione Naturce.

THE EASTERN CHURCH

IN an endeavor to get an adequate and comprehensive view of the
Eastern Church one is appalled by the vastness of the panorama.
The field is so wide, both geographically and chronologically, that

the mind's eye refuses to include it in the angle of vision, but turns
from point to point, selecting first one, then another crisis as the centre
of interest around which to group and arrange minor events. After-
ward one can relate these separate pictures, each in itself so rich in
dramatic quality and picturesque detail, into one harmonious whole, just
as one grasps the unifying plan in a series of mural decorations, the
component parts of which have first been studied and understood.

The Council of Nicaea is undoubtedly the culminating event of the
early church, of the time not only before the West had divided from the
East, but even before the so-called national churches of the East had
adopted distinctive color and form. Backward from it, after traversing
the dark and troubled period of the second and third centuries, we
emerge into the light and simplicity of the Apostolic Age. Ahead
stretches the long series of the later Councils, the points of departure
for sect after sect, each with its defiant claim that it alone held to the
original true faith; till in the modern world, Russia, holding in its
inherent vigor the promise of the future, rivets the entire attention.

If, in this first paper, we can get a fair idea of the first great general
gathering of the church (a gathering in which we can one and all feel
an unquestioned hereditary right of standing room), and of the various
elements which then flowed together and mingled into one whole, we
shall be better prepared to understand the later segregations, to forgive
many seeming trivialities which sunder modern Christendom.

Before the Nicene Council, the Church, as such, did not exist.
There were churches, there were groups of Christian believers scattered
widely over the East; there were a few centres already established in
the West, but there was no common acknowledged authority, no recog-
nized body of doctrine. Each individual bishop or leader was free to
interpret the teaching according to his own conscience, his own will or
fancy. Scarcely three hundred years had passed since the message of
the Gospel had been given to the world, yet already various and varied
peoples had seized upon their special portions of the gold of its truth,
and having stamped it as their own coin were burning to foist it on
the world as the only legal tender.

The province of Egypt was an especial storm centre, for there the
fiercest of the battles, that of the famous Arian controversy, was being

THE EASTERN CHURCH 103

furiously waged. When we consider the attenuated abstruseness of the
question involved, a question which concerned, not the dealings of the
Deity with man, not the divinity or the humanity of Christ, not the
doctrine of the Trinity, for all these points were acknowledged by both
parties, but the relation of the God-head before the Incarnation, before
time, before the first beginnings of time: we are lost in amazement
that the passions of men could have been so roused. For explanation
we may perhaps look through the mere words and descry the living
figure of Arius himself in the background, capturing imagination and
sympathy by the rigid asceticism of his life, by the sweetness and power
of his voice, by his throbbing earnestness or wild frenzy when roused
from his habitual silence to the defense or promulgation of his tenets.
Not only were the learned divines and school men ranged up for and
against his standard, but likewise peasant and artisan. It was said of
the City of Alexandria "Every corner, every alley, was full of these
discussions. Ask a man 'How many oboli?' he answers by dogmatizing
on generated and ungenerated being. Inquire the price of bread and
you are told The Son is subordinate to the Father/ Ask if the bath is
ready and the reply is 'The Son arose out of nothing.' "

Into this battlefield of dogma emerged the Emperor Constantine,
fresh from the miracle of his recent conversion, full of high hope and
the exalted expectation of uniting the world under one banner. The
theological bickerings, the hitherto undreamed of polemics, over which
he was forthwith called upon to arbitrate, may well have seemed to
the powerful, unlettered man of action, but the flimsiest trivialities. In
a letter to the Alexandrian Church he expresses his grievous disap-
pointment that his newly adopted faith should be thus violently rent
asunder. He tells of the hope with which he had turned from the
distracted West to the Eastern regions of his Empire as those from which
divine light had first sprung, and begging the combatants to abandon
their disputes and return to the harmony befitting their common faith
he writes : "What wound has fallen on my ears, nay, rather on my heart !
Give me back my calm days and my quiet nights, light and cheerfulness,
instead of tears and groans." But even with the Emperor of the world
behind it the letter was in vain, the controversy had become too intense,
had gone too far. Some other method had to be sought by which to
bring about the ardently desired unanimity. According to his own
declaration it was through direct, divine guidance that he conceived the
idea of a great council of the entire church. Certain it is that it came
to him "out of the blue," for the precedent of the Buddhist Councils, the
only general religious assemblies which had heretofore been known to
the world, was far outside the realm of his actual knowledge, and he thus
embarked upon his project with all the zeal of an inspired genius. He
would summon all these contending factions, so that together they could,
and should ! work out their own salvation. He himself would royally
pay their travelling expenses, would act as host and preside at their

104 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

meetings, and while permitting perfect freedom of discussion would by
the majesty of his power keep them well within bounds. Complimentary
letters were addressed to the Bishops of all the churches. The second
capital of Bithynia, Nicaea, the "City of Victory," was designated as the
locality, a place accessible to all, yet far from the centre of dispute. The
year 325 was named as the date that it might commemorate the twen-
tieth year of his reign. "They came," says Eusebius, "as fast as they
could run, in almost a frenzy of excitement and enthusiasm," a vast
horde, for each Bishop was entitled to two presbyters and three slaves
as his retinue. The church has accepted and woven into custom and
legend three hundred and eighteen as the actual number of recognized
delegates; but more important and more significant than mere numbers
was the variety of character and type.

"There were present the learned and the illiterate, courtiers and
peasant, aged bishops on the verge of the grave, beardless deacons just
entering on their office; and it was an assembly in which the difference
between age and youth held real significance. The new generation could
just remember the joy of the Christian community at the edict of tolera-
tion published in their boyhood, but they themselves had suffered nothing.
Not so the older and by far the larger part of the assembly. They had
lived through the last and worst of the persecutions, and they now came
like a regiment out of some frightful siege or battle, decimated and
mutilated by the tortures or the hardships they had undergone. Most
of the older members must have lost a friend or a brother. Many bore
the peculiarly cruel marks of the last persecution, the loss of a right
eye, or the searing of the leg-sinews to prevent escape from working
in the mines. Both at the time and afterward, it was on their character
as an army of confessors and martyrs, quite as much as on their char-
acter as an oecumenical council, that their authority reposed. In this
respect no other council could approach them, and in the whole proceed-
ings of the Assembly the voice of an old confessor was received almost
as an oracle."

Nevertheless, it was the group of distinguished theologians who
dominated the discussion, who threshed out the issues to their ultimate
conclusions ; and if we consider for a moment the masterly intellects and
the towering personalities who crossed their keen intellectual swords,
we shall wonder less at the sharpness of the conflict, shall more clearly
discern the stamp they have set on all Christian thought.

The rock upon which the waves of controversy pounded most inces-
santly was undoubtedly the unyielding Arius himself; above the tumult
and clamor of the contending factions his voice would rise ever and
anon, chanting forth his vague abstractions to the tune of some dance
melody a method of popularization which strongly prefigures the mod-
ern revivalists, and which then as now so scandalized staid orthodoxy
that it was forced to clap hands over ears for self-protection. Support-
ing him with the gifts of his learning and eloquence was Eusebius of

THE EASTERN CHURCH. 105

Nicomedia, through whom, chief advocate of the great heresy, the
Emperor was destined on his death-bed to be finally received into the
Church. An uncompromising Arian, likewise, was Theophilus, the strange
fair-haired representative of the far north. Through him and his dis-
ciple Ulphilas, the "Moses of the Goths," the Teutonic nations received
their version of the scriptures, and the barbarian hordes which were soon
to overrun the Roman Empire, were semi-Christianized. Ranged up
in the opposition party were such men of weight as the scholarly Eusta-
thius of Antioch, together with his chief suffragan Eusebius of Caesarea,
the Father of Church History; the position of the latter as chaplain,
confessor and interpreter to Constantine, secured him an influence in
the Council only equalled by that of the "Magician of Spain," Hosius of
Cordova, his special spiritual director in the Western Empire. Later,
in the darkest and most mysterious crisis of Constantine's life it was
probably Hosius who secured for the Latin Church the gift of the
Lateran Palaces, the foundation of temporal power. Undoubtedly at this
time he was of far greater moment in the eyes of the theological world
than the aged Sylvester, Bishop of Rome, who, kept away by age and
infirmities, was represented by two presbyters; of them we hear little
during the proceedings of the Council, but their unquestioning sub-
scription to its decrees is witnessed by their affixed signatures and declara-
tion "We have subscribed for our Bishop who is Bishop of Rome. So
he believes as above is written." The title of Pope belonged alone to
the venerable Bishop of Alexandria, the titular head of the most impor-
tant and learned group of the Assembly. But easily dominating them,
and eventually sweeping the entire Council before him by his vivid per-
sonality, his versatility, and overmastering logic, was the youthful Egyp-
tian, the Arch-Deacon Athanasius. Gregory describes him as "awaken-
ing the sluggish, repressing enthusiasm; equally alert in prevention and
cure; single in his aims, manifold in his modes of government; wise in
his speech, still wiser in his intentions; on a level with the most ordi-
nary men, yet rising to the height of the most speculative ; uniting in him-
self the various attributes of all the heathen gods." His subsequent
life, closely coupled with the world's history from the reign of Con-
stantine to that of Valentinian, a tragic series of exiles and elevations,
of pomp and penury, of palace and hermitage, is summed up in a splen-
did tribute by Bishop Hooker, "Such was the evil stream of those
times that all men gave place unto it. Only of Athanasius there was
nothing observed through that long tragedy than such as very well
became a wise man to do and a righteous to suffer. So that this was the
plain condition; the whole world against Athanasius, and Athanasius
against the world. Half a hundred years spent in doubtful trial, which
of the two in the end would prevail ; the side which had all, or else the
part which had no friend but God and death ; the one a defender of his
innocency, the other a finisher of his troubles."

An amazing contrast to all of these polished logicians must have been

106 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

the motley rank and file of the Assembly ; desert dwellers from the inte-
rior of Egypt, their very names taken from the heathen Gods of the
ancient Pharaohs; wild ascetics from the remoter East; sightless and
limping confessors who had suffered under persecution; hermits from
the mountains who subsisted by browsing on roots and leaves like wild
beasts, and like them came clothed in rough goat-hair cloaks. There
were simple godly men to whose sainthood we still bow, such as Spyridian,
the Shepherd, now the patron of Corfu, and the good St. Nicholas
himself, type of benevolence to children, to sailors, to the victims of
thieves, even to the thieves themselves! who held their faith sincerely
but without much conscious knowledge. Incapable of entering into the
subtle arguments of the schoolmen, the voice of some one of them occa-
sionally pierces through the maze of dialectics with the clear note of
direct experience. We can fancy how the wrangling over the vexed
question of the homoousian versus the homoiousion must have dwindled
into palpable absurdity, as an old confessor, bearing witness by his
empty eye-socket and his paralyzed hands to his zeal for the Faith,
painfully limped his way to the centre of the disputants and abruptly
broke forth with an appeal beginning "Christ and the Apostles left us not
a system of logic nor a vain deceit, but a naked truth to be guarded by
faith and good works." We have testimony as to the compelling force
of this utterance from one of the heathen philosophers, who, for sheer
love of debate, was adding his quota to the dispute. When the exhorta-
tion ceased as abruptly as it had begun, he turned to the listeners and
addressed them : "Hear, my learned friends ! So long as it was a matter
of words, I opposed words to words, and whatever was spoken I over-
threw by my skill in speaking; but when in place of words, power came
out of the speaker's mouth, words could no longer resist power, man
could no longer resist. If any of you feel as I have felt, let him believe
in Christ and follow this old man in whom God has spoken."

Another moment when the controversial air must have been sum-
marily cleared was when, shortly after the formal opening of the Coun-
cil, Constantine produced from the folds of his imperial mantle the
countless papyrus rolls containing charges and counter-charges of per-
sonal and doctrinal enmities, and caused them to be burned, unread,
their seals unbroken.

Yet in spite both of the weariness and impatience of the earnest
contingent of the unlearned, and the eager effort of the Emperor him-
self to enforce unanimity, the discussion dragged itself interminably
along, a discussion so involved, so hair-splitting, that it fairly defies
translation from the original Greek into any language lacking its subtle
philosophical demarcations.

It was with small idea of being converted to the contrary opinion
that the chief disputants were on the field; the final victory over the
Arians and their condemnation as heretics, was the result not so much
of overpersuasion as of overmastering numbers. That they were "con-

THE EASTERN CHURCH 107

vinced against their will and of the same opinion still" is attested by the
vital persistence of their dogma for the following three hundred years.
Before long the pendulum of popular opinion swung back with such
velocity that it was only the one-pointed might of Athanasius' will which
prevented it from carrying all before it, and this in spite of the unani-
mous enforced subscription to the orthodox decrees of the Council, in
spite of the sweeping anathemas hurled against them as heretics, in
spite of the summary burning of their books, and the death penalty
which was pronounced against all who should dare peruse them.

Hydra-headed, it arose again and again to new life, in Italy and in
Africa ; among the Goths and the Lombards ; in the Kingdoms of Spain
and Southern France, until its final complete and bloody extermination
by the sword of Clovis. Traces of the old fortifications against it per-
sist in the structure of our modern church service, both in the constant
repetition of the orthodox formula of the Gloria Patri at the close of
every psalm and in the recitation of the Nicene Creed before the admin-
istration of the Eucharist.

It is to the everlasting honour of the Council that the heretics them-
selves were dealt with most gently ; some deprivations of clerical honours,
some curtailment of their authority, a few temporary banishments, were
the extremes of their chastisement. This clemency stands forth in high
relief when compared with the severity of later Councils ; to the breadth
and genial temper of the Emperor we may offer our gratitude that no
such dark blot as the savage treatment of Nestorius at Ephesus, or of
Huss at Constance stains the record of this first and greatest of the
church gatherings. His bluff advice to an uncompromising bigot, "Ho!
ho! Acesius! plant a ladder and climb up into heaven by yourself," is
indicative enough of his attitude toward intolerance, even if we lacked
the more explicit sentences of his farewell speech. "Let them avoid
their party strifes; let them envy no one distinguished for wisdom, but
regard the merit of every single individual as common property. God
only could judge who were superior. Perfection was rare, so allowance
must be made for the weaker brethren, slight matters forgiven, human
infirmities allowed for, concord prized above all else, since factions only
caused the enemies of faith to blaspheme. In all ways unbelievers must
be saved ; let them be like physicians, and accommodate the medicine to
the disease, the teaching to the different minds of all." It is to be
wondered if in all the intervening centuries we have progressed far
beyond the gentle common-sense of these admonitions. He, in turn, as
he was re-girt with the sword which he had relinquished when he first
entered the Council chamber, was admonished to "openly defend the
Faith," and moved by heartfelt thanksgiving at the happy culmination
of his cherished project he bade them one and all to a solemn feast of
joy. The swords of the Imperial Guard, so often bared against them in
torture and in execution, were now unsheathed in their honour. The
Emperor, himself, seated with a favored few at a table in their midst,

108 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

presided, and calling to him in turn bishop after bishop, loaded each with
gifts and friendly words. It is small wonder that Eusebius describes
the scene as "akin to the fancy of a dream, rather than a waking reality,
the likeness of the kingdom of Christ."

The hostile, negative labors of the Synod, which included the quash-
ing of one or two minor schisms, together with the greater one which
we have considered, have long since lost any save a remote historic inter-
est ; not so their positive affirmative accomplishment.

When Hosius presented to them their creed, a creed brought in sub-
stance direct from the plains of Sharon by Eusebius, he presented it
practically unchanged to all modern Christendom. The work of the
Chronologer Eusebius in adapting the cycle of the lunar year to the
Paschal question, together with Alexandria's contribution of Egyptian
astronomical lore, that the dates of subsequent Easters might be calcu-
lated with precision, are still our inalienable possessions, witnessed by
the table of the Golden Number in every prayer-book. Even the forty
volumes of the apochryphal canons have been translated into Arabic and
are received by the Eastern Church as binding with the validity of
imperial laws, while the authentic canons, only twenty in number, crop
out unexpectedly in usage and custom, both East and West. Two minor
points hold for us an exaggerated significance because of future develop-
ments. The one is a mere clause in the canon confirming to the Pope
of Alexandria certain ancient privileges over the bishops in his province.
It reads: "as in the parallel case of the Bishop of Rome," and was the
slight ground on which at Chalcedon the See of Rome based its claim of
precedence over the See of Constantinople! The other, not even incor-
porated into a canon, is the sharp defense by Paphnutius of a married
clergy against the celibacy advocated by Hosius, a passage of arms
presaging the chief outer differentiation between the two main branches
of the Church.

In a later paper, we shall see how such small contentions widened
into gulfs, how molehills of jealousy rose into mountains of envy, how
desperately the different races clung to their characteristic psychological
interpretations of the tenets. But for the moment we may leave them,
happy in the delusion that the final stage in the church's history had
begun ; believing with Athanasius that the "word of the Lord which was
given in the Council of Nicaea remaineth forever." In imagination we
may join in the sigh of relief with which the inhabitants of the little
Bithynian city must have watched the departure of the fiery prelates, as
they wound their way up the steep wooded slopes of the surrounding
mountains, or embarked upon the Ascanian Lake; and may rejoice in
the calm which did indeed descend for a small space of years, not only
upon Nicaea itself, but in some measure over the entire Christian world.

ANNE EVANS.
(To be continued)

LETTERS TO FRIENDS

VIII
DEAR FRIEND:

^-Tr-^HE trouble is simpler than you think. You are not honest.

I know very well how indignantly you will deny this,
when you first read it, and how hurt and resentful you will
feel that I, of all people, should dare to say it of you. Bear
with me while I try to make it clear. For you must realize I am not
speaking of the cruder forms of dishonesty, insinuating that an open
letter is not safe in a room alone with you, or that what you tell me
is not so. Could you imagine yourself needing a recommendation,
you know that the stereotyped formula of "honest, sober, and indus-
trious" would be unqualifiedly endorsed. In that sense, honesty is
perhaps the cheapest and most common of virtues. But in the deeper
sense it is, I think, one of the rarest and most potent. What I want
you to see is that, in this deeper sense, and in the things which
count most in life, you are not, and have not been honest with your-
self. You do not front life as it is, nor have you stripped aside the
veils that cover you from your own eyes.

What are these veils? They take a thousand forms and colors.
But I think they are chiefly woven from vanity and fear and the lust
for pleasure, upon a background of dead inertia. Perhaps it were
nearer the truth to speak of them as veils of light, dazzling rather
than blinding us, always shifting, now from this side now from that,
changing focus and color and angle, never long enough the same to
enable us to see without pain and effort the true nature of that over
which they play. But with pain and effort we can see, and it is of the
utmost moment to us that we should. Use what simile suggests itself,
the fact remains that so long as we do not see life as it is, we are like
blind men, following a path we do not know and beset on every side with
quicksands. Or, as our blindness is so largely of our own making and
continuing, it is as if, upon a mountain road along the edge of precipices,
we were to bandage our eyes, fearing to face the dangers of a path we
still pursue. It is true that when we have found a guide, who will take
our hand in his and lead us, we might in this way cross in blindness
places where we would not venture could we see. But until we have
found our guide blindness is little short of suicide.

Therefore I beg of you to make this effort; to penetrate beneath
all the shifting appearance of things to see them as they are; to front
your life, your self, your own heart and purposes and desires in simple
unsparing honesty. It is a painful process, and one requiring no small
courage. But it marks the beginning of true life.

109

110 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

And now perhaps, you are even more indignant with me than before,
and think I have still more misread you. You do not believe that you
have been dishonest with yourself. Still less do you believe that you
are blind to the facts of your own life, or under any glamorous delu-
sions regarding life in general. But bear with me still a little longer.

What is your life? What is it which you do actually and truly
desire? Do not, at first, ask yourself what you ought to answer. Ask
yourself what are the simple facts. Ever since you waked this morning
you have been acting, thinking, feeling, desiring. What motives for
your actions were you conscious of or can you now recall? What were
the nature and the colour of your thoughts and feelings? What have
been your actual desires? Take paper and pencil and write down the
answers to these questions, as fully, as directly, and as honestly as you
can. Remember it is not to be shown to anyone. It is not to please your
vanity. It is a simple test of your courage to face facts, of your ability
to see actualities and to record them honestly as they were. Do this, for
my sake and for truth's sake, before you read further.

And now what is it that your list contains? If you have really
passed this first test of simple honesty, it will be a curious jumble that
confronts you. At first glance the most obvious thing about it is its lack
of apparent significance, the multiplicity of trivialities of thought and
feeling, the long gaps in what you are able to recall of your conscious
processes, the many intervals in which you appear to have been acting
without other purpose than the mechanical obedience to habit, your
body or mind occupied, but your will and feeling suspended. Did you
remember the thoughts which floated through your mind while dressing?
Have you compared that for which you prayed with your feelings and
actions at the breakfast table? Did you note how mechanically you pro-
vided for your bodily comfort, and chose a chair you liked, before begin-
ning to read this letter? Have you traced this same love of comfort,
and habitual search for it, throughout the other actions of the day?
Have you recorded how often your mind said to you "I wish" thus or
so, and seen the motives which made you thus "wish" things different
from what they are, idle wishes, vain wishes, discouraged, querulous
wishes, which never give birth to action? Have you had the courage to
put down the evil colouring of some of your idle day dreaming, the
thoughts that had entrance to your mind in odd moments of leisure?
Have you found vanity, over sensitiveness, resentment of criticism, the
wish to prove yourself right and others wrong? Have you seen anxiety,
and fear and mean little subterfuges which you would have wished to
have explained away had they been seen by others? Have you probed
your attitude toward the daily round of your duties, and seen what pro-
portion of them were fulfilled with the conscious purpose of doing
them as perfectly as possible, and what proportion were done mechan-

LETTERS TO FRIENDS 111

ically or to get them over and out of the way that you might turn to
something else? Have you noted what that "something else" was to
which you wished to turn ? And have you compared the amount of time
in which you can say that your conscious purpose was love or service
or in any way what you would wish it to be, with the amount of time in
which you were conscious of no purpose at all, or in which, as you now
look back upon it, you can see that your motives were concerned with
self and were anything but what you wish?

If you have done these things you have begun to be honest. But I
think now you will grant me that the view they give you of your daily
life is not one which you have heretofore kept clearly before you as you
have thought about yourself. You have rarely been honest with yourself
in just this way before, though often enough you have been filled with
self-disgust. But self-disgust is not honesty. We have as yet only part
of the picture before us, and a half truth may be the worst of lies.

You have tried to record your conscious life as you live it hour by
hour. Try now to record your ideal, what you wish to be; yes, and
what you wish to have or do, trying in this also to be wholly direct
and honest. Courage, strength, effectiveness, indomitable cheerfulness,
the self-giving love which enables us to live in a larger life than that of
the personality, all these I know you will put down and many others.
But put down also what you think you would wish to have and to do.
Wealth, if you desire wealth. Pleasure, in whatever form you desire
it, even though that form seem anything but ideal. If you do actually
desire it, it is part of your present ideal. Put it down, that you may
deal with it honestly. And when you have made this list as best you
can, and have before you a picture of what you would like to be, and
the way in which you would like to act, and what you would like to have,
take up again the first record you made of the day as you actually lived it.

Compare the two, point by point. Take circumstances just as they
were, your duties just as they were. And ask yourself of each circum-
stance or duty, of each hour of your day, what opportunity it offered
for the expression or the gaining of the qualities and possessions your
ideal list contains. You will find that nowhere was there any barrier
to the qualities of being. No circumstance can prevent our being cour-
ageous, cheerful, loving, unselfish, though we are forever blaming cir-
cumstances for our failures. We say to ourselves that it is hard, just
when we have made up our mind to be kind and loving, to be met with
such intolerable crossness or unjust accusation, and that no one could
be sweet tempered with so and so. But in so saying we are simply
blinding ourselves to the truth. We want to be courageous but think
it impossible because there is danger, we would be sweet-tempered, but
cannot bear to be provoked. These are but the lying excuses of cow-
ardice and weakness. Our desire failed, not the opportunity.

But if we could remember our desire, we see clearly enough that
there is not a moment of the day when we cannot be exercising our-

112 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

selves in some one of the qualities which we wish to gain. Here there
is no barrier to the fulfilment of desire.

With what we wish to have and do it is different. Here we see a
thousand barriers, barriers in circumstances, barriers in our duties, above
all, barriers in those very qualities of being which we wish to acquire
and to be. Here our list is self-contradictory. Duty and pleasure lead
in opposite ways. We have to choose between the things which we
would have and the things which we would be. How are we to make
that choice?

You have seen how you make it unconsciously hour by hour. Or
rather how you fail to make it, as you pursue first one and then the
other, forever compromising, forever oscillating, forever losing both,
by vacillating indecision and blind forgetfulness of purpose. But how
should you make it? The answer is obvious enough. By honestly
examining the two between which you have to choose.

There is no mystery in the matter, save that which our own dis-
honesty may create. We stand as it were with a seed in either hand,
and ask ourselves which one we shall plant to grow up as our later life.
In the one hand is the seed of the search for pleasure, in the other the
seed of the search for being. Whichever we plant will grow according
to its kind. Their life history is known to us. This pet sin or pleasure
which seems to us now so attractive will lead us where it has led those
who followed it before us. We can predict its course, and our own
under its shadow, quite accurately. Only as we blind our eyes need we
fail to see what it will cause us to become.

If, therefore, we are to front life as it is, we have also to front
these facts. Of the paths desire seeks to follow many are mutually
incompatible, and of these many, there are few which we would wish
to follow to the end. It is only at their beginnings that they seem attrac-
tive. And from where we stand we can see far beyond their beginnings.
Only by deliberately shutting our eyes, by refusing to recognize what
we have seen, can we say we desire to follow them.

Go back, therefore, again over your lists. Trace out in this way the
life history of each of the motives you have recorded, of each of the
desires you have found swayed your conduct, or which you have included
in the list of your present ideals. Strike out those which you would
not follow to the end. For it is simple foolishness to think that you can
stop midway. As well say that you will drink laudanum because you
like its taste, but will stop short of experiencing its soporific effect.

And now, after this long self-examination, and painful probing,
what have you gained? Some understanding, perhaps, of what I meant
when I said the trouble was that you were not honest. But such an end
as that is of small consequence. What I hope that you have gained is
this. First, a clear view of the drifting, purposeless, self-contradictory
and dishonest character of the greater portion of our personal lives.
Second, a clearer vision of what you actually do desire in the true and

LETTERS TO FRIENDS. 113

honest soul of you, a stripping away, as mere glamorous delusions,
of many things you have often thought you desired. And third, as the
result of these two, a perception of the directions in which your will
must act in order to change your life from that which you have lived
to that which you wish to live.

I will confess one further hope, if you will read over again what
has remained in your list of your ideals. The hope is this: that you
would see that, despite all you have said to the contrary, your actual and
permanent desires are precisely those which motived all the saints,
tKat the qualities you wish for yourself found their perfect expression
and perfect life in the life of the Master, and that your love of them
and desire for them, when synthesized, must mean love of Him and
desire for Him.

The truth is that the saints were the only really honest people,
the only ones who had the courage to be wholly and entirely honest. I
do not think any one can read their autobiographies without being pro-
foundly impressed by an integrity of which the world offers no other
examples. They faced all things as they were and dared to face them-
selves. And thus they became saints. For I do not believe any man can
be wholly honest and not become either saint or devil. But if, as I think
we must, we rule the devils out, the saints alone are left. There is no
other destiny to which we can honestly aspire.

"Humility and Love." In these words St. Teresa summed the whole
of human knowledge and human achievement. For the first means
knowledge of self, and the second knowledge of God. May your long
suffering forbearance with your friend help you upon the Path which
leads to them.

Faithfully yours,

JOHN GERARD.

Nobody has a right to find life uninteresting or unrewarding who
sees within the sphere of his own activity a wrong he can help to remedy,
or within himself an evil he can hope to overcome.

CHARLES H. ELIOT.

BERGSON'S PHILOSOPHICAL
POSITION

/ tf A HOU has made us for Thyself, O Lord; and our heart is
restless until it rests in Thee." St. Augustine here expresses

JL. in religious terms what the mind of man has always intuitively
known, and what the heart of man has always ultimately felt.
The mind knows that it desires certainty, truth; the heart feels an ever
recurring sense of incompleteness, a vague dissatisfaction with even the
best that the world can give. In history we see that man has used every
faculty he possesses to satisfy this call of the Soul. The dances of primi-
tive savages, the magic, true and false, of Hermetic and related schools,
the work of science in the exploration of nature, all the religions, sects,
and philosophies ever recorded, are simply manifold examples of his
endeavor to satisfy this craving. The achievement of civilizations has
been to contribute some new understanding, some further impulse
towards a solution of the problem of the human consciousness. Looked
at in this light, a retrospect of the origin and advancement of modern
science in all its branches affords a panorama of marvellous interest;
showing a slow but sure development, as if under a guiding hand,
towards those planes of life which approach more nearly the deeps of
our nature; and by this tendency giving glimpses into the possibilities
of a rich harvest to come, even in such an age of transition and scatter-
ing of forces as is this.

The yearning for truth may be said to have expressed itself in two
strongly marked types of men: the directly religious and mystical, who,
in whatever language or by whatever method, have sought to minimize
the world and reach up to God and the heavenly kingdom as the one
goal worth attaining, the one absolute reality; and those whose spiritual
faculties seem to be less consciously active, but who nevertheless stretch
every nerve, impose rigorous self -discipline, and satisfy this impulse
urging them onward by turning their energy to the study of matter or to
the unravelling of the enigma of human intellect and psychology. Philoso-
phy, and especially so-called modern philosophy, is the summation of this
latter type ; and in view of the new awakening, which is taking place in
philosophy, as in religion and the churches, it becomes a field of critical
interest, and one which might easily lead the scientific world in the direc-
tion of the deeper and more spiritual wisdom which up to now the
materialism of science has rejected or omitted from its consideration.

To every man, under whatever head he may be classed, has been

BERGSON'S PHILOSOPHICAL POSITION 115

accorded a vision; the scientist sees it in an explanation of nature's
phenomena, the musician in some harmony, the artist in beauty, the
mystic in the spiritual world, in the Master. And man has always felt,
and felt truly, that a complete knowledge of his specialty would ulti-
mately lead him to Truth and Knowledge, however vaguely apprehended
at the start. But of all these seekers, none have been able to assure the
world of the finality of their quest, of the success of their method, except
the mystics, whose unbroken testimony is so universally disregarded and
laughed at, alike by science, philosophy, and the world at large. It is
with peculiar hopefulness, therefore, that we watch the leaders of
modern scientific and philosophic thought, through their very unswerv-
ing loyalty to truth, laying the foundations for, and leading themselves
and each other nearer and nearer to, the place where the testimony of
the saints and the spiritual teachings of the world's great religious leaders
will alone provide the key for progress.

Especially does this seem to be true of the philosophy expounded
by Henri Bergson, of the speculations of Sir Oliver Lodge, and also to
a certain degree of the theories of Rudolph Euken. These men are
the pioneers of the day, each in his respective field. Throughout the
history of philosophy there has always been a marked discrepancy between
pure theory and innate belief. Conflicting theorists have been forced to
stamp belief as either a mental vagary, illusory and without logical sub-
stantiation, or as the very foundation of philosophy itself. Theory has
been developed into a science of critical speculation, and has been treated
by the one school as a form of knowledge ; belief, for the average man,
is a form of knowledge, and always has been. The task presenting itself
to every intelligence is how to coordinate the perception of the world as
received through the senses with those certain convictions about itself
and the universe which elude all mental analysis and verification. Berg-
son, standing strictly and safely on the results of up-to-date biology and
psychology, is pushing his conclusions through the traditional planes of
reasoning and intellect to those of will and soul. In Eastern terminology,
he is interpreting Higher Manas, the plane of sure conviction, certain
intuition, and creative will ; a plane which is also the medium of and closely
linked with, the purely spiritual Buddhi. Furthermore Bergson is urging
as the highest duty and function of man the cultivation of these faculties
ordinarily so cramped and stultified in our material personalities. Euken,
standing less surely on the sciences of the day, is developing beside
Bergson's philosophy a Philosophy of the Spirit, of man's relation to the
Real. Both men are leading away from the philosophic materialism of
the past century; Euken by an original and somewhat idealistic leap
into the philosophically unexplored, Bergson by the erection of a solid
superstructure on the philosophically accredited deductions of his pre-
decessors. It can be seen how much greater will be the influence of this
latter method on the philosophic world because of the thorough founda-
tions upon which it is built.

116

Rightly to understand and appreciate Bergson's position in the his-
tory of philosophy and in the sequence of this approach to the Real
which is guided, as it seems, by an all-wise and prophetic wisdom, an
outline of the great movements of philosophic thought will be attempted,
followed by an effort to analyze just what Bergson has contributed, with
the new direction and impetus that he may give to future philosophers.

So much of the thought of the earliest Greek philosophers has been
completely misunderstood by the modern schools that it is difficult to
get an accurate perspective of the heart of their doctrines. In recent
numbers of the QUARTERLY, Notes and Comments have given some illu-
minating hints as to the inner interpretation of such better known men
as Orpheus, Pythagoras, Plato, and Socrates, together with the sugges-
tion that the foundation of their wisdom lay in at least partial initiation
into the great Egyptian mysteries and esoteric teaching. This immediately
separates Greek philosophy from the modern schools by the very fact
that there is a heart to its theories, a symbolic language to be inter-
preted correctly. Philosophy since Descartes can boast of no such depth
or understanding. Bergson has been accused by his critics of simply
dressing up in new and attractive words the ideas of Heracleitus, who
lived about 500 B. C. Heracleitus, with his sobriquet of the Obscure on
account of his use of paradox, is little understood by recent idealists,
realists, and utilitarians. Bergson openly acknowledges his debt to
Heracleitus; but more especially to Plotinus, who lived from about 204
to 270 A. D. We find in these sources from which Bergson drew his
inspiration, the division which now exists between himself and the mod-
ern philosophic positions. Heracleitus taught of an Energizing Fire, "the
symbol for a free and life-giving Spirit of Becoming," the purifier that
initiates into a more spiritual growth. "All things are in a state of flux,"
he says. "Reality is a condition of unrest." "Everything happens
through strife," and yet the purpose of all this struggle is a harmony.
"Men say that things are right or wrong, but the gods see no good or
evil, but all things to them are one sweet harmony." Further than this
"the hidden harmony is better than the heard," and "all men desire to
get at the permanent heart of changefulness." Unlike Plato, Heracleitus
held that the mind is an instrument, an appendage of the whole man.
This is a cardinal postulate of Bergson, and marks him at once as diverg-
ing from the traditional foundation on Plato and the Greek intellectual
culturalists, who taught that the intellect was the organ of ultimate
knowledge. Modern philosophy with its inability to interpret any of the
mysteries of the ancients, values Heracleitus for his attempt at an ideal-
ism, but suspects him of being unduly influenced by the Persian Fire-
Worship mysteries into which tradition says he was initiated. They do
not esteem him half as highly as they do Thales, because way back in

BERGSON'S PHILOSOPHICAL POSITION. - 117

600 B. C. this old "Wise Man" had a scientific turn and accurately pre-
dicted an eclipse of the sun a truly modern achievement or even
Anaximander (540 B. C.), who conceived the world as cylindrical in
shape, and as merely one of the heavenly bodies, with a life and evolu-
tion of its own similar to that of any animal. In other words, modern
philosophy, being materialistic, understands only in its own terms the
statements of the ancients, labelling as visionary the symbolic or
mystical.

Greek philosophy may be summed very briefly as having two distinct
phases ; one a purely logical and intellectual, the other in its early purity
an inner conception and appreciation of the spiritual world. Modern
philosophy inherits from the former. It would seem to be chiefly
the degeneration of the inner religious life of Greece into the cultiva-
tion of the merely ethical and intellectual that, in the words of Notes
and Comments, "forced the Western Avatar to fall back on the second
line of preparation, which had been laid in Palestine through the aspira-
tion and sacrifice of the Hebrew prophets." The heart of Greek philoso-
phy was lost, had been squandered unworthily. "Greek culture fell to
pieces," says the same writer; "in morals, corruption; in mental life,
levity and purposeless, fruitless dissipation of energy; in political life,
mean ambitions and servility. . . ." Therefore the Master Jesus,
unable to establish his great spiritual life and teaching on the degenerate
Greek tradition, chose rather for his foundation that of the intense and
monotheistic Jews. In this new environment there were great possibili-
ties, "there were also grave dangers : zeal became fanaticism ; the narrow
worship of the law was never far from materialism; national ideals
merged into national bigotry."

In the reasons back of this choice of the Western Avatar we see
that the ideal of Greek philosophy had been lowered, had undergone a
change. From being a vesture for spiritual truth, it had descended to the
level of barren mental gymnastic and culture. By this misuse of spiritual
force, it lost the ability to see the truth offered to it, ceased to be the lan-
guage of initiates, of the wise, and became the instrument for speculation
in the intellectual realms and for a critical examination of the mere
forms of knowledge. The history of philosophy, as the term is now used,
becomes the study of the growth of these speculations, themselves parallel
with the accumulated growth of the world's scientific experience. In
Plato's words, the philosopher is one who has only "magnificence of
mind."

It is important that the ancient achievement of the Greeks in having
an inner significance to their philosophy be remembered, because we now
trace its development through many phases of materialistic expression
until it becomes entirely lost to philosophy; and whatever of esoteric
truth existed at one time in philosophy now becomes transferred to a
separate field the strictly orthodox religions. Gradually, however,
materialism itself has expanded with the increased civilization of the

118 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

world, until to-day science and philosophy alike are searching for forces
and causes that spring from a religious, a spiritual life, and not from
the world of matter. With Bergson we seem to see an interpreter of
the newly awakened consciousness; one who is turning again towards
the light, is endeavoring directly to reach the planes of enlightenment
formerly the true heritage of the philosopher.

Ill

Two main streams of thought emerged during the first few centu-
ries after Christ; now labelled respectively Christian Supernaturalism
and Neoplatonism. It has been said that after the weaknesses of the
Hebraic environment had led to the rapid decline of the early church
from its original standard set chiefly by St. Paul, an effort was made,
by infusing into Christian thought the best of the Greek element still re-
maining, to strengthen and broaden the outlook of the church, and so not
to lose entirely the mysticism which existed amongst the Greek initiates.
The Neoplatonic system contributed largely to this end, though an ad-
mixture of all types of thought was practically inevitable in so cosmo-
politan a world as the Roman Empire. Even the earliest liturgic frag-
ments which we possess, and such primitive religious poetry as the "Odes
of Solomon" and the "Hymn of Jesus" show how sympathetically the
early church absorbed and transmuted the mystic element of Orphic,
Essene, and, later, Neoplatonic thought. St. Clement of Alexandria
(A. D. 160-220) first adapted, in a literary form, the language of the
pagan mysteries to the Christian theory of spiritual life. Following him
the next great figure was Plotinus, whose influence on St. Augustine
(354-430) and on Dionysius the Areopagite (475-525?), and therefore
indirectly on the whole church, can hardly be over-estimated. Since
Bergson credits Plotinus with being the source of much of his own
inspiration, it will be worth while to discuss this too little known yet
important factor in our sequence of thought.

Born in Alexandria about 204, Plotinus studied in the best schools
there, and later went to Rome where he lectured on philosophy for many
years. Some time before his death in 270 he retired to Campania with
his disciples, the most distinguished of whom was Porphyry. Plotinus
was the first great systematizer of the Neoplatonic school. Intellectually
his starting point was that of an idealist, showing distinct elements of
the Platonic influence, with adaptations of paganism and with infusions
of the Oriental cults that ran riot in Alexandria in the third century.
Ostensibly Plotinus was a metaphysician, with all a metaphysician's burn-
ing passion to know and realize the Absolute. This side of Plotinus is
recognized and respected by modern philosophers; but in vain do they
struggle with his self-contradictions and paradoxes. For Plotinus was
also a mystic, almost in spite of his philosophic mind; and the endeavor
to reconcile his preconceived system with the enlightenment received

BERGSON'S PHILOSOPHICAL POSITION ' 119

in spiritual experiences led him to many flagrant inconsistencies. This
very lack of perfect compactness and rigidity accomplished the purpose
which, as suggested, was the effort at this time. Appearing at the moment
when the wreck of paganism was complete, and before Christianity had
dominated the educated world, Neoplatonism strongly attracted the spir-
itually minded both Christian and pagan and this just because it was
a none too clearly formulated and semi-religious philosophy, into which
much could be read, and back of which lay the compelling yet mysterious
genius of Plotinus himself. The originality of his terminology was in
itself an advantage, and pagan though he was, most later Christian mys-
tics use his terms, notably St. Augustine and St. John of the Cross.

Plotinus emphatically asserted the existence of spirit, and the soul
as deriving life and light direct from spirit. The true source of reality
is the One, the Absolute, the Infinite. The One is not Being or Mind,
but over-Being and over-Mind. Matter is darkness as compared with
the One, which is light. Man, being body and soul, is partly spiritual
and partly material the perversion or reflection of the spiritual. This
belief naturally led Plotinus to teach the illusory nature of all temporal
things. What chiefly attracted the mystics was the further development
of Plotinus along religious rather than philosophic lines, carefully
expressed though it was in philosophical terms, and based on his cosmo-
logical conceptions and system. So long as the mystic teaching was
drawn from a real experience of the soul, the disciple did not care
whether Plotinus was consistent or inconsistent with this system; only
the matter of fact mind is at a loss as to the proper classification and
correlation of such a mixed presentation. That Plotinus did draw from
personal experience is incontrovertible, as we have in the plainest lan-
guage his own record that he attained three times in his life to ecstatic
union with "the One." It is to these descriptions of ecstatic union with
God, the "Unconditioned One" in another of his phrases, that the later
Christian mystics turn for enlightenment, or for terms with which to
express their own experiences.

Plotinus' method for attaining this state is clearly set forth in his
works, and reveals the true position and greatness of the man himself.
Since God reveals himself according to our capacity to receive him, it
is our duty to return to God by eliminating any tendency towards the
material. We must, therefore, "forsake wickedness, sensation, concep-
tions, and multiplicity;" a very suggestive passage, in that Plotinus
himself tacitly acknowledges that in his own mental and philosophic
"conceptions" he found a barrier. To receive the One the soul must
also become formless and empty through the path of contemplation. "He
will not behold the Supreme whilst he is drawn downward by those
things that are an obstacle to the vision; for he does not ascend alone,
but brings with him that which separates him from the One: in a word
he is not made one." The process of the ascent of the soul and of attain-
ment to this formlessness is described in language borrowed from Plato's

120 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

Symposium. We are to rise from our physical beauties, which, since
they come from the soul, necessarily imply an essentially ideal or beau-
tiful soul. This physical beauty is a form which all bodies more or less
share; therefore the ascent is from multiplicity of form in the body to
unity of beauty in the Soul. If for the physical beauties of the body we
read those qualities in our souls of which they are the outward expres-
sion, the "ideal" or Platonic symbology in this passage may be more
easily penetrated. Plotinus delighted at times in obscurity, it being at
that period the prerequisite for any philosophical writing. In describing
attainment or union he is, however, more simple and direct. Having
abstracted the soul from hindrances, we must learn to "energize enthusi-
astically" on another plane a really spirited phrase, and in view of his
constant insistence upon abstraction and negation, one worth noticing.
"But when we do behold Him, then we obtain the end of our wishes,
and rest. Then we are no longer discordant, but form a truly divine
dance about Him; in the which dance the soul beholds the Fountain of
life, the Fountain of intellect, the Principle of Being, the cause of good,
the root of soul" (Ennead, vi. 9).

It is curious that the later Christian saints who studied Plotinus
should have so easily overlooked the lack of orthodoxy in his teaching;
but it certainly was due to this disregard on their part that the Greek
and pagan elements in his thinking were absorbed into the Hebraic and
strictly Christian types of belief. Plotinus' "One," used synonymously
with his term "God" by him, is distinctly not a personal deity, but an
abstract unity gained by abstracting all qualities; a pure "form" of
thought, that neither reasons nor thinks. If the One did think or reason,
it would lapse into multiplicity, says Plotinus, and therefore cease to be
absolute unity. Christian mystics completely overlooked the inconsistency
of such statements with their own theistic or trinitarian belief ; blinded,
perhaps, by the glamour of Plotinus' vivid descriptions of ecstatic union.
Pantheism is the logical outcome of such a conception of purely abstract
unity, because an abstract One must be everything or nothing. John
Scotus Erigena, the "bright light" of the ninth century, was led astray
by Plotinus, and on close analysis his theology was pronounced unortho-
dox by the Church, and he only escaped persecution through the pro-
tection of the Emperor then an enemy of Rome. Similarly this con-
ception of an abstract unity proved to be the source in Christian mystical
writings for the negative abstract conception of Deity a "blank unity
of which nothing should be predicated." The duty of the contemplative
was, not to concentrate his complex unity on the complex unity of God,
but rather to abstract himself away into a blank "formless unity," cor-
responding to what he conceived to be the divine nature. On the attain-
ment of union he received intuitions concerning this divine nature, which
brought further enlightenment. The Quietest heresy developed out of
these theories.

Philosophically, then, Plotinus insisted upon three fundamental prin-

BERGSON'S PHILOSOPHICAL POSITION. 121

ciples, which are recognized by modern philosophers as his special con-
tribution. These are: (1) the inability of this world, however fully and
scientifically conceived, to satisfy the human spirit; (2) the existence
of a Divine nature beyond and above this world; and (3) the possibility
of entering into communion with this Divine nature. These principles
are equally fundamental to mysticism, and it is here that we may be able
to trace the real depths of Bergson's insight. Plotinus, having worked
out a brilliant intellectual philosophy, modified from Greek and other
sources, is received and has his place in the modern estimation. And
his theories according to the wont of recent schools are open to further
analysis, development, or criticism ad libitum. But since Plotinus was
also a mystic, with his own set of terms not specifically those of Chris-
tianity, he can be more safely used as a source, or as an authority, with-
out incurring the danger of being stigmatized as "religious" and "unsci-
entific." Bergson well knows that modern philosophy, while studying
the Scholastic reasoning and ontology, does so under protest, and does
not accept the Christian theology imposed by the religion of the school-
men ; and he may well wish, if his aim be consciously what it seems to be,
to avoid being disregarded as a mere interpreter of outworn dogmas or
of "mystical hallucinations." If this be the case, Bergson shows his
wisdom both in laying secure foundations, and in not attempting to force
the pace, so to speak, beyond the present insight and ability of his age.
He is being a true teacher and leader; he is not "casting pearls before
swine."

During the Patristic period all that was best in Neoplatonism became
absorbed into Christianity, and evolved what is called Christian Platonism.
St. Augustine and Dionysius the Areopagite were imbued with its teach-
ing, were students of the Plotinian school, and freely used their master's
terminology. St. Augustine's influence on later times is too well known
to need comment. Dionysius has lost in this generation the tremendous
prestige that was his for more than a thousand years, and it is difficult
for us to reconstruct with our false perspective the true importance of
this mysterious writer. He was a thorough disciple of Plotinian mys-
ticism, and his works were quoted and his authority appealed to by every-
body. In this one man alone we see, then, how complete was the final
intermingling of the Greek element with Christianity and its Hebraic
setting.

After this period of assimilation and reconstruction, there set in
one of inevitable crystallization, and the Church began the formulation
of hard and fast dogma. In the works of Gregory the Great (540-604)
we get the first orderly and systematic doctrine, later so peculiarly char-
acteristic of Roman writings. St. Gregory was a religious man, and
his work was intended more for the preservation of truth from the mael-
strom of conflicting ideas than for the exclusion of heresy. For this

122 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

reason he was widely read by later contemplatives, and had a growing
influence. But the age for intellectual tortuousness had again set in, and
the minds of men were turned almost exclusively to hair-splitting dis-
cussions and trivial or futile argumentation. Theology grew to be the
dominant consideration of the educated thinkers, and gradually the body
of what is called Scholastic philosophy emerged. The Scholastics were
intellectual giants, and the mysticism which undoubtedly lay at the bot-
tom of their hearts was both obscured and stultified. So well known
and illustrious an example as St. Thomas Aquinas (1226-1274) is rarely
referred to for mystical testimony, whereas he is the authority on Scho-
lastic theology and dogma ; and yet St. Thomas was a true mystic, as a
sympathetic examination of his writings will prove. He performed the
additional and invaluable task of reconciling the scientific philosophy
of Aristotle, then attracting the most universal attention throughout
Europe, with the orthodox Church dogma. Largely through his superior
genius, "Philosophy was the Handmaid of Theology;" that is, it found
its data and expression in Christian Theology, but was not an attempt
to unify the two, nor an attempt to use philosophy to prove Christian
Theology. Scholasticism, viewed as a philosophical system and taken in
its most complete sense, was a broader, more human expression of the
narrower philosophy of the Middle Ages, which had been so severely
restricted by the barbarism and disorder that had been the prevailing
history since the decline of the Roman Empire. It was a new type of
thinking and being, with a strong religious coloring, and an almost com-
plete dependence on authority. The Church was the one organization
sufficiently powerful to maintain its integrity, but it did so at the cost
of hardening itself within its own institutionalism. It learned to control
man's soul; it attempted to direct and control his thinking. Christian
thought became gradually more and more hemmed in by the canons of
the Church, and, unable to escape the dogma encompassing it, endeavored
to penetrate within this dogma, and eventually undermined it. The
crest of the philosophic wave at this point left Scholasticism to the
Church as its official philosophy, and passed over into the new field of
experimental science, to what became strictly the commencement of the
modern philosophical period. Looking back on Scholasticism, there was
much that was modernistic, in that much of it was purely academic ; and
it is this phase of the system that alone receives the serious attention of
later superiority and insight. All the theology or mysticism is labelled
Christian Supernaturalism founded on a dogmatic Faith, and is carefully
disregarded as such.

In concluding this outline sketch of the more remote philosophies,
it is well to notice one point vital to our theme, and characteristic of,
what we may term, all ancient systems. There existed consciously in the
minds of one and all of the founders of these systems a realization of
the spiritual world, of occultism, of mysticism. Not till the degeneration
of philosophy, not till philosophers became aware of their intellectual

BERGSON'S PHILOSOPHICAL POSITION 123

power and leadership over men and affairs, did this inner and spiritual
core become dissipated, and the essential heart of philosophy become lost.
Even Scholasticism retained, through its close association with the Chris-
tian religion, an understanding of true devotion and of the Way of Per-
fection. It is only in the period upon which we now enter that the mind
of man gets the complete upper hand over his heart and intuitions,
and so, looked at from one point of view, we have to deal with much
that is worthless and sterile.

JOHN BLAKE, JR.
(To be continued)

The kingdom of heaven is not come, even when God's will is our law:
it is come when God's will is our will. While God's will is our law we are
but a kind of noble slaves; when His will is our will, we are free children.

GEORGE MACDONALD.

SHANKARACHARYA'S
CATECHISM*

IV
THE CAUSAL BODY

Hearing, touch, sight, taste, smell: these are the five powers of
perception.

Space is the divinity of hearing.

The great Breath is the divinity of touch.

The Sun is the divinity of sight.

The Lord of the waters is the divinity of taste.

The twin heavenly Horsemen are the divinities of smell.

These are the divinities of the powers of perception.

The object of hearing is the grasping of sounds.

The object of touch is the grasping of contacts.

The object of sight is the grasping of forms.

The object of taste is the grasping of tastes.

The object of smell is the grasping of odors.

~T Y""ERE, in brief, is the outline of the physics of the Vedanta, and

I 1 also a suggested clue to much of the symbolic religion of India,

_A A from the Rig Veda onward. Vedantin physics is closely related
to metaphysics. Vedantin physics is deductive, not inductive
like ours. It is the result of a "leading down" from above.

We shall gain insight into its essence if we recall what has been
already said, as to the expression of the One Being in the three modes :
consciousness, will, life. Then each of these three is conceived as further
divided into five (or, from another point of view, seven) powers : five
powers of perception, five powers of action, five vital powers.

We have an analogy in our own physics. The radiant power of the
sun is conceived as divided into three great groups of rays: the light-
bearing, the heat-bearing, and the actinic, which carry the power of
chemical action, as, for example, in photography. The light-bearing rays
are then divided into seven: violet, indigo, blue, green, yellow, orange,
red. Doubtless an analogous division may exist in the heat-rays, which
include the ultra-red, and the actinic rays, which include the ultra-violet.
Sounds are also divided into seven, the seven notes of the musical scale.

To come back to the Vedanta: these fivefold or sevenfold powers
are summed up in the Heavenly Man, who contains within himself the

* Copyright, 1913, by Charles Johnston.
"4

SHANKARACHARYA'S CATECHISM 125

Heavenly Host. Of Him, the universe is the divine incarnation; the
earthly man is made in His image. Therefore, each of our powers has
its corresponding divinity, its regent in the Heavenly Host. From one of
these great Beings, each ray comes down, in its threefold nature: per-
ceptive, active and vital power.

Or, to put the matter in another way : We should regard our phys-
ical powers as but the first sketch and forecast of spiritual powers, the
destined powers of the spiritual man, who comes into being through the
second birth, the birth from above.

Voice, hands, feet, the powers of reproduction and rejection:
these are the five powers of action.

Of voice, the Fire-god is the divinity.

Of hands, the Ruler is the divinity.

Of feet, the Pervader is the divinity.

Of reproduction, the Creator is the divinity.

Of rejection, Death is the divinity.

These are the divinities of the powers of action.

The object of voice is speech.

The object of hands is the grasping of things.

The object of feet is going.

The object of rejection is the removal of waste.

The object of reproduction is creation.

This must be taken with what has been already said. After the
perceptive, we consider the active side of the fivefold powers, each
flowing from a divine power in the Heavenly Man.

It is significant that here, as on the day of Pentecost, the divine
power of speech, the creative Word, is symbolized by the tongued flame
of the Fire-god.

What is the causal body?

That which is formed through ineffable, beginningless unknowing ;
the cause and material of the two bodies; as to the proper nature of
the Self, unknowing ; taking form through differentiation : this is the
causal body.

We have here the metaphysics and physics of the causal body set
forth in a few enigmatic sentences, which, without some explanation, are
almost unintelligible.

Before we consider them in detail, let us try to get a general under-
standing of the teaching.

Atma, the divine Consciousness, is eternally One; the oneness of
Atma, the supreme Self of all beings, is, indeed, the cardinal doctrine of
the Vedanta as set forth by Shankaracharya. On this ultimate oneness,
our hope of salvation, of perfection as of the Father, finally rests. We

126 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

can become one with God, because, in the last analysis, we are one with
God already. It is a question of coming to consciousness of our oneness.

Yet we are separate individuals, with separate perception and will;
and of such separate persons, making up humanity, there are countless
multitudes. There must, therefore, be a point at which the One, while
remaining the One, becomes the many.

The best symbol is a diamond, cut in many facets, each of which
is an entrance to the diamond, and to all of it ; a door into the whole of
its inner splendor. In some such way, Atma, the Eternal, the One, may be
conceived as having a multitude of facets, as the one sun has a multitude
of rays.

What are we to say of the boundary-line of each facet? Is it real
or unreal ? It is real, in that it is a part of the substance of the diamond.
It is unreal, in that it has not, and cannot have, any existence of its own,
apart from the diamond.

The power, which makes the facets on the diamond; or which, to
drop this illuminating metaphor, makes for the separation of Atma into
our separate selves, is called, in the Vedanta, avidya: "unknowing,"
since its essence is, to conceal from us the reality of our oneness with the
Eternal, and therefore with each other. It is ineffable, indefinable by
any individual mind, since it is the cause of that individual mind's
separate individuality; and the mind, which is the effect, cannot go
behind its own cause, to understand and define it.

Therefore, it is said that the causal body, which is the principle of
separate individuality, is "formed through ineffable, beginningless un-
knowing."

It is also "the cause and material of the two bodies" ; that is, of the
finer body and the physical body, which have already been described.

Let us see what this means.

The causal body is the basis of individual existence, the driving
power of individual evolution. This evolution is carried forward by a
process of mirroring the qualities and powers of Atma, the Ineffable One,
in the individual self ; by externalizing these powers and qualities in the
outer personality, so that, through using and contemplating them, there
may come, first self-knowledge, and at last knowledge of the Self ; first,
self-realization, as the personal man, and at last, as the great consum-
mation, Moksha, Nirvana, realization of one's life as Atma, the infinite
Divine Eternal.

In the causal self is embodied and stored up, so to speak, the plan
of this evolution, as well as the driving force to carry it forward. For
this reason it bears the name "causal": it is the dwelling place of the
causes of the evolutionary process, in some such sense as the tree is the
cause of the leaves, which are put forth each year in spring, to fall each
year, by a vital act of putting off, in autumn. The leaves come forth
from the tree, which furnishes at once their driving power and their
substance. The tree is the "cause and material" of leaves and flowers.

SHANKARACHARYA'S CATECHISM 127

The causal body, then, puts forth the finer body, on the mould of
which, through the intervention of the parental life-process, the material
body is built. And, as the body grows, year by year, new powers are
introduced into it from above and within, through the energy of the
causal body, which is thus the ruler and unfolder of the individual
Karma, adjusting each life to the needs of its evolution, and ordaining
its setting in such a manner that the errors and aberrations, the excesses
and deficiencies, of the preceding life, and of earlier lives, may be
repaired.

We must now remind ourselves of what has already been said of the
finer body: that it has two sharply contrasted states, before and after
regeneration. It is, first, the psychical body, the body of dreams; it is
reborn as the spiritual body, the body of the spiritual man.

In a far wider reach, the causal body has also two contrasted stages :
the first is that which we have tried to outline, where it is the plan and
driving-power of the psychical and physical bodies, directing the life of
these toward the great event of regeneration. Then, when the life-tide
turns back, through regeneration, and flows once more toward Atma,
when

that which flowed from out the boundless deep
turns again home,

when the psychical body has become the spiritual body, and the fuller and
more central consciousness dwells in the spiritual man, the time has come
for the causal body also to undergo a change. Instead of being the
unseen director behind the veil, sending forth' the personal self as its
ambassador, the causal body is now to become the home, the vesture, of
the full individual life, illuminating the spiritual body from within, as
this has already illuminated the natural body.

First the focus of individual consciousness was in the physical body.
Then, through regeneration, it ascended to the psychical body, trans-
forming it into the spiritual body. The process is to continue, and the
focus of consciousness will rise to the causal body, the individual becom-
ing thereby a Master, an adept. As Master, he dwells, as it were, in the
midst of the divine, creative forces that have hitherto shaped the life
and destiny of many, many incarnations. Those divine life-currents of
creative spiritual power are now his blood, so to speak, the forces which
run throughout his being; in their midst he dwells, able to draw on the
wisdom and power of the Eternal; able to wield the powers of the
Eternal as powers of his proper nature. For he is the individual epitome
of the Eternal, creative as that is, divine as that is.

Therefore the regeneration of the psychical body, whereby it
becomes the spiritual body, makes the man a disciple. The regeneration,
if such a term may rightly be used for the return-tide of spiritual life,
of the causal body, makes the disciple a Master, an adept.

In each of these great regenerative acts, the way lies through perfect

128 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

self-abnegation, a complete resigning of all the wills of self, a filial obe-
dience to each least will of the Eternal, the Father in heaven: "If ye
keep my commandments, ye shall abide in my love, as I have kept the
Father's commandments and abide in his love," says the Master to his
disciples.

It is, therefore, in measure as the personal man obeys each least
dictate of spiritual law, that he becomes the spiritual man, the disciple.
And in measure as the disciple obeys each least behest of the divine law,
expressed through the will of his Master, he grows towards the great
consummation which makes him, in his turn, the adept, the Master.

The law of his growth is obedience. The first practical steps have
already been set forth, in the description of the four Attainments and
the Six Treasures, since these are the qualifications for discipleship.

Shankaracharya, in his Catechism, then sets forth with admirable
brevity the relation of these vestures to the ascending degrees of con-
sciousness. It will be our task to follow him in these explanations, at
the same time supplying the background from the Upanishad texts, in
which the teaching was first given to the disciples of his land, in the far-off
golden days.

CHARLES JOHNSTON.
(To be continued}

EARLY ENGLISH MYSTICS

IV
THE BLESSED ALCUIN

"// enough would follow your lofty zeal, perhaps a new, nay, a more illus-
trious, Athens would arise here in France; and our new Athens, radiant with
Christ as its Ruler, would surpass all the wisdom of the Greeks."

"The people should be led, not followed. Pay no attention to those who say:
'The voice of the people is the voice of God.' For the passions of the mob come
close to insanity." ALCUIN to CHARLEMAGNE.

THE Venerable Bede is without doubt the most distinguished of the
early scholars born in England. Alcuin stands second to Bede.
But in the sphere of constructive influence at a time of great dis-
organisation, Alcuin attained an unsought eminence not possible to
the secluded monk of Jarrow. Alcuin returned to the Gaulish provinces
some of the great sum of good that had come thence to Britain by way
of the great monastic centres at Lerins and Tours through St. Patrick
and others. Alcuin was not the first to go from Britain back to the
continent. Columbarnus of Ireland, as ardent and impulsive a missionary
as Columba, had landed with a few followers in France about the year
585. He established a great monastery at Luxeuil, and made other centres
in Switzerland and Italy. The most famous of these was the monastery
at St. Gall. And Columbarnus drew up a rule of life that was long used
over all the provinces in place of the more celebrated rule of St. Benedict.
Other fiery Irish preachers went with the Gospel message along the
Rhine and to other points. They led heroic and devout lives, and their
names are enrolled among the saints. But the need for which Alcuin
of York left the companionship of his master and friends was one greater
than that to which the saintly missionaries ministered. And the task in
which he achieved success was a more difficult one than the winning of
converts through stirring words. He left a placid life of study in the
Cathedral School of York, for the arduous work of conferring with a
mighty king and aiding him to build up a new civilisation. He was a
co-worker with Charlemagne in the stupendous effort to form out of
barbarian tribes a European Empire, of which France would be the actual
centre, and the Emperor of which would rule as an agent and vicar of
the Master Christ.

Let us endeavor to review briefly and clearly some of the facts which
served as foundation for that aspiration of a Christian Empire. Let
us not at the very start deride it as a gorgeous childish fancy. Perhaps
we may come to sympathise with that mediaeval aspiration, and, conse-
quently, to some understanding of the ideal and aim.

In the first place, then, a great abyss separates the Gaulish provinces
which St. Patrick visited in the 4th century from the Gaulish provinces

129

130 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

in which Alcuin took up his abode in the 8th century. In that abyss
the Roman Empire lay shattered. As the political power of Rome faded
dimmer in the past, there decayed also in Gaul that culture which Chris-
tian teachers, who were Roman citizens, had spread. At the end of
the 8th century, the splendor of St. Martin's school was only a memory.
Everything had gone to ruin. There was no one connected with Tours,
or indeed in France, able to make an effort at restoring the discipline. A
foreigner, not a monk, namely Alcuin, had to be installed as Abbot. But
as the wide-spread political power of the Roman State came to an end,
there arose in its place a religion that centered also around Rome, and
which became as much of a link between men of different nationalities
as Roman citizenship had formerly been. Bede and Alcuin in northern
England in the 7th and 8th century felt themselves as much a part of
Rome, through a common faith, as Paul of Tarsus had done through
political citizenship. One barbarian tribe after another migrated from
the terra incognita of Eastern Europe into the familiar provinces of the
old Empire. These tribes accepted in some one of its many forms
orthodox or heretical the Christian faith; were baptised en masse, and
continued their former mode of life, slightly modified in a new environ-
ment. Many of these tribes, such as the Goths, Vandals, Lombards,
etc., had been visited and converted by missionaries who had accepted
the Unitarian explanations of Arius : these explanations did away with
the mysterious dual nature of Christ. But the tribe of the Franks had
been more fortunate. They received the orthodox teaching Christ a
Divine Being in whom both the divine and the human natures are pre-
served through all time a Personality alive on a higher plane than the
human, yet vitally interested (to the point of total self-sacrifice) in the
minutest incidents of human life. In 589, seventy-five years after Rome
had fallen into the hands of Alaric the Goth, this tribe, the Franks, had
made themselves masters of the region on both sides of the Rhine, Gaul
and Germany. The Chief under whom the Frankish conquest was made
was Clovis. He became King of the Frankish or French monarchy.

Among the traditions of the Order of the Sacre Cceur (Sacred
Heart), there is one that concerns this barbarian King, Clovis. The
Blessed Marguerite Marie who founded the Order in obedience to the
express directions of her Master (as she narrates), is said to have men-
tioned this legend to Louis XIV, during an audience. She was endeavor-
ing to lead the King into compliance with her Master's wish that the
symbol of the Sacred Heart should be emblazoned upon the French
banner. The holy woman adduced as a reason that King Clovis had
presented France to the Master for His earthly kingdom.* A piece of

* That alleged act of Clovis may itself be the result of an earlier consecration.
There is an older legend which says the three holy women, the three Marys, were
sent to the south of France by the Master, after the Resurrection. There He
instructed them in the way of meditation. Is it not possible that Clovis merely
represents the outer active side of that earlier period of contemplation?

EARLY ENGLISH MYSTICS. 131

mediaeval superstition, perhaps! Yet, as many hypotheses are advanced
from which to consider and explain the ways of men and nations, perhaps
it may be permitted to use the legend of Clovis as a working basis from
which to consider the lives of Charlemagne and Alcuin. For the greatest
event in the lifetime of the two men was the coronation of Charlemagne
as Emperor in the year 800. If the initial absurdity, namely, that medi-
aeval legend can be granted, possibly the explanations derived from it
may be less absurd than the hypothesis itself.

One is tempted, however, to stop for a moment in consideration of
that legend. Why should it be so absurd, incredible? In the Gita,
Krishna is said to accept with gratitude a flower or leaf from anyone
who makes the offering in love. The accounts given of Christ both by
his disciples in Judea and by the many who have attained to intimacy
with Him since the Judean incidents, represent Him as a mighty Master
of Life. One record I have read says He is a Lord so magnanimous
and gracious that He receives pleasure from a weed offered Him by a
heart in love. Why should not so mighty a Lord, the great King of
Kings, as He is often called, accept in simplicity as it was given in sim-
plicity, the gift of that barbarian warrior? We have heard of the great
Lodge of Masters that their interest is humanity, and that they are the
powers who draw off, to direct for good, a portion of the mad torrents
of the human flood. If we should try to get away from a material judg-
ment of human events, to look at them spiritually, it may be that the
gift of Clovis would appear an opportunity given to the Lodge for carry-
ing out some of their benevolent intentions to men. At least nothing
hinders from making of that supposition a hypothesis.

If the gift of Clovis in 589 established a connection between France
and the Great Lodge, the steps that led up to the coronation of Charle-
magne in 800 appear not so devious. The theory of government repre-
sented by that coronation is "sublime, but impracticable," a great his-
torian declares. "Impracticable," one may perhaps maintain, if recorded
history only is studied. For of the unwritten history of ancient Egypt
there have come down to us rumors to the effect that the rulers were
Adepts who filled the two functions of Priest and King. And, on the
hypothesis that France had been accepted by the Lodge as a field for
action, the mediaeval ideal of a universal Empire composed of many
nations united by the Christian faith might seem to be a direct inspira-
tion of the Great Lodge. Like many other inspirations, this one would
seem to have been distorted somewhat in coming to manifestation through
the minds of the mediaeval Christians. The direct suggestion from the
Lodge in regard to government, we may suppose, was that of the Divine
Priest-King, a holy Adept, who by the Divine Right of Lodge consent,
directed and influenced, as King, the outer, social relations of men toward
the end of the interior, religious life, of which he celebrated the mysteries

132 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

and sacraments.* That inward suggestion from the Lodge (a hypothesis
only) was modified by the actual conditions of Europe. The aspiring
believers who received that inspiration saw in ruin a former organisa-
tion which had united the western world politically. In place of the
imperial power at Rome they saw the Bishop of that central city, and
they thought he might, as a Vicar of a Divine Master, again unite the
western world through a common religion. But throughout the Euro-
pean world the Christian religion was nominal. And the Roman Bishop
had little power of direction and influence. Hence the necessity was
felt of placing by the side of that supreme Priest, who was impotent in
the outer world, a second Vicar, whose sphere of action should be the
external world, with its social, civil and political relations. Thus arose,
in the mediaeval mind, the ideal of the two Vicars of Christ, the Emperor
and the Pope: two peers, divinely commissioned and representing the
two aspects and functions of the ancient Egyptian rulers. In its original
and pure form, that theory of government did not subordinate the
Emperor to the Pope; the two were peers, cooperative and comple-
mentary, parts of one whole, inadequate without the other, bearing the
same relation to each other as Action and Contemplation.

It could be no part of the present article, to expatiate upon the
wisdom of that mediaeval aspiration, or to suggest that, as an ideal, it
is a reality, and thus, something that lies ahead of us; for which, we,
like the mediaeval world, are not yet ready.f The exposition that
has so far been made of that ancient ideal of government is neces-
sary for making clear the life and work of Alcuin. For it was in further-
ance of that ideal that Alcuin surrendered personal preference and left
his country to attach himself to the only European monarch who was
capable of performing the duties demanded of an Imperial Vicar.

Alcuin was born of a noble family in the north of England in 735,
the year of Bede's death. In 732, Egbert, a friend of Bede's, became
Archbishop of York, and in execution of his duties, founded, in his
Cathedral city, a school and library. Alcuin entered this school, as a
young boy, and distinguished himself by his zeal for learning and his
devotion. The Archbishop's school and library quickly gained renown.
The Archbishop, like Bede, was an adherent to the Continental and
Roman side of Christianity not to the Irish. Those Roman sympathies
led to frequent visits to the imperial city, and from these visits many
manuscripts were brought back for the Cathedral school. Alcuin has
left a list of the authors to be found in the library. If the names be

* Certain parts of the Coronation-ceremony testify to the spiritual nature of
the Emperor's position. Thus he received sword, globe and sceptre as symbols of
lordship. He assisted in the celebration of the Communion (or Mass), and, like
the Pope, partook of the wine as well as the wafer.

t It is interesting to remember that Napoleon looked upon himself as Charle-
magne's successor, and declared that his relation with the Pope should be the
same as was Charlemagne's.

EARLY ENGLISH MYSTICS. 133

compared with those with which the early Irish monks were familiar, one
fact is striking. The library of York represented the Latin side of
Christianity and classical antiquity Jerome, Augustine, Virgil, Cicero,
etc. Whereas the Irish scholars (for example, a fragment of St. Aileran,
an Irish monk of the 7th century) could cite Origen, Philo, etc. In 766,
^Egbert, the Archbishop died. His friend Albert, whom he had made
Master of the school, succeeded to the Archbishopric. And Alcuin suc-
ceeded to the Mastership thus left vacant by ^Elbert. At the same time
Alcuin was ordained deacon in the Church. He never advanced beyond
that rank to the priesthood. Alcuin kept up the intimacy between York
and Rome, and during a journey in 780, saw and talked with Charles,
King of the Franks (Charlemagne). Since the days of Charles Martel
(Charlemagne's grandfather), in 732, the Kings of the Franks had
responded to many calls for assistance from the Pope. For the heretical
tribes that had settled in Italy (especially the Unitarian Lombards), did
not hesitate to assail the orthodox Bishop even to the point of personal
violence. Pepin, Charles Martel's son, had twice delivered the Pope
(Gregory III) from his enemies, and Pepin's son, Charlemagne, rendered
a similar service to Hadrian (I) and Leo (III). Charlamagne had
received the Frankish crown in 758, and, after his succession, had warred
not only against the Pope's disturbers in Italy, but against the Saracens
in Spain, and the Saxons on his frontiers, gaining that splendor for which
romancers and poets have rendered him thanks. He was an illustrious
monarch in 780 when Alcuin first talked with him, and had received from
the Pope, in recognition of his services, the suzerainty of the city Rome.
The next year Alcuin was again in Italy, and again there was an inter-
view with the King. The King invited Alcuin to leave his work at York
and come over to the continent to assist in the rehabilitation of morals
and learning. Alcuin accepted, with the proviso of royal and ecclesiastical
permission. Both were granted, and in 782 he left England and became
a member of the King's household at Aix-la-Chapelle. He went to
England in 790 on a commission from Charlemagne to one of the English
Kings, but returned to France and died there in 804, Abbot of St. Martin's
monastery at Tours.

Alcuin's official position in Charlemagne's household was Master of
the Palace School. This School (not a new thing) was composed of
the King's family and connections the King himself and Queen Livd-
gard, his sons, daughters and sister, sons-in-law, cousins, and several
young men of noble birth and great abilities whom the King had drawn
about him. Alcuin's official duty was a very difficult one to instruct
that strangely composed class in the liberal arts and sciences of the time
(grammar, rhetoric, mathematics) to instruct, and, while instructing, to
answer the multitudinous questions that came up in their curious, eager,
undisciplined, and, sometimes, malicious minds. It was the King's hope
that the Palace School would serve as a nucleus and example for the
nation : that serious attention to civilising studies in a school at the Court

134 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

would arouse similar zeal throughout his dominions, and that order and
peace might ensue. Alcuin performed the duties of his official position
until 796, though they were often irksome. For his pupils he wrote his
"Grammar," "Rhetoric" and "Dialectics," and made the efforts for which
he is to-day generally praised.

But along with that official position of Royal tutor, a second and
real relation was established by Alcuin. He used that difficult task as an
opportunity for making himself the spiritual mentor of his pupils, young
as well as mature. These noble youths fulfilled their promises, and went
out from the Palace to take positions of great importance in Charle-
magne's domains some in the Church, some in the State. Two became
bishops, one a diplomat in Italy. So that Alcuin, after his retirement
from public life to the abbacy of Tours, was counselling men in high
station over all western Europe. And, as his duty and residence in
France did not detach his interests from England he included the Kings
and ecclesiastics of that island in his counsels and directions. The corre-
spondence that Alcuin maintained until his death with the royal family,
with men who had been students at the Palace, with the Kings and pre-
lates of England, and elsewhere, is his important work, and it is a very
valuable record. It is of far greater value than any of his formal writ-
ings, whether these be educational, controversial, or comments in explana-
tion of the Scriptures.

The letters of Alcuin, nearly three hundred of them, in very readable
Latin, are to be found, together with his other writings, in volumes 100
and 101 of the Abbe Migne's encyclopedic collection, the Patrologice.
The letters and other writings are preserved in well-known manuscripts
registered at the great English and continental libraries. The evidence
of the letters proves that Alcuin was spiritual adviser to all Europe, and
that by virtue of that position, he was extra ordinem, an uncanonical
Pope, as it were. If the statement seems ludicrous, it must be remem-
bered that Alcuin's position at Tours was altogether uncanonical. It
has been said that the fame of St. Martin's monastery had died down in
a complete moral and mental relaxation. The monastery lost its head in
796. There was no one of the Order fit to be entrusted with the reforma-
tion of the place. So Charlemagne deliberately installed Alcuin who was
not a monk, nor even a priest, as Abbot. The letters justify the wisdom
of that appointment. Spiritually, Alcuin was made for a Master of
monks. He was penetrated with the spirit of St. Benedict's rule; his
admonitions to monks and Abbots throughout Europe read as if they
were St. Benedict's comment upon his own rule. Just as Alcuin's spiritual
attainments fitted him for the Superior Generalship of an Order of
monks, he was also, interiorly, better fitted for that other position of
Vicar General of the Church, than the men who outwardly were recog-
nised as Popes during his life. Charlemagne was Emperor, the active
Vicar of Christendom; and Charlemagne's adviser was Alcuin, not

EARLY ENGLISH MYSTICS. 135

Popes Hadrian or Leo. Alcuin, much more than Hadrian or Leo, was the
guardian of the Catholic Faith.

There is a letter extant from Charlemagne to Leo (III) in which
the Emperor states his conception of the function of the two Vicars.
The letter reads: "It is our task to protect the Holy Church of Christ
from the heathen who assail it abroad, as well as to enforce a recognition
of the Catholic faith within our borders. It is your duty, O Holy
Father, to support our warlike service with hands uplifted to God, so
that the Christian people, led of God, and aided by your prayers, may
triumph everywhere." It was Alcuin who filled the Papal office here
outlined by the Emperor. His reason for leaving England was not that
he might do secular missionary work as Royal tutor, but that he might
labor for the Catholic religion (adjuvare in fide catholice). He saw no
ruler in England of sufficient force to act as the executive head of the
Christian theocracy. He found that force in Charlemagne, and attached
himself as friend. He was convinced of Charlemagne's aspiration and
good will.* He undertook and performed the difficult task of modifying
that forceful will that was so often turbulent. His success with the
Emperor and with other nobles and prelates for he was Father-con-
fessor to all Europe is explained by his profound humility. Humility
may be sometimes thought of as a negative and passive quality. Its true
essence is found in Alcuin's letters. They are firm and unhesitating in
their insistence upon certain principles of rectitude, and in pointing out
moral blemishes that must be removed. But the firmness and unhesita-
tion are the qualities of a man who is acting in the capacity of agent,
not from personal motives.

Alcuin's view of the Master's Kingdom on earth was largely formed
from the Old Testament. It was that influence which caused him to
name the Emperor "David," the name used in the letters. But in his
concept of a Christian state there is none of the dreary Puritan and
Scotch negativeness that has made the word "theocracy" an ill-favored
one with us. He would make of France a second Athens, surpassing
the splendor of the first as the new King, Christ, surpasses Plato. He
knew that there was no other way toward that splendid goal than through
moral transformation, the alchemical change of natural lead to spiritual
gold (this was a point on which the Greeks failed). This clear recog-
nition leads him to make of all his formal, secular teaching, an occasion
for spiritual discipline. His delicate tact made him aware that those
barbarian minds could not take a monk's or disciple's training. Con-
vinced as he was of the spiritual prowess and earnestness of Charle-
magne, he had yet to recognise that that force was encased in barbarian
mentality. So he conveys discipline under cover of the intellectual deli-

* "I feel convinced of the Emperor's righteous intention, of his desire to have
his Kingdom which has been given him by God a pattern of rectitude. Un-
fortunately there are more to hinder than to help him."

136 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

cacies they craved. Whether his apparent subject be grammar or rhetoric,
his real subject is the discipline that acquires wisdom. He whets their
desire, which was already eager for intellectual gain, and shows that
intellectual culture can be gained only through spiritual discipline.*

The letters are very human. Usually they are plain and straight-
forward.f Only occasionally is there a rhetorical arabesque. He follows
the Emperor closely in all his campaigns. The Emperor is a necessity,
he feels, for Christendom. The Church could not maintain itself without
him.** Alcuin endeavors to restrain the mistaken Imperial zeal that
sent up conquered tribes for wholesale baptism. "Of what use," he
writes to the monarch, "is it to baptise the body, when the character is
left unchanged? Baptism is only the outward sign of a spiritual grace.
Until the interior regeneration has been effected, so that they 'do the
will' of the Father, outward baptism is a mockery." Then he draws up
a plan of instruction, through which he would have the newly conquered
heathen pass before they could fitly come to the baptismal Sacrament a
plan far too slow in accomplishment to please the energetic King. Again
and again Alcuin endeavors to check the fiery zeal of the King who would
have forced a recognition of the Church's sovereignty from his people,
new and old, in the form of tithes. "Esto in consiliis suavis" (Be mod-
erate) he writes. "You can get the tithes you exact, but payment of
tithes does not make Christians. Consider a little how those of our own
nation who have been born and grounded in the faith murmur at these
payments. Do you think then that these crude heathen children can be
forced into compliance? You associate the sacraments and the tithes in
their minds. Because they abhor one, they will loathe the other. Let
your bishops and priests give milk to these new-born babes. Put upon
their shoulders the mild yoke of Christ. Do not turn your bishops into

* The following extracts are from Alcuin's "Grammar." His book on Rhetoric
is entitled "Rhetoric and the Virtues." It is in the form of a dialogue between
Charlemagne and Alcuin; the teaching is that the cardinal virtues are necessary
for a mastery of the art of rhetoric.

"It is easy indeed to point out to you the path of wisdom, if only
ye love it for the sake of God, for knowledge, for purity of heart, for
understanding the truth, yea, and for itself."

"That which is sought from without is alien to the soul, as is the
gathering together of riches, but that which is proper to the soul is what
is within, namely, the graces of wisdom."

"Spectavi, speravi, optabam : et ecce ! quern spectavi, non venit, et quern
speravi, non consideravi : quern optabam, non accipiebam. Frustrata est
exspectatio, evacuata est spes. Et utinam pro spe esset praesentia 1 nunc
esset plenum gaudium."

fHere is a good specimen. It is the beginning of a letter to Arno, Bishop
of Salzburg.

** "Ecce in te solo tota salus Ecclesiarum Christi inclinata recumbit."

EARLY ENGLISH MYSTICS. 137

farmers of revenue. Let them pray, not prey (Sint pradicatores, non
pradatores} "

In his numerous letters to ecclesiastics and monks, Alcuin's endeavor
is to spur them into action. His duty toward the Emperor was to modify
and restrain, hence, "suaviter," (mildly) is an adverb often repeated.
But among the ecclesiastics and monks there was a defect of zeal, both as
regards outward duties, and also the duty of interior discipline. "Vult
beatus esse et non vult Idborare, unde beatus fiat." Hence one phrase
is used over and over again in the letters whether to England, France or
Germany. "Viriliter fac et fortiter," (Be virile and strong). His ideal
monk is a well-trained athlete doctissime athleta. He tells the monks
of Lindisfarne, that the pagan inroads which have desecrated St. Cuth-
bert's shrine are the result of their moral degeneration. Upon all he
urges the active acceptance of holy obedience, that weapon bright and
strong which St. Benedict had put in their hands against self-will, against
the sloth of disobedience. "As a man of the world strives daily to increase
his wealth, so a man of religion should strive daily to lay up treasure
in heaven."*

The letters to the Bishop of Salzburg, Arno, one of the young men
of the Palace School, abound with affection, and add to the warm vitality
of the whole correspondence. Alcuin's feeling for the King was rever-
ence, friendship and gratitude. But to Arno he felt as a father, and
poured out upon him paternal affection. He longs for Arno's letters
more than for those from York even. He waits in eager and enthusiastic
expectation for a visit from this son: "Veni, veni, festinanter!" He is
disappointed and restless when the visit is interfered with, though he
takes his disappointment with humor.

Throughout the whole correspondence Alcuin is intensely and unwaver-
ingly Roman in his adherence. He writes a long letter to the monks
spread throughout Ireland. He praises them for the strictness of their
discipline, and for their very great erudition. But he warns them against
a position outside the Roman tradition, and asks them to begin at once
to learn religion according to Roman use and authority. They ought
to avoid studies outside those approved by Roman fathers. The Catholic
Church, he writes, ought to be everywhere the same, and without any
variations. He writes very urgently to Charlemagne from Tours against
Irish priests who had been received into the Palace. They bring with
them Egyptian modes of thought and worship (that is, from Alexandria),
and their influence cannot but be subversive. Alcuin had nothing of the
Celt in his temper. He is not philosophical. He was quite content to
remain on the surface of morals and religion, without seeking the under-
lying, cosmical principles. He is not a mystic at all. But it has been
necessary to include him in this series because he is the bridge between

* "How blessed is the monastic life ! it is pleasing to God, lovely to the Angels
and honorable among men."

138 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

two periods. His very limitations, his un-Celtic temper fitted him for
his task. The need in 780 was not speculation and the unclosing of
philosophical truth. It was organisation upon fundamental principles.
He did all he could to nullify the Celtic influences which he detested and
feared. But his substantial work, thanks to the wisdom of the Lodge,
was only preparation for the greatest of the Irish scholars. Alcuin
died in 804, leaving several of his pupils to solidify his work. Forty
years after his death, in the reign of Charlemagne's grandson, Erigena
came over from Ireland, by royal invitation to take the position in the
Palace that Alcuin had filled. Erigena is the most philosophical mystic
of the Middle Age. From him, rather through him, the inner life of the
French Church the mystical life, proceeded. And it was by his influence
that the later English mystics, Rolle, Hilton and others, were formed.

SPENSER MONTAGUE.

"We must follow in all things the authority of the Holy Scriptures,
for the truth is there enclosed as in a secret sanctuary; but we must not
think that, in order to endow us with the divine nature, the holy scripture
always employs precise and literal words and signs; it makes use of
similitudes and figurative expressions, adapts itself to our weakness, and
raises, by a simple mode of teaching, our dull and immature spirits."

JOHN SCOTUS ERIGENA.

CONCERNING THE REAL AND
CONCERNING SHADOWS

(Continued from the July issue)

CONCERNING SHADOWS

IF the intention is the direct method of approach to reality and if poetry
is its expression, how may poetry be known ? Granted that it need
not be rhymed verse, or even verse, what hall-mark does it bear, if

any, by which it can be distinguished ? First, it must feel like poetry,
must produce a state of rapture, must inspire. Second, it speaks, not
like the intellect in carefully weighed terms which limit as they define,
but in symbols, shadow pictures of something which is and at the same
time is not like the shadow. This is to say that the shadow suggests
the reality but is not it. The nature of shadows does not permit them
to more than thinly and faintly image forth the real.

When a poet says of a beautiful woman that her eyes are stars, he,
of course, does not mean that they are stars, but that certain qualities
such as brightness, clearness, the sense of steadiness, of always being
there the same, are characteristic of both. And the eyes which are not
known to the reader can be pictured to his imagination vividly enough
by means of the stars which are.

It may seem ingenuously simple to insist just here that symbols must
not be pressed, that shadows must be sharply distinguished from realities.
By pressing a symbol we harden it, crystalize it, and so destroy its
expansiveness, its great power of visualizing the unseen. To him who
insists on the definite outline and construction of the yellow primrose
it is, and must always remain, no more than that. But to him who
iclaxes his grip on its finite definiteness for the sake of its power of
suggestion, it points with unerring accuracy to something beyond itself,
something forever hidden from the eye of the literalist and just as
eternally and inevitably visible to the inner eye of the poet. The danger
of misunderstanding the nature and functions of shadows is vital, and
perversive of their great value to man.

It is characteristic of the intuition that in the search for the real it
reaches beyond the intellect. Where reason stumbles or falls, intuition
walks with firm tread. And this it does largely by virtue of its incom-
pleteness. The mind defines, attempts to contain, and fully present
truth. Once grant man's finiteness, his provincial position in the uni-
verse, and the futility of this method of approach to reality is clear.
But intuition, wiser, points toward the truth which it is impossible for
man's mind to contain. The discreet philosopher questioned as to

140 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

whether he believes in God replies, "Yes, if you don't ask me to define
him." To attempt to define God is an absurdity. Can the less contain
the greater? No. But it can picture it, point toward it, comprehend it,
in some measure, intuitively by symbols. God as a wielder of thunder-
bolts, a king, a father, a circle whose centre is everywhere and his circum-
ference nowhere, the Great Breath is to some extent at least understand-
able, and, what is, perhaps, more to the point, inspirational, dynamic.

So with parables. A parable is an expanded symbol, a picture of
life in movement instead of a picture of a thing. Accordingly in describ-
ing the kingdom of heaven, which is a matter of growth, parables are
used inevitably. It is a pearl of great price to be had only at the sur-
render of all else, a grain of mustard seed, small at first but with vast
power of development within it. And he who enters the kingdom is not
analysed, his qualifications enumerated. He is a lamb, a little child.
And the symbol really explains.

If, therefore, a symbol is an inadequate expression of truth it is, in
the nature of the case, less inadequate than an intellectual statement.
The language of the mind is of the letter and killeth, the language of the
intuition is of the spirit and maketh alive. Poetic truth is inspirational
because life-transmitting. It feeds the inner man just as the substance
of this material world feeds the outer man. The truth of a symbol is
tested pragmatically by its power to nourish and inspire. In so far as
it accomplishes these results it is man's normal food, and true that is
it makes possible his relation with a true reality. True symbols are
recognized. Man knows them as a wild beast knows his food. They
have a compelling power.

The basis of symbolism is the law of correspondences the theory
that the universe is the characteristic expression of the nature of deity,
that in sum as in detail one plan prevails throughout, and that that plan
cannot change only develop because it is of the nature of the one
unchangeable reality. This is law. In every atom in space God's face is
mirrored. Just so a theme in a symphony is always the same theme
though expanded into variations or concentrated in a simple melody,
though voiced in flute or 'cello. To question the validity of the language
of symbols is, therefore, to cast doubt on the integrity of God.

And herein lies an obligation for conscious beings. Just as forms
lower in the evolutionary movement express unconsciously but with
fidelity the nature of God, so conscious beings must by virtue of their
consciousness cooperate in his self-expression, must, so far as possible,
open themselves as channels for the expression of his nature as it exists
in them. They must not only be their real selves, but they must picture
forth that reality truly by every symbol of language or action that is
within their sphere of self-expression. To misrepresent the reality of
which they, too, are shadows is to undermine, so far as in them lies, the
stability of the universe.

CONCERNING THE REAL AND SHADOWS. 141

Except as it is recognized as a shadow how can the great power of
nature to nourish and inspire be explained? How, unless it is in truth
what the poets have recognized it to be, the garment of God by which
we see him? This is the vision of truth which Goethe has given us so
clearly through the personality of the Earth-Spirit:

"Thus at the roaring loom of time I work,
And weave the living garment of deity."

The same thought in the symbolism of the esoteric East is that the world
as we see it is but the reflection of a real world which supports and
sustains it. Through intimacy with nature we are led to the reality
which she mirrors. The expanse, the calm, the power of the sea are
symbols that carry meaning. The peace of a fertile valley is esoteric.
How many men have been inspired to keener effort and clearer faith
by the contemplation of mountains springing up from dark, harsh, and
irregular bases to poised domes of grandeur, which reflect the clear light
of the sun above clouds. Even such a commonplace of nature as marsh
land has its message, its power to sustain and inspire, its insistance
on itself as a shadow, the function of which is to compel recognition
for the real.

"Ye marshes, how candid and simple and nothing-withholding and

free

Ye publish yourselves to the sky and offer yourselves to the sea !
Tolerant plains, that suffer the sea and the rains and the sun,
Ye spread and span like the catholic man who has mightily won
God out of knowledge and good out of infinite pain
And sight out of blindness and purity out of a stain.

"As the marsh-hen secretly builds on the watery sod,

Behold I will build me a nest on the greatness of God :

I will fly in the greatness of God as the marsh-hen flies

In the freedom that fills all the space 'twixt the marsh and the skies :

By so many roots as the marsh-grass sends in the sod

I will heartily lay me a-hold on the greatness of God:

Oh, like to the greatness of God is the greatness within

The range of the marshes, the liberal marshes of Glynn." 21

If nature has an outer court she has also a holy place for her priests.
But the high priest of nature to whom the holy of holies was open was
the poet Wordsworth. The meaning and rationale of symbols he under-
stood. From the shadow he advanced consciously to the reality. Let
us read his own interpretation of the parable of nature.

** Lanier, Sidney; The Marshes of Glynn.

142 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

"For nature then

To me was all in all. I cannot paint
What then I was. The sounding cataract
Haunted me like a passion : the tall rock,
The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood,
Their colours and their forms, were then to me
An appetite ; a feeling and a love,
That had no need of charm,
By thought supplied, nor any interest
Unborrowed from the eye. That time is past,
And all its aching joys are now no more,
And all its dizzy raptures. Not for this
Faint I, nor mourn nor murmur; other gifts
Have followed ; for such loss I would believe,
Abundant recompense. For I have learned
To look on nature, not as in the hour
Of thoughtless youth ; but hearing oftentimes
The still, sad music of humanity,
Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power
To chasten and subdue. Once I have felt
A presence that disturbs me with the joy
Of elevated thoughts ; a sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interfused,
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
And the round ocean and the living air,
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man;
A motion and a spirit, that impels
All thinking things, all objects of all thought
And rolls through all things. Therefore am I still
A lover of the meadows and the woods,
And mountains ; and of all that we behold
From this green earth ; of all the mighty world
Of eye and ear, both what they half create,
And what perceive ; well pleased to recognize
In nature and the language of the sense,
The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse,
The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul
Of all my moral being." "

Not only is it possible for man to approach reality by means of
shadows, it is inevitable that he should do so. Man is at present, to some
extent at least, a material being. He lives in a world which expresses
itself to him as a complex, more or less ordered and related system of
material things of which he is part, and to the different aspects of which

M Wordsworth. William; Lines composed a few miles above Tintern Abbey.

CONCERNING THE REAL AND SHADOWS. 143

his study and contemplation are in the main confined. Whether he
frankly recognizes this limitation as in himself or believes it to be a
limitation of reality does not alter the fact that it acts as a restriction.

But on the substance of reality as man sees it, there falls a shadow,
which he does not recognize as reflecting any of the objects which he
knows, which, on analysis, reveals itself as of a different nature, belong-
ing to a different order. According to his particular personal develop-
ment does the shadow take form: in the ideal of beauty if his aesthetic
nature is in the ascendant, in the ideal of truth disinterestedly sought if
his mind predominates, in the ideal of righteousness if his will to action
is the determining principle of his personality. Whence comes this
shadow? he asks; and in asking this he takes his first step toward the
real. By recognizing the shadow as such he gains his first intuitive
perception of the reality which it reflects. The function of shadows,
therefore, is to point.

All shadows point. Like everything else in nature they are dynamic
or retrogressive. The great thing to know of a shadow is which way
it points its tendency of direction. Does it point, so to speak, up or
down, toward or away from the real. If it points toward reality it is
a true shadow, if away from reality it is a false shadow and a lie. This
is the test, the only one of any value. The standard of judgment for
shadows is not what they are in themselves or the particular position they
occupy, but what they reflect their tendency of direction, which way
they point.

By this touchstone must we judge all the great symbols of human
life. Every form of art may elevate or degrade. Painting, sculpture,
music, dancing even, possess within themselves this double possibility
of direction. And they possess no third, no potential immobility. The
great life force of love between man and woman may point up toward
its root in the spirit or down toward its disintegration in the flesh. The
ncble and inspiring ideal of the brotherhood of man may point up toward
the spiritual unity on which all life is based, or it may point down toward
materialism and disruption. The swinging censer of a ritualistic service
may point up to the sense of God's spirit spread abroad as a blessing, or it
may point down to mere sensuous gratification. The much disputed
eucharist may point up to a keen sense of the indwelling presence of
Christ in the souls of his disciples, or it may point down to an irrational
and mechanical conception of the miraculous.

All life implies growth, development, and so direction, and man
will never conceivably outgrow the necessity for tending somewhither.
If the time conies when, sensing the reality clearly, some discard the
language of shadows for a more direct approach, that does not diminish
the value of these first steps on the path to the real to us who do not
yet stand where they stand.

LOUISE EDGAR PETERS.
11

THE ANTIQUITY OF MAN

THE MOST RECENT SCIENCE COMES CLOSE TO THE
SECRET DOCTRINE

IT is a proof of the illimitable power of the human spirit that the
more we learn, the easier it becomes to add greatly to our knowl-
edge. A striking example of this is the prehistoric record of the

human race, which has been studied uninterruptedly since Boucher
de Perthes first collected flint implements from the gravels of Picardy in
1841 ; yet the last ten years have seen more striking discoveries, perhaps,
than did the preceding sixty, discoveries which add an abundance of new
material, and open up new and wonderful horizons.

Our new materials are of two kinds: first, actual remains, in
the form of fossil bones, of men and women who lived at periods
almost inconceivably remote; and, secondly, the handiwork of these
immensely ancient human beings, ranging from the rudely chipped
flints, which are called eoliths, to the beautiful polychrome pictures
of extinct animals like the mammoth, and of bisons and horses, on
the walls and roofs of the caverns in the limestone region of southern
France and northern Spain. Of materials of the first class, fossil human
bones, the last few years have seen discoveries of extraordinary interest
and value ; for example, those found in France at la Grotte des Enfants,
in 1906, at Le Moustier and La Chapelle aux Saints in 1908, at La
Ferrassie, Combe Capelle and Pech de 1'Aze in 1909, at St. Brelade in
the island of Jersey in 1910 and 1911; in Andalusia in 1910, and at
Piltdown in Sussex, England, the discovery announced within the last
few months, though it was made somewhat earlier. In the second class,
most interesting for their high artistic value are the cave paintings of
France and Spain, which have been abundantly described and illustrated,
notably in the beautiful volumes published by the Prince of Monaco;
most interesting for their high antiquity are the flint implements called
eoliths, which we shall presently consider.

A good many of these recently discovered human fossils are skulls
or parts of skulls ; and this at once suggests the measuring of their brain
capacity, and its comparison with our modern brains on the one hand,
and certain ancient and famous brain cases on the other. Two of these
are the so-called Pithecanthropus skull-fragment found at Trinil in Java
by Professor Dubois in 1891, which was hailed at the time as the
Darwinian "missing link" between the apes and man ; and the skull found
in the Neanderthal in 1856, which, with its low arch and heavy brows,
may be supposed to stand somewhere between the Pithecanthropus or
ape-man and our present humanity. One of the most remarkable results
of recent discoveries is to show that brains almost as large as our own

THE ANTIQUITY OF MAN. 145

go back to inconceivably remote periods; and that, as a probable conse-
quence, neither the Pithecanthropus nor the Neanderthal man are to be
reckoned among our direct ancestors at all.

Two ancient skulls are especially important for their bearing on
this question. They were both found in the south of England, in thick
beds of alluvial gravel, laid down by rivers where there are no rivers now.
The height of these ancient river gravels above the present level of the
rivers is one way of measuring their antiquity. The presence of fossil
remains of long extinct animals, ancestral forms of the elephant, the
hippopotamus, the rhinoceros, which were all plentiful at one time in
England, is another. The first of these two ancient English skulls was
found in a gravel pit at Galley Hill in Kent, forming part of a former
bank of the river Thames, which was then far larger than now. The
gravel is ten feet thick. The skeleton was found eight feet beneath
its surface. Fossils of animals found in the same gravel point toward
the Pliocene period, the most recent of the four divisions of the Tertiary
period, which immediately preceded the Pleistocene or Quaternary, which
comes down to our own times. In spite of this enormous age, the Galley
Hill skull "does not in fact differ essentially from its modern European
counterparts; similar conclusions have been formed in regard to the
other parts of the skeleton." It is reasonably inferred that, if men of
the higher Galley Hill type preceded in point of time the men of the lower
Neanderthal type, as seems certain, the ancestry of the former, higher
type must be sought at a far earlier period than that represented by the
Galley Hill gravels. As to this, it may be noted, according to Duck-
worth, that the extension of the human period suggested by eoliths,
rudely chipped flints, for which Pliocene, Miocene and even Oligocene
antiquity is claimed, will provide all, and more than all, that this argu-
ment demands. But if this be so, the significance of the Neanderthal
type of skeleton is profoundly altered. It is no longer only possible to
claim an ancestral position for that type in its relation to modern men.
It may be regarded as a degenerate form. Should it be regarded as
such, a probability exists that it ultimately became extinct, like the Tas-
manian aborigines in our own days.

The other very ancient English skull, which was found at Piltdown
in Sussex, is assigned to the Pliocene period. A distinguished French
anthropologist declares that, along with certain primitive characteristics,
it possesses traits which connect it more clearly with the ancestry of
modern man than the Neanderthal type. In this case, the Neanderthal
type would represent a lateral branch, not an ancestor of modern man;
and the origin of our direct ancestors would thus be pushed far back
into the past; how far, we shall presently try to estimate.

The question at once comes into our minds : What bearing has this
on the descent of man, and especially on what are popularly called our
"monkey ancestors"; the question of our descent from forms like the

146 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

orang-utan or the gorilla? This question has recently been pretty thor-
oughly canvassed, and we may, perhaps, sum up the best opinion as
follows: Evidence, of which this is the type, makes it quite possible
that man is not descended from the anthropoid apes, but even the con-
trary may be true, and the anthropoid apes may belong to a lateral branch
of the human stem; just as man and the anthropoid apes may be only
two branches of a common stem. It is very difficult to trace the descent
of man from the anthropoid apes, for we are entirely without paleonto-
logical proof enabling us to determine the character of the anthropoid
apes of the middle and lower Tertiary, which should be the ancestors of
the present anthropoid apes. The assertion of Ernst Haeckel, that we
are in possession of all the transitional forms from the lower anthropoid
apes to man, is totally inaccurate. This bears directly on the so-called
"missing link," the Pithecanthropus of Java, which would thus appear to
be a lateral branch, and not an ancestor; an earlier offshoot, perhaps,
than the Neanderthal race. The age of the Pithecanthropus cannot be
exactly determined. In the opinion of the majority of those who have
examined the question, it may date from the middle or upper quaternary ;
in which case, it is undoubtedly more recent than far more highly
developed forms like the Piltdown and Galley Hill skulls. We may say,
with a distinguished English geologist that, while we believe firmly in
the evolution of man, the bulk of his brain does not seem to have appre-
ciably increased since the early ages of stone. Small-brained forms like
the Pithecanthropus and, in a less degree, the Neanderthal man, are not
ancestors, not in the direct line of our descent.

To turn now to the ancient implements which, side by side with
human fossils, testify to the antiquity of man. We are, I suppose,
familiar with the fact that, before iron came into use, many common
implements were made of bronze, and still earlier, of copper. Earlier
still, they were made of stone, flint being very commonly used. The
later flints were polished, and often very finely shaped. The older flints
were chipped, but not polished. The later flints are called "neoliths," or
"new stones," the older being called "paleoliths," or "old stones." The
neoliths seem to cover only a comparatively short period, lasting, how-
ever, many thousand years. But the paleoliths seem to stretch over a
vastly longer period, divided into no less than nine different strata or
periods of culture and development. From the various localities in
which relics characteristic of these different periods have been found,
it is at present the custom to name these different paleolithic levels as
follows, beginnings with the more recent, and going back to the older:
there is, first, the Azilian, which is the bridge between chipped flints and
polished flints ; behind this, in increasing antiquity, are the ages called
Magdalenian, Solutrean, Aurignacian, Acheulean, Chellean, Strepyan,
Mesvinian, and Mafflian. To make this a little more concrete, we may
say that to the Aurignacian period belong the best of the cave pictures

THE ANTIQUITY OF MAN. 147

of France and Spain; to the Mousterian belongs the low, heavy-browed
Neanderthal race; to the Strepyan, or perhaps even to the much older
Mafflian, belongs the well-formed skull from Galley Hill.

Now the remarkable fact is, that behind these nine ages of paleoliths
a series of far older epochs has recently been detected, the very rudely
chipped implements of which are called "eoliths," or "stones of the dawn"
of human culture. The author of The Romance of Modern Geology
( 1909) gives us a general view of the situation by saying that flint imple-
ments of much rougher types than the paleoliths have been found in old
river gravels which are from five hundred to seven hundred feet above
the level of the existing rivers, in the drift of which paleolithic implements
were found. To these older, clumsier weapons and tools if, indeed,
implements they be the name eoliths was given. These eoliths of the
south of England and of Belgium indicate a race of men of less developed
skill than the makers of the paleoliths and carry the antiquity of man
at least as far back beyond the paleoliths as these are from the present
day.

Since this was written, rudely chipped flints of this type have been
found in strata much more ancient than those which this writer had in
mind. A notable discovery is that of Mr. Reid Moir, who found worked
flints of this type in undisturbed strata lying below the Suffolk Red
Crag at Ipswich. The top of the London clay was a land surface before
the deposition of the Red Crag, and on this land surface were lying the
implements which are now deeply covered up by the sand and shells of
the Pliocene sea; these implements had been flaked by dexterous blows,
and they have been assigned to late Miocene or early Pliocene times.
But other eoliths go back much farther than this. Professor Rutot
assigns some of these to the Oligocene period. M. Laville has discovered
yet others at Duan, some fifty or sixty miles southwest of Paris, which
he assigns to the Eocene period, the oldest of the four periods into which
the Tertiary epoch of geology is divided. In their order, these are:
Eocene, Oligocene, Miocene, Pliocene; followed by the Pleistocene or
Quaternary, which comes down to the present day. It has already been
pointed out that the vast antiquity indicated by these eolithic implements
is almost demanded by the facts revealed by skulls like that of Galley
Hill and Piltdown, with their large brain capacity, indicating that ages
of development had preceded them.

Turning from the materials to our first problem, the way in which
their age is measured, we may say that there are two methods, the one
direct, the other indirect. The first gives far more certain conclusions ;
but, unfortunately, it does not carry us nearly as far back as we wish to
go; therefore we have to adopt the second method for the rest of our
journey. The direct method may be illustrated in this way. We all
know that the age of many trees may be exactly measured by counting
the concentric rings in a cross section of the stem; the change from

148 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

summer to winter making a difference in the texture of the woody fibre.
In this way pine trees two or three or four hundred years old have been
measured, while trees like the Californian sequoia may go back two
milleniums. There is a similar natural chronometer in the texture of
peat, which is composed of layers of small water plants that grow in
summer and wither in winter. A careful count has shown that a foot
of black peat is made up of eight hundred of these layers, showing that
eight hundred summers and winters went to the building of it. If we
find human relics in undisturbed peat at a depth of five feet from the
surface, we shall be justified in saying that they are four thousand years
old. This is strikingly corroborated by discoveries made in the peat of
the Somme valley in northern France. Roman pottery, among other
things a wide, flat dish which could not sink through the peat, was
discovered at a depth of two feet, dating, that is, from sixteen hundred
years ago. Below this were found Gaulish remains; below these, flint
implements. From the character and position of the Roman remains,
it was calculated that peat forms at the rate of three centimeters a cen-
tury, practically the same result as that obtained by counting the layers.

We are carried a good deal further back by observations made in
the delta of the little river Tiniere which flows into the lake of Geneva
near Villeneuve not far from where the Rhone enters the lake. The
structure of the delta is revealed by a railroad cut. At different dis-
tances below the surface three layers of vegetable soil are found, each of
which was at one time the surface of the delta. Four feet below the
present surface is the first vegetable layer, five inches thick. In this was
found a Roman coin eighteen hundred years old. Ten feet below the
surface there was a second layer of vegetable soil six inches thick, in
which was found a pair of bronze tweezers, dating, therefore, some four
thousand years back. Nineteen feet below the surface there is a third
layer, which goes back about seven thousand years, the whole delta being
some ten thousand years old. There is a higher and older delta ten
times as large; if laid down at the same rate, it was begun a hundred
thousand years ago. A similar method applied to the sediment of the
Nile gives like results. Yet another means of measurement is offered
by the growth of peat which is filling up some of the Swiss lakes, like the
lake of Brienne, so that lake dwellings which were once within its waters
are now far from the lake. In the same way the old cities of Mesopo-
tamia, once on the shore of the Persian Gulf, are now far inland, the
Gulf being gradually filled up by sand and mud brought down by the
two rivers.

But these direct methods do not carry us far enough. We may then
turn to the indirect method, based on estimates of the length of time
required to form the whole of the stratified and fossil-bearing rocks of
the earth. The total thickness of these rocks in Europe has been esti-
mated at 75,000 feet or fourteen miles. Let us strike an average among

THE ANTIQUITY OF MAN. 149

many estimates, and say that the whole of it was laid down in 200,000,000
years. More than fifty per cent, of this total belongs to the primordial
period ; more than thirty to the primary ; about twelve to the secondary ;
two and a half per cent., or, say, five million years, to the Tertiary,
which is subdivided in turn into the Eocene, Oligocene, Miocene and Plio-
cene ; and finally one-half per cent., or a million years, to the Pleistocene
or Quaternary. These figures make no claim at all to exactitude. They
are rough deductions from rather uncertain data, and must be taken
for what they are worth. But they are the best we can get at present.

We can see at a glance that, if the Piltdown skull is, as is claimed
for it, of pre-Pleistocene age, this antique Englishman may lay claim
to a venerable antiquity ; and, if the eoliths of Oligocene and even Eocene
age be accepted, they go back, and carry with them the history of
mankind, literally millions of years.

Into the discussion of their genuineness we cannot enter, nor relate
the wordy battles between the eolithophils and eolithophobes as Pro-
fessor Rutot wittily calls them, he himself holding out for Oligocene
man. The objectors say that certain flint fragments of like character
are produced in the cement mills at Mantes, showing that the eoliths are
not the work of man. Surely this is in the last degree illogical, as though
cement mills occurred in nature and were not man-made. We can only
contribute to the controversy a sentence by Sir Charles Lyell, written
fifty years ago, and referring to the then comparatively recent finding
of neolithic and paleolithic implements : "The scientific world had no
faith in the statement that works of art, however rude, had been met
with in undisturbed beds of such antiquity . . . many imagined them to
have owed their peculiar forms to accidental fracture in a river bed."
Which shows a certain uniformity in the workings of the scientific mind.

JOHN CHARLTON.

SOME ASPECTS OF THEOSOPHY

As SEEN BY A NEW MEMBER OF THE SOCIETY

CONSIDERING WHAT "A UNIVERSAL BROTHERHOOD"

MAY MEAN

". . . . learn charity, and mark that as your brother's truth exists
not for your soul, so yours does not exist for him, and yet that at their
heart they both are one, it matters not how diverse they may seem. For
Truth is One, Unchangeable, Eternal." Fragments, p. 63.

ELSEWHERE I have told of my indebtedness to the wondrous
little book from which is taken the quotation with which this
begins. Those few lines often seem to me to express, almost to
embody, the whole of Theosophy as a Philosophy. It was that
quotation as much as anything else that gave me courage to apply for the
privilege of membership when my mind was still utterly refusing to accept
a great deal that seemed to be involved.

Turn to the inside cover page of this QUARTERLY and read the state-
ment about the Theosophical Society. The very first sentence was to me
a hazard, as they say in steeplechasing. "The principal aim and object
of this Society is to form the nucleus of a Universal Brotherhood of
Humanity, without distinction of race, creed, sex, caste or color." In
my natural tendency to confuse planes, to see only the surface and not
the substance, to listen to the words and not the meaning, I balked at that
statement. But I believed in the members of the T. S. whom I knew.
I trusted the teachings of Cave and I made application, feeling that I
accepted the T. S. as a whole, even if I did not understand it in many
particulars. I had read "By their fruits ye shall know them" and there
could be no doubt on this score. It was in part, moreover, by intuition ;
and in further part, blind faith in a Mentor and his Companions, whom
I have learned to reverence, to trust and to love, that I took that important
first step; and never for an instant have I regretted it. While I was
permitted to be enrolled in the Society I see I had not joined it. Some-
times I wonder whether I shall ever be truly joined to it! One of those
whom I am privileged to follow, a long-time member, says "One keeps
on joining the Society year after year."

This presents one of the most striking aspects of Theosophy, that
in one's attitude toward it one seems literally to follow the ascending
spiral of growth so vividly described in its literature. Something
familiar today shows itself absolutely new tomorrow. Experience with
this phase of growth is most encouraging to the beginner, for it gives

150

SOME ASPECTS OF THEOSOPHY. 151

validity to his intuition that what he may not understand now will be
made clear if he will but persevere and wait in faith. I suspect that this
is one of the real reasons why to the faithful Death has no sting.

A possible explanation for this changing aspect may be found in
what seems to be the Law of Occultism in the East, of Mysticism in the
West, that "one must be a thing to know it." A coward may admire
courage but it takes a brave man to feel it, to be courageous. Truly, so
it seems, "Knowledge comes with being." So, as we grow we are, and
so know.

Not understanding that "principal aim and object" I kept it at first
deliberately in the background of my objecting mind. Later this did not
seem honest. I was in the T. S. (not of it, though I did not know this
then) and it was my duty, I so felt, to accept its platform in words,
because I believed absolutely in that platform as expressed and manifested
by those who stood upon it. So I arbitrarily forced my mind to accept
the platform as "Law and the Prophets." I did not take it in ; make it
part of myself.

Is not this, by the way, rather too much the attitude of most of us
who call ourselves Christians and glibly recite by rote what we never
make part of ourselves though we do listen reverently to the petition:
"That what we have said and sung with our lips we may believe in our
hearts and show forth in our lives." I, for one, would regret to be put to
the test on the Day of Judgment on my practical application of that prayer
or, indeed, any single one of the prayers I have used for years in
church. And, I very much fear, that I am part of a large "brotherhood"
in this respect. I wish that all of us could have the light thrown upon
and into these prayers that membership in the T. S. has brought to many
of us.

Through the Society I have found some of the verities of the church
service, "discovering" that Theosophy is the basis, the essence, the truth
of Christianity. But it has been said "It takes thousands of lives to
make oneself a Theosophist." So, perhaps we are nothing more than
stupid in not realizing that the Christian services and prayers are a
practical manual of rules for daily life as well as for reading or listening
to in church. Yet I suspect that even this stupidity will not excuse us,
if we do not make the effort.

Years and years ago I was properly taught the shibboleth, if I may
be pardoned for so calling it, that we are all "children of one Father"
but, as with many others I know, this was something right to say, some-
thing eminently proper to hold as an official belief yet it meant nothing ;
meaning nothing one could not truly regard oneself as His child. Theo-
retically, however, every one who professes Christianity automatically
professes belief in a "universal brotherhood." It is so theoretical for
most of us that we do not see it. I am sure I did not see it at all until
very recently and then something that was taught to and understood by
the little children in Egypt thousands of years ago came to me in the

152 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

XXth Century as a brand new "discovery," a "surprising fact." Is it
not wonderful that there is so much Patience with us !

I doubt if in this matter of a "universal brotherhood" I even made
a "discovery." I was pushed into it by Mr. Judge through reading
Letters that Have Helped Me, and yet how stupid I was about those
books. When I first tried to read them I just could not. They then
meant nothing to me. Now they rank with Light on the Path, Frag-
ments, the Book of Common Prayer, the Bhagavad Gita, the Imitation of
Christ and the other great books that membership in the T. S. has taught
me to value.

It may be useless to give this list of different ways of presenting
identically the same teaching ; but I wish I could make even one aspirant
see the need for guidance. If he is not so placed as to be able to receive
oral teachings from those with whom mere personal contact is itself an
inspiration, he can always get that "bit of her heart" that the Editor-in-
Chief of THE QUARTERLY reported went with every letter the Secretary
of the T. S. writes. One who has fallen into a ditch should warn way-
farers of its location. I fell in fell deep so I feel it a duty to warn
against self -guidance. It so easily drops one deeper into self-satisfac-
tion; that into self-indulgence and that into self-disaster though how
we do hate to admit this ; how we blame the "cruel Fates," not seeing that
we have inexorably forced our own Fate.

This may seem a roundabout way of telling how I have reached a
glimpse of what "Universal Brotherhood" may mean. Truly it is not.
These digressions are symbolical of my own progress, of the cavortings
and plungings of my own mind as it "shied off" from the concept's
acceptance, as from Mr. Judge's Letters. But after the loving teachings
given to me when I took guidance, just as after all these wanderings we
return to our subject, so I came back recently to Mr. Judge. With a
directness ; a simplicity ; a fiery power that makes all his books thrilling
and enthralling, Mr. Judge preaches to me that to work for others is the
one means of progress. Apparently, too, one is not to dream of so work-
ing in some far-off "cannibal isle," but is to go to work "here and now,"
as he so often wrote. This has given a meaning to the Answer in the
Catechism "And to do my duty in that state of life unto which it shall
please God to call me." Mr. Judge said at the end : "They must aim to
develop themselves in daily life in small duties." Do we?

I knew the catechism by heart when I was confirmed. I have
drilled classes in Sunday School in it. But, literally, the answer
to the question, "What is thy duty towards thy Neighbor" and the
marvellous comment by the "Catechist" had no real meaning to me
until I sensed something of "universal brotherhood," and I suspect
that if it ever had had I should not have been so long in accepting the

SOME ASPECTS OF THEOSOPHY. 153

"principal aim and object" of the Society as something for which I now
wish to strive.

To those who know the Gita the comment might have been made by
Krishna to Arjuna:

"Catechist. My good Child, know this; that thou art not able to
do these things of thyself, nor to walk in the Commandments of God,
and to serve him, without his special grace; which thou must learn at
all times to call for by diligent prayer."

Despite our Lord's use of the word "children" as "followers," "dis-
ciples," despite the impressive fact that "chela" means child ; just because
the Catechism is taught in Sunday School to children in years, we
"grown-ups" (in years only, alas!) fail to grasp the help offered in this
passage and all through the church services. What idiots we are ! Read
the Collect for All Saints' Day for a statement of the principal aim and
object of the Society in beautiful old English and in canonical form.
Read them both in comparison so that you may get the full meaning of
each from the other.

It has come to me that universal brotherhood is primarily on the
inner plane. I had objected to it as involving a destruction of the whole
organization of the world as we see it from my family to the National
Government. I had not realized what has ever been taught in all mani-
festations of Theosophy, as recently emphasized at the Convention of
the T. S., that the spiritual works from within out and never in reverse.
I had not accepted the principle that "here and now" we are to learn our
Lesson. I am in one circumstance ; Tony who blacks my boots in another.
We can be brothers on a spiritual plane without my seeking to put him
in my physical position; where, being unprepared he might find the
circumstances destructive of spiritual advancement, just as I might if I
took his place.

Whenever I have tried to mold my own or others' outer lives I have
had experiences that remind me of the man who thought he would start
an avalanche of his own by jumping down the mountain side. When
they dug him out and thawed him out; patched him up and put him
together, there was something less than half a man left, who declared
"I guess after this I'll let the Almighty run His own avalanches." I, too,
prefer not to interfere with what Wisdom has decreed for me or for
others. But this does not mean, or so it seems to me, that I am to do
nothing. Here in the West we have a pretty clear Rule of action laid
down for us in the Parable of the Good Samaritan. It is expounded at
length through the Gospels and the Epistles if we read them for guid-
ance. Every Saint has told us what to do. Every Eastern Scripture
reveals the secret. It was summed up for me by a ragged convert at a
Mission : "If you stop thinking about yourself and think about God you

154 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

will find Him a Friend ; and if you think about Him you'll find the other
fellow a lot better than yourself and you'll like him you're both the
Father's children."

"HE CANNOT HURT ME FOR HE ALWAYS HELPS ME"

"Calmness is now a thing to be had, to be preserved. No
irritation should be let dwell inside. It is a deadly foe. Sit on
all the small occasions that evoke it and the greater ones will
never arise to trouble you." W. Q. JUDGE, Letters that Have
Helped Me, Volume II, p. 85.

In seeking for the Path in its early stages it seems as if some of us
walk backwards and do not know it. Others of us beginners creep and
crawl, often sideways like a crab, and, it may well be, that we believe we
are fairly galloping straight toward it. Some of us sleep in sloth and
call our dreams action. Others of us wander off, blind to the real Trail.
I have done all these things, and I suspect I have even tried hopping up
and down on one leg, thinking I was making progress; wasting energy
when I truly thought I was making an Effort. The point seems to be to
get on the Path few of us appreciate that. In illustration of this I have
permission to tell the story of a friend of mine.

He is fortunate in being associated in his livelihood work with a
remarkable man, who is at once the senior member of his firm and one of
his spiritual preceptors, if I may use olden time phraseology in describing
a relationship rare nowadays. But before I go further, this fortunate
young man needs a name. As he talks frankly about all sorts of things
about which most of us keep silent, why not let us call him Parlessimo ?

Parlessimo adores his chief and yet he declares that he gives his chief
endless and usually needless trouble. Inevitably, as a result of some of
his many sins of omission and commission, he frequently gets "jumped on"
with vigor. He blunders in preparing a brief; fails to cite his cases
accurately, or even is late in appearing in court. When the head of the
firm expresses most vigorously his opinions of these "messy failures," the
office wonders that the usually self-important and touchy junior partner
takes, what he would naturally be expected to regard as a public humilia-
tion, so quietly and, often in such evident gratitude! One day when
several of us were lunching together one of the other junior partners said
to him : "Parlessimo, how do you stand the Chief's skinning you alive ?"

"You dear old idiot," was the instant answer, "don't you see that he
cannot hurt me for he always helps me? He has never once 'jumped
me' except when I was in the wrong and deserved worse than I got.
Any man less interested in me than he is would have kicked me out long
ago. He is right when he 'goes for' me and he only does so because he

SOME ASPECTS OF THEOSOPHY. 155

wants to help me. Once I used to get furiously angry when I could not
see my error; then I felt hurt when I was in the dark; now when I get
what you call a scolding and am blind as to the reason I am absolutely
grateful to and so sorry for the chief."

The puzzled look on the face of the man who asked the questions
amused me, and when he left the table I said to Parlessimo "Did you
really mean that?" As he was a fellow student, I felt I could get down
to actualities, now that we were alone.

"I most certainly did and do," was his reply. "The Chief is daily
teaching me that one may practice occultism anywhere, everywhere. If
he did not love me yes, I use that word deliberately, for it's the only one
I can use that fits the case do you think he would give so generously
of his strength to help me every chance he gets ? Do you think he would
take the risks of responsibility for my progress; risks on all planes,
greater I know than we may appreciate ? He takes the only way to make
an impression on me. It is no easy task to get through the shell built
around one by years of poor recollection, inattention and wrong attach-
ment. So, you see, because I know he loves me I am sure he cannot
hurt me. There is no 'malice prepense' or otherwise in him or his words,
but a charity such as it takes a St. Paul to describe. From my point of
view the Master uses him to help and guide me."

"Do you," I protested, "you, a grown man in the XXth Century,
supposedly intelligent, believe that the Master is leading you? What
would our scientific friends think of you, if they knew?

"I most certainly do mean just that, and, in the next place, I believe
it can be proven that the underlying drift of what is called the scientific
point-of-view is toward my position. In the third place, frankly, I don't
care a button for all of what you call 'science' ! Today it is only a mani-
festation of materialism, not real Science. Do you know anything of
the way it has changed from generation to generation ; swinging around
the circle? Do you know how recently electricity was demonstrated by
scientific men to be a substance? How long, relatively speaking, has
Science admitted that the earth is round? Yet the students of Theos-
ophy in the East have always known that and so taught it in their Mys-
teries, I am informed. It was a truly scientific man of the type you refer
to, whose article in a British quarterly, 'proving scientifically' that a
steamship could not possibly cross the Atlantic, was first brought here
by the very first steamship to cross!

"So far as I have been able to determine, the only Science that has
never changed in all the recorded centuries upon centuries is the science
of the spiritual world as revealed by the Gods of the Ancients, the
Masters of the Eastern Occultists and Western Mystics, through Chelas
and through the Saints. This may be found in all the records and will

156 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

be found to be essentially the same from Lao-tsze and Pythagoras to
Emerson and THE THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY. And it seems to me to
be as simple as it is difficult. To advance in this great science I have
only to do my work well, with joy and rejoicing; consider my fellow man
and how, at the least, I may not hurt him, and, at the best, what I may
do for him, not bothering over what he does to me; and worshipping
my God and trying to reach the Master whose child I am ; in obedience
to His Will. It is simple ; yet it is hard to practise. You see my great
need is to put what I know to be true and right into action and effort.
I want to be and become not just to talk and feel. I have learned from
those who are teaching me and from the books I am advised to read,
especially from the writings of Mr. Judge and Cave, that the training
for the Path is here and now, right in my office, 'just as I am.' " Parles-
simo stopped.

I went back to my own work with a strengthened conception of its
dignity and its spiritual possibilities. I was helped by recalling two
homely but forcible illustrations. The first was used by a truly great
and inspired preacher (to whom so many of us owe so great a debt) when
he said at a mission service: "One does not serve Christ best by just
going to church. If it be a woman's duty to wash the clothes of her
husband and children she may bring joy to the heart of the Master by the
spirit in which she washes them making of the act and its perfection a
sacrifice to the Master, in happy acceptance as she bends over the tub."

And again when Mr. Judge wrote, evidently to an anxious inquirer :
* "Now in respect to the questions you ask, let me say that Theosophy
requires no man to abandon a mode of life which is not in itself wrong.
... As the use of meat is not an offence, so neither can be the supply
of it to others, so that your assisting in killing hogs for market is in no
way opposed to your duty as a man or as a Theosophist. That being
your duty in present circumstances, I should recommend you to perform
it without hesitation."

And from Fragments (p. 44) I wish to take a quotation that to me
"ties together" the story of Parlessimo's chief and our need for acceptance
of our opportunity to follow the Path in the circumstances in which we
are now placed:

"Duty is not an ogre, but an angel. How few understand
this. Most confuse it as they do conscience."

SERVETUS.

Letters That Have Helped Me. Volume II, p. 51.

PRACTICAL THEOSOPHY

THERE are two ways in which any subject may be approached
from the Theosophic point of view; or, put in other words; we
may consider any subject Theosophically from two great stand-
points, standpoints which run through the whole of our litera-
ture and which are called 'The Head Doctrine" and "The Heart
Doctrine." Their names almost explain them. The Head Doctrine
considers things with the mind, the reason, the brain, from a deductive
point of view. The Heart Doctrine, on the other hand, seeks to enter
into the very vitals of a subject, to reach at once to its fundamental
principle, to discover its spiritual essence, and to do this, not with the
brain, but with the intuition. Its method is inductive. It works from
generals to particulars. Any subject that I can think of may be con-
sidered from either of these standpoints, and I believe we are wise if
we try to apply them both; so that this evening I propose to take up
our subject first from the point of view of the Head Doctrine and then
from the point of view of the Heart Doctrine.

When the Society was first founded, thirty-five years ago, the world
was full of educated and cultivated people whose religious faith had been
upset by the discoveries of modern science. Darwin and Huxley in
evolution, Lyell in geology, many discoveries in antropology and archeol-
ogy, had disproved the literal story of creation as taught by the Christian
religion. People, who were full of religious sentiment and feeling, could
by no means continue to believe religious teaching. Their religion had
not been killed. It was only its accustomed outlet which had been
destroyed. Then Theosophy, the great reconciler of science and religion,
came along and was a great boon to these people. They flowed into the
Society by the hundreds and thousands and found there for the first time
in their lives a ground upon which they could believe in the things taught
by science and at the same time continue to believe in the existence of
the things of the spirit, in the life after death, in divine beings ; in a word,
in religion itself.

The Society was therefore a haven of refuge for this large class
and once in the ranks of the Society they were enthusiastic investigators
of the secrets of the universe. It was not very long, however, before
these people came face to face with the fact that while Theosophy taught
the undoubted existence of a spiritual plane, it also taught that this
plane could not be investigated by the usual means of scientific investiga-
tion. The spiritual planes of being would not give up their secrets to
the microscope or the telescope, the weights and measures, or indeed, any
apparatus whatever, no matter how delicate or how efficiently wielded.

* An address delivered before the New York Branch of the T. S.

158 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

Nothing less than the human soul itself was the instrument which would
enable the investigator to penetrate into the spiritual realms and discover
there the underlying laws of life.

Thereupon arose an urgent and imperative demand for knowledge
how so to train the soul that it could perform this most difficult task,
and, ten or twelve years after the foundation of the Society we have the
record of the manner in which this demand was met. "The Voice of the
Silence," "Light on the Path," "Through the Gates of Gold," "Letters
that have Helped Me," were all published in a few years, to be supple-
mented from time to time since then by a large number of articles in our
many magazines which had a similar object for their being; articles, many
of which have since been republished in pamphlet form, like "The Culture
of Concentration." And since those early years there have been addi-
tional little books of the same general character, all dealing with the
life of the soul, of the disciple; books like "Fragments" by Cave, and
Mr. Johnston's fine translations from the scriptures of the East.

A considerable proportion of the early members were attracted at
once to this new aspect of affairs and ever since they have been much
more interested in the devotional side of Theosophy than in its intellectual
side; so that from that time we have had numerous representatives of
both the Head Doctrine and the Heart Doctrine in the Society itself.
This historic differentiation continues to the present day, and always will
continue, for it is based upon fundamental differences in human tempera-
ment. We find the same differentiation many times in the past, the
historic struggle between the supporters of "Salvation by Faith" and
"Salvation by Works" being one prominent instance.

Each of these two fundamental divisions of the subject has its
application to practical life, to our daily affairs. How the Head Doctrine
is applied is sufficiently obvious. We have the teachings of Karma and
Reincarnation, the Seven Principles of Man, Planes, Rounds and Races,
all of which bear in greater or less degree upon the problem. The Head
Doctrine teaches that we must be good because it pays to be good. If
we are not good we shall be punished, and it shows why and how. If
we are good we shall be rewarded, and again it shows how and why.
This makes a very strong appeal, for Theosophy has a scientific basis
for ethics. It does not teach a new ethic ; but is content with the systems
already in existence as now taught by any of the great religions, but it
does give most convincing reasons why we should follow these moral
laws, and in that it performs a great service. Christianity had as fine a
system of ethics as is conceivable, perhaps, but it did not give convincing
reasons why we should follow it. Theosophy does. Consequently the
Head Doctrine makes a very strong appeal, and takes us very far indeed.

I should imagine that the highest possible expression of the Head
Doctrine is the Golden Rule, Do unto others as you would have others
do unto you. It is very high indeed, and the world would be a very

PRACTICAL THEOSOPHY 159

much more agreeable place than it is if more people followed it. At any
rate I cannot see how the mind, the reason, can go farther than the
Golden Rule and enunciate a law which is more elevated, or more sublime.
There is, however, a higher law, but it is not easy to describe it simply
because it is higher than the Head Doctrine and yet we have only the
instruments of the Head Doctrine with which to discuss it. But the fact
that there is such a law is apparent when we consider the Golden Rule
from the standpoint of some divine being, let us take Christ, for example.
We cannot imagine him being content with this rule as a guide for him-
self. He would, we feel, be the very first to deprecate the return which
this law implies. Indeed, the very statement of the Golden Rule itself,
Do unto others as you would have them do unto you, brings in an element
of self, is expressed in terms of self, and is therefore limited to the plane
of self.

There is the higher law which entirely eliminates self. Be good, not
because it pays (you) to be good, but because it is right to be good;
because you, in your essential inner nature, are goodness itself and should
try to partake of that goodness; to bring all parts of your being into
harmony with it. Theosophy, the Heart Doctrine, teaches that each soul
is an offshoot of the Oversoul, a Ray of the Universal Fount of Spiritual
Life; that that is what we really are, and that right conduct should have
for its purpose the return to our parent source. The road thither is the
killing out of self, the lower self, or, as we prefer to put it, transmuting
the lower into the higher nature. And the best expression or rule for this
kind of life is something Mr. Judge was very fond of saying years ago.
Never do anything for the sake of the lower self alone. It sounds simple,
but try it. Try it even for an hour!

Never do anything for the sake of the lower self alone, there you
have in words as near as words can convey, the law of the Heart Doctrine.
See how it applies. If you are hungry you eat; not because you are
hungry or because you like the taste of food, but because your body, a
necessary instrument for your soul, needs food. You give it just the
amount and the kind of food which it needs. No more, no less. That
one thing alone, if followed out, would do away with at least half of all
the illness in the world, which comes from over eating and improper
eating. We should feed our bodies as we feed a valued horse. From
experience we have found out just what is good for it, just how much
is good for it, and we give it that and no more. So too with rest. We
rest because we must keep the soul's instrument in good order and ready
for the maximum amount of work. We sleep, to restore the dissipated
energies of the soul's instrument, and we sleep as much, and no more,
than is needed for this purpose.

The same applies equally to recreation and amusement. The human
animal needs a certain amount of rest, recreation and amusement. Just
how much depends upon temperament. Whatever amount is needed

160 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

should be supplied just as impersonally as we rest our horse. And while
we are about it, let us see that we amuse ourselves conscientiously, that
we do not take our pleasures sadly, as the French say the English do.
There is a great power in joy. And remember that in occultism it is
just as great a sin to be unjust to yourself as to another, for occultism
makes no distinction between self and another; they are both but rays
from the Great Central Self. Which again shows us how necessary
impersonality is; we must learn to consider matters which involve our-
selves just as impersonally as we do matters that do not directly concern
us at all.

The other day a friend of mine told me that some men were dis-
cussing at a club the question whether it was the duty of a gentleman
to get up and give his seat in a car to a lady if there were vacant seats
in the car which she could take if she chose. The concensus of opinion
was that it was not necessary. From the standpoint of the Golden Rule
perhaps it is not, for very few of us would be so mean as to wish others
to give us their seat when there were seats available for us to take if
we chose. But from the standpoint of the Heart Doctrine there is no
doubt at all as to the reply. If we leave out all consideration of self,
if we consider only the other person, we at once give up our seat or do
anything we can to help that person, without regard for our own con-
venience, comfort, trouble, or any other consideration whatever. It is
only when we begin to bring our self into the problem that it becomes a
problem and we have to try and determine what is polite or what is
necessary for our own self-respect, or what is generous and kind.

You will see, therefore, that the Heart Doctrine teaches a very high
code of ethics indeed, one that it will take us a very long time consistently
to follow. But that is no reason why we should not make a beginning,
and I therefore commend to you again what seems to me to be the best
succinct expression of the moral law from the standpoint of the Heart
Doctrine, Never do anything for the sake of the lower self alone.

C. A. G., JR.

WHY I JOINED THE
THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY

THE Editor of the QUARTERLY has asked me to state to its readers
my reasons for joining the Theosophical Society. The first and
fundamental reason, like all first and fundamental things, is no
reason at all. I joined the Theosophical Society because I had
to ; because, literally, it would have been impossible for me not to do so ;
there was that within me which drew me to it with cosmic necessity, as
iron filings are drawn to the magnet.

When I seek for purely intellectual reasons I find two main ones,
under which all others may be classed as expressions or subdivisions.

1st. The Theosophical Society is the only organization in the world
which is absolutely universal, thus incorporating in its very essence the
fundamental truth of truths, the essential unity of Life. All other
religious, philosophical, or scientific bodies have some element of exclu-
sion, some distinction of "true" and "false," in that very fact showing
logically their fragmentary nature. Not so the Theosophical Society.
She alone welcomes and assimilates the mutually exclusive, recognizing
in "true" and "false" alike their relative necessity as portions of God's
infinite plan for the evolution of life and humanity. Only that which is
spiritual can be final, she says, and the spiritual eternally eludes mental
formulation. The intellect, at its best, sees "through a glass, darkly";
therefore the distortion is part of the truth, as well as proof of intellectual
perception.

This first reason, the absolute universality of the Theosophical
Society, compels the second.

2nd. That which is eternal and universal in the present, must
include in that present both past and future, else it were not eternal.
Those who join the Theosophical Society in fact as well as in name, by
which I mean a making of themselves integral parts of it, are not long
in the discovery that while the outer form it wears dates back but a
handful of years to 1875 the fact remains that from all time it has
existed, as it will exist in all time to come, inevitably, as part of
existence itself.

The Theosophical Society has assisted at the birth of every world
and of every nation, and yet each human heart-beat can she hear; she is
the mighty mother of all religions, which have all been brought forth
from her bosom, some glorious children, true to their heritage, some
wayward and perverse, taking the lower paths and turning from her
instruction. But all, without exception, born of her. Yet she knows

161

162 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

through all the aeons each individual soul, and loves it; watching and
tending with unfaltering care, raising up Teachers and Guides in un-
broken succession for its enlightenment.

Perceiving this, realizing this, of course I "joined" ! All spaces, as
all phases of thought or of emotion, were preempted by her, possessed
by her. Within her embrace all portions of my being, wherever they
might be, found their home. The real "joining" was the conscious
recognition of the fact that she was my Mother and that I was her
child. CAVE.

I BECAME a member of the T. S. because its Constitution upholds
genuine freedom, and clearly defines license as opposed to freedom.
Because it permits liberty of thought and action, and indicates
the process of development through the resulting reaction.
Because it concerns itself vitally with the search for Truth, the white
light of Truth, in spite of the possibility of arduous toil and the terrifying
realization of "Self."

Because of the joyful recognition that everything contributes to the
full development of Soul, that the whole world, and all that is in it, are
just one family, with one source of Being, and one end to achieve, but
with an infinite variety of processes of achievement.

So far, at least, that is what the T. S. means to a member just at
the threshold, who is shy of turning about, fearing to handle any of the
beautiful things within the room, but who has been warmly and frater-
nally invited to enter and take full possession and who hopes to become,
in time, a worthy member, fit to be of service.

M. L. H.

Ill

MY reason for joining the Theosophical Society was that I be-
lieved the study of Theosophy would change the whole meaning
of existence. Without the two doctrines of Reincarnation and
Karma I saw and can still see little meaning in life, no explana-
tion for the sorrowing and suffering of humanity, no real reason for
living. With the acceptance of these doctrines a new light is thrown on
the problem of existence ; life becomes a thing of value, a privilege even,
and "the joy of living" becomes something more than a meaningless
phrase.

In order to make clear the reason why Theosophy impressed me in
this particular way, it may be well to go back in some detail over several
mental and spiritual crises in my life, experiences which gradually
formed the demand so fully satisfied by the Theosophical teaching.

WHY I JOINED THE THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY 163

During my childhood I passed through several periods of strong
religious feeling, times when I felt intensely, though uncomprehendingly,
the call of something higher than anything I then knew; at these times
also, I felt vividly the nearness, if not the actual presence of God. These
experiences were too intimate and too sacred to be mentioned to anyone
and I kept them entirely to myself, guarding them jealously. So far as
I can remember they had no effect upon my outward life and there
would be little use in mentioning them now except for the fact that by
the time I was fully grown, an undercurrent of religious feeling, the
existence of which I scarcely realized myself, had become a part of my
nature, and religious values had become my highest standard.

During four years spent in college I came into contact with a world
of doubt and disbelief which stirred me deeply. My religious views at
this time, were the result of a rather conventional orthodox training and
they proved vulnerable on every side. Not realizing the dangers and
pitfalls of a little knowledge, I began at once to apply what I learned,
without waiting to get the larger meaning of the flood of new ideas
which rolled in upon me. Physics, biology, psychology, metaphysics,
everything, in fact, seemed either to tend toward atheism, or to be so
contradictory as to confuse me utterly. In addition to my required
work, I undertook to read Tolstoi's My Religion. This book added still
another point of view to the numerous contradictions which were already
overwhelming me and the result was almost disastrous. I was spirit-
ually prostrated, groping blindly with apparently no way out of the dark-
ness. Unwittingly I chose the worst way out, for I resolutely banished
from my mind all thoughts on the subject and while this brought me
calm for the time being it merely put off the struggle till another time.

One of the most important influences in my life at this time, with-
out doubt the influence which made it possible for me to maintain even
a comparative equilibrium, was a course of study in which I read the
works of a number of the nineteenth century essayists, and took up in
some detail the work and writings of John Newman and others of the
leaders of the Oxford movement in the Anglican Church. Of this read-
ing, much of which was new to me, I was profoundly affected by Car-
lyle's Sartor Resartus and Emerson's Oversoul, the latter essay giving me
an entirely different conception of religion. In this course I found the
first promise of a realization of the dreams of higher things which I
had had in my childhood; it gave me a firmer grasp on my ideals and
opened up to me a new life, the inner life. This course was my real
preparation for the study of Theosophy; much of the thought was not
in itself theosophical, but the interpretation which we received was dis-
tinctly theosophical. At that time I was not yet ready for the teaching
and could grasp but dimly the significance of it ; nevertheless it was then
that the seed was sown which made it possible later on for me to make
the truth my own.

After leaving college I came to New York and took up social work.

164 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

All day and sometimes far into the night I worked among the homeless
and miserable, the suffering and the sorrowing. During some months
of this work I lived directly opposite the Municipal Home where every
night several hundred men and women, wretched outcasts of humanity,
came for a meal and a night's lodging. At a late hour each night these
whom the place could not accommodate were turned away, to take refuge
in the Randall's Island police boat and 'return at dawn for their cup of
coffee. Night after night, during one of the coldest winters on record,
I listened to the shuffling of their ill-shod feet and heard their harsh
voices, as they fought and struggled for first place.

It was the first time that I had come face to face with human suffer-
ing, with the real tragedy of life, and I was appalled by the aw fulness
of it. I lost sight of everything but the utter injustice of human, man-
made institutions and the apparent injustice of the ruling of the universe.
What difference was there fundamentally between me and the poor
wretches in the street. Why was I warm and comfortable, possessed
of blessings without number, while men, women and even little chil-
dren fought in the cold and darkness for food and shelter for a single
night. By what possible conception of justice could man be brought
into being through no volition of his own, placed in an environment
beyond his power to change, forced to live out an existence often worse
than hell and then pass into "the unknown." Once again I was groping
in darkness. If everyone had an equal chance in life, if the brotherhood
of man which Christ had taught were something more than a mere
phrase, then religion might be practicable, religion and daily life might
go hand in hand. What place was there, however, for a religion such as
mine under the existing condition of things?

Several of my friends had had similar experiences, had lost all faith
in their former religious beliefs and had found considerable satisfaction
in socialism. In many ways socialism did seem to be the solution of the
problem; in actual argument it always won out, for matters of faith,
particularly a weak and shaken faith such as mine, I could never argue
satisfactorily. Nevertheless, socialism offered no immediate remedy, its
ideal state seemed too hypothetical, a matter of an altogether too remote
future to be satisfying. Then, too, its principle of brotherhood seemed
too largely political to be thoroughly satisfactory. The ideal socialistic
state, it seemed to me, would be like a great machine, admirably put
together, and possessing perhaps the dynamic force to make it run ; but
there would still be lacking the oil to make it run smoothly. That oil
would be something deeper or perhaps it is better to say something higher
than anything that I had found in socialistic doctrines.

My early training and the several outbursts of real religious feeling
which I had experienced remained too vividly in my memory for me to
lose my faith entirely ; I clung to my religious beliefs, to a certain extent
satisfying myself with the thought that injustice in the part need not
necessarily work out for injustice in the whole. I knew that God existed

WHY I JOINED THE THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY 165

nevertheless I was utterly unable to make any reconciliation between
my life and my religion. They remained distinct and apart and I buried
myself in the problems of the one or turned to the other for the moment,
blindly and without either understanding or satisfaction.

In this state of mind, I read Mr. Johnston's translation of the Bhaga-
vad Gita. I had read the book before but had not been ready for its mes-
sage. This time I was impressed by an entirely different aspect of its
teaching, the doctrines of Karma and Reincarnation. As a possibility of
belief in the present day they were new to me, yet they took as firm a hold
upon me as though I had always known them, like a truth learned long
before and suddenly recalled to mind. I perceived that they afforded the
explanation I had been seeking, that they were the one possible way out of
my doubts and difficulties; through them life might come to mean light
instead of darkness, hope and joy instead of despair. In my search for
further literature on the subject I found that Theosophy embraced both
these doctrines.

It was about this time that I first had the privilege of coming into
contact with the work and the workers in a mission in one of the con-
gested districts of the city. Here I found a satisfaction which I had
not experienced before, for the place was filled with that spiritual uplift
which naturally accompanies the endeavor really to live the Christian
teaching, to work into one's life the true spirit of Christ. Shortly after-
ward I was invited to attend a meeting of the T. S., and in doing so met
again the same people whom I had found active in the work of the
mission. As it happened the subject for discussion that night dealt with
the relation between Theosophy and Christianity, and here it seemed that
the last of my former difficulties were taken away. The theosophical
teaching filled life with a new significance, it made possible to me the
religion which my nature had come to demand, and it opened up, and
promised a realization of higher and nobler ideals than any I had yet
known. The promise of realization appealed to me more strongly per-
haps than anything else. Theosophy was not a mere theory, a beautiful
vision, I had already seen proof to the contrary in the work of certain
members of the society who were endeavoring to put the teaching into
actual practice, to show forth in their lives something of its truth and
beauty.

Certainly the answer to my questionings had been found. And
that answer was a veritable call to arms, energizing, uplifting, inspiring ;
a call which brooked neither delay nor refusal, but demanded at once
the endeavor to lead the largest, fullest and most active life that one is
capable of living.

J-

ON THE SCREEN OF TIME

PRACTICAL OCCULTISM
II

THE last of Cave's comments on the record of Mrs. S., quoted by
me in the July issue of the QUARTERLY, was on an entry dated
January 31, 1904. On February 1st, Mrs. S. wrote: "The earlier
part of the day having been rushed and mentally undisciplined
[she was still travelling with her husband in Japan], I tried hard to
regain quietude during this meditation, and more or less succeeded.
Toward the end of the ten minutes, a text came into my mind which I am
not conscious of having thought of before, and which, though I noted
it down at once, I could not remember at 10 P. M. : 'Blessed are they
who hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled.' And
I connected this in some way with Cave."

On this it was commented : "It was your translation of the message
I sent you for the day before." The significance of this, of course, lies in
the word "translation," for the untrained mind, even when correctly
receiving an idea, often clothes it in words of its own, or in texts or
phrases long since lost to surface memory.

The next entry did not elicit comment, and I quote it only because
it will rouse a responsive echo in the experience of many of my readers.
"This was a very unsatisfactory meditation. I became possessed with
sleepiness as soon as I began, and, try as I would, I failed to shake it off.
It was more an effort to keep awake than anything else; and I have no
other impressions to note. There were reasons but no excuse."

On February 7th I find : "This was a splendid meditation in feeling,
and the peace and hope of it are still with me after several minutes' inter-
lude. Yet it was not so much hope at the time, as realization imperfect
and incomplete, yet vivid. When it was all over, a mental echo which
took the form, 'Hold fast and pursue your way,' with the emphasis on
'pursue.' '''

On this the comment was: "These are the notes I best like: they
are much more direct less mental."

There are several entries without comment. Then, on the 15th:
"This, as a meditation, was fair. There was sense of co-operation, but
not vivid. I extended it for the half hour, but it did not improve. The
five o'clock ten minutes and also seven, were noticeably good. Can it
be that the four o'clock 'gets through' later?"

Cave commented: "This happens often when the mind in some
way is not really attuned."

Next day Mrs. S. writes: "I had been preparing for this for
several minutes beforehand by reading The Oratory of the Faithful Soul

1 66

ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 167

by Blosius. Whether for this reason or for some other, the meditation
itself was far better than usual. ... I notice a change in these medi-
tations. Instead of their dominant note being peace and joy, it has
become an intense longing which is really a pain. I try to convert this
into realization by dwelling on the Higher Self as myself ; but even then,
I find that self reflecting [ !] the same longing in this case to be, some-
how, the embodiment of the Master. I felt also as if Cave and I and
others were actually in the presence of the Master."

On the 18th: "This I entirely forgot, to my shame, as I had re-
minded myself of it several times in advance. I was putting off in a small
boat from the steamer."

On the 22d : "The sense of Cave's co-operation was very clear and
was very helpful. My mind had been immersed in letters up to the last
moment. A distinct effort to 'Look, see, and love' as if being urged
and helped to do this. Yet no result, except the thought of the Master
with outstretched arms."

"And the result of this was," runs the comment, "that the Master
was before you with outstretched arms, and that your mind only thought
it (all your mind can do!). Had you been above the mind, you would
have seen the Master, or at least had a vision of Him, and seen the
thought, looking down in your mind, and so have kept them both straight.
Does this give you some better idea of how it is done ?"

On the following day, Mrs. S. made this entry: "When the medi-
tation was over, I had it in my mind to write 'Quiet and steady, with a
sense of myself in some inner and ideal way. But curiously lacking in
any recognition or perception of Cave's co-operation.' Then I continued
for a few moments longer, to recover the feeling of myself as that spirit-
ual being free and sure of touch, selfless and glad, reflecting, as it
seemed, some of these qualities of the Master. And then it dawned
upon me that this impression and semi-realization (with apparent ab-
sence of Cave) were the result of Cave's thinking of me in just that way.
Cave's 'projection,' I called it at first: but why not 'vision'?"

Cave wrote : "Thinking of you as you really are is, it seems to me,
a way of helping you to realize what you really are. That is why I so
much want you to have these impressions."

A day or two later Mrs. S. added a question to her record : "This
was in a jinrikisha, driving to Hotel from station. There was much sense
of force ; and it almost amounted to a meditation in spite of distractions.
Would it be better, in a case of this sort, not to try to meditate, but to be
content with 'prayers of direct affection' or with 'acts'?"

The note to this reads: "When you cannot meditate because of
mental distractions, pray by all means, but I would not say 'not to try to
meditate' ; because I would keep the idea, the desire for meditation in
the back part of my consciousness, realizing that the prayers are a means
to this end (which, in fact, we should always try to do in prayer). My
idea of prayer, personally, is conversation with the Master very intimate,

168 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

adoring conversation, which leads to communion with him: an inter-
change, and then a sense of union. When self -consciousness is lost in
the union, that is the highest stage I know. u 1 tells me that Com-
munion is one of the things I seem to understand about: so I think this
is not misleading."

It is difficult to tell when Mrs. S. received the letters which Cave
wrote to her, but I can in any case give the dates on which they were
written. A brief note on Christmas Eve : "I am thinking many thoughts
your way tonight, and trying to keep the wonderful hush and darkness of
Christmas Eve in my heart, in the midst of all the glare and noise about
us. May you find its peace, and thus the divine Light of Christmas."

January 27th: ". . . It is the old, old lesson which we need so
much to learn: to have patience, to wait. Some day I shall learn that
lesson even the little brother's grave eyes promise me that, and u 1
never lets me voice the least doubt of it. ... We cannot ask for easier
circumstances in which to accomplish our purposes: the test of success
will be, can we accomplish it in these? And something in the depths of
me stirs when I think of that, crying 'Yes, it shall be done, in the hardest ;
and so, greater force, greater momentum.' What can the Dark Powers
do against the Soul that has faced all odds and won ! And I know that
no less sure victory than this would ever satisfy me."

A week or so later Cave wrote: "My very dear friend, I cannot
let another mail go without sending you a line. I had intended a letter,
but all day I have been rushed, and now there remains but a brief moment
in which to write. I must trust your understanding; your indulgence
I can trust, but what I want you to know and believe is that I want to
write: it is no task of friendship and courtesy that impels me, but the
very deep and genuine desire to have you know something of what lies
so truly and so steadfastly in my mind and heart. First then I thank
you for your beautiful and most kind letter. What you tell me in it must
indeed make me glad, even through the great sense of unworthiness
which humbles me. These are the things in life which make life truly
worth while, and make its sorrows and burdens easy, and are ample
compensation for its pains. I am going to tell you simply and frankly
that when you went away and left us, was one of the very great pains of
my life, but that I always was determined you should come back and that
I would never, never surrender that determination : that somehow, some
way you must come back I would make you and I realized that the
first thing I must learn for that was patience, to wait the time and
opportunity, and the tented faith that would not waver meanwhile.
I hope you do not mind my saying this, for by saying it you will have a
better appreciation of the great joy you have given me what it really
means to me to have so much reward ; and I hope you will not mind my
feeling it to be a reward. After all, we belong together in this work, in
its wonderful tie of Brotherhood, and to the same Master. . . . Way
in the back part of Judge's mind was the possibility of just the work

ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 169

we shall be trying to do during our remaining years of life, though he
never spoke to me of it in detail, only warning me always to be 'ready'
and to 'miss nothing,' and to keep my 'eyes open,' and sometimes testing
me with questions and problems which at the moment I only half under-
stood, but later understood so well ! But though he never spoke, it was
from him I learned it, in that wonderful way in which one learns through
association and love, with a great soul like his. And so, dear friend, as
long ago, not knowing, you brought the pain, so today you bring a great
joy and reward, and I am deeply grateful to you, and pray the Master's
blessing may be upon you for it."

The next letter from Cave was written after receiving from Mrs. S.
the records already quoted and still further entries which I shall give
after the letter, so as to enable the reader to follow the extent
to which Mrs. S. succeeded in registering in her personal consciousness
the help she was given.

"Your note books I have gone over carefully. I am glad you have
let me see them, for it helps me, and I believe will help you. . . . Three
things I have tried to impress not mentally, but into your inmost nature.
First, love of the Master, opening out of your heart to him. You have
great powers of loving, but they are like a frozen Niagara frozen by
your mind. Second, true self-confidence, not the false kind of the past,
which you have now learned can snap under you, but the kind shadowed
forth in St. Paul's expression of a life hid with Christ in God. Third,
to forge ahead, which means that making haste slowly which is the only
haste the Master knows. Have you ever watched a great snow plough
going through a drift in advance of a train? That is to my mind a
picture of the will.

"So there is a trinity of effort, a noble three-io\d path, and like all
genuine trinities, a unity, for each one is an aspect of the first, the Love
of the Master, which alone makes the others exist, or possible of realiza-
tion. This explanation may aid you in getting a certain coherence out
of your meditations: but I wanted you to work at it unaided first, for
you must do it from the inside now. Do it with your heart: you have a
fatal facility for doing it with your head !"

Returning now to the records of Mrs. S. and those that follow
were written before she could have received the letter just quoted I find
that on February 27th she entered : "This was only a fair meditation
perhaps not even that, as I felt dull and heavy with cold and quinine.
Yet there was a sense, as before, of the ideal self being visualized for
me, so that identification with the 'Warrior' came nearer."

Next day : "Clearly, this sense of identification is the point trying to
be worked into my consciousness. It has been much in my mind at other
times also, not only as something to try for, but as a criticism of the
accepted Christian method. Today, in addition, there was an urging to
'look and see' : and I tried, but in spite of being pushed at it, there was
no result."

170 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

On this Cave commented: "Of course until you have had some
vision of yourself as the disciple, you will find it most difficult to blend
it and the personality. And this can only be done (I mean the having
of this vision) in the light of the Higher Self, for we only see the disciple
in true proportion and colour in that light. All mental images are dis-
tortions more or less, as is a picture reflected in even the clearest pool."

On the following day: "This was not a success from any point of
view. And I had prepared for it, too. It was stale. Nothing vivid
about it."

The comment here is : "Perhaps too much preparation, which some-
times may mean too much mind on, and therefore in it."

On March 3d, Mrs. S. wrote : "This was more abstract than usual,
influenced, perhaps, by re-reading some of the Persian mystics which
aroused in me the old desire for 'formlessness,' and even the old longing
for it 'where all hearts are one.' But it was not otherwise noteworthy.
(This afternoon, or yesterday, the image of ourselves as prisoners longing
to escape)."

On this it was commented : "The desire for formlessness had nothing
in itself of wrong. It springs from a depth of fundamental reality within
us. But we must not leap for it : that is only to come back and do prop-
erly what otherwise is really not done at all. Nor must there be any
shade of revolt. There could be no genuine formlessness without com-
plete resignation of will and desire, and so the world of form, in all its
planes, is to be accepted, as every other condition must be accepted.
How can we ever expect to impress the modern socialist, for instance,
with the need of rising above the idea of material conditions, until we,
with fine comprehension, accept serenely the conditions of personality,
mental barriers, emotional obscurations ! This is a practical view of the
matter, the inner aspect of which is that what is usually called 'seeking
after formlessness' even in would-be disciples is a turning back from
that which they seek, instead of a working towards it. These matters
are all questions of growth, and we must accept, joyfully and gratefully,
our means of growing. Not only the soil and climate the Master has
provided for us particularly, but those general laws of soil and climate
and gardening which the Great Master of the universe in His unspeak-
able Wisdom has ordained. Forcing may often produce wonderful
flowers. But in u 1's lily garden we shall learn that the bulb dies.
. . . Then, as to 'longing to escape,' have you ever had a wonderful
thought that has given me hours of ecstasy, of Christ as a prisoner in
the Tabernacle of our hearts ?"

Next day Mrs. S. wrote: "Again that longing for 'formlessness/
where all consciousness is one, where all hearts are one: and I think it
helps at certain times as nothing else does, though, to some extent, it
seems to eliminate the usual sense of co-operation."

And Cave : "Since in the dangerously imperfect manner in which we

ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 171

grasp it, it involves the great heresy of Separateness. The paradoxes of
Light on the Path work down as well as up."

On March 7th: "I asked on what I should meditate and how, and
prayed that I might be helped. The answer was that I should meditate
on that being which the Master wishes me to become, and on which he
meditates when he thinks of me in that way. [In a marginal note Cave
wrote, "This is wise."] First to think of that being, and then, having
thought of it as 'that,' to try to feel it as 'this.' I tried, but not with
much success. Looking for something that Cave might have to say, it
seemed to be 'Turn your heart, and keep it turned.' "

On the 9th: "Very dry, and difficult to get anywhere. The mind
not so much active as 'sticky.' The usual sense of outside help lacking."

The comment reads: "When the mind is 'sticky,' it has some ad-
mixture of emotional glue."

On the 25th Mrs. S. wrote: "This was one of the worst meditations
I have ever perpetrated. There was noise both outside and in. My
mind would not keep quiet, commenting on the failure of the meditation
with intentions for the future. I frankly gave up trying to meditate, as
such, and tried to talk in my mind to Cave, saying how deeply I desire to
serve Cave, and then asking the Master to help me to respond to Cave's
efforts on my behalf. Then I made a draft entry of this, and I tried to
accept the failure of it which I find very difficult. I have, I believe,
a fairly good mental idea of how it ought to be done ; I have an intense
desire to do it, and a longing for 'the fruits of meditation.' Then this
utter inability to do, while it does not shake the determination to go on
trying, or belief, even, in ultimate success (because I have done much
better) fills me with a sort of disgust of myself which is difficult to
overcome. Look at it as I may, it is disgusting.

[A marginal note by Cave: "Oh! no not 'disgusting' at all. If
you had true humility you would not even be surprised."]

The record by Mrs. S. goes right on : "The bad habits, or lack of
mental discipline, of twenty years ; the having to do things now, which

I ought to have done when I first joined the . (Later.) I stopped

my entry at that point for ten more minutes of meditation. It seemed
as if someone came along and not for the first time tightened the ether
in my brain in an effort to stop the ordinary mental activity, and at the
same time filled my heart with so great a longing for the Master that
I thought it must break through. Yet nothing 'happened': and there
was enough mentality left to note at intervals what was going on not
from above, but from below.

"(Next morning). It dawns upon me this morning: Be content
to give what you have in each minute. I had prayed that love for Him
would become a ravening hunger, so great as to push out every other
thought or feeling. But I suspect now that that was a mistake, or was
in any case something to be transformed into the sole desire to give, and

172 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

that I must learn to be content to give just what I have, no matter how
little that may be."

Cave commented : "Yes just pour yourself out. As we pour out,
little by little, He fills. So the quality improves."

Mrs. S. told me that she was writing frequently to Cave at this time,
and that, although she had forgotten the exact nature of the letters which
evoked the following replies, she remembered that she had been worried
about an unexpected and increasing tendency to feel "emotional."

There is a letter from Cave written early in March: "Your emo-
tional nature is not what you need be afraid of. Trust yourself. Fear
rather the coldness which freezes your spontaneity and natural warmth,
and makes a thin coating of frost between you and others and every other
influence. Do not hold yourself in: let yourself out. I want you to
melt, to thaw, to expand, to bask in the sunshine yourself and to let others
bask in yours. If some one be so mistaken as to take advantage of it,
forgive them in the Master's name, even as he forgives all the advantage
we take of him, since he will bear anything for the sake of love. I ask
hard things of you, but oh ! the rewards. . . . And you must be happy,
too; you must cultivate it. Joy is the fruit of love, and you have had
your vision of love of what the Master's love can be."

Some time afterwards Cave wrote : "I want to make some notes on
your last letter. Your way of being happy ('I just sit quietly and silently
and am happy') is a very good way. I could not suggest anything to
improve it. That is to bask in the sunshine and to bring sunshine to
others ; for you will radiate it, fill the atmosphere with it. What I want
is that you should feel that way oftener, until after a while you feel so
continuously; and I want you to let me help you to feel so. The Master's
disciple should be the most joyous of creatures in the depths of his
consciousness. I want your aura to be radiant with colour and not so
grey.

"When I wrote of taking advantage, I was thinking of what you
had said about familiarity. I sympathize so warmly with your feeling
about that. I detest it, for it cheapens everything. Close intimacy with
those I love is something I prize and desire : and to my thought familiarity
deprives intimacy of all charm and meaning almost vulgarizes it. Very
few people indeed seem to appreciate this. They tarnish and bruise with
rude touches the most beautiful flowers of life, and then mourn that their
bouquet is scentless and faded. But it is ignorance lack of perception
and understanding and one must accept a certain amount of it with
patience and sweetness. To forbid oneself expansion to avoid it, were to
commit the graver error ; for so long as one does not descend to the level
of familiarity oneself, one is not contaminated by it, and by keeping
always one's own true sense of value, one can preserve fresh and pure
the precious fragrance of intimate affection and intercourse. It is one
of the lessons we have to learn an essential lesson in discipleship, where
the disciples must become as the fingers of one hand.

ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 173

"And how right you are about reverence. What is love without it !
For no matter how dear the personality may be (and no one realizes that
more keenly than I to whom absence is such a bitter pain), yet any one
even half awake comprehends that the true bond, the real object of our
affection, lies deeper than that, and that we are really one in the Master's
love, for us and in us, and each to each must make obeisance 'to the dim
star that burns within.' 'Steadily as we watch and worship, its light will
grow stronger' one of the highest services of love. How could all this
be without the deepest reverence ? Still the eternal paradox of all human
life and endeavour is here also, and this deepest reverence is in no wise
incompatible with nay, is at the very heart of, the closest intimacy and
both should be. You know as well as I that one of the gravest American
defects is lack of reverence. That they have it, deep hidden in their
natures somewhere, is shown by their magnificent chivalry to their
women, but in their manners ! . . . Do not be disturbed over your
longing for silence. Ours is the Lodge of Silence, and that longing is the
nostalgia of the Lodge. A certain amount of silence we need: the rest
we must train ourselves to relinquish with sweetness, for there is no value
in the renunciation which is not made sweetly."

Other letters and other records with comment, must be held over
until the next QUARTERLY. T.

'Obedience opens the door of Heaven"

ALCUIN.

IMENTARY

THEOSOPHY AND THE FAMILY

ONE who first contemplates Theosophy must necessarily consider
what effect allegiance to it would have upon his relations with
and his duties to others, more particularly to his own immediate
family. Is there occasion to fear that he may find himself, as
a follower of Theosophy, cut off from his family, segregated, set aside
and left sel f -centered ? There are people who would consider this the
natural result; but to those who have read even the earliest books, have
received the most elementary instruction, this seems an extraordinary
viewpoint. How can it exist?

Take the Theosophical Society, that great present-day exponent of
Theosophy; that latest outer manifestation of the Great Movement that
started before History exists ; further back than History itself dare con-
ceive What does the T. S. teach ? Again and again it has been said that
the T. S. has no dogmas, no platform which must be accepted as a pre-
liminary save and excepting one: tolerance.

Now, true tolerance does not mean a passive, negative, do-nothing
attitude. That savors of pitying contempt and no form of contempt
may even be fancied as tolerant. How, then, may we apply tolerance to
the relations with the family. This ought to be easy, for in every action
in our daily lives we ask, expect, even demand tolerance from our families.
We who thus expect it for our own benefit, we understand it perfectly.
But we have to learn to practice it for others as well as to enjoy its fruits
for ourselves. If our budding interest in matters Theosophical offends
a member of our family we must recognize that we become dogmatic and
intolerant the moment we persist in conversation, even though it be on
topics that to us are high and holy. We should consider others, not our-
selves, and practice the great occult power of silence.

"Is it not our duty to proclaim our faith? Is it not cowardly to be
silent?" These questions are the excuses of the beginner, but like most
excuses they are at the bottom untrue. Certainly we should proclaim
our faith, not in mere words but in action; for do not "actions speak
louder than words" ? It is cowardly to be silent, in the real meaning of
silence. But we are not "silent" when we let the Real Man do the talking.
Remember, however, his talking will be "heard" only as we act.

THEOSOPHY AND THE FAMILY 175

Most of us know little about this inner or "Real Man," but there are
others, the great Teachers, Saints and Mystics of all time, who know and
who have tried to teach us. "The good in us is always kind" is a phrase
that comes with the strength of a quotation : it is certainly a fact. Sup-
pose, for the moment, we call the "Real Man" that "Good" in us which
is always kind. What is the kind thing to do ? Try reversing positions :
Suppose that, while you want to talk what you call Theosophy, Tom wants
to talk batting averages or Dick politics or Harry about people. Of
course you do not like it and you may even be hurt at their lack of interest
in your topic, but if you are truly tolerant you will listen to them with the
same interest that you want from them and will avoid the intolerance of
even feeling bored or superior. That is, you will apply to this particular
case that marvelous summing up of the Law by the great Western Master
in what we know as the Golden Rule a Rule taught by each and every
Teacher of Whom we have record.

So we must be tolerant not weakly tolerant but actively tolerant,
and in the T. S. this tolerance is directed toward high ends. The very
first object of the Society is "to be the nucleus of a Universal Brotherhood
of Humanity, without distinction of race, creed, sex, caste or color."
Note the practicability of that no impossible "aim and object," but a
humble, possible beginning "to form the nucleus." Each of us may be a
nucleus and the way to become one is easy, for we may begin by being
kind not to ourselves but to others. True kindness is never selfish.
"Brotherhood" with distant peoples, with masses of other lives, will be
unobtainable if we can not begin by being Brothers to those nearest us.
If we cannot be tolerant, be kind to a father, mother, wife or child, how
can we expect to be so to strangers ? "The best manners begin at home"
is a homely saying but a true one and, like many a proverb which has
survived, contains occult truth.

As we progress we shall find that there are increasing reasons for
putting the family first, for the faithful performance of all family duties.
While there are no Theosophical dogmas or partizan principles (as with
a political party) we find certain matters on which the great Theosophical
Teachers agree, whether they come from the East or from the West.
God or Karma or Fate has put us where we can get the utmost out of the
Lesson of Life. If we are put into a family we ought to get the most
out of it by giving to that family the utmost kindness and love of which
we are capable. Who are the men we follow and admire most ? Are they
not the men whose lives and actions come the nearest to our ideals? If
we live Theosophy will not that fact draw others to it, others whom our
words might repel? Why not trust the Powers That Be a little more!
Perhaps the reality of our progress in Theosophy, the truth as to our
interest in it, will be tested by our consideration for others, especially
those others to whom our circumstances bring us nearest and closest.

Another point of agreement which we shall find in all the teaching
is that Theosophy is a Life, a Way, not a belief. One may believe almost

176 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

anything and still be a true follower of Theosophy if one lives Theo-
sophically. It would seem, therefore, that it will not be enough to be
silent in true tolerance, kind in self-control as a member of a family, but
that we must go further. Silence and such kindness become negative
the minute one truly feels the call of Theosophy, for that is a call to
action, to a Life, to the Way.

"Good theory," someone may say, "but what about the facts? My
brother actually knows of a family that was broken up because of Theos-
ophy." Unfortunately families seem to split very readily under our
present form of civilization, but do you really think that kindness, love,
tolerance, genuine understanding, respect for the individual, desire to
serve first the interests of all, would prove disruptive forces in a family ?
Theosophy taken into the family as a philosophy may not always make
for harmony, but Theosophy really lived brings a light and joy that no
family would choose to cast out. Nor is there any place in it for "supe-
riority" towards the beliefs, the feelings, the experiences of others. He
has little understood the teaching of Karma who can turn away from a
brother's misfortune, unmoved, with the reflection that the other is only
reaping what he has sowed: when Karma sent the affliction, did it not
also, and equally, place him, the would-be Theosophist, at that very spot
with an opportunity to help that brother?

As was pointed out at the recent Annual Convention of the Theo-
sophical Society, much masquerades under the names Theosophical and
T. S., which is most untheosophical. Many a man, and more than one
nation, calling themselves Christian or Buddhist, have done things which
are absolutely contrary to all the teaching and the very life of the Christ
and the Buddha.

If Theosophy be a life and the T. S. a means of finding how to live
it, we need not alarm ourselves because miscalled "Theosophy" has
brought hate into homes and separated members of a family all we have
to do is to prove our fitness for becoming real Theosophists by making
our families love us the more for the greater love and tenderness by
which we may manifest Theosophy in our own lives "here and now."

G. M. MACKLEMN.

Theosophisches Leben. This old friend comes to us in a new dress. But the
new dress is one long familiar to our eyes. So there is no shock such as a change
often brings. Theosophisches Leben, the magazine which Mr. Paul Raatz has for
many years sent out month by month, is now to appear quarterly. And to signalise
this step, a cover design similar to that of the THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY is used.
It is very pleasing. Heretofore my year has been marked not by the secular
months but by four quarters. The appearance of each issue of the QUARTERLY has
been the chief event of the season and my great delight. Now there will be two
such advents two Quarterlies lying together on the table, arousing all my curiosity
and desire, and requiring all the firmness I can muster to keep me patiently at my
tasks, until I can, without violating conscience, turn over the leaves I love. The
familiar words about the objects of the Society are printed on the last page of the
cover; the clear strong type stands out on excellent paper; and one is very happy
to turn over page after page, finding things new and old.

Many of the articles are original contributions an interesting study of
Madame Blavatsky and Nietzsche by Oscar Stoll, and a helpful essay by Paul
Raatz on Nicholas, a fifteenth century mystic. Then there are articles reprinted
from Lucifer and from the THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY. A single impression is
given by both series of contributions original and reprints. That impression
is one of faithfulness to the spirit of H. P. B., of loyalty to her teachings.
And this loyal devotion to H. P. B., is shown by reverence for her actual writings,
and by the performance of a difficult task the adaptation of her teaching to the
needs of the present hour.

It is safe to postulate of all great teachers, I think, that their most fervent
desire would be to leave behind them a group of followers united by the life
principle into an organism. Such an organism would develop as all other live
things do. It would undergo natural changes. It would find itself, at later periods,
fitted to undertake labors that were impossible in the stage of infancy. It would
discover in time its splendid creative faculty, and use it. Yet how many leaders
have succeeded in bringing their followers together into such a real association?
St. Francis, before his death, wept with disappointment over the failure of his
purposes. The man who succeeded Ignatius Loyola practically wrecked the
Society of Jesus. What happens is usually the same in all cases. Those who have
gathered around the leader have not been kindled by the flame of his spirit. They
worship the dead letter of his words. The result is inevitable. Instead of an
organism active and creative, there is a piece of mechanism that stupidly grinds
out, century after century, hollow, deadening words. Madame Blavatsky had of
course to face such contingent danger. Would her mission prove a success or not?
Would the Theosophical Society prove a vital and virile thing, or would it be a
machine turning always the same leather belts? A sufficient answer to the ques-
tion is given by the present number of Theosophisches Leben. We congratulate
the members of the German Branches upon the flame of the founder's spirit that
manifests itself in this new quarterly issue. They have been able to adapt H. P. B.'s

178 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

ideas to the need of the hour to the needs of humanity in the Western world, of
which, at this hour, the T. S. would seem to be in a special manner the spiritual
organ. Surely the greatest need of the prosperous Western world today is religion,
its own religion revivified and rejuvenated by the splendid vitality of the theosoph-
ical method and life. Theosophisches Leben recognises that need and endeavors
to fulfil the purpose of the Society the service of humanity. Many articles and
quotations give glimpses into the real significance of the Christian teaching.

NICHOLAS OF BALE

I cannot close this notice of Theosophisches Leben, without comment upon the
very interesting account of Nicholas of Bale in the July number. I have often
heard of Nicholas of Bale. But what I have heard has represented him as a
mysterious person of whom little was known. I am going to give a bald outline
of this article and trust that some one will be led to become acquainted with the
article itself. Nicholas had a boyhood much like that of St. Francis. He was the
son of a rich merchant, who was ambitious for his son's worldly success. The
night before his bethrothal, Nicholas prayed before a crucifix that he might in all
things do the Master's will. The Figure on the Cross responded to that prayer
and told Nicholas he was to lead a religious life. When he narrated this incident
to his lady, she accepted it, and said that she, too, would consecrate herself to the
service of Christ. For a time he subjected his body to very severe chastisement,
but was told in a dream that that extreme discipline had been suggested to him
by the Devil. He received frequent visits from two Beings whom he called
St. Catherine and St. Agnes. But he was in a condition to receive inward teaching
also, and was thus, inwardly, told that within five months he would understand the
Scriptures, and be able to expound them as well as if he had devoted his whole
life to their study. Then followed a period of great dryness. Like St. John of
the Cross he had to pass through a "Dark Night of the Soul." But afterwards he
was able to see that even this dryness was a gift from God's love. Nicholas was
a potent influence upon many illustrious men of his century. The most striking
example of this is his relation with the famous Dominican preacher, Tauler.
Tauler was a man of good will who had developed his mental faculties at the
expense of his spiritual. Nicholas established an intimacy with him through
attending his sermons. Then when Tauler had been brought to look upon Nicholas
somewhat as a son, Nicholas astounded him by very clearly pointing out faults that
needed amendment. The result was that Tauler in turn made himself a disciple
of Nicholas, and after two years of severe training in seclusion returned to preach-
ing under the direction of his adviser.

There were several circles of friends and disciples gathered around Nicholas,
according to the degree of advancement in discipleship. His innermost circle
numbered five. With these five friends, he built a hut in the mountains where they
might pray in intercession for the sins of the world. But when the wickedness of
the world seemed constantly increasing, the five friends decided to leave their
mountain altar, and go out into the world to preach. Nicholas went to Vienna, and
there was arrested and burned. Various charges were brought against him, but
the most serious was that he, a layman, had presumed to direct and exact obedience
from ecclesiastics.

ALFRED WILLISTON.

Gitanjali (Song Offerings), by Rabindranath Tagore (Macmillan & Co.).
A rendering into exquisite English prose, by the author himself, of his original
Bengali poems. They are true poetry, the beautiful expression of the joy of the
soul, of its longing and adoration. Other poets have sung the joy of life and
many have voiced the yearning of the soul, but few have reached to the harmony

REVIEWS 179

of the two, the yearning unembittered by doubt, the joy untouched by shadow of
fear. It is the joy that the soul finds when it finds itself, when it knows its purpose
and consciously seeks discipleship. Then :

"All that is harsh and dissonant in my life melts into one sweet harmony and
my adoration spreads wings like a glad bird on its flight across the sea." (Page 2.)

The following extracts give a very inadequate idea of the feeling and beauty
of the poems:

"Only there is the agony of wishing in my heart. The blossom has not opened ;
only the wind is sighing by.

"I have not seen his face, nor have I listened to his voice ; only I have heard
his gentle footsteps from the road before my house." (Page 11.)

"This is my delight, thus to wait and watch at the wayside where shadow
chases light and the rain comes in the wake of the summer.

"Messengers, with tidings from unknown skies, greet me and speed along the
road. My heart is glad within, and the breath of the passing breeze is sweet.

"From dawn till dusk I sit here before my door, and I know that of a sudden
the happy moment will arrive when I shall see.

"In the meantime I smile and I sing all alone. In the meantime the air is filling
with the perfume of promise." (Page 36.)

All who have tried to meditate will appreciate this :

"I came out alone on my way to my tryst. But who is this that follows me
in the silent dark?

"I move aside to avoid his presence, but I escape him not.

"He makes the dust rise from the earth with his swagger; he adds his loud
voice to every word that I utter.

"He is my own little self, my lord, he knows no shame; but I am ashamed to
come to thy door in his company."

The unity of the universe with the striking idea that he who loves life must,
therefore, love death as well, is beautifully brought out in the following :

"I was not aware of the moment when I first crossed the threshold of this life.

"What was the power that made me open out into this vast mystery like a
bud in the forest at midnight.

"When in the morning I looked upon the light I felt in a moment that I was
no stranger in this world, that the inscrutable without name and form had taken
me in its arms in the form of my own mother.

"Even so, in death the same unknown will appear as ever known to me. And
because I love this life, I know I shall love death as well.

"The child cries out when from the right breast the mother takes it away, in
the very next moment to find in the left one its consolation." J. M.

Dante and the Mystics, by Edmund G. Gardner. Christian philosophy crystal-
lized into such hard and indissoluble dogmas in the writings of many theologians
that we welcome any book that shows us Christian truth still fluid and fiery with
the touch of the Spirit. Mr. Gardner's book makes it quite clear that for several
centuries, from the year 1000 on, personal experience and not dogma was the
common element of religion. Personal experience of religion is almost his defini-
tion of mysticism. "A mystic," he writes, "is one who conceives of religion as an
experience of eternity." Theologians like Aquinas and Augustine, who, in some
quarters, are known only as hard. dogmatists, are presented in this volume as "sheer
mystics." Such a presentation may dispel from many minds prejudices that are

180 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

not altogether ineradicable. Thomas Aquinas as representative of scholastic phi-
losophy, is too often thought of as the father of the crudest errors of Roman
Catholicism the popular notion of transubstantiation for example. Whereas his
true explanation of the Sacrament is profoundly philosophical, and altogether in
accord with the most characteristic teachings of Vedantin sages. What Aquinas
really taught is that every material object is a veil of the Spiritual and Eternal.
The passage through the veil, from the temporal to the Eternal, is Transubstantia-
tion, t. e., a transfer of consciousness from the unreal world of appearance to the
immortal realm of true Substance, Divine Essence.

There is much of value in the book, and one regrets that its form seems likely
not to take it to many readers. The book is made up of university lectures, and
it is academic. It treats of Mysticism and the Mystics as a subject for intellectual
study, analysis, comparison, etc. Passages from Dante and other writers are paral-
leled to show what is common to them. The author is a scholar and has stores of
knowledge. But, like many scholars, he does not get inside the shell of things.
He has no goal in view to which his interesting comparisons lead.

CLARENCE C. CLARK.

The Master, by J. Todd Ferrier. This book promises, on its title page, to com-
municate to the reader information about the Master, Jesus Christ, which is not
obtainable from the Gospel narratives. This information came to the author, the
title page states, through Illuminations, Visions, Experiences. There is something
repellent about the title page. But, one starts to read, mindful of some of the
revelations made to Saints as they meditated upon the Life and Passion of our
Lord (especially of the disclosure to St. Brigid that the soldiers who crucified our
Lord cruelly injured the veins and arteries, so that He was bleeding from internal
as well as outward wounds). The reading is not fruitful. In his introduction the
author finds fault with the New Testament writing, because it pictures Jesus as a
glutton, in that he ate meat and drank wine. It records also "outburst of indigna-
tion, harsh (does he mean stern?) judgments against individuals, His acceptance
of the homage of men and women," etc. No real prophet or teacher could do
such things, the book declares. After that, we turn over the pages at random.
St. Paul receives a large share of condemnation. The author says St. Paul "did
not know the Master," and that he made the whole process of Redemption "his-
torical rather than experimental, objective instead of subjective." I wonder how
the author would explain Galatians iv, 19: "My little children, of whom I travail
in birth again until Christ be formed in you." Then we find the Adoration of the
Magi explained as reverence of the three principles for the soul. The Angels and
shepherds, the Temptations in the Wilderness, the death of Lazarus and the
Miracles are explained away as effectually as any Higher Critic would do, though
in a different manner. Finally we come to the statement that the offering up of
Isaac was a "soullic" event. We read no further.

All of the great religious leaders taught their disciples to meditate upon the
Life and Passion. In such meditations, they taught, many spiritual truths are
disclosed. We are quite ready to believe that the narratives of the four Gospels
are fragmentary, and that there is much to be garnered about the Master's work
in Judea. But we do believe that the Gospel narratives are in the main authentic,
as far as they go. The much-talked-of divergences are precious because they
reveal the individuality of the writer different points of view of a towering
personality. Modern revelations about Christ must, we think, continue faithful
to the Gospel outline. They will fill it out. They will supplement, not contradict.
Thus they will portray a true individual of flesh and blood, not a vaporous spook.

JOHN WILFRID ORR.

REVIEWS 181

Principal Forsyth, in a recent number of The Hibbert Journal, has made some
statements about the Humanity of Jesus, and His towering Human qualities, which
it would be well to use as a touchstone for everything that purports to be a reve-
lation about the Master. Among other things, Principal Forsyth writes:

"His wit is well recognised His gracious wit and His wounding wit; but He
is charged with the lack of humour, of an element so great, if not essential, in
humanity as humour. And some of His servants who possessed the gift have
thought it stood in their way for His work. But it is not that Jesus had none, but
that He had not the Western, Shakespearean, modern type. He had the type that
goes with the prophet's genius, with the genius of Israel, the genius of ethical
insight and exaltation, the genius of Isaiah, of Socrates, of Paul, of Pascal. He
had irony, as all these had. He not only saw the irony of the world, but He
exercised upon His foes the lofty irony of God. What was His silence before
Pilate? Or "those ninety and nine just persons that need no repentance"? It
betokens the deepest foundation, and the repose of unearthly power, to be able
amid crises to play so freely about life as His insight and irony did. The odd
thing is that, while the sunny Shakespearean humour, or the genial humour of daily
life, is not felt by most Christian people to be foreign to Christ, or at least to
Christian faith, the ironic humour, tending to the bitter, is so felt. As if Jesus
was never bitter and sarcastic! How bitter was that, "It cannot be that a prophet
perish out of Jerusalem" ! The Bible has much more room for the humour of
Carlyle than for that of Scott, for the grim than for the sunny. Nothing could
show more clearly than this soft horror of irony and of scorn for the quack, how
far the popular Christian mind had gone from the Christ of the Gospels, how the
conception of the loving Jesus, being overdriven, has demoralised the Christian
public, how false is the mere genial Jesus, or the merely domestic Jesus of fireside
faith, how greatly we need to be forced back on the virility, what I might call the
firstrate-mindedness, of this passionate Man, on His moral realism, on His sense
of law, and holiness, and wrath, and of the bitter shams and incongruities of life
and of the religious life not least."

The Constructive Quarterly: A journal of the faith, work and thought of
Christendom. Edited by Silas McBee. (New York, George H. Doran Company.
London, Henry Frowde, Oxford University Press.) To those within the Christian
church who have sorrowfully resigned themselves to its divisions, thinking them
to be inevitable, to the constantly growing group of church members who look
toward a closer union of the denominations as the goal of some future generation
for which this generation can at most pave the way, and to those religious or
merely well-intentioned people without the church to whom the divisions of
Christendom have been ground for regret or contempt, the establishment of The
Constructive Quarterly must come as a surprise and an inspiration. In the first
number, March, 1913, the purpose and policy of the magazine is outlined.

The editors believe that "a constructive treatment of Christianity will make
for a better understanding between the isolated Communions of Christendom. It
is called The Constructive Quarterly because it attempts to build on what the
Christian churches are actually believing, doing and thinking. The destructive
method has had its full opportunity and will continue to have it and ought to have
it. But it has developed no power to unite and is most effective in promoting
division.

"The plan is to bring together members of all Communions who will write
constructively of the Christianity they profess and practise, in order that others
may know their Communion as they themselves would desire to have it known.
It is not neutral territory that is sought, where courtesy and diplomacy would
naturally tend to avoid issues and to round off the sharp edges of truth and con-
viction, but rather common ground, where loyalty to Christ and to convictions

182 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

about Him and His church will be secure from the tendency to mere compromise
and artificial comprehension. The purpose is to create an atmosphere of natural
confidence, of mutual knowledge, of mutual desire for fellowship. In such an
atmosphere it should be easier to believe in others at their best, without minimizing
the real causes of separation.

"The Constructive Quarterly recognizes the need that is finding expression
in every organized Christian Church the need of the impact of the whole of
Christianity on the Race." "It offers itself as a Forum where the isolated churches
of Christendom may reintroduce themselves to one another through the things that
they themselves positively hold to be vital to Christianity." "Two conditions are
imposed: First, that the Faith and Work and Thought of each Communion shall
be presented in its absolute integrity including and not avoiding differences; and
second, that no attack with polemical animus shall be made on others."

Not more astonishing is the purpose and spirit of The Constructive Quar-
terly than the magnitude of the scale on which is it carried out. The Editorial
Board is composed of men of thought, scholarship and action, each representing
some organized Christian body in America, Germany, Russia, Great Britain, India,
or other country, and the whole, therefore, representative of the corporate Chris-
tianity of the world.

As might be expected, the topic most prominent in the first two numbers is
church union. This subject is treated both practically and theoretically, both from
the standpoint of present and future possibilities. The views of writers, differing
widely in their outlook are set side by side. Sometimes the author's religious
standpoint is the theme and his view of church unity appears incidentally; some-
times church unity is definitely the theme and the author's own viewpoint or
denominational affiliation must be inferred from his handling of the subject.

L. E. P.

ANSWERS

QUESTION 158. From one quarter and another we hear, when there is criti-
cism of the political and social conditions prevailing in Christian countries, that
the life Jesus came to preach and to exemplify has not yet been lived, that Chris-
tianity as he conceived it has not been "tried" But it is now nearly two thousand
years old. What is the case with other religions are they more fully under-
stood, more truly lived by the rank and file of the people who come under them?
How is it with Buddhism and Mohamedanism have they been "tried" and
"lived" as Christianity has not, or are they in the same case?

ANSWER. In the QUARTERLY for October, 1912, in the Notes and Comments,
"The Western Avatar," passages are quoted from H. P. B. which suggest the
answer to this question : that the Buddha came to a nation ripe and ready to
receive him, willing and able to understand his message; that the Western Avatar
came to a field adverse and unprepared, working for a distant future, for a day
which even now is dawning, nay, has already dawned.

One cannot fairly compare the teaching of the Arabian seer with the avatars
of these two great Masters; though much may have been done, through mystical
movements, to enrich his religion from within. C. J.

QUESTION 159. Have we warrant for taking literally the saying of Jesus:
"He that hath my commandments and keepeth them, he it is that loveth me
. . . and I will love him, and will manifest myself to him?"

ANSWER. He manifested himself to St. Paul often after the Resurrection.
Also to St. John at Patmos. St. Francis saw Him. St. Catherine talked with Him.
St. Gertrude knew Him intimately. And so have many others. A.

ANSWER. According to the testimony of any saint, mystic or spiritual writer
of whom we have record, this saying should be taken literally. According to all
Scriptures, Eastern or Western, the answer would seem to be an unqualified
affirmative. If St. John, St. Paul, St. Peter and the other Apostles are not
sufficient witnesses, and if the great Catholic saints such as St. Augustine, St.
Catherine of Siena or St. Teresa of Avila are not accepted, similar testimony
may be found in such Protestant writers as Wesley, Fox, Pusey and Murray.
May not the trouble be a desire to have a manifestation made in terms and
according to the wishes of the aspirant rather than to leave it to the Master
Himself? G. V. S. M.

ANSWER. May it not be supposed that we can only gauge the truth of such
a statement in one way by trying? This is an experimental science. C. J.

ANSWER. We have every warrant for taking with absolute literalness this
saying of Jesus. The Saints and Mystics of all ages have reiterated it with

183

184 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

astounding certainty and joy. "O taste and see!" they have cried. "He that doeth
the will shall know the doctrine"; "Come home, come home, and know!" "God,"
said St. Augustine, "is the home of the Soul." The Mystics, like mountaineers,
go ahead to show us the way to freedom, to reality, to peace. The manifestations
of the Lord press incessantly upon us ; in some most unexpected moment, in the
common breaking of bread, He may make himself known to us, as to the disciples
at Emmaus. "Behold, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world,"
living in us and with us, a worker, a guest at every table recognized or unrecog-
nized, a sharer in all the experiences of life. He came forth into humanity never
again to leave us, making significant the most trivial aspects of our common daily
life. Only remember the promise is to him "That hath my commandments and
keepeth them." Y.

ANSWER. Yes, but your answer will never be found in words. Try taking
Christ literally, do something now, this moment, toward learning to keep his
commandments. In the doing lies your answer. B.

QUESTION 160. We are taught that when the pupil is ready the Master comes.
How may we know when the Master comes?

ANSWER. I should think one would know from the fact itself. If a person is
learning to swim or to play on some musical instrument, there comes a time when
he knows he can swim or command the instrument. The process may have been
so gradual that it would be difficult to point out the precise moment that separates
the period of inability from the period of mastery. Yet the two periods are dis-
tinct. So with discipleship. When the middle wall of partition is broken down
between the pupil and the Master, the pupil KNOWS. J. W. O.

ANSWER. Again and again writers in THE QUARTERLY and all through Theo-
sophical literature have told us that the essence of Theosophy is contained in three
rules, surviving from the outer work in Egypt, through the great monastic orders,
and now embodied in the Three Vows of "Poverty, chastity and obedience." It
might be interesting to apply these rules in answering this question: If one were
truly self -less, desiring nothing for one's self, seeking no reward, one would not
ask or expect the Master to take His time and strength from His other work to
come to one and so, in the power of real humility, would find strength not to worry
about His time for coming. "Charity" meant and should to-day mean far more
than our modern connotation if we were truly "purged," to use that fine old
mystical phrase, we should seek to get rid of the selfish desire that the Master
should come to us. If we are obedient, all-absorbed in Him, we would never ask
when He is coming or ask why He does not come. These rules seem to teach us
that when the pupil is ready the Master will come but that the pupil may certainly
know he is not ready and that, therefore, the Master will not come, so long as he
thinks he is ready and cannot understand why the Master does not hurry. This
is a hard doctrine to any one not imbued with the joyous acceptance of discipleship.
It is a comforting doctrine when one gives oneself utterly into the hands of the
Teacher and lets Him (as He will) assume responsibility for results while one
studies hard and faithfully without a single worry ; which means without a thought
of self. HEINRICH KLEIN.

QUESTION 161. Why is it that a new student so often is checked in his progress,
weakened in his desire by the self -question : Am I sincere? What should be done
to meet this doubt? What attitude maintained?

ANSWER. Tennyson says something about doubt being "devil-born." To me
this means that when the more apparent resistance of the lower nature has been

QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS 185

overcome, the stubborness of the lower nature cunningly adopts new plans. It no
longer opposes openly, but it subtly whispers doubts as to fitness, sincerity, etc.
Doubt came to Dante after he had awaked from long sleep in the gloomy forest.
The only way to meet doubt is to disbelieve it. A. W.

ANSWER. Is a student sincere when he thinks about himself so much? Would
not the way to meet such a doubt be to try sincerity ; in other words to think about
the Master and the Teachings of Theosophy, instead of himself? Would not the
proper attitude be to do some work, say reading some books recommended by a
more advanced student in whom he had confidence, and taking the attitude of
acceptance with self-forgetfulness? G. MACK.

ANSWER. After one has spent the years that we know of, and perhaps many,
many lives that we cannot recollect, in proving how foolish he is, it is not surpris-
ing that we should fail to recognize our improvement when we begin to show
symptoms of being wise. He who follows one pleasure, one passion after another,
learns the true meaning, the true horror of futility, and feels the hopelessness of
all sensation. He may be punished by seeing only sensation, when consciousness
first awakens and, in besotted state, say "I am insincere" meaning, "Horrors,
there is another sensation." If the mind were not colored and clouded by past
experiences the Truth would be more recognizable. Fortunately we have been told
how the mind may be cleansed so that through it the Real Man may look Upward
which is to give one's self to Instruction. If the inquirer be really desirous he
might try the experiment of not thinking about "himself," "his insincerity," but
go to the Master humbly for teaching. Humility would seem the right attitude.

HEINRICH KLEIN.

QUESTION 162. Why do we find it so difficult to obey the authority that we
heartily recognize?

ANSWER. Paul of Tarsus has treated this question with great sincerity and
force : "What I would, that I do not ; but what I hate, that I do. ... I find
then a law, that, when I would do good, evil is present with me. For I delight in
the law of God after the inner man : but I see another law in my members,
warring against the law of my mind, and bringing me into captivity to the law of
sin which is in my members. O wretched man that I am, who shall deliver me
from the body of this death?" (Romans, vii, 15-24). It is a question of the
psychic body, which still bears the impress of many past acts of self-indulgence
and disobedience, the momentum of which persists, and makes it difficult to obey,
even when we heartily so wish, in that part of our nature which Paul calls "the
inner man." But we need find no cause for discouragement here. For the law
of momentum acts even more powerfully in the case of good efforts. Indeed, it is
the accumulated weight of these goT)d acts of will which, in the fulness of time,
carries us through the Gates of Gold. Therefore, go forward like a good soldier;
always do your best, knowing that the angels fight on your side. C. J.

ANSWER. The answer to the question might be given in Wordsworth's lines

"The world is too much with us, late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers."

Should we direct these powers, "one-pointed," towards learning the will of the
authority we heartily recognize, and having learned, set out to do the will, the
difficulty would grow less with each act of obedience. S. W. A.

186 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

QUESTION 163. In order to be eligible for membership in the Theosophical
Society must one believe in Reincarnation, Karma, Kama-Loka, Devachan, Mahat-
mas and Magic ?

ANSWER. Decidedly not. It is not necessary for one to accept any or all.
To many these words represent doctrines that are too new and startling and quite
impossible to be comprehended at once. They may be put quietly aside, with the
assurance that so far as they are Truths pertaining to the spiritual nature, a
comprehension of their meaning will sooner or later come to the faithful student.
There are other people to whom these truths come as cooling draughts to parched
lips. They afford a rational solution to many otherwise unsolvable problems of
life. The one essential qualification for membership in the Theosophical Society
is acceptance of the principle of Universal Brotherhood, which in its practical
operation looks to the greatest good of Humanity without distinction of race,
creed, sex, caste or color. A mere belief in this principle is not enough; one must
work conscientiously and untiringly for its realization. He may believe in a God
or in no God; he may give adherence to any creed, religion or philosophy, or he
may hold to none; these are purely personal matters pertaining to himself alone.
What is required is that he act daily and hourly acccording to his highest light,
and that he exercise that strict toleration and pure charity toward all men which
he rightfully claims for himself. When one's life is ordered on these lines, growth
and progress are assured; for by considering the rights of all others as equal to
his own and by assisting them to the extent of his power, he is killing by disuse,
the groveling propensities of his own lower nature. Whoever thus earnestly
strives, attains a knowledge of the verities of life, his whole nature becomes
attuned to the harmonies of all Being, and as his interior senses develop he begins
to get glimpses of that high destiny which is man's birthright.

W. M. T.

THE ANNUAL CONVENTION OF THE THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY
British National Branch

The Annual Convention of the British National Branch was held at the Royal
Arcade Assembly Rooms, Pilgrim Street, Newcastle-on-Tyne, June 8, 1913. The
meeting was called to order by the General Secretary at 3.30 P. M. After organiza-
tion and the election of officers, Mr. Hardy as chairman and Mr. Ayre as Conven-
tion Secretary, greetings were read from Mr. Charles Johnston as Chairman of the
Executive Committee T. S. (New York), Mr. Walter H. Maddison and Mr. Patter-
son, Mr. Basil Cuddon, Mr. W. H. Edwards, Miss Trood, and Mr. Paul Raatz
(Berlin Branch), and a telegram from Mrs. Keightley.

Brooklyn, New York, May 13, 1913.
To the Members of the Theosophical Society in England, Greetings!

Fellow Members : It is my privilege and pleasure to write to you, at the direc-
tion of the Annual Convention of the Theosophical Society, to return our heartiest
thanks for the Greetings which you so cordially sent us through Dr. Keightley,
whom we love and revere.

The note of the Convention was the deepening of Theosophical consciousness,
in the world in general, and in the Theosophical Society in particular. It was felt
that, because of this deepening consciousness, the Convention just held was the
most vital in the history of the Theosophical movement, carrying a rich promise for
the time to come.

I am directed also to convey to you the sincerest good wishes and warmest
good will for your own work during the coming year. You share the splendid
opportunities which open before all who work in this movement You share,
therefore, the great responsibilities which go with these opportunities. May we
all rise to our opportunities and show ourselves equal to our responsibilities, to
that end drawing on the deep reservoirs of spiritual power ever within reach of
those who have faith and trust and love.

Fraternally and cordially yours,

CHARLES JOHNSTON,
Chairman, Executive Committee, T. S.

The Secretary of the Convention was directed to reply with best thanks for the
fraternal good wishes.

REPORT OF THE GENERAL SECRETARY

This last year has been one of quiet and steady growth, and the members and
Branches have demonstrated an increasing activity. This has been greatest in the
north of England, where the most active centres are situated. There has been
activity in Norfolk, where the charter of a new Branch has been issued. On the

187

188 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

Agenda you will see that a place has been reserved for the discussion of Branch
Work, and of the steps to make this more markedly effective.

There has been a considerable increase in the number of members who have
joined the T. S., twenty-three in all, and I regret to have to record the death of
Mrs. Mackie, one of our oldest members, in Glasgow. We have also to regret
the resignation of four members. We thus have a net gain of eighteen, as com-
pared with four last year.

The Treasurer's Report* will be laid before you, and this shows a satisfactory
condition. There is a satisfactory balance and it may be wise to consider whether
we shall forward a donation to the QUARTERLY fund, since our American brethren
generously send each of us a copy. Although many of us subscribe directly, all are
not able to do so, and I think we may very well in this manner recognize our
obligation so far as we are able.

I am glad to say that I have heard from New York that the balance in the
hands of the Treasurer has very much increased, and also the list of members.
Thus their devoted work is telling and we may be glad to congratulate them. On
behalf of the British National Branch I sent a letter of greeting to the Convention
and received in reply from Mr. Charles Johnston, the Chairman, a greeting to our
present Convention.

The Report of the Corresponding Secretary to the Executive Committee will
also be laid before you for consideration.

The Report of the Pamphlet Committee* will be laid before you. Certain
changes in method have been made and these, I think, will add to the efficacy of the
work and the distribution and number of the Pamphlets printed.

The increase of the circulation both of the THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY and of
the pamphlets would, I think, be a very admirable mode of spreading the knowledge
of the philosophy, and much may be done by lending and giving copies to friends
who may evince their interest.

ARCHIBALD KEIGHTLEY,
General Secretary, British National Branch.

June 8, 1913.

On the motion of Mrs. Bagnell, the Report was adopted.

REPORT OF THE CORRESPONDING SECRETARY TO THE EXECUTIVE COMMITTEE

FOR 1912-13.

Oulton Lodge, Aylsham, Norfolk.

It was decided at the Convention last year, to continue the Correspondence plan
for another year, at any rate ; but I regret that I am unable to give a more encour-
aging report of this branch of the work. While in certain individual cases there
has been a steady and successful effort to fulfil the duties of Branch Corresponding
Secretary with method and regularity, there has been no apparent demand for
letters from the members in general; and my letters have not been answered in
most cases. One or two people who wrote with apparent interest and enthusiasm,
have since dropped off perhaps because the answers they received were not what
they expected, or from other causes of which I know nothing. The Corresponding
Secretary for the South Shields Branch has written to me regularly, reporting and
commenting on the work of the Branch; her letters have been very interesting,
and I am told that my letters to the Branch are appreciated. While this is the
case, in even a single instance, I do not think that the plan can be considered a
failure, and I am quite willing to continue to do what I can in this work, if the
Convention should decide to continue it. The Corresponding Secretary for the
Newcastle Branch has written to me once only, his letter was dated October 31st

These reports are omitted here, for lack of space.

THEOSOPHICAL CONVENTION 189

of last year. I replied to this, but have not since heard from him. A member of
the Sunderland Branch has written lately, and I think he would make a good
Corresponding Secretary, if he can be persuaded to continue in this post, but he
says that he has only taken it up temporarily. A young member has been doing
correspondence for the Norfolk Branch, which has now five members.

It is for the Convention to decide what plan shall be followed during the
coming year. I much regret my unavoidable absence from the Convention this
year, and my consequent inability to take part in any discussion but I would
suggest that, in any case, a Corresponding Secretary to the Executive Committee
should again be elected, and that the various Branches should endeavour to con-
tinue the work if they can. ALICE GRAVES.

It was decided to accord a hearty vote of thanks to Mrs. Graves for her past
work. On the motion of Mr. Kennedy, seconded by Dr. Keightley, it was agreed
to arrange that each Lodge send in an initial Report to the Corresponding Secre-
tary, so that their respective positions might be gauged.

After the election of the customary committees, the question of the time and
place of the next Convention was discussed, but ultimately it was moved by Dr.
Keightley and seconded by Mr. Wilkinson to hold the next Convention on May 17,
1914; and the place of meeting was left in the hands of the Executive Committee.
Carried unanimously.

The Convention adjourned, after a general discussion, at 5.15 P. M.

THOMAS A. AYRE,

Convention Secretary.
68 Saville Street, South Shields, Durham.

AN ADDITION

To the list of Branches represented at the Annual Convention of the T. S., held
in New York on April 26th, should be added the name of Newcastle-on-Tyne
Lodge, England. This name was inadvertently omitted from the list which
appears on page 78 of the July QUARTERLY.

THE ANNUAL CONVENTION OF THE UNION OF GERMAN BRANCHES
OF THE THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY

The Convention of the "Union of German Branches" took place in Munich
on Saturday, Sunday and Monday, June 14, 15 and 16, 1913. On Saturday evening,
as an introduction to the official session a public lecture was given by Mr. Oskar
Stoll, of Berlin, in Museum Hall. Before the lecture Mr. Paul Raatz, as chairman,
called attention to the Spirit and Method of the Theosophical Society and empha-
sized the fact, that the numerous crises, which had taken place in the Theosophical
Society were due solely to ignorance in respect to the real spirit of the T. S. ; it
should, therefore, be a source of great satisfaction to note that this spirit is being
better comprehended, not only by members but by those outside the Society.

The subject of Mr. Stoll's lecture was: "The Mission of the Theosophical
Society." It was listened to by a large audience, with great interest, and the Munich
daily papers gave a very friendly report, calling special attention to the chief points
in the lecture, namely, that "Brotherhood" is the sole foundation and principal aim

190 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

of the Society and that the secondary aim : the investigation of the psychical
powers in man, must in no wise be confused with the development of so-called
occult powers. An interesting, harmonious discussion followed, Mr. Max Kolb
taking the chair.

The business meeting took place on Sunday. After some words of welcome
by Mr. Raatz, the list of delegates was read. Mr. Max Kolb was then chosen
chairman, and Dr. Barrenberg, Secretary of the meeting. The Branches in the
Union: Aussig, Berlin, Flensburg, Munich, Neusalz and Suhl, were represented
either personally or by proxy. Members from Dresden were also present, and we
desire to make special mention of the pleasure which Mrs. Binks, from South
Shields, England, gave us by being present.

The climax of interest was reached when the letters of greeting from friends
in America, England, Norway, Austria and Germany were read, inspiring the
Convention, as they did, with strength and increasing consciousness of harmonious
unity.

Mr. Raatz gave a report of the Convention in New York, which he had visited
personally and from which he had brought back the feeling that there the true
spirit of the T. S. had come to life. His report contained a sketch of the history
of the Theosophical Society in Germany, of which he has been a member from
the beginning. Mrs. Binks gave an account of the work in the North of England,
which had increased considerably during the last year. The German branches
reported increased life and membership, and the Treasurer's report showed that
the finances of the Union were in good condition. The officers of the Union were
reflected, with one exception. In place of Mr. Schoch, who was travelling, Mrs.
Frink, Neusalz, was elected as member of the Executive Committee.

A vote of thanks was extended to the Munich Branch for their exceedingly
generous hospitality and excellent work in arranging the Convention. Financial
support was also granted for our quarterly, Theosophisches Leben and a resolution
passed to send copies to several German universities, the subscription to be paid
by the Union.

On Monday an excursion was made to the famous mountain "Wendelstein,"
where the fine weather and the wonderful view of the Alpine glaciers made a deep
impression on all present, seeming to be a beautiful symbol of all that had been
experienced during the days of the Convention.

COMMENTS

JANUARY 1914

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

"THEOSOPHY AND THE COMING CHRIST/'

WE have received, from a valued friend, a booklet noteworthy,
in part, because it brings into the clear light of day certain
views and theories much canvassed of late, but nowhere so
frankly and sincerely stated; noteworthy also for its mis-
understandings, for it is in essence an attempt to show that "the teachings
of Theosophy and the facts upon which the Christian Faith is based are
incompatible, and to accept both is a logical impossibility."

This conclusion is so completely opposed to what we hold to be
true, that it is important to follow the process of thought which has led
to it. It may be that, in doing this, we may, at the same time, be able
to make clearer what we hold Theosophy to be, what we understand
Christianity to be, and what appears to us to be the true relation
between them.

In the sentence just quoted, we find our first important clue. It
is evident that, in the view of the writer of this pamphlet, Theosophy
means what is promulgated by certain individuals. But we believe that
Theosophy is really something widely different; something which is not,
and cannot be, promulgated by anyone ; something which must be lived,
not promulgated ; something which can only be revealed by living it ; which
can only be understood by living it. Theosophy is not a system of
doctrines ; it is the living Spirit of the Divine.

So we are convinced that no one has, or can have, under any circum-
stances whatever, either the right or the power to promulgate an authori-
tative statement of Theosophy; not even Mme. H. P. Blavatsky herself,

192 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

highly as we honour her; not even a Master of Wisdom, deeply as we
reverence the Masters.

For the real Theosophy, the Theosophy of the Masters, the The-
osophy for which Mme. H. P. Blavatsky lived and suffered and died,
is a divine revelation, a divine power revealing itself in life. Only as
it is revealed in life, can we say that it is Theosophy. "By their fruits
ye shall know them." Theosophy is to be known by its fruits, and
whatever does not bring forth the fruits of Theosophy, is not Theosophy.

"By their fruits ye shall know them." This is the vital principle
which the Christian Master laid down, for the testing of his own teaching.
The wisest among his followers have always adhered to it. Thus Paul
writes to the Romans : "Ye have your fruit unto holiness, and the end,
everlasting life." To the Galatians he writes: "The fruit of the Spirit
is love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness,
temperance." And James, the Lord's brother, affirms the same law:
"The wisdom (Sophia) that is from above is first pure, then peaceable,
gentle, easy to be entreated, full of mercy and good fruits, without
partiality, and without hypocrisy. And the fruit of righteousness is sown
in peace, of them that make peace."

"The wisdom from above" is the true Theosophy. Born in the heart
by divine inspiration it begins forthwith to transmute the whole being
to its own divine nature, changing the mortal to the immortal, making over
the animal into the angel; the end, as Paul says, everlasting life. That
is the test of Theosophy. Wherever life is thus made divine, changed
from the earthly to the likeness of the heavenly, there is true Theosophy,
the spirit of divine life itself, working in the heart.

That is its only authentic revelation. That which bears the fruits of
Theosophy is Theosophy. That which does not bear the fruits of Theos-
ophy is not Theosophy. Let us try to apply this test to any system
promulgated by individuals. What are its fruits? A new dogmatism,
more rigid and complicated than the old, a dogmatism resting on
"authority ?" Such a close-knit and complex dogmatism is not that serene
and universal Spirit of Life, the true Theosophy, which makes over the
earthly in the likeness of the heavenly, through the divine indwelling light,
the celestial fire of spiritual life ; such a dogmatic system is not the divine
power which transmutes the mortal into the immortal. One might, indeed,
affirm every article of this new dogmatism, and yet bear none of the fruits
of the Spirit, the fruits of true Theosophy.

We therefore hold that the writer of this pamphlet was completely
misled, in going to India to "promulgate Theosophy." The inevitable
disillusionment, therefore, while it was painful, was also salutary. But,

NOTES AND COMMENTS 193

for this suffering, keen and real as it evidently was, these misconceptions,
and not Theosophy, must bear the blame.

One more sentence from the introductory Note. The writer declares
that, "if the facts relating to the preaching of Theosophy in India could
be fully made known in England, we do not think that many would
continue to call themselves Theosophists. At any rate, the expression
'Christian Theosophist' would cease to exist." We share the belief that
real good will come of a thorough knowledge of the facts. But we do
not think that this necessarily leads us to the above conclusion; but
rather that a deeper understanding may lead many men and women of
pure heart to realize that, in purpose and aspiration, they are Theoso-
phists ; and we believe this to be true of the most devoted followers of
Christ.

Does sincere advocacy of Christianity necessarily imply a real under-
standing of Christianity? The question is suggested by the following
passage of the pamphlet: "Is that Christianity at all which denies the
exclusive claims of Christ, and accepts as equally unsatisfactory all the
great religions of the world ? Where would Christianity have been now,
if a place had been accepted for Christ in the Greek Pantheon? Where
would Christianity be now in India or Japan, if Christ were admitted to
be only an alternative to Krishna or the Amida ?"

Here we touch on a vital principle: "Is that Christianity at all
which denies the exclusive claims of Christ?" This may mean either
exclusive claims made by Christ or exclusive claims made for Christ.
We shall try to consider both ; for we believe that the supposed "exclu-
sive" character of Christianity has been a thorn in the side of Christian
life for ages ; and we believe also that the time is coming when this thorn
must be extracted, and the wound healed.

To go to the heart of the matter: Did Jesus make any "exclusive
claims" for himself ? To begin with, did he "exclude" anything that was
excellent in Judaism? Did he not, rather, conspicuously include all that
was best in the religion of those about him? Take a characteristic
example : the story of the young man of great possessions, who came to
Jesus, saying: "Good Master, what good thing shall I do, that I may
have eternal life?"

The Master answered:

"Why callest thou me good? There is none good but one, that is,
God : but if thou wilt enter into life, keep the commandments.

"He said unto him, which?

"Jesus said, Thou shalt do no murder, Thou shalt not commit adul-
tery, Thou shalt not steal, Thou shalt not bear false witness, Honour
thy father and thy mother : and, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.

194 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

"The young man said unto him, all these things have I kept from my
youth up : what lack I yet ?

"Jesus said unto him, If thou wilt be perfect, go and sell that thou
hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven: and
come and follow me." (Matthew xix, 16-22.)

Did Jesus impose on him, or propose to him, any new dogma?
Did he make any "exclusive" claim ? Did he bid him give up the teaching
into which he was born ? Did he not, on the contrary, refer him back to
the Commandments, the central essence of the Jewish faith?

Jesus said, it is true, "Come and follow me." What did he mean
by "follow me?" Are we not led to his fuller meaning in the wonderful
variant of the story: "One thing thou lackest: go thy way, sell what-
soever thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in
heaven: and come, take up the cross, and follow me." (Mark x, 21.)

Did the Master mean, to follow him, by a dogmatic acceptance?
Or did he mean to follow him in a method and a life? Did he say
"believe in the cross" or "take up the cross?" Is it not a question of
leading the life which the Master led, a life of perfect obedience to the
Father? "If ye keep my commandments, ye shall abide in my love; even
as I have kept my Father's commandments, and abide in his love."

Let us try to apply the principle which underlies this wonderful
story. It was entirely possible for the young man, who was a good Jew,
to remain a good Jew, and at the same time to "follow Jesus" in this
sense. The elder disciples remained pious Jews to the day of their death,
"continuing daily with one accord in the temple." We would go even
further, and say that pious Jews, like Philo of Alexandria, did in fact
"follow Jesus" in this true sense, though they did not bear his name,
and were not reckoned among his disciples.

But let us press the matter further. Would it be possible for a
good Hindu, or a good Buddhist, to "follow Jesus," in the true sense,
and yet to remain a good Hindu or a good Buddhist? We believe that
it would be more than possible: it would be well nigh inevitable for
whoever really lived up to the essence of the Indian teachings. And we
believe that the Master would accept such a following of him, as sufficient
for salvation, for the inheritance of eternal life.

Let us suppose that the young man who came to Jesus had been a
good Hindu or a good Buddhist. Jesus would have bade him keep the
Commandments. When the young man asked, which? Jesus could have
answered, from the Buddhist scriptures :

"Abstinence from destroying life ; abstinence from theft ; abstinence
from fornication and all uncleanness ; abstinence from lying."

NOTES AND COMMENTS 195

Would this have differed in essential moral value from the answer
he did give? Or, in other words, did that answer "exclude" that which
is the essence of Buddhist teaching?

To approach the matter in another way. Let us suppose that, instead
of being born in Palestine, Jesus had been born in India, among Hindus
or among Buddhists. Have we any good reason to believe that he would
have found Hinduism or Buddhism alien to his spirit, any more than he
found what was excellent in Judaism alien to his spirit? Could he not
have delivered his message as completely, could he not have lived his
life and exemplified his method as perfectly in India as in Palestine,
with the Vedas and Upanishads as his background, instead of the Law
and the Prophets? Would not the essential result have been the same?
May we not, then, believe that it was not so much a special fitness in
Palestine, which drew him thither, but rather the crying need of the
Western world?

Is it not time, then, that those who honour Jesus, as the writer of this
pamphlet so evidently honours him, should do him the justice of seeing
what is vital in his teachings, and what is but the clothing of this vital
part, as truth is clothed in parable? And is it not here that Theosophy
can be of the utmost help, bringing its universal view of spiritual things,
its vital realization of the processes of spiritual life, eternally the same
under many vestures?

Jesus was a Theosophist, in that he exemplified, both by his life
and in his teaching, the venerable spiritual laws, the law of resurrection,
the law of the new birth from above. He had reached his real resur-
rection long before his death. It was in the body of that real resur-
rection that he showed himself to his disciples in the Transfiguration.
And in virtue of that real Resurrection he was able, after the death of
the physical body, to manifest himself in what we have come to think
of as his resurrection. In virtue of that real resurrection he is. The
problem is, to find him; and this can be done only by living the life he
lived, by following the method which that life exemplifies: in other
words by applied Theosophy.

Returning to our pamphlet, we find the supposed "fundamental
differences between Christianity and Theosophy" illustrated in this way :
"In Ceylon, there is a state of open war. Singhalese Buddhism, which
was in a somewhat lethargic condition, has been galvanized into fresh
life by the efforts of Western Theosophists ; a regular campaign against
Christian work is carried on ; rival schools are opened with the deliberate
intention of ruining Christian schools ; Mission schools have been repeat-
edly burned down in the night, and the crime is laid at the door of
Buddhist Theosophists."

196 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

Again "by their fruits ye shall know them." Genuine Theosophy
will never bear fruits like that, nor express itself in attacks on Christian
schools ; though it may point to certain misunderstandings, as travesties,
rather than true expressions, of the teachings of Christ. But it does this
from love of Christianity, never from hatred of Christianity. In Mme.
H. P. Blavatsky's words: "Once more we have to beg the reader not
to lend an ear to the charge against Theosophy in general and the writer
in particular of disrespect toward one of the greatest and noblest
characters in the history of Adeptship Jesus of Nazareth nor even of
hatred to the Church."

Genuine Theosophy, therefore, would never attack Christianity.
Neither would genuine Hinduism or genuine Buddhism. The Buddha's
attitude toward the older faiths of his land was perfectly tolerant. He
stood toward the Vedic religion exactly as Jesus stood toward Judaic
religion, taking it as his starting point, and developing its moral essence.
Here is a characteristic instance, from the Maha Vagga :

"The Blessed One drew near to where the Goatherd's banyan tree
was.

"There a certain Brahman, who was of a proud and contemptuous
disposition", drew near to where The Blessed One was ; and having drawn
near, he exchanged greetings with The Blessed One, and spoke to The
Blessed One as follows:

" 'Gotama, what is it that constitutes a Brahman, and what are the
Brahman-making qualities.'

"Then The Blessed One, concerning this, on that occasion, breathed
forth this solemn utterance,

" 'The Brahman who his evil traits hath banished,
Is free from pride, is self -restrained and spotless,
Is learned, and the holy life hath followed,
'Tis he alone may claim the name of Brahman ;
With things of earth he hath no point of contact.' '''

This is a close parallel to the story of the young man with great
possessions. The Brahman's question was, in essence, the same, "What
must I do to be saved?" The Teacher's answer also was in essence the
same ; he sent the questioner back to the vital things of his own religion ;
and yet, though, like the Master of Galilee, he asked for no dogmatic
adhesion, his answer was, in the spiritual sense "Follow me"; for the
essential things of the older Brahmanism are also the essential things of
the Buddha's teaching, in that they are the essential things of all religion.

Another example of the Buddha's attitude from the Tevijja Sutta:

The Buddha came to the Brahman village in Kosala which is called

Manasakata. Now at that time many very distinguished and wealthy

NOTES AND COMMENTS 197

Brahmans were staying there. And a conversation sprang up between
two of them, Vasettha and Bharadvaja, concerning the path which leads
to union with Brahma. They referred the dispute to the Buddha, who
asked them whether they themselves or their teachers, Brahmans versed
in the Three Vedas, had seen Brahma face to face.

They answered that neither they nor their teachers had seen Brahma.

The Blessed One said:

"Verily, Vasettha, that those Brahmans versed in the Three Vedas,
but omitting the practice of those qualities which really make a man a
Brahman, and adopting the practice of those qualities which really make
men not Brahmans, that they, by reason of their invoking and praying
and hoping and praising, should, after death and when the body is
dissolved, become united with Brahma, verily, such a condition of things
has no existence."

The Buddha's perfect tolerance is not less striking than his intense
moral earnestness; but most striking is the identity between his method,
as here shown, and the method of Jesus, in dealing with the older faiths
which they found in possession of the hearts of their hearers. These
older faiths they accepted, laying stress on their spiritual essence, and
making them the basis and point of departure of their own teaching.
There was no violence, no attack, no solution of continuity, but a quiet
and orderly outgrowth from the already existing and accepted faith.

To the Buddhists of Ceylon, therefore, and to the Mission schools,
we offer, for their thoughtful consideration, the great Edict on Tolera-
tion, issued by King Asoka of Pataliputra, in the third century before
Christ :

"His Majesty does reverence to the men of all religions, whether
ascetics or householders, by donations and various modes of reverence.

"His Majesty, however, cares not so much for donations or external
reverence, as that there should be a growth of the essence of the matter
in all religions. The growth of the essence of the matter assumes various
forms, but the root of it is restraint of speech, to wit, a man must not do
reverence to his own religion by disparaging that of another man."

We come now to the specific doctrine which appears to be at present
the centre of one dogmatic system: the announcement that a youthful
Madrasi is to be used for a Divine Incarnation, an Avatar. The writer
of the pamphlet describes these theories in detail, and evidently supposes
that they are the result of visions, or supposed visions, of an individual.

This does not appear to be the case. In this system, as here
set forth, on the authority of passages from its text-books, we recognize
certain familiar elements ; first, fragments of the letters of the

198 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

Master K. H., embodied in Esoteric Buddhism; next, shreds and patches
from Isis Unveiled and The Secret Doctrine; and, third, things which, in
the early days of The Theosophical Society, were reported, often, perhaps,
incorrectly, as having been said by Mme. H. P. Blavatsky.

Now it is very risky to use Mme. Blavatsky's books in this way,
for the following reason : It was Mme. Blavatsky's habit to put forward
what she had to say somewhat indirectly, supporting her position largely
by quotations from writers on religion, philosophy and mysticism, in
encyclopedic variety and abundance. Very often, the exoteric writings
conveyed only a part of what Mme. Blavatsky had in mind. Sometimes
they distorted even that part. Often they were quoted, only to be
contradicted. And we have to use very great care, in reading Mme.
Blavatsky's writings, if we are to distinguish between passages of these
different classes; and only as we do distinguish correctly, can we be
sure of having what Mme. Blavatsky really wished to convey.

In the dogmatic system, as set forth in this pamphlet, the references
to races and sub-races appear to be taken from Esoteric Buddhism. The
references to Hermes, Zoroaster, Orpheus and Siddhartha appear to have
been drawn, somewhat confusedly, from The Secret Doctrine.

But the author is very far from embodying the views of Mme.
Blavatsky in the curious system we have been considering, though, as we
saw, Mme. Blavatsky's books supply the starting-point of some of its
ideas. What Mme. Blavatsky herself thought of the Western Avatar and
his work, was set forth in the "Notes and Comments" of THE THEO-
SOPHICAL QUARTERLY for January, 1913.

It seems, therefore, that this part of the new system is a
conglomerate of older fragments, skillfully cemented together, often,
perhaps, to the detriment of their original relation. On this somewhat
heterogeneous foundation, is built the specific Avatar doctrine.

At this point, it may be wise to remind ourselves of the real teaching
concerning Avatars. A fundamental passage is in the Bhagavad Gita
(iv, 6-9).

"Though unborn, an unpassing Self, Lord of All beings, resting on
my own nature, I am born through the magical power (may a) of my
Self.

"For whenever there is a waning of righteousness, an outbreak of
unrighteousness, then I put my Self forth,

"For the salvation of the holy, and for the destruction of evil-doers ;
to establish righteousness, I am born in age after age (yuga) ."

NOTES AND COMMENTS 199

The same teaching is preserved even in popular Buddhism. In the
introduction to the Jataka, for example, we are presented with a picture
of the future Buddha, in heaven, surrounded by the Four Maharajas and
the gods, who reminded him of his high destiny, to become incarnate
"in order to save the world." The future Buddha then discerning the
time, the land, the family, in which he should be born, "died out of
heaven and was conceived in the womb of queen Mahamaya."

The Brahman seers made this announcement to the divinely chosen
queen : "You will bear a son. And he, if he continue to live the house-
hold life, will become a universal monarch, but if he leave the household
life and retire from the world, he will become a Buddha, and roll back
the clouds of sin and folly of this world."

Let us consider the Western parallel of this teaching. The
Bhagavad Gita began by depicting the Divine Being, unborn, unchanging,
Lord of all beings. This aspect of the divine Logos is very fully set
forth by Philo of Alexandria, who appears to have been born some ten
or twenty years before Jesus ; and whose most important writings on the
doctrine of the Logos appear to have been completed about 20 A. D.
Philo speaks of the "One, uncreated, imperishable, the ruler and Lord of
the universe." In or beside this immutable Eternal, there is the Thought,
or Mind, or Logos, of God. The Logos is a divine image of God. All
things were created through the Logos. Every man in regard to his
intelligence is connected with the divine Logos, being an impression, or
a fragment, or a ray, of that blessed nature. Therefore man is the
sacred temple for an intelligent soul, the image of which he carries in
his heart.

"Since, therefore," says Philo, "God invisibly enters into this region
of the soul, let us prepare that place to be an abode worthy of God. For
if, when we are about to receive kings, we prepare our houses to wear a
more magnificent appearance, what sort of habitation ought we to prepare
for the King of kings, for God the ruler of the whole universe, conde-
scending, in his mercy and lovingkindness for man, to visit the beings
whom he has created, and to come down from the borders of heaven to
the lowest regions of the earth, for the purpose of benefiting our race?
Shall we prepare him a house of stone or wood? . . . No, a pious
soul is his fitting abode." (De Cherubim, 29, 30.)

The writer of the Fourth Gospel took this doctrine of the Logos as
the background of the life of Jesus, whom he identified wth the Logos,
become incarnate for the salvation of mankind:

"In the beginning was the Word [Logos] and the Word [Logos]
was with God, and the Word [Logos] was God. All things were made
by [or, through] him; and without him was not anything made that was
made. In him was life ; and the life was the light of men. And the light

200 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

shineth in the darkness; and the darkness apprehended [or, overcame]
it not . . .

"And the Word [Logos] became flesh, and dwelt [tabernacled]
among us (and we beheld his glory, glory as of the only begotten from
the Father) [or, an only begotten from a father] full of grace and
truth . . .

"Of his fulness we all received, and grace for grace. For the law
was given by [or, through] Moses ; grace and truth came by [or, through]
Jesus Christ."

We have quoted from the Revised Version of the New Testament,
including marginal readings, in order that fine shades of meanings may be
preserved. John, therefore, regards Jesus as an incarnation of the
Logos, "the true light, which lighteth every man coming into the world."
As a parallel to the phrase, "the only begotten son," we may quote these
words of Philo: "The Father of the universe has caused him (the
Logos) to spring up as the eldest son, whom, elsewhere, he calls his
firstborn." (De Confusione Linguarum, 14.)

John, therefore, regards Jesus as an incarnation of the Logos, in
glory like the Logos, which is the "eldest son," "the firstborn of the
Father." Let us come now to the claims which Jesus made for himself,
as recorded by John, asking ourselves whether they are an expression of
the doctrine of the Avatar, the incarnation of the Logos, as we have
found it in the Eastern teachings.

Speaking to Nicodemus, Jesus said: "No man hath ascended into
heaven but he that descended out of heaven, even the Son of man [which
is in heaven]. And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness,
even so must the Son of man be lifted up : that whosoever believeth may
in him have eternal life." (John iii, 13.) Jesus, therefore, speaking of
himself as the Son of man, declares that he has descended out of heaven,
to bring eternal life to mankind.

It is not clear whether the verses which immediately follow are
spoken by John of Jesus, or by Jesus of himself. In the first case, which
seems to be most probable, John is once more setting forth the Logos
doctrine; or, if Jesus be the speaker, he is applying the terms of that
doctrine to himself.

Speaking to the woman of Samaria, Jesus declares himself to be
the Messiah, the Anointed, the Christ, the "Lord long looked for" by the
Jews, and his acts throughout his ministry consistently maintained that
position.

Again, we find Jesus saying to the Jews:

"My Father worketh even until now, and I work . . . The Son
can do nothing of himself, but what he seeth the Father doing: for what

NOTES AND COMMENTS 201

things soever he doeth, these the Son also doeth in like manner. For
the Father loveth the Son and sheweth him all things that himself doeth :
and greater works than these will he show him, that ye may marvel.
For as the Father raiseth the dead and quickeneth them, even so the
Son also quickeneth whom he will. For neither doth the Father judge
any man, but he hath given all judgment unto the Son ; that all may
honour the Son, even as they honour the Father. He that honoureth not
the Son honoureth not the Father which sent him." (John v, 17-23.)

It appears to us that the claims which Jesus thus makes for himself
are completely in harmony with the Avatar doctrine, the teaching of the
Logos incarnate "for the salvation of the holy, and for the destruction
of evil doers." Jesus in fact declared himself to be an Avatar, in the time-
honoured symbolic phrases; and all his teaching is entirely consistent
with that character, as are the events of his life, from the Incarnation to
the Resurrection and Ascension.

We return. now to the system under discussion, and to the specific
declaration that a Hindu boy is to be an Avatar. Whether this declaration
be true or not, can be tested but in the one way; by his fruits he
shall be known. But as to the teaching of the system, it has already
borne fruits, and therefore can be known. What may be its scientific
value is a question we do not at present raise; but quite clearly
it should not be called Theosophy, in the sense in which that high and
splendid name is implied by the principles on which the Theosophical
Society was founded.

Summing up this system, the writer of the pamphlet asks: "What
is the authority for all this?" and shows that the followers of its
promulgator are asked to accept it practically on personal assertion.
This brings us to the vital question: What is the true Theosophic
teaching concerning "authority"? Is it not that each man must
be his own authority? that he must prove the faith in his
own life? For in no other way can he do this. "For within you is the
light of the world the only light that can be shed upon the Path. If
you are unable to perceive it within you, it is useless to look for it else-
where." The true teacher is the man's own soul, the ray of the Logos
in him, as Philo said. The Master leads him to that ; this is what Jesus
did.

We hear, in this pamphlet, of many preparations for the work of
the coming Avatar. This leads us to ask ourselves, What is the true way
to prepare for an Avatar's coming? How are we to "prepare the way
before him, and make his path straight"? It would seem that we can
do this in but one way: by living the life. It has been said that in the
footsteps of a million men, Buddha passed through the gates of gold.

202 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

It was not because his coming was not announced, that Jesus came to
the Cross. He was announced, universally expected, and personally
indicated by John the Baptist, himself sent specially for that purpose.
Those to whom he came, failed to receive him, because they failed to
live the life: because they were not, in fact, practical Theosophists.
Exactly the same principle holds today. If, to use the words of the
Precursor, we would "make straight the way of the Lord," we must
live the life; we must be practical Theosophists, in the true meaning
of that high but (because so high) much misunderstood word.

SUN WORSHIP.

The Sun, as the great centre of power and the upholder of all things,
was the Blackfeet's supreme object of worship. He saw that every bud
and leaf and blossom turned its face towards the Sun as the source of its
life and growth; that the berries he ate reddened and ripened under its
warmth; that men and animals thrived under its sustaining light, but all
perished when it was withdrawn. The Sun made the grass to grow and
the trees to be covered with foliage for the subsistence of birds and
animals, upon which he himself in turn depended for food. The devout
Blackfoot therefore called upon men, women and children and every-
thing that had breath to worship the all-glorious, all powerful Sun-God
who fills the heavens with brightness and the earth with life and beauty.

WALTER MCCLINTOCK: The Old North Trail.

Let us add that the vitality given to the will by the prayer of
simplicity will not, perhaps, be perceived at once. So under the Sun's
action, a vast work of growth goes on in the meadows and forests; and
yet all these hidden sources of life do their part slowly and in silence.
All those million molecules of sap circulate like a crowd of workmen
engaged in the construction of a house. So with the prayer of simplicity,
the soul is a field exposed to the Divine Sun. The growth carried on is
a silent one, but it is a real work.

REV. FR. AUG. POULAIN, S.J. : The Graces of Interior Prayer.

FRAGMENTS

ON THE THREE Vows

BEFORE active discipleship is possible there must be prepara-
tion. Christ had thirty years of preparation for three years
of service. In those years of preparation we take the three
vows, poverty, chastity, obedience. And these vows are no mere surface
or exterior acts ; they are conditions of personal consciousness to be made
inherent parts of ourselves.

The first vow to be taken is poverty; the heart must be utterly
emptied of itself; and for the completion of this we pass into the
"Wilderness." All the saints have spoken of the dryness they have
known, the dark hours when even prayer was distasteful. As says
Light On The Path, few pass through this experience without bitter
complaint. Yet it is an essential process, when one by one everything
is surrendered, even those spiritual consolations whose absence it is
so difficult to endure, or even to understand. This process, if not
complete the first time, must be repeated, and therefore is often
repeated. Even the least sediment of remaining self-seeking, will
draw to itself, subtly, other particles of like nature ; and then once
more the dark days must come, lest again we should fall back into
the slavery we were leaving and which we must leave behind forever
if the goal is to be won. The disciple dreads only the slavery to
himself; all other slavery is but a shadow, and has no meaning for
him. So that the "freedom" sought by men today, appears in his
eyes as the shackles of a heavy bondage. The Kingdom is promised
to the poor in spirit, hence our poverty must include this of the
spirit also, in glad submission.

When the heart is altogether emptied we are ready for the
second vow, only possible of taking when our own tainted possessions
are removed, that the divine purity of the Master may fill us in their
stead. Were he to pour his Grace into a polluted vessel, it would

803

204 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

itself become polluted also. Therefore, the vessel must be cleansed.
True chastity does not consist alone in outward form or restriction;
it is the undimmed reflection in human heart and mind and will
of the radiant Whiteness of the Father. When this vow has been
taken we become Tabernacles of the Holy Ghost.

Cleansed by poverty, filled with his purity (who alone is pure),
we may see him, since the pure in heart see God, and then for the
first time seeing, may recognize and understand his will. So we
take our third vow, that of obedience; until then impossible of taking
save in dim distorted fashion, but now clearly, definitely, and so with
joy. Let us not ignore the part that Joy plays in discipleship, lest
we confuse ourselves. While there is effort in these matters we are
aspirants, struggling upwards; and all effort is adjoined to pain.
But from that pain and aspiration mingled, Love is born, and all
things done for love are full of joy. Therefore, that which appears
as suffering from below, the disciple knows as ecstacy. These things
are a mystery, as part of the Mysteries. He that hath ears to hear,
let him hear.

When the three vows are taken we may venture to work without
danger to others or ourselves, without that gravest danger of thwart-
ing His will and hindering His plan.

CAVE.

THE EASTERN CHURCH

HISTORY TO THE SEPARATION

AFTER the supreme eminence of the Nicaean Council one looks
in vain for any special ecclesiastical vantage point from which
to scan the long reach of years which stretches before us down
to the present day and the Church of Modern Russia. Par-
ticularly is it difficult when committed to an attitude of universal tolerance,
of sympathetic comprehension toward one and all of the various sects
which we see crystallizing in such rapid succession.

Folded unquestionably within the walls of any one of the old
separatist churches we could unerringly single out the supremely critical
event or council, the battlefield where all outside Christendom met its
Waterloo; with the Caldean Christians we should deem the ghosts of
the Fathers of Ephesus the only foemen v/orthy of our steel, their
condemnation and banishment of Nestorius in the year 431 A.D. a still
living issue, the third council the final gathering of the Church ; ensconced
within the great and widespread Armenian Church, we should still
continue hurling anathemas at the vanished Arians, blind to the fact
that aught outside, worthy the name of religion, survived the shock of
Chalcedon ; or with the Churches of Egypt and Syria, likewise jealously
guarding the old Nicene Creed in all its pristine originality, we should
take our stand solely on the first three councils, since at the fourth the
changes and conditions proposed first at Constantinople and rejected at
Ephesus were formally sanctioned and approved. As in this form it
has descended practically unchanged to us, and is accepted alike by
Protestant and Catholic, by the East and the West, it is interesting to
insert it here in both guises, noting the sanctioned alterations by printing
the additions in italics, the omitted words in parentheses.

"We believe in one God, the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven
and earth, of all things both visible and invisible: And in one Lord,
Jesus Christ, the Son of God, begotten of the Father before all worlds
(only begotten, that is to say, of the substance of the Father, God of
God), Light of Light, very God of very God, begotten not made, being
of one substance with the Father, by whom all things were made, (both
things in heaven and things in earth) who for us men and for our
salvation came down from the heavens and was made flesh of the Holy
Ghost and the Virgin Mary and was made man and was crucified for
us under Pontius Pilate and suffered and was buried and rose again
on the third day ; according to the Scriptures; went up into the heavens
and is to come again with glory to judge the quick and the dead, and
of his kingdom there shall be no end. And I believe in the Holy Ghost,

205

206 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

the Lord, and Giver of Life, who proceedeth from the Father and the
Son; who with the Father and the Son together is worshipped and
glorified; who spake by the Prophets: And I believe one Catholic and
Apostolic Church: I acknowledge one Baptism for the remission of
sins: And I look for the Resurrection of the dead: And the Life of
the world to come, (But those that say "there was when He was not"
and "before he was begotten He was not" and that "He came into
existence from what was not" or who profess that the Son of God is
of a different "person" or "substance," or that He is created, or change-
able, or variable, are anathematized by the Catholic Church.)"

Probably the expressions introduced concerning the Incarnation and
the Passion were intended but as slight amplifications and explanations,
yet since they drew more sharply the line of dogma, they held the germs
which later fructified into rigid systems; while the enlargements upon
the attributes of the Spirit gave the opening for the addition of the
words "and the Son," which was the theological excuse for the cleavage
between the two great historic churches. It is this grand division which
to us, lacking any superior seat of the scornful, must supply a large
part of the story of the Eastern as well as of the Western Church;
for whose full understanding we have to drag ourselves wearily from
Rome to Constantinople, through the wars of the Crusades, and more
specifically from Council to Council, no one of which holds any para-
mount interest over those -which precede or follow it. In each the
discussions are as labored and interminable, the questions at issue as
involved and trivial, courtesy and mutual forbearance as uniformly
lacking. They clang on the mental ear with the monotonous din of a
boiler factory, where each blow aimed at a petty rivet makes the whole
welkin ring. Without dwelling on such a case of exceptional fury,
as when the Bishop of Constantinople was tramped down and stamped
to death by the Bishop of Alexandria, an authentic scene taken verbatim
from the Report of Chalcedon will serve well enough as a sample, and
will sound the note of the whole dreary series. The moment is when
the historian Theodoret, a most excellent Bishop of Cyrus, entered the
assembly.

"Then the most reverend the Bishops of Egypt, Illyria and Palestine
shouted out 'Mercy upon us! The Faith is destroyed! Turn him out!
Turn out the teacher of Nestorious!' On the other hand, the most
reverend the Bishops of the East, of Thrace, of Pontus, and of Asia
shouted out, 'We were compelled to sign our names to blank papers,
we were scourged into submission! Turn out the Manichaeans! Turn
out the adversaries of the Faith !' Dioscorus, the most reverend Bishop
of Alexandria, said 'Why is Cyril to be turned out? It is he whom
Theodoret has condemned!' The most reverend the Bishops of the
East shouted out, 'Turn out the murderer Dioscorus! Who knows not
the deeds of Dioscorus? Theodoret is worthy worthy!' The most
reverend the Bishop of Egypt shouted, 'Don't call him Bishop, he is

THE EASTERN CHURCH , 207

no Bishop! Turn out the fighter against God! Turn out the defamer
of Christ!' The most reverend the Bishops of the East shouted out,
'The orthodox for the Synod! Turn out the rebels turn out the
murderers !' " And so on and on, with insistent, interminable vitupera-
tion till the Imperial officers stopped the clamor as "unworthy a meeting
of Christian Bishops."

As one visits in turn Constantinople and Ephesus, Chalcedon, twice
again Constantinople, and finally once more Nicaea, one sighs for the
towering, pacific strength of a Constantine, for the might of an Athan-
asius, even though one realizes with growing clearness the futility of
their effort at unification. In the long retrospect it is to be wondered
if their dream, could it have been realized, would have worked ultimate
good. The variations in race, in language, in education, which evidenced
themselves at Nicaea, were too fundamental to be glossed over from
above; the fusion would have been premature, such radical differences
would but have cancelled one another rather than have added themselves to
a common sum total. Better perhaps that each instead should use the
Creed as a lamp to spy out differences, until such time as each shall
have worked out its own salvation in trembling fear of corruption and
so be made ready for the reduction to a great common denominator.

The controversies became ever more narrow, hard and polemical,
until suddenly the Church awoke with a rude shock to the advent of
Mahometanism. It may be a wide stretch of the term to include this
seemingly alien faith within the category of heretical churches, yet there
is ground for regarding Mahomet not as the founder of a new religion,
but, as does Dante in the Inferno, as one of the chief heresiarchs.
The many legends of his friendship with the Nestorian monk, known
sometimes as Sergius, sometimes as Bahari, all point to the fact that
through this wandering heretical son the Eastern Church exercised a
powerful control over the rising fortunes of Islam; while his account
of the Lord Jesus is undoubtedly compiled from the local stories supplied
him by the Syrian Christians, as well as from the apocryphal gospels.
Common ancestry and traditions no doubt account largely for the fact
that many peculiarities of the Greek Church have here their counterpart,
for the frantic excitement of the old oriental religions still lingers in
their modern representatives; both the mad gambols of the Greek and
Syrian pilgrims around the chapel of the Holy Sepulchre, and the frenzy
of the Mussulman dervishes, are distinctively oriental ; both belong to those
wild forms of religion which St. Paul labored to restrain amongst the
first Christian converts. Be this as it may, not only has the Greek
Church been in turn deeply affected by unceasing conflict with this, its
chief enemy, but the sword of Islam checked the policy and restrained
the passions of the churches and nations of all Europe during the Middle
Ages. The Crusades owe their origin entirely to this conflict. The
Spanish Church and monarchy rose out of a crusade of its own, and
still bears the stamp of the Orient in architecture, manners and fierce

208 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

bigotry; the agitations of the Reformation were constantly arrested
by terror of the Sultan; while the English Prayer-book today shows
a trace of this panic-fear in the collect for Good Friday, when the
Turk is prayed for together with other heretics and infidels. Much
of its progress, possibly its rise, can be traced to the dissensions so
rife at that time in the Christian East, which we may sum up in the
quaint words of Dean Prideaux:

"For they having drawn the abstrusest niceties into controversies
which were of little or no moment to that which is the chief end of
our Holy Christian Religion, and divided and subdivided about them
into endless schisms, did thereby so destroy that peace, love, and charity
which the Gospel was given to promote; and instead thereof continually
provoked each other to that malice, rancour and every evil work, that
they lost the whole substance of their religion while they thus eagerly
contended for their own imaginations concerning it, and in a manner
drove Christianity out of the world. So that at length having wearied
the patience and long suffering of God by thus turning this Holy Religion
into a firebrand of hell for contention, strife and violence among them,
He raised up the Saracens to be the instrument of his wrath; who
taking advantage of the weakness of power and distractions of councils,
soon overran with a terrible devastation all the Eastern Provinces of
the Roman Empire. And when the matter came to this trial, many who
were the hottest contenders became the first apostates from Christianity;
and they who would not afore part with a nicety or an abstruse notion
for the peace of the Church, were soon brought by the sword at their
throat to give up the whole in compliance to a barbarous conqueror.
And no wonder that such who had afore wrangled away the substance,
and had eat out the very heart of it by malice and rancour became easily
content when under this force to part with the name also."

The most deep rooted of the causes leading to all these many
subdivisions was undoubtedly the racial. We have seen how almost
immediately the more alien races of the remote East segregated them-
selves, incapable of either comprehending or approving the subtle changes
advanced and advocated by the learned contingent of the Latins and the
Greeks. These two, at first closely knit by their common Aryan tie,
diverged slowly but diametrically, as the one became infused with the
vigorous blood of the invading Goths, the other with that of the more
sluggish Sclavs. More and more plainly we discern the organizing,
practical tendencies of the West, pushing forward to political pre-
eminence; more and more pronounced became the philosophical specu-
lative tendencies of the East, holding with fervid intensity to custom
and precedent; the one proudly winning its title of Catholic, the other
as proudly defending the name of Orthodox.

Next after this fundamental difference of race, and though much
nearer the surface, still a basic cause for the great schism, comes the
rivalry between the Eastern and the Western Empires. When Con-

THE EASTERN CHURCH 209

stantine, partly at least in a revulsion against the essential paganism
of Rome, founded his Christian capital on the Bosphorous, he started
a rift doomed inevitably to widen into a chasm. Instantly we note
in the proceedings of the Council of Constantinople, the first convened
after the establishment of the new city, an added touch of jealousy,
fresh rivalries forced and fostered, a more stringent guarding of privi-
lege and power. While the prelates of Constantinople gained forthwith
in the prestige of royal support, a support speedily to become a synonym
for despotism, the see of Rome gained in her unrivaled supremacy in
the West as sole protector of the Faith in military as well as ecclesi-
astical crises. The freedom insured through neglect inevitably evolved
the ability for decisive action and the keen political judgment for which
Rome has ever been pre-eminent. After the ignominous failure of the
exarch at Ravenna, first Leo and then Gregory stepped into the breach
and saved both the Church and civilization from the scourge of the
Huns. Rome became but nominally subject to the East as its suzerain
lord, and when on Christmas day, A.D. 800, the Pope definitely sought
the protection of the rising power across the Alps by crowning Charles
the Great, "the usurping Frank," as Emperor, the break was complete.

Upon the background of these two causes the psychology of race
and the irresistible current of world-history emerges the more obvious
and easily traced course of purely ecclesiastical events; the bickerings
and back-bitings of successive prelates; disputes as to the proper seat
of the right of ultimate appeal; questions of precedence and govern-
mental adjustments ; through an endless succession of ponderous tomes.
Deplorable though the story is, there are amusingly human touches, as
when Gregory the Great assumes so self-righteous a tone of humility
to gravely rebuke the pride of John the Faster for assuming the title
of Oecumenical Bishop, firmly oblivious of the high papal claims already
being made, grounded on his succession to Peter as the foundation-rock
of the Church a claim, by the way, which might well have been disputed
by the Church of Antioch on the score of descent from the first apostle.

The conflict between pope and patriarch reached so acute a stage
in the ninth century that we find synod after synod convened in rapid
succession, each party as it secured the necessary majority roundly
anathematizing the other, now with the scorn of the finished Greek scholar
for the ruder Latin civilization, now with the disgust of the practical
West for the hairsplitting subtleties of the East.

The final rupture came in the year 1054, when the papal legates
formally laid on the altar of St. Sophia a sentence of anathema denouncing
eleven evil doctrines of the then Patriarch Michael Cerularius and his
supporters. Chief of these doctrines was his opposition to the famous
"Filioque Clause," "The Double Procession of the Spirit." The dispute
is whether, as maintained by the Eastern Church, the Holy Spirit proceeds
from the Father alone, through the Son ; or, as asserted by Rome, through
the Father and the Son as a joint source. It is this doctrinal nicety,

210 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

scarcely less subtle than the Arian controversy itself, which was the
immediate cause of the most momentous fact in the Christendom of the
Middle Ages. For almost a thousand years it, together with some
negligible points of interpretation and of government, has held apart these
two great branches of the Church, and yet viewed by us through the
perspective of the years it dwindles into a bare and bald excuse for a
predetermined severance, into a thin disguise for the cloaking of personal
and political animosities; a diminutive difference beside which the mass
of tradition and belief inherited by each from their centuries of affilia-
tion, looms large indeed. Hand in hand they built up custom and usage,
doctrine and creed; the East as the formulator of thought and theory,
the West as the instrument which put them into external practice. Even
in the East's special field of orthodoxy, it was "Leo's time" which once
and for all settled the question for the entire Church, but it was the close
thinking of the learned Greeks which he thus embodied. Again it was
the West which turned the introspective monasticism of Mt. Athos and
of Studium into such working organizations as the Franciscans and the
Benedictines.

It would take more than the scales of human judgment to weigh the
merits of the two modes of piety, the one of works and the one of
contemplation. The results of the first are more patent and easily
discerned about us today, but till the close of the Middle Ages asceticism
and sanctity were all but interchangeable terms. It was the mysticism
of the cloistered monk, the rigid life of the solitary hermit, roughly clad,
meagerly fed, exposed to wind and weather, which fired the popular
imagination and roused the enthusiasm of the multitude for the things of
the spirit. Again and again an anchorite, trained by the discipline of
solitude, was called from his retreat to fill some high post, and responding
to the unwelcome summons, proved the power gained through detach-
ment.

Yet undoubtedly Basil, to whose genius the cenobite system owes
its origin, drew his rooted distaste to the hermit life from wide personal
observation of its abuses. We learn in the account of Paladius of men
driven mad through the cruelty and self-immolation of their lives, of
others thrown back into grossest excess through the overstrain of depriva-
tion and want. Such extremes Basil summarily checks in his beneficent
rule, and though himself a strict ascetic, cautions them, "If fasting hinders
you from labor, it is better to eat like the workman of Christ that you
are." His deepest objection to the life of the anchorite, however, is
that it gives scope only for the exercise of the first two virtues of the
monastic vow "poverty, chastity and obedience" and that it precludes
humility, the sinking of the personal self in the common life. "Whose
feet wilt thou wash? Whom wilt thou serve? How canst thou be last
of all if thou art alone?" he pertinently inquires. It was his deep aversion
to idleness which first introduced the habit of industry as one of the
elements of the religous orders; yet despite its general acceptance, it is

THE EASTERN CHURCH 211

essentially alien to the highest ideal of Eastern asceticism, strictly inter-
preted. That has ever been the life of contemplation, meditation,
illumination. In devotion to this ideal, in whole-hearted reverence for
the Hermit on the Pillar, even the factions of the early councils main-
tained an unswerving loyalty. And in this reverence the West joined
with the East. Both today can trace their common ancestry back through
Basil and Pachomius to St. Anthony; perhaps even to St. Paul himself,
if credence is given to the shadowy legend of his hermit-life on the
shore of the Red Sea. Both alike have their faint tinge of the hue with
which the first anchorites were colored by contact with the Gnostics and
the Montanists. Both are still vaguely stamped by the influence of the
Indian Therapeutae over the first Egyptian monks.

To the communities of the specifically Eastern monasteries, all
civilization owes an unmeasured debt. It was here that the very life of
art and letters was preserved through the Dark Ages ; here the world's
legacy of priceless manuscripts was guarded and treasured; here were
written those first marvellous hymns of devout adoration; and hence
issued, in the fifteenth century, the scholarship which contributed more
than any one cause to the Revival of Letters and the German Reforma-
tion ; and most incomparable gift of all, a copy of the New Testament in
the original Greek tongue.

Small marvel that the Eastern Church feels itself indubitably the
parent stem from which all branches, Protestant and Catholic, orthodox
and heterodox, have sprung. This honor we may frankly concede them,
"glad that there is a theology in the world of which the free genial mind
of Chrysostorn is still the golden mouth-piece," rejoicing in the thought
of such calm strength resting quietly and confidently on its base of
hereditary belief.

The story of the growth and development of its youngest daughter,
the Church of Russia, demands the space of an entire article; by the
complete severance of Rome, the field was left clear on which to trace
her course from the picturesque beginning of Vladimir's romantic conver-
sion, down to her present condition of vital importance to all Christendom
perhaps even, with a bit of imaginative prevision, on, a little way into
the future.

ANNE EVANS.
(To be continued.)

LETTERS TO FRIENDS

IX
DEAR FRIEND :

I AM sorry for the disappointment and hurt which your letter
reflects still more sorry for the tinge of bitterness that infused
the mood in which you wrote. For though suffering can melt

the heart, till like molten metal it may be poured forth from the
confining walls of self, bitterness only corrodes and hardens it. We
cannot avoid suffering. I think, when we see more deeply and truly
into life, we shall not wish to avoid it. But we can keep, meanwhile,
from being bitter.

There are those who will tell you that all joy and pain are Maya
mere delusions: that the true Self is above them both, knowing
neither one nor the other, but living in an unchanging eternal state of
blessedness and peace. There is truth in this. But it is a truth most
often distorted into falsehood. So the Christian Scientist denies his
pain, till his face is stamped with that set meaningless smile which
marks his isolation from reality. So the modern Stoic, misreading
the great ancient philosophy, hardens his heart against all feeling,
till his only contact with the warm rich life about him is through the
cold and barren chambers of his mind. Surely the Master, who said
that He had come to bring us life, and life in greater abundance, would
not have us so shut ourselves away from what He brings. In His
example we can find no turning from suffering, no hardening of His
heart against His agony, no refusal to accept and to live to the utmost
all that life can bring of joy and pain. He was above them both
proving this by His acceptance of them but the agony of Gethsemane
and the desolation of the cross cannot be read or experienced as mere
delusions. Their terrible, triumphant reality cannot be denied, save
as we deny the reality of all manifested life.

Were we Buddhists we might make this denial, and not be misled
by it. Age long tradition, the inherited mould of mind and tempera-
ment, would enable us to interpret its meaning rightly. Reality and
unreality are but words and East and West use them differently.
In the East there is but one Reality, and that is God, the permanent
essence of all that is never to be reached or known, but always to be
approached. The shadow of the tree, impermanent, shifting, vanishing
and coming again, is unreal. The tree itself, growing from seed to
sapling, to maturity and decay, is unreal also. Naught is real, in
the whole wide world of living things, of light and shadow and
birth and death and love and hate, but the One inmost essence from
which all come, to which all again return. Joy and pain are unreal.

LETTERS TO FRIENDS 213

So, too, is the heart which feels them. They will pass. The heart
will grow cold and die and be reborn. Only the Self endures. Only
the Self is real. Looking always to the Self, accepting light or
shadow, suffering or happiness, we move and grow towards the Real.

This is the Buddhist view that Reality is forever wrapped in
unreality tha't all appearance, all manifestation, is unreal; but that
within it, as its essence and central spark of Being, is Reality itself.
To the Buddhist, therefore, the path to Reality is not in the rejection
and refusal of the unreal, but in its acceptance as the casket of the
Real. He refuses only to leave the casket unopened, or to be content
to live in the darker shadows when he can draw nearer to the light.
For the shadows tell him of the light, and point the way toward it.

Commonly misunderstood throughout the West, as this is, we
can come to understand it rightly if we see that it is the Christian
view as well. "I am the vine, ye are the branches." "As the branch
cannot bear fruit of itself, except it abide in the vine; no more can
ye, except ye abide in me." The life of the branch is not its own :
of itself it can bear no fruit, but must wither and die. Yet, as a
branch, the life of the vine is within it, and through it this life-
grows and flowers and bears fruit and seed. Here is the Christian
symbol of the Real : "I in ye and ye in me" ; as the branch is
in the vine and the life of the vine in the branch ; as light is in
all colour and all colours are in light. And here, too, it seems to
me, is the symbol that can interpret for us joy and suffering.

For the world of personality, the great rich, many coloured
world of manifestation, in which as men and women we live our
human lives, is but the spread spectrum of the white light of the
spirit, refracted from plane to plane through prism after prism of
divine and human consciousness. As we lift our own consciousness
along this great ascending scale, we come to that point of conver-
gence where we experience as one undivided unit, that which, upon
the plane below, appeared widely various and opposed, as the
ultra violet is opposed to the infra red, but both are united in
the unrefracted light; or as two branches of a tree are united in the
crotch from which they diverge.

I think that it is thus with pleasure and with pain. In them-
selves, cut away from that life of which they are the carriers, they
are unreal and meaningless. But in that life, and as they come
to us, they are the opposite poles of one living flame, whose true
essence is above them both, but from which both spring and to which
both must return. To lose our consciousness of this enkindling fire is to
lose hold of life itself. And the nearer we draw to it as we rise above
the world of mere appearance, the more of joy and sorrow must
we expect the surface of our lives to show. We shall feel ever
more and more keenly; but if we are true to our true selves we
shall be above and not below that feeling masters of it, as we

214 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

should be of all feeling, not swayed hither and yon as its chance
winds may blow.

You know all this. For no man can either love greatly or desire
greatly and not experience it. Without love or desire we might feel
brute pain or brute content, but could never know either joy or
sorrow. These are the shadows of love's upward flight, cast now
to the West and now to the East as the sun rises and sets and rises
again. Or they are the downward winds from the beating of its
wings. Use what simile you will, in love and in desire, so either be
great, joy and pain are unified; and no love and no desire has ever
been that did not yield them both, in intensity measured by its own.

Knowing this, why do you let yourself forget it? Surely you
would not love less or desire less. Your love and desire are your
life. And yet, when you resent your pain, when you harden your-
self against it and open the door to bitterness instead, you are turning
from your love, denying and stultifying your desire. You have,
for the moment, fallen from your own true level. You have let
your personal consciousness sink beneath the shadows cast by the
climbing aspiration of your own heart and soul. It is because you are
beneath your pain that you resent it and would cast it from you.
That is not the way your life must move. The way lies through the
pain through the shadow, till you reach its source, and center your
consciousness once more in the flight of love and desire and effort
from which the shadow falls.

Tell me now, why is it that you have felt so disappointed and
so hurt? Because you could not have at once all for which you
wished? Because my letter gave you no magical formula for your
instant transportation to your goal, merely pointing out the first
homely commonplace preparations you must make in order to fit
yourself to travel? If these be the reasons, or some of them, surely
the answer is clear. Would anything be worth having which could
be had merely by wishing for it? You know that what you desire
is a vital thing love, consciousness, communion; that your goal is
a life, not merely some ecstatic state to which you could be lifted, but
a life which must be your life and into which you must grow by
living. See ! The very fact of its present denial, the impossibility
of the instant attainment of its fulness, indicates the greatness of its
worth. And what is your disappointment but the shadow of your
desire? Your goal is great and you greatly desire it. That is the
lesson of your pain; in that, you draw near to its heart and essence.
And as you accept your pain, and in doing this penetrate toward
its source, you will find it quicken and revivify your will. In renewed
desire you will rise above your hurt; and pain and joy will be unified

in love and effort.

Faithfully yours,

JOHN GERARD.

STORIES OF THE FIRST
CHRISTMAS

FROM THE APOCRYPHAL GOSPELS

ALREADY in the early centuries, there were many lovely
stories of the birth and childhood of Jesus; in part the echo
JL V f true memories, in part, perhaps, gathered from older
faiths, in part the flowers of loving fancy which clung about
the strong tree of history. These stories, it was believed, had been
told first by Mother Mary, in the days after the Resurrection, when
she dwelt at Jerusalem with the disciples and the brethren of Jesus;
or they were held to have come from James, the brother of the Lord,
memories of old, quiet days in Galilee.

Some of the most beautiful of these stories are gathered about
Mother Mary herself; the glory of her child shining back upon her
own childhood and on her parents, to whom in their desolate years,
she came as a child of promise. They were dwellers in mid Galilee,
in the little city of Nazareth; Joachim, the father, of the royal line
of David, and Anna, the mother, whose kin were of Bethlehem, far
south among the hills. Simple and holy were their lives, filled with
quiet toil, consecrated by devout offerings when they journeyed to
the temple by the hill of Zion for their solemn festivals, blessed with
compassion and gifts to wanderers and to the city's poor, so that
but a third of their substance remained for their own use.

Twenty years they lived childless and lonely in Nazareth. They
had made a vow that, if a little child came to bless them, they would
give it to the Lord to serve in the temple at Zion. In those days
Issachar was high priest, and when Joachim came, in the waning
days of winter, to make the offerings with the men of the tribe of
David at the feast of the dedication, Issachar the high priest mocked
at him and spurned him, asking how he, the childless man, was not
ashamed to come among those who were blessed with children, for
God would not accept the gifts of the childless. Joachim was covered
with shame, and stole away downcast, hiding himself among the
shepherds on the hills. In the wilderness he pitched his tent, and
abode there forty days in fasting and prayer. For he feared the eyes
. of his neighbors who had heard the high priest's words.

While Joachim dwelt ashamed among the shepherds an angel
came to him, comforting him and bidding him be of good cheer, for
his prayers were heard and his gifts accepted. God had seen his
grief and loneliness and would bless him as Abraham was blessed in

216 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

the birth of Isaac. For Isaac came to Sarah in her old age, and Jacob
likewise to Rebekah, and Samson and holy Samuel ; children of promise
after lonely years. So should he be blessed and Anna with him, in
the birth of a girl child. Mary they were to name her, and she should
serve in the temple, and of her should be born the Son of the Most
High, Jesus the Saviour, according to his name. This, said the angel,
shall be the sign unto thee : when thou returnest to Jerusalem, coming
to the golden gate of the city, thy wife Anna shall meet thee, for
she is greatly afraid because of thy absence.

Then the angel departed from Joachim and went to Anna, who
was greatly distressed, grieving for her widowhood and for her child-
lessness. And walking in her garden between noon and sunset, she
came to a laurel and sat down under it, grieving and praying that
the Lord might bless her as he had blessed Sarah. And looking up
to heaven she saw a sparrow's nest in the laurel, and she cried out,
Woe is me, for the birds of the air are fruitful, and the waters and
the earth, but I am childless.

Then the angel came and stood by her, saying, Anna, the Lord
hath heard thee. Fear not, for I am the angel who carried your
prayers and gifts to the Lord, and God has sent me to tell you a
girl child shall be born to you. You shall call her Mary, and above
all the daughters of women shall she be blessed. She shall dwell
full of grace in your house till she is three years old; then she shall
serve in the temple according to your vow. And from her shall be
born the Saviour of all the world. Go now to Jerusalem. At the
golden gate thou shalt meet thy husband. Be this a sign that all my
words shall be fulfilled.

Then Anna went to Jerusalem, and stood by the gate, and when
she saw Joachim coming, she ran, and hanging about his neck, said,
Now I know that the Lord hath greatly blessed me. So they rejoiced
together and returned to Nazareth, waiting till the promise should
be fulfilled. And a girl child was born to them, and they called her
Mary, according to the angel's word.

And the child grew and increased in strength every day, so that
when she was nine months old, her mother set her upon the ground
to see if she could stand, and when she had walked nine steps she
came again to her mother's lap. So the child grew, and when she
was two years old, Joachim said to Anna, Let us bring her to the
temple of the Lord that we may perform our vow. But Anna said,
Let us wait a year, lest she should be at a loss to know her father.
And Joachim said, Let us then wait.

When Mary had completed her third year, they went up to the
temple to give her to the Lord. There was a stairway of fifteen steps,
where those going thither sang the psalms of pilgrimage, a psalm for
each step. At the foot of the stairs all put on clean raiment. So
they set the child down, while they changed their garments. Though

STORIES OF THE FIRST CHRISTMAS . 217

the steps were steep, yet Mary ascended them to the temple, alone
and unaided, going bravely forward to the Lord. And the high priest
received her and blessed her. And her parents returned to Nazareth.

The Virgin of the Lord grew in the temple as a dove, in years
and in perfections. Day by day angels came to her from the Most
High, talking with her and guarding her from all harm. So Mary
came to her fourteenth year.

The high priest had made an order that the virgins of the tem-
ple, when they were of age to wed, should return to their homes,
to be given in marriage. The other virgins went not unwillingly,
but Mary was not willing to go, for her father and mother had given
her to the Lord.

The high priest was in doubt between the vow and the law of
the temple. Therefore he sought counsel of the Most High before
the ark of the covenant and the mercy seat, and it was made known
to him that the Virgin of the Lord should be given in marriage,
according to the word of Isaiah the prophet, saying, There shall come
forth a rod out of the stem of Jesse and a flower shall spring out of
its root. And the spirit of the Lord shall rest upon him, the spirit
of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the
spirit of knowledge and piety, and the spirit of the fear of the Lord
shall fill him.

Therefore the high priest appointed that all the men of the house
of David son of Jesse, who were of estate to be married, should bring
each his rod to the altar. And of whomsoever the rod should bud
and flower, the Spirit resting on it as a dove, to him the Virgin of
the Lord should be given in marriage.

And there came up among the men of the house of David,
Joseph of Bethlehem. Being humble and lowly in heart, he drew
back his rod when those that stood with him presented their rods
to the high priest. And when none of the rods that were presented
bore bud or blossom, the high priest was astonished, and made inquiry.
And behold it was revealed unto him that one of the men had not
brought forth his rod. Therefore he bade Joseph bring forth the
rod, and he did so, and behold it sent forth bud and flower, and a
heavenly dove rested upon it. Therefore the Virgin of the Lord was
given in marriage to Joseph.

It came to pass in those days that the high priest decreed that
a new veil should be made for the temple of the Lord. So he took
golden thread and blue a,nd scarlet and fine linen and true purple
for the veil of the temple. And he sent and brought together the
virgins of the temple, and said unto them :

Cast lots now before me, that it may be decided which of you
shall spin the golden thread, which the blue, which the scarlet, which
the fine linen and which the true purple.

218 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

And they cast lots, and the lot fell upon Mary, that she should
spin the true purple. And she took it and went to her own house.

And on a certain day Mary took a water pot and went out to
draw water, and she heard a voice saying to her:

Hail, thou who art full of grace. The Lord is with thee.

And she looked to the right and to the left to see whence the
voice came, but saw no man. Then trembling she went into the
house and laying down the water pot she took the true purple which
she was working for the veil of the temple, and sat down in her seat
to work it.

And behold, Gabriel, the angel of the Lord, stood by her, and
the chamber was filled with a miraculous light. And he saluted her
courteously and thus addressed her:

Hail Mary, Virgin of the Lord. The Lord is with thee, and thou
art blessed above all women born upon the earth.

And because Mary had often beheld the faces of angels and had
spoken familiarly with them, she was not afraid at the vision or at
the brightness of the light. And Gabriel said unto her:

Fear not, Mary, for thou has found favour in the sight of God.
The Holy Spirit shall come upon thee and the power of the Most
High shall overshadow thee, and thou shalt bear a son who shall be
called the Son of the Living God. And thou shalt call his name
Jesus, for he shall save his people from their sins. And behold thy
cousin Elizabeth shall also bear a son in her old age, for nothing
is impossible with God. And the son whom thou shalt bear shall
be great, reigning from sea to sea, from the rivers even to the ends
of the earth. He shall be called the Son of the Most High, for he
reigns high in heaven who shall be born lowly upon earth. He shall
reign on the throne of David and his kingdom shall have no end.
For he is the King of kings and Lord of lords, and his throne is
forever and ever.

Then Mary, stretching forth her hands and lifting up her eyes
to heaven, said :

Behold, the handmaiden of the Lord. Let it be unto me accord-
ing to thy word.

And when she had wrought her purple, she carried it to the
high priest, and the high priest blessed her, saying:

Mary, the Lord God hath magnified thy name, and thou shalt be
blessed in all the ages of the world.

Then Mary, filled with joy, went away to her cousin Elizabeth,
and knocked at the door. Which when Elizabeth heard, she ran and
opened the door to her, and blessed her, and said:

Whence is this to me, that the mother of my Lord should come
unto me?

But Mary lifted up her eyes to heaven, and said:

STORIES OF THE FIRST CHRISTMAS 219

Lord, what am I, that all the generations of the earth should
call me blessed?

And after certain days it came to pass that a decree was sent
forth from Augustus Caesar that all the Jews should be taxed, each
in his own city. Joseph therefore arose, and went with Mary his
spouse to Jerusalem and then came to Bethlehem, that he and his
family might be taxed in the city of his fathers.

Joseph therefore saddled the ass, and set Mary upon it, and
went and came toward Bethlehem. Turning about, he saw that Mary
was sorrowful ; but when he turned about again, he saw her laughing.
And he said to her:

Mary, how happens it that I sometimes see sorrow and some-
times joy in thy countenance?

And Mary replied, saying:

I see two people with mine eyes, the one weeping and the other
rejoicing.

And they went on again. And Mary said to Joseph :

Take me down from the ass, for the hour has come for my child
to be born.

But Joseph answered,

Whither shall I take thee, for the place is desert?

Then Mary said again to Joseph, Take me down.

And Joseph took her down, and he found there a cave and led
her into it. And at that time the sun was nigh to his setting.

And leaving her in the cave, he went toward Bethlehem to seek
a woman to tend her. And it thus befell:

As I was going, said he, I looked up into the air, and I saw
the clouds astonished and the fowls of the air staying in the midst
of their flight. And I saw a table spread and workers sitting about
it, but they did not move, nor raise the meat to their lips. And I
beheld the sheep scattered, and yet the sheep stood still, and came
not together. And I looked to the river, and saw kids with their
mouths close to the water, but they did not drink.

And Joseph beheld a woman coming down from the mountains,
and he besought her, and she went with him to the cave where Mary
lay. The sun had set when the woman and Joseph with her reached
the cave. And they both entered into it. And a shining cloud over-
shadowed the cave and on a sudden the cloud became a bright light
within the cave, so that their eyes could not bear it. Then the light
decreased until the child was born and lay on Mary's breast.

After this, when the shepherds came, and had made a fire, and
they were exceedingly rejoicing, the heavenly host appeared to them,
praising and adoring the supreme God. And as the shepherds were
praising God, the cave seemed like a glorious temple, because both
the tongues of men and angels united to adore and magnify God,
on account of the birth of the Lord Christ.

220

But when the woman saw these things, she gave praise to God,,
and said:

I thank thee, O God, thou God of Israel, for that mine eyes have
seen the birth of the Saviour of the world.

Then after ten days they brought the child up to Jerusalem,
and on the day appointed they presented him in the temple before
the Lord, making the offerings according to the law of Moses.

And Simeon saw him shining as a pillar of light, when Mary
his mother carried him in her arms, and the angels stood around
him adoring him, as a king's guards stand around him. The,n Simeon
stretched forth his hands towards Mary and the child, and said:

Now, O my Lord, thy servant shall depart in peace according
to thy word. For mine eyes have seen thy mercy, which thou hast
prepared for the salvation of all nations; a light to all people, and
the glory of thy people Israel.

At that time there arose greater disorder in Bethlehem, because
of the coming of wise men from the East to Jerusalem, accord-
ing to the prophecy of Zoroaster. And the wise men said:

Where is the king of the Jews born? For we have seen his
star in the East and are come to worship him.

When Herod the king heard this, he was exceedingly troubled,
and sent messengers to the wise men and to the priests, and inquired
of them in the town hall, and said unto them :

Where have you it written concerning Christ the king, or where
should he be born?

Then they said to him :

In Bethlehem of Judea. For thus it is written: And thou
Bethlehem in the lapd of Judah art not the least among the princes
of Judah, for out of thee shall come a ruler, who shall rule my
people Israel.

And having sent away the priests, he inquired of the wise
men in the town hall, and said unto them :

What sign was it ye saw concerning the king that was born?

And they answered him :

We saw a marvellous great star shining among all the stars of
heaven; and it outshined all the other stars, so that they became not
visible, and we knew thereby that a great king was born, and there-
fore we are come to worship him.

Then said Herod unto them :

Go, make diligent inquiry; and if ye find the child, bring me
word again, that I may come, and worship him also.

And Mary, because of the disorder in Bethlehem, being in great
fear, took the child, and wrapping him up in swaddling clothes, laid
him in an ox manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.

So the wise men went, and behold, the star which they saw in the

STORIES OF THE FIRST CHRISTMAS - 221

East went before them, till it came and stood over the place where
the young child was with his mother.

Then the wise men worshipped him, and brought forth out of
their treasures gifts, and gave them to him, gold for his kingship,
and myrrh for his priesthood, and frankincense for his divinity.

Then Mary took one of the swaddling cloths in which the infant
was wrapped, and gave it to them as a blessing, and they received
it from her as a worthy present. And being warned in a dream by
an angel that they should not return through Judea to Herod, they
departed into their own country by another way. And there appeared
to them an angel in the form of that star which had before been
their guide in their journey, the light of which they followed till
they returned to their own country.

On their return, their kings and princes came to them, inquiring
what they had seen and done, and what company they had had on
the way, and how they had fared on their journey.

And they brought forth the cloth that Mary had given them, on
account whereof they kept a feast. And having made a fire according
to the custom of their country they worshipped it, and casting the
swaddling cloth into it, the fire took it and kept it. And when the
fire was put out, they took forth the swaddling cloth unhurt, as
much as if the fire had not touched it. Then they began to kiss it,
and put it upon their heads and upon their eyes, saying, This is a
wonderful thing, that the fire could not burn it nor consume it.

Then Herod, perceiving that he was mocked by the wise men,
commanded certain men to go and to kill all the children that were
in Bethlehem, from two years old and under. But an angel of the
Lord appeared unto Joseph in his sleep, and said, Arise, take the
child and his mother, and go into Egypt as soon as the cock crows.
So he arose and went.

Elizabeth also, hearing that her son John was about to be
searched for, took him and went up unto the mountains, and looked
about for a place to hide him ; and there was no secret place to be
found. Then she groaned within herself, and said :

mountain of the Lord, receive the mother with the child.
For Elizabeth could not climb up. And instantly the mountain

was divided and received them. And there appeared unto them an
angel of the Lord to guard them.

But Herod made search after John, and sent servants to Zacharias,
when he was ministering at the altar, and they said unto him:

Where hast thou hid thy son?

He replied to them:

1 am a minister of the Lord and a servant of the altar; how
should I know where my son is?

So the servants went back and told Herod, and the king was
wroth, and said:

222 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

Is not this son of his like to be king of Israel?

He sent therefore again his servants to Zacharias, saying:

Tell me the truth, where is thy son? For thou knowest that
thy life is in my hand.

But Zacharias answered unto the servants:

I am a martyr for God, and if ye shed my blood, the Lord will
receive my soul. And know that ye shed innocent blood.

So they slew Zacharias between the entrance of the temple and
the altar. And when the people heard of it, they mourned and
lamented three days.

A,nd Joseph went down into Egypt with Mary and the child
Jesus, and they drew near to a great city in which there was a graven
image, to which the other images of the gods of Egypt sent their
offerings. And there was by the graven image a priest ministering
unto it, and as often as the god spoke out of the image, he related
the things that were said, to the inhabitants of Egypt and of all the
parts about.

This priest had a son three years old, who was possessed of
evil spirits, who uttered many strange things, and rent his clothes,
and threw stones at them that came nigh him.

Near to the graven image was the inn of the city, into which when
Joseph and Mary were come and the child with them, a great won-
dering and astonishment fell upon the inhabitants of the city. And all
the magistrates and priests assembled before the graven image, and
made inquiry, saying:

What means all this consternation and dread that has fallen upon
all the people?

Then the graven image made answer and said:

The unknown God is come hither, who is truly God; nor is
there anyone besides him who is worthy of divine worship, for he is
truly the Son of God. At the fame of him the land trembled, and at
his coming it is in commotion, and we ourselves are affrighted at the
greatness of his power.

And when it had thus spoken the graven image fell, and at his fall
all the inhabitants of Egypt ran together.

But the son of the priest, when his madness came upon him,
going into the inn, found there Joseph and Mary, whom all the rest
had left and forsaken. And when Mary had washed the swaddling
cloth she set it out to dry, and the boy took it and put it upon his
head. And immediately the evil spirits left him. And from the
time that he was healed, the boy began to sing praises and to give
thanks to the word who had healed him.

And when his father saw it, he rejoiced exceedingly and said:

My son, it may be that this child is the Son of the living God,
who made heaven and earth. For as soon as he came amongst us,

STORIES OF THE FIRST CHRISTMAS - 223

the graven image was broken and all the gods fell down, and were
overcome by a greater power.

Now Joseph and Mary, when they heard that the graven image
was fallen down and destroyed, were seized with fear and trembling,
and said :

They have driven us forth from Judea because of the child and
the saying of the wise men.. And now they will drive us out of
Egypt also.

And they arose and departed secretly, and went forth into the
wilderness by night; that it might be fulfilled which was spoken by
the prophet, saying:

Out of Egypt have I called my son.

JOHN CARLTON.

O Thou, whose eyes are clear, "whose eyes are kind, ivhose eyes are
full of pity and of sweetness, O Thou, lovely One, with Thy face so
beautiful, O Thou, pure One, whose knowledge is without shadow,
.spotlessly lighted from within, O Thou, forever shining like the Sun,
Thou, Sun-like in the ways of Thy mercy, pour Light upon the world!

AN INVOCATION FROM THE JAPANESE.

BERGSON'S PHILOSOPHICAL
POSITION

THE eleventh and twelfth centuries saw the beginnings of a
new era in the development of Western thought, which fore-
shadowed the scientific awakening and independence of the
strictly modern period in philosophy. Outwardly conform-
ing to Mother Church, the cultivated minority had for many scores
of years pursued the study of pagan philosophies and sciences to the
disparagement of the narrow ecclesiastical theology and ontology.
While the Church was in some measure spiritual and retained the
balance of temporal power, this freedom of thought was kept within
strict bounds, and too wilful offenders were successfully silenced.
But morality was at a very low ebb, laxity of living led to laxity of
thought; soon the see at Rome itself became thoroughly corrupted,
and authority, the backbone of scholasticism, could no longer be
enforced. Already amongst the schoolmen was to be found an attitude
of independence, if not of defiance, glossed over by outward acts of
conformity and respect. As time went on more and more questions
were being asked, theories propounded, investigations undertaken,
and conclusions reached and expressed which were subversive of
orthodox teaching. The Church attempted the impossible when on
the one hand it continued to demand absolute obedience and sub-
mission to its doctrines and discipline, while on the other it secretly
countenanced what were developing into undermining and hostile
courses of study.

The faith of the early Christians was matter for living, not for
speculation; was the channel through which man's aspiration and
prayer might ascend, and God's love and power descend. They
believed and they lived. But as the world's intellect grew into the
new belief, it left the unquestioning simplicity of childhood and an
age of interrogation, of mental unrest, of controversy, set in; the
sign at once of an intellectual maturity and of a new spiritual impedi-
ment. This impediment seems now, however, to be overcome, its force
is in the process of being redirected and used for better ends. After
five hundred years of active intellectual development opposed to and con-
tending more or less consciously with spiritual things, matters have swung
around and are working in the opposite direction. We seek now to use
our store-house of knowledge in the investigation of the spiritual
world, and we are doing this sympathetically. The love of truth is
overcoming pride and self-sufficiency, an example the Church will

BERGSON'S PHILOSOPHICAL POSITION 225

do well to emulate. But in the fifteenth to sixteenth centuries the
Church had already become a political organ in essence and in aim,
and was left with a mere empty shell of religious truth, to which
honest and keen observers of life soon opposed philosophic truth.

With the Reformation came the incentive and opportunity for
a new freedom; men ceased to be exclusively Catholics and became
men, humanists. The Catholic prejudice gradually disappeared from
science and philosophy; and when the revolutionary conception of
the world in its true relation to other heavenly bodies was established,
a door was opened to the "new" philosophy, which based itself almost
entirely on natural science. For despite the persecutions of the
Church, natural law, long buried under superstition and intellectual
bias, reasserted its claim to the world's attention ; and bold inno-
vators appeared to champion the cause of common sense and truth.
Bruno, by his death in 1600, called the attention of the whole western
world to the new philosophy; while at about the same time Francis
Bacon (1561-1626) first conceived a new necessity, arising out of
the undigested mass of fact gradually accumulating throughout all
the branches of knowledge, namely, that of beginning again the
whole labor of the mind and of creating what we now know as
"science" upon an absolutely new basis (instauratio magna). Ancient
philosophers were superficial observers, their knowledge was shot
through with prejudice. Bacon's brilliant idea was that we must
learn to make allowance for our whims, our prejudices, our "idols,"
and not project these personal equations into nature. Therefore to
Bacon we owe the conception of what has since become the great
body or system of science, whose compelling force and saving spiritual
graces have been its strict adherence to and love for truth, exactitude
in detail, and accuracy of statement.

Beginning with Rene Descartes, born 1596, science worked with
extreme rapidity under its new regime, growing in precision and sure-
ness, advancing further and further within the realm of matter, and
ignoring or openly hostile to the only religion it knew as such, that
formulated by the Church of Rome. Descartes was primarily a
mathematician, and his philosophy simply aimed at being a general-
ization of mathematics. He followed with delight the clear, concise,
demonstrations of geometry, and exclaimed "I was surprised that
upon foundations so solid and stable no loftier structure had been
raised." Each subsequent philosopher, thrilled by this general appeal
to the imagination, contemplated the possibility of making of philos-
ophy an exact science, and of constructing a complete and all-satisfy-
ing metaphysics upon a flawless chain of reasoning logically deduced
from unimpeachable facts.

In the early days when the new science was but breaking ground
with the world of nature, the scientist and philosopher were one.
Gradually as the mass of facts increased, as the various branches of

226 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

research became more highly specialized, the philosopher became
less the active investigator and more the mind that surveyed the
accumulated fruit of another's work, weighing its general evidence,
following its leads, and obtaining if possible some hint of the ever-
receding goal beyond. To be a philosopher today requires the most
exacting study and the assimilation of a vast amount of fact and
theory of all kinds in the scientific field.

This has had its effect. The early disciples of the Cartesian
school, and notably Leibnitz, were purely materialistic ; and the
axioms from which they deduced their systems were all planted firmly
in the world of matter about them, which they were observing, and
which almost completely formed the limit of their horizon. Just as
the conclusions of geometry inevitably follow from its axioms, so
the moral and physical facts which these philosophers considered,
followed with absolute necessity from the nature of things expressed
by their definitions ; and they no more inquired into final causes than
the geometer asks to what end the three angles of any given triangle
are equal to two right angles. The rigorous methods of proof, the
completeness, precision, and certainty which characterize mathe-
matics, these men endeavored to transfer to philosophy. Spinoza and
Hobbes, though not to so great a degree proficient in exact science,
still strove, with good success in this respect, to follow their example.
Locke, from his early studies in medicine, inclined rather to follow
the inductive method, and he aimed at completeness through a com-
prehensive examination of all phenomena. Physical discovery had
made vast progress, and the triumphant anticipations of Bacon had
begun to be realized.

When, however, a later generation of philosophers grew up, sur-
rounded by the new tradition, and face to face with the problem, not
of ascertaining facts but of explaining and divining their higher
signification, it naturally turned more to the causes back of natural
phenomena than to the rationalization of scientific data and circum-
stances; seeking to penetrate to the life-giving consciousness lying
within and evidenced alike in the cosmos and in ourselves. But
leaving out of all account the spiritual origin of man and of the world,
and imperiously designating religious or spiritual experience as
hysteria, emotion, and extravagant sentiment, these philosophers
doomed themselves to a fruitless search, to a quest ending, after much
labor and the accumulation of many crusts of thought, exactly where
it started. Now, we find science pushing its way through matter until
forced to recognize a spiritual world. First it believed in a complex
auto-mechanism, started by God or without any beginning. This
theory, though perhaps still held by some, has been superseded by
a belief in evolution, in growth ; not a mere mechanism, but an organ-
ism, of which we are component parts, we functioning in it much as
the live cells function more or less independently in our own bodies.

BERGSON'S PHILOSOPHICAL POSITION 227

Philosophy has followed a parallel cycle of development. Having
explored with some completeness the dark and circuitous passages
of the mind, and having become satisfied that these regions are
limited and ineffectual if held to be the end in themselves in the
search for a living truth, the moderns, such as Prof. James, the
Pragmatist, Eucken, and pre-eminently Bergson, are turning away
from the solely materialistic and intellectual; are approaching the
subject from a broader point of view; are introducing an element of
higher things, a standard of the highest and best practicability, of
duty, and of a regenerating will. These leaders can fairly be said
to represent the next necessary step in the philosophical sequence.
With feet firmly planted on or in the earth, they are nevertheless
raising their heads into the air, and directing their gaze upwards. Of
Bergson we might say that he is doing this consciously, because
he so skillfully lays his foundations on the conceptions and prejudices
of his contemporary philosophers and on the latest demonstrations
of the many sciences, without, however, in the least being diverted
from the goal he sees beyond their limited insight and imperfect con-
clusions. As a large part of Bergson's originality and flexibility of
mind is displayed in the keen way he has outflanked the great modern
systems, we must make at least a cursory examination of these sys-
tems themselves before commenting in detail on the work of our
philosopher.

VI.

The thought of the last three hundred years may be divided
roughly into three main classes, calculated to include the leading
theories of all the great thinkers. These three are: (1) Those who
postulated the reality of the material world and attempted, on this
unproved and unprovable foundation, to demonstrate the ideal which
it seemed to indicate, the realists ; (2) those who followed a hopeless
but strictly logical scepticism, and (3) those who wove a theory, beautiful
in itself, which attempted to explain the world as we find it, but
which failed to bridge the obvious contradictions between even the
best of their theories and real life, the idealists.

The basic principle of all these systems was the I, the Ego, the
self-conscious subject that says / am. Following this comes every
degree of disagreement as to what else is, for to this conscious self
come experiences, come messages, impulses, feelings. The tactile
nerves are stimulated, we say we touch ; the optic nerve receives
vibrations, we say we see, and so forth. Whence come these experi-
ences, what brings them about, what do they mean, why are they
here? Philosophy has been faced with these questions for centuries;
it has set itself the task of answering them because it has believed
that back of them lay the cause of the Universe, in other words, that

228 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

they are the most immediate conceivable expression of the Universe.
The first answer is, of course, that an external world actually exists,
and that all the necessary proof is provided by the "evidence of the
senses." From the messages received through these senses, which
nolens volens pour in upon the self, it constructs the "real and solid
world" of normal men. Further, these impressions once received, the
self, "imprisoned in the body like an oyster in its shell" as Plato
expresses it, sorts, accepts, rejects, or combines them; producing
from them an idea, or technically a concept, which is the external
world. "Reality consists in impressions and ideas" says Hume.
With naive simplicity we calmly attribute to this external world that
which our own sensations convey to us; the sky is blue, water is
wet, roses are red. The conscious self, then, in measure apart from
the external world, receives these messages through its only channel
of communication, dependent on its instruments for proof of the ex-
ternal world or any knowledge about the reality and nature of every
external object. Our senses being inadequate in both accuracy and
clearness, there are obviously certain aspects of the world which we
can never know, even with the most perfect mechanical help of tele-
scopes and microscopes.

This point of view gives rise to many questions. How can this
seemingly real external universe be the external world? Is it not
merely the self's projected picture of it, not a scientific fact? Sup-
pose that our senses, or channels of communication, happened to act
on entirely different planes, in an entirely different way? Would
not, then, this present picture that we see be meaningless, purely
arbitrary, only an approximation of the truth? Could any single
message through the sense, however perfect as such, be more than
partially relevant to this supposed reality at the other end? The
conclusions of the latest scientists and philosophers alike is that no
human senses, as we know them, could ever be adequate to the whole,
could ever apprehend all that the universe contains.

Thus the sphere of our possible intellectual knowledge is con-
ditioned by the limits of our bodies, our brains, our very character and
temperament. Bacon's idola could not ultimately be avoided. And
on this basis not the visual limits of the earth, but "the external
termini of our own sensory nerves" are the furthest boundary we
can reach in our exploration outside our selves.

These general philosophic considerations formed the starting
point for nearly all the different systems; various orders of minds
ranged themselves under what have been handed down to us as
the great classic theories, the traditional schools of modern phil-
osophy. In them we see in crystallized form the best that the human
intellect, left to itself, has been able to achieve; and it is the one
redeeming feature of a study of these achievements that a very little

BERGSON'S PHILOSOPHICAL POSITION 229

of the leaven of spiritual insight and appreciation can use these other-
wise sterile conceptions to great advantage in the living of daily life.

I. The naturalists, or realists, maintain the most obvious and
most generally accepted explanation of the world, that of the every-
day man and of physical science, namely, that the world about us is
the real world, though our interchange with it is inaccurate and
inadequate. Approximately at any rate, what seems to be there, is
there; our sense impressions are the only valid test of knowledge,
and the latter is but the tabulation and classification of exact observa-
tion. Locke, Hobbes, Preistley, and their schools, started with this
hypothesis; Descartes, Spinoza, and Leibnitz each held it in some
degree to be the only sure approach to the problem of reality. Need-
less to say, however, science itself has today forced the philosopher
away from this system. A stone is not a stone, but innumerable
atoms whirling about, each atom in itself a miniature universe with
central sun and planets. Taken as a whole they appear as a stone;
but what is a stone; is there such a thing as stone in reality? Man,
to be sure, has entered into a covenant for convenience sake, and
has agreed that what looks like a stone is a stone. But when psychics
and mystics appear claiming the ability to perceive things beyond the
range of the normal, man is faced with the necessity of acknowledg-
ing that he has by no means used all his faculties when he has ex-
hausted the scope of his five material senses. "Eyes and ears," said
Heracleitus, "are bad witnesses to those who have barbarian souls";
a very pointed remark, and peculiarly applicable to the scientific
realist. This system, however, though believed in for the sake of
practicability, has never met with universal credence, because even
the average man will turn illogically to a belief in God if too closely
pressed by such an argument; driven behind the veil of seemingly
impenetrable matter by an act of pure faith. Only coldly organized
intellect, living in an atmosphere of calculation and form, and totally
devoid of religious perception, could find satisfaction in such a theory.

II. Philosophical scepticism, the second answer to the question
of reality, is hardly an answer, it is an evasion. Confronted with
a problem the sceptic replies that it is no problem because there is
no answer. Reduced to its barest analysis, he says that what he
apprehends through his senses is not the object itself, but the concept
in his mind formed from his impressions. This only can he perceive,
outside nothing is provable; because as far as he knows when that
concept has ceased to exist in his mind, the external world ceases
too. The realist takes for granted that the world exists; the sceptic
will not let this hypothesis pass. The one thing he is sure of, that
indubitably exists, is his consciousness, his experience. Every effort
made by philosophy to search in other fields is merely multiplying
conceptions in the brain. Logically carried out (and this system has
the merit of being consistently logical) our fellow men are non-

230 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

existent except within the individual consciousness, the only place
that a strict scepticism will concede that anything exists. And
further, the mind which conceives consciousness exists itself only in
our conception of it; that is, we know nothing about it; and man is
left a "conscious Something in the midst, so far as he knows, of
Nothing : with no resources save the exploring of his own consciousness."

Perhaps the greatest fault with this system is that it leads
nowhere and answers nothing. Even the most morbid sceptic has
to acknowledge the existence of his own consciousness for the
moment, but he has suggested nothing as to how that came to be,
and in addition has arrived at the startling conclusion that any solu-
tion is impossible or any real knowledge unattainable. Hence the
sceptic, intellectually speaking, always appears to me to be lacking
in manhood. If his efforts in one direction have led nowhere, he
should begin again, but above all things he should not confess to
failure. This is what the sceptic does; he is a self-confessed failure.

III. Idealism takes its stand upon the theory that the mind is
the center of reality, that thought can transcend matter. In doing
this it advances a step beyond materialism pure and simple; it has
vague inklings of a finer, immaterial, spiritual beyond ; but it has not
gone far enough, nor has it been sufficiently thorough even in its
own field. Its answer, therefore, is valuable, often useful, but tenta-
tive and ultimately dissatisfying. It has failed in essentials, while
at the same time leading one towards those essentials, which the
other systems do not do; they lead away if they lead anywhere.

The idealist leaves for the time being the material universe with
its machine-like construction, and asks us to unhamper ourselves
from the mass of ill-assorted and out-of-perspective facts, and to use
freely the thinking self which we know ourselves to be. In doing
this we see but two things, ourselves as conscious thinking subjects,
and the idea with which this subject deals. To the idealist, the
universe is really a collection of these ideas; often distorted by the
individual thinker in the process of assimilation ; because it is obvious
that we cannot think all that there is to be thought, nor do we
necessarily combine in proper order or valuation such conceptions
as we are capable of grasping. Reality is the sum total of all thought,
the Mind of God, of which we pick up the fragments ; and the world
of phenomena which we observe and treat as real, is only the pro-
jection or shadow, the manifestation, of the Universal Mind in space
and time. Man is himself, then, in the words of Tweedledum, "just
part of the dream."

There are four main groups or points of view into which idealism
may be divided, representing the leading thought of the great ideal-
ists; for it can be seen how easily each individual can work out a
theory modified to suit his own special personality. These are: (1)
Subjective idealism ; laying emphasis on the mental theory achieved

BERGSON'S PHILOSOPHICAL POSITION . 231

more or less regardless of the objective world ; (2) Objective idealism ;
the reverse of subjective ; (3) Transcendental, or the idealism of Kant;
and (4) Absolute, or the system of Hegel. One might add today,
perhaps, the "Immanental Idealism" of Professor Eucken. The car-
dinal principle of these variations lies in the assertion of "the priority
of the cognitive consciousness, that being is dependent on the
knowing of it." There is a distinction between this and the position
of ancient idealism, which believed that a body of truth existed
above and beyond the thoughts and opinions of men. "Though wis-
dom is common, yet the many live as if they had a wisdom of their
own," said Heracleitus ; which saying probably referred to the Secret
Doctrine, but which modern philosophers take as a belief in some
ideal field of thought untapped by any human mind or consciousness.
Modern idealism arose out of a different necessity from the ancient;
it had a different aim and function. Religious belief needed to be
defended not from the prejudices and blindness of unthinking men,
but against the claim of science to have alienated the world from
the faith and beliefs of men. The world of nature, conceived by the
religion of the church to be the handiwork of God, the stage for
man's moral drama, threatened in the hands of the scientists to
overthrow both God and man. A new philosophy must redeem
nature from mechanism, and restore a spiritual center. This idealism
attempted to do; which accounts for its appeal to human intuitions, its
stimulating power, and its wide influence.

But idealism, as we have said, is incomplete in that it takes little
account of living while dreaming and theorizing about life. It has
this to be said in its favour; that it has freed itself from mere con-
crete facts of sense perception, and has sought light and guidance in
the beliefs and concepts which are acknowledged by the generality
of men to exist only on the mental plane. It appeals to those states
of consciousness to which a man rises in moments of crisis, and
which he looks back upon as the most real experiences of his life.
Love, religion, patriotism, altruism of all degrees; these belong to
the ideal world. Man, dimly realizing his kinship with such qualities,
and thus unconsciously claiming his essential divinity, has through
all time reverenced them in his heart-of hearts. But when the ideal-
ist is asked how man can become that which he is not but longs to
be, how express in himself the sublime vision of better and higher
things, there is no answer. His dream is "a diagram of the heavens,
not a ladder to the stars." And the reason is that idealism thinks
all these things and only thinks them. It locates the soul of man in
the head and not in the heart ; which means that though its premises
are reasonable, and their application honest, often daring, and even
illuminating when directed on the objective world, still it is stultified
by its exclusive intellectualism, it depends solely on the industry of
the brain rather than on the piercing vision of the heart. Idealism

232 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

is a valuable contribution to human thought, and in so far as true,
it awakens a dim perception and atmosphere of higher things; but
it does not and can not carry man up to the new and more real life
that it describes.

VII

These three representative systems of thought, then, lead
nowhere; they have failed in their quest. But they have not failed
in utility. Idealism made an appeal to a side of man that material
science could scorn for a time but not ignore for long; and as the
latter's explorations have forced it to the borderland of the unseen
world, have widened its horizon and point of view, a reconciliation
became inevitable. Philosophical and religious speculation found in
the objective universe no longer an opponent to its theories and
intuitions, but, if properly understood, a most marvellous and inspir-
ing illustration of the very principles it taught. Philosophy became
more truly scientific; science became more truly philosophical; and
both acquired a new tolerance for religion. This has been the
development of the last thirty years.

A new philosophy has sprung out of this synthesis, expressive
to an unusual degree of the spirit of the age, of the conviction of the
people. It seems almost as if the traditional schools had now ful-
filled the term of their usefulness and would be left with the passing
generation, so radical is the growth and change of viewpoint. This
philosophy is called Vitalism; in principle old as the history of
thought, in application peculiar to the genius of our time. The
feature of utmost significance is that, unconsciously to itself, it is
modifying the world's attitude not only towards philosophy, but
towards science, art, morality, religion, and practical life. Professor
James struck the first decisive note in his Pragmatism; Driesch and
other biologists have discovered it in the sphere of organic life ;
Ramsay, Lodge, and Madame Curie in physics; Eucken in his new
idealism; and Bergson in the intellectual and metaphysical fields.
Bergson, be it added, has gone further than this, he has transcended
the purely intellectual plane, and has entered on the more dynamic
one of creative will and intuition, which lacks a distinguishing
adjective as yet in this language, but which is essentally not in the
same category with the mental efforts of his contemporaries. In
this very difference he has succeeded in most truly expressing the
new awakening which everywhere is becoming manifest. Popular
thought today is undergoing an internal revolution, and under an
intimate impulse from within is aspiring and groping towards a
higher life and fuller realization of its vision. It is the task of the
modern philosopher no longer to isolate himself and attempt to
evolve a complete religious and philosophical system, but rather to
study the signs and tendencies of the great new movement, to catch

BERGSON'S PHILOSOPHICAL POSITION , 233

a glimpse of its true direction, and to voice its aim and ideal. Leaders
such as James, Eucken, and Bergson have come to realize more or
less clearly that this movement is at its foundation religious: it is
a turning of the hearts of men away from modern heathenism with
its worship of fallen human nature, its deification of accumulated
wealth, its pride in self-reliance, independence, and luxury; it is a
return to the living, struggling reality within.

The cardinal principle of Vitalism is that of a Life, spontaneous,
exuberant, above all things free and creative. A fixed mechanistic
law of cause and effect put into operation once and for all is as
absurd as to suppose that the laws governing a growing infant can
be static, can apply exactly to a mature man. We are alive and grow
everything lives and grows; and living experience alone is to be
observed and studied. The Vitalist, whether his field be biology,
psychology, or ethics, is seeking and finding an instinct of initiative
and spontaneity, which cannot be calculated and confined within the
rigid processes of a dialectic. Nature, though conditioned by the matter
with which she works, nevertheless causes this to evolve, grow, and
improve; expressing more completely and more easily her own
spiritual ideal. In this way Vitalism is the exact reverse of material-
ism; for the universe is an expression of life, not life an expression
or by-product of the universe.

We have now in a new dress the ancient conception of Herac-
leitus, whose Energizing Fire, "the symbol for a free and life-giving
Spirit of Becoming" could be incorporated verbatim by a modern
author. Bergson, acknowledging his debt along with other vitalists,
is the one from amongst all the modern school who sees most clearly
the hidden suggestions and meanings of the wise Greek philosopher,
and can apply them with added insight and ability to the tendencies
of the present moment. It is because Bergson has so thorough a
knowledge of his subject, has so marked an ability to grasp at essen-
tials, and has himself so genuine an intuition of the reality of the
spiritual world, that he is able to pioneer the way and construct for
his day a philosophy which should long out-live him.

This philosophy, with its relation to the past and its bearing on
the awakening present, we shall now attempt to consider.

JOHN BLAKE, JR.
(To be continued}

WHY I JOINED THE
THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY

I THINK, as a rule, we do not appreciate the real difficulties involved
in a clear and definite statement, of why we do a certain thing.
The reason generally exists in a half-formulated state in the mind
of the doer, and he is satisfied with that : satisfied, at least to make
a beginning of doing something. It seems most fortunate that it is not
absolutely necessary that one must wait for a logical reason, clearly
formulated before acting, but can feel justified in acting, as we say,
by intuition, or, as some state, by a direct guidance of something that
cannot be analyzed, but seems to warrant the action.

One is often in danger of characterizing present conditions, as an
exception to all that have preceded, feeling that there are especial
unprecedented movements in process of development. Considered from
the standpoint of history, this is an erroneous conception, because there
we have witness to the fact of cycles, and the passing through very similar
stages at certain stated times. But if one may be allowed to express
oneself in terms of the first idea: I think today, more than ever, people
are seeking for truth, and are never satisfied until, what they consider
a semblance of it, or, at least, an approximation to it, has been attained.
The existence of so many "isms" bears witness to the fact of this seeking,
while their very presence is, also, a testimony to their failure as adequate
expressions of truth. In view of the fact that there is such an universal
demand for truth, it is quite logical to believe that somewhere that truth
is available. This must be so, because this "seeking consciousness" postu-
lates its ultimate satisfaction. The truth one hopes to attain may be
generally characterized as an adequate working hypothesis for life; a
scheme of life that is comprehensive enough to indicate, at least, a gradual
development toward the goal for which one is striving.

I have read, with a great deal of interest, the letters that have
appeared in this column of the QUARTERLY, and I have been especially
impressed with the significant fact, that many of those who have written,
have, at some time in their experience, been convinced that this truth
or scheme of life was adequately provided for in the Church *, and
then at a later period, have discovered that the Church was entirely
inadequate to satisfy their longing: Then they have left, and, like
Alexander, sought new worlds to conquer. After a little the Theo-
sophical Society has been found, which is characterized in many of the
letters as so different from the Church, and capable, in such an admirable

* In using the expression "The Church" in this letter, I have reference to the Protestant
Episcopal Church.

WHY I JOINED THE THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY 235

way, of filling that void, for which the Church seemed so utterly inef-
ficient. I mention these letters because they have contained so much
that has been my own experience. I have been for some time, and am at
present, very closely associated with the Church, and I should certainly
be the last one to say that, as she appears today, she is fulfilling her
function, as a guide to a satisfactory scheme of living, or should be
considered as an exclusive repository for all truth. I, too, have seen the
mechanical ecclesiasticism, the cold formality, and the much discussed
dogma, that seems to loom up as such a formidable impediment to the
attainment of a solution to that "nameless longing."

While I am not engaged in writing an apologetic for the Church,
I think it is necessary in view of the fact that the Church has occupied
a place of such prominence, in the experience of many of us, to go a
step further into the subject and see if we are justified in holding to only
one opinion in regard to the Church and her work. I think when one
has arrived at the stage of seeing only the cold formal externals, and the
impossibilities of the Church, that there is a total misunderstanding of that
Church and what she really stands for. There has been a vision only of
the Man-Made Church; and the Church Potential, what she was in her
inception, and I firmly believe is destined yet to be, has been obscured
by the intervention of our own ideas and our own lack of vision. The
trouble is not with the Church, but with the people in the Church of today.
We have built an organization that appeals to men ; that caters to our
own individual interests, and we have forgotten that such a scheme is
not in keeping with the will of the Master. The true conception of
Christ's Church is the complete and all comprehending truth and good,
and He cannot be added to as a sort of supplement to a thing that
exists apart from Him ; He cannot be used as a sort of deus ex
machina to be introduced into our drama and withdrawn at will. If
we are acting throughout in obedience to our liking and preference
we may not introduce the name of the Master, in order to gain a sanction
for our selfish procedure; we may not choose what we consider the
proper setting for ourselves and a solution to our problems only, and
expect that that is a fair representation to the Church. As in our lives,
so in the Church, Christ must be everything all in all. If the Church
has been perverted in her purpose ; in the purpose of her Founder, it
is the result of our own labour; we have what we have worked for.
But that does not condemn the Church. It seems to me that her very
existence to-day, after all these centuries of turmoil and strife, is a
living testimony to her purpose, and that she will attain those heights
that are hers, and for which the Master fashioned her in the beginning,
and endowed her with all capacities of subsequent development, and
ultimately she will work in accordance with His will and the fulfillment
of His divine plan.

I have dwelt somewhat at length upon the Church, and the treatment
may appear quite foreign to any reason of "why I joined," but on

236

the contrary it has a direct bearing upon the relations with the Theo-
sophical Society, because I have been able to see the Church as she
really is, and Theosophy has taught me to do that. I feel that it is
the Theosophical aspect of the Church that shows her in her true
colors as the "Church Militant," and one day will designate her as the
Church Victorious. For many years the usual discouraging view of
the Church was the only one I could see, and I felt that there must be
something beyond; something that must be capable of satisfying a
longing for a closer communion with the Master. However, although
very discontented with the Church, I felt intuitively that it was my
place. I could not leave ; could not entirely lose the Vision that occasion-
ally had been mine, and so I went on leading a sort of existence of
contraries, feeling underneath it all that the Master I trusted would
make my pathway clear.

It is unnecessary to go into detail of how I found the T. S., and
came into contact with Theosophy. God moves in a mysterious way,
and I am possibly old fashioned enough in the eyes of modern thought,
to believe that it was the direct guidance of the Holy Spirit; a direct
answer to the earnest prayer to know more of the Master and His
will for me. The word "Theosophy" suggests the key note of what
I had been looking for knowledge of divine things of the Master.
St. Augustine aptly explains this longing in the thought that all souls
belong to the Master and will not be at peace until they find Him. In
the Theosophical Society I found a group of people versed in a knowledge
of the Master and of divine things, that far exceeded all the learned
theological treatises I had labored through, and the burdensome lectures
that I had often groaned under. Here was a seeking and a growing
in wisdom of the Master and His will, and the predominating character-
istic was the fact of knowing the doctrine and teaching of the Master
by living it. I learned from Theosophy that we progress in knowledge
in proportion as with real humility and the getting rid of self and our
selfish desires, we enter more fully into the life of the Master and, that
the great truths we are seeking and the goal of all our striving is to
be found in unity with the living person of the Master. This was the
solution to the great problem, and here a scheme of life, so wonderful
in its simplicity that all who would, could understand ; so pregnant with
meaning that it must satisfy the most exacting, and so universal in
its application that it could appeal to all, peasant and prince alike could
glory in its priceless truths.

Here, then, seemed an apparent difficulty, after finding so much that
was unsatisfactory in the Church and that seemed so inadequate, I found
a group of people a society living the life that I had longed to live,
and offering a better solution to the problems of life than I had ever
known. What should I do, leave the Church and her apparent failures ?
I could not consistently do that, because I saw in the Theosophical
Society the real life of the Church being lived ; the life that the Master

WHY I JOINED THE THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY . 237

intended for her. Theosophy does not destroy the Church and her
doctrines, but lays the foundation for a correct interpretation of the
Church ; it offers great opportunity to those of us who have appreciated
the lack of the real in the Church, to go back with the new light to
that Church, not in order to allow it to become again a substitute for
the Church of Jesus Christ, but in order to gather it up in that life of
the Master, in which in this wonderful experience we may learn to
live. The Church which we may now see is a Church conceived as
inherently spiritual in its origin and meaning, and there, with our new
interpretation, we can find and know Him in whom exist all treasures
of wisdom and knowledge. Theosophy transfigures that discouraging
inadequate aspect of the Church, and puts us in a true relation to her
true conception. The Church and Theosophy are not antagonistic; it
is not necessary to break with the one in order to be with the other.
They seem, to me, to be supplementary, co-essential and co-existent.

I warned my readers in the beginning of the difficulty involved in
a statement of a "why," and this rather weak expression of "why I
joined," I am sure bears witness to my statement. I feel that the why
is a growing and becoming, and still in the future it is a sort of an
eternal why never to be fully realized until we all shall have become
Theosophists and: "No longer exiles but victors shall knock at the
immortal doors."

JUSTIN CREIGHTON.

"Look for the disciple, not among those who have the fewest imper-
fections, but among those who have the greatest courage"

EARLY ENGLISH MYSTICS

JOHN SCOTUS ERIGENA AND ST. DIONYSIUS

"We owe a great debt of gratitude to Erigena, not only as a fearless and
stimulating thinker, but also as the philosopher who has done more than anyone
else to give expression to the cosmic significance of Christ's Person."

THE BISHOP OF BLOEMFONTEIN IN Ara Coeli.

"The grandly conceived system of Erigena stands by itself in the 9th century
like the product of another age. It is the only complete and independent system
between the decline of ancient thought and the system of Aquinas, if indeed we
ought not to go further, to modern times, to find a parallel." Enclyc. Brit.

IN the second volume of Hakluyt's book of Voyages there is a
romantic account of the journey made in the ninth century by
John Erigena to Athens and to the oracle of the sun that had
been erected by ^sculapius. Hakluyt narrates that Erigena left
England, during the reign of King Alfred, as the Danes had made it
an unfit abode for a scholar. In the East, he became master of the
Chaldee and Arabic languages as well as of Greek. He returned by
the way of Italy and France. His erudition won him the favor of the
French King. And he spent the rest of his days in France.

Hakluyt's narrative has the authority of romance only. But an
atmosphere of mystery spreads around Erigena through that casual
mention of the shrine of ^sculapius. Vergil was accounted a wizard
during the Middle Ages. Erigena's position is something like
Vergil's. His philosophic mind set him aloof from saints and scholars
as a man who had intercourse with sources of knowledge unknown to
men in general. Yet the springs of knowledge that welled fresh and
deep water to him, he discovered through the perfection of his devo-
tion. He is a philosopher and metaphysician as well as a mystic. It
was granted him to see, below the relation of Christ with each
individual, the relation of the Eternal ^0709 to the manifested universe.

There is very little known of Erigena's personal history. [He
must not be confused with Duns Scotus of the 13th century]. The
two adjectives appended to his proper name, John, give his nationality
and place of birth. Erigena is derived from Erin. This famous
scholar came from the race of the Irish Scotch, and was born in
Ireland. Just how Erigena has come to be used for his name we do
not know. He was in France about 847, Master of the Palace School
in the reign of Charles the Bald, grandson of the great Emperor.
Almost nothing more of his life is known except in connection with
his writings.

EARLY ENGLISH MYSTICS k 239

Erigena's work is of the very greatest value. Through his Latin
translation he made accessible to the Christian monks and scholars
of Europe the inaccessible Greek writings of St. Dionysius. The
writings of St. Dionysius represent, we believe, a successful effort
of the Western Avatar to infuse into the hard materialism of Jewish
Christianity the spiritual philosophy of the Great Lodge.

From writings that have from time to time appeared in the
QUARTERLY, it is easy to form a conjecture that the Greek nation was
being prepared for the advent of the Western Avatar. When the
moral failure of the Greeks checked the original design, there was
a deviation from the plan, and the Jewish nation was used as the
birthplace of Western Religion. By that change Greek philosophy,
which represents part of the Lodge's effort of preparation, was balked
of its culmination. And the zealous but unspeculative Jewish mind
had no apprehension of the mighty and mysterious events that were
happening. It is possible to believe that a good part of the Master's
effort, after the "Ascension," was to bring together the two elements
represented by Greece and Judea to fuse the deep philosophy and
lofty metaphysics of the Hellene with the zeal and outer righteous-
ness of the Jew.

The work of St. Paul may be a part of the Master's effort. The
familiar ideas of Platonic philosophy recur through St. Paul's letters.
And aside from St. Paul's immediate instruction by the Master, there
are to be remembered his years of study with Gamaliel, and Gamaliel's
possible connection with Philo, the Jew, who at Alexandria was
interpreting the doctrine of the Hebrew Genesis, etc., by light derived
from Greek philosophy.

If one proceed from such a hypothesis as the Master's effort to
fuse Greek philosophy with Jewish zeal, the work of the Neo-
Platonists might appear a movement inspired and directed by Him.
That hypothesis would settle in a moment the problems that have
so long perplexed Catholic and Protestant and agnostic minds in
regard to the writings of St. Dionysius. For as the writings of
Dionysius embody the old teachings of Vedanta philosophy, those
who are eager to recognize the Master as the Unseen Power behind
history would easily believe that He and the Lodge, in their supreme
consideration for the fate of humanity, had once more, through that
old saint, breathed the breath of Life into the Death House of our
world.

St. Dionysius is the enigmatical person commonly called the
Pseudo (false) Areopagite. While some scholars of extreme tem-
perament denounce his writings as forgeries, the conservative
opinions of both Catholic and Protestant judge them authentic,
though no light can be thrown upon the personality of the author.
As both the Eastern (Greek Orthodox) and Roman Catholic Churches
have canonized the unknown author, the official attitude toward the

240 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

writings is clear. Their history is briefly as follows. The writings
of St. Dionysius cannot be traced back beyond the 4th century. It
is believed by conservatives they were composed in the 4th or the
5th century. But they purport to be the work of the man named
Dionysius (the Areopagite) who was converted to Christianity during
St. Paul's visit to Athens. In the writings the author states that he
had seen the holy mother Mary. And besides the formal writings
there are letters addressed to Timothy, to Polycarp and to St. John
himself. What end other than forgery would lead a 4th or 5th
century theologian to palm off his own writings under an illustrious
Athenian name?

The writings themselves, and their influence upon the Christian
Church lead me to regard them as an inspiration from the Master
himself to some unknown faithful disciple whom we will call as the
Church does St. Dionysius. The chief teaching of the several
treatises is, briefly, the old Vedanta doctrine of the Transcendence
of the One, called by Dionysius, God, and the possibility for man
of union with the One. To state with brevity the influence of the
Dionysian treatises upon the Christian Church I will quote a con-
temporary Roman Catholic priest; the Reverend Father Sharpe (not
a Modernist) says "their echoes are heard in every mystical writer
since their appearance." We have often been told that it is the
mystics who have kept the Christian Church alive. Shall we doubt
that the Treatises whose echoes resound in every mystical writer had
connection with the great Founder of the Faith?

The writings of Dionysius reached France in the 8th century in a
Greek manuscript presented by Pope Paul to King Pepin. But their
influence was quiescent for a century. No one but an Irishman could
read Greek, it was declared, and, in the 8th century, we have seen
Alcuin's endeavor to exclude the Irish from France. In 827 a second
Greek manuscript containing the works was presented to Louis (son
of Charlemagne). This manuscript aroused great enthusiasm in
King Louis's Chaplain, Hilduin, Abbot of the Monastery of St. Denis.
Hilduin maintained, on the basis of some legend, that St. Paul's con-
vert, Dionysius, had left Athens and had come to France, the first
Christian missionary in the West, the national protector, St. Denis.
Hilduin further maintained that the bones of this St. Dionysius
or Denis were at that moment reposing in the Monastery. He at
once set about translating the works of the French Athenian Saint!
Still little impression seems to have been made. Twenty years later,
847, is the first mention of Erigena's presence in France. Erigena's
patron, King Charles the Bald, directed him to translate the Greek
manuscript. Erigena's translation made Dionysius current in
European thought.

Erigena's original compositions show why his translation of
Dionysius was so successful. There was affinity of mind and spirit.

EARLY ENGLISH MYSTICS - 241

In all his writing, Erigena quotes his favorite teacher over and over
again. And the teachings of Dionysius appear repeated and repeated
in Erigena. Yet the repetitions are not those made by a stupid
disciple of his teacher's words. Erigena's own works are as truly
original as those of St. Dionysius. Erfgena too, in devotion, goes
back to the great Source of Life, and the fresh waters stream through
him. Thus, while one reads Erigena, it is all familiar, but full of
interest.

Erigena translated all the works of Dionysius, namely, four
treatises and ten letters, and wrote comments on the treatises. The
names of the treatises and their contents are very briefly, as follows :

I. The Divine Names. In this the Transcendence of the One is
set forth. Names are applied by way of metaphor to Divinity, for
the One exists beyond all names and "pairs of opposites." Because
He includes everything and is above everything, it is easier to speak
of Him negatively, i. e., by saying what He is not, than affirmatively.

II. The Celestial Hierarchy. An exposition of the planes of spiritual
life. This book is the source of Christian knowledge about the orders
of the angels, as they are arranged in Dante's Paradiso, for example.

III. The Ecclesiastical Hierarchy. A mystical interpretation of the
Sacraments and Offices of the Church. IV. Mystical Theology; this
explains the way of union with the One.

Erigena's original works are Comments on the Gospel of St. John,
On Predestination, and On the Division of Nature. The last is his
greatest. The Dionysian teachings are set forth there, but in an
original way, with a wealth of illustration, and proofs furnished by
the author's very genuine erudition. The work is in the form of
a dialogue between a teacher and his pupil. The teacher unfolds the
meaning of obscure texts of Scripture. He goes back to the original
languages for the meaning of words, traces them back to their roots,
and thus in a masterly manner floods darkness with light. The
words of the title are entirely misleading as to the meaning. By
"Nature" Erigena meant what philosophers mean the spiritual world
behind the visible. It is no part of Erigena's plan to consider the
visible world of matter. For by "Nature" he means that which par-
takes of the essence of Transcendent Being, the Primordial Essences.
The visible world of matter is an accident, as it were, a shadow that
will pass away. He considers the Transcendent Being of God in four
divisions : First, as the Beginning from which all Nature proceeds,
and fourthly, as the End to which all Nature returns. Between the
Beginning and the End are, secondly, the Unmanifest Primordial
Causes, and, thirdly, the Angels and Man (spiritual) as Effects of
the Primordial Causes. In division three, the Teacher explains to
his pupil the book of Genesis. Erigena's interpretation makes the
events of the Mosaic narrative refer altogether to the spiritual plane
the creation of spiritual man. It should be noted in passing that he

242 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

interprets the "Fall" as the seduction of the spiritual nature by the
mind. The five books of this great work contain passages of superb
eloquence, and others of great devotion. It abounds with references
to Dionysius and quotations from him. It quotes frequently from
Greek Fathers of the Church, and also from St. Augustine, who seems
to Erigena the greatest of the Latins. But Erigena knew that the
Latins could give very little help in his arguments. And though he
quotes them, Hilary, Ambrose and others, to show that there is
usually a mystical core in their works, yet he is quite candid and fair.
He admits that the beliefs of the Latins generally were different from
those of Origen, Maximus, Gregory Nazianzen and the East.

It is unfortunate that Erigena's belief in the transcendence of
Divine Being led him to an undue stress upon one point in the great
circumference of Catholic truth. When any single point of the
circumference receives more than due attention, a tangental line of
heresy is likely to result. St. Dionysius had written of sin as a
distortion or perversion of virtue, as virtue in the making. That
doctrine is familiar to-day. But one can see that over-emphasis
might cause some people to rest content in the sin instead of pro-
ceeding to the active process of transformation. Erigena's work
On Predestination gave the impression that he did not sufficiently
consider the gravity of sin. That simple fault brought suspicion
upon his other teachings. The indefinite charge "Pantheism" has
always been made against him. And his masterpiece, De Divisione
Naturae, has been condemned. It is nevertheless to be found along
with his approved writings in Volume 122 of Migne's Patrologiae.

The writings of Erigena and of St. Dionysius are of first im-
portance. They are very readable though not in common circula-
tion. Hence it seems well to conclude this article with certain
extracts that will make clearer than any essay could the doctrines
of the two men and the nature of their influence.

SPENCER MONTAGUE.

ST. DIONYSIUS: MYSTICAL THEOLOGY

Translated by the Reverend Father Sharpe.*

(This is a very short treatise dedicated to Timothy. The introduction
and three sections are here reprinted.)

Most exalted Trinity, Divinity above all knowledge, whose
goodness passes understanding, who dost guide Christians to divine
wisdomf; direct our way to the summit of thy mystical oracles,
most incomprehensible, most lucid and most exalted, where the
simple and pure and unchangeable mysteries of theology are reveaJed in

* In Mysticism: Its True Nature and Value. Published by Herder, St. Louis,
t The word in the original, and in Erigena's translation is "Theosophy."

EARLY ENGLISH MYSTICS . 243

the darkness, clearer than light, of that silence in which secret things
are hidden; a darkness that shines brighter than light, that invisibly
and intangibly illuminates with splendours of inconceivable beauty
the soul that sees not. Let this be my prayer; but do thou, dear
Timothy, diligently giving thyself to mystical contemplation, leave
the senses, and the operations of the intellect, and all things sensible
and intelligible, and things that are and things that are not, that
thou mayest rise as may be lawful for thee, by ways above knowledge
to union with Him who is above all knowledge and all being; that in
freedom and abandonment of all, thou mayest be borne, through
pure, entire and absolute abstraction of thyself from all things, into
the supernatural radiance of the divine darkness.

But see that none of the uninitiated hear these things. I mean
those who cleave to created things, and suppose not that anything
exists *after a supernatural manner, above nature; but imagine that
by their own natural understanding they know Him who has made
darkness His secret place. But if the principles of the divine
mysteries are above the understanding of these, what is to be said
of those yet more untaught, who call the absolute First Cause of all
after the lowest things in nature, and say that He is in no way above
the images which they fashion after various designs ; of whom they
should declare and affirm that in Him as the cause of all, is all that
may be predicated positively of created things ; while yet they might
with more propriety deny these predicates to Him, as being far above
all; holding that here denial is not contrary to affirmation, since He
is infinitely above all notion of deprivation, and above all affirmation
and negation.

Thus the divine Bartholomew says that Theology is both much
and very little, and that the Gospel is great and ample, and yet short.
His sublime meaning is, I think, that the beneficent cause of all
things says much, and says little, and is altogether silent, as having
neither (human) speech nor (human) understanding, since He is
essentially above all created things, and manifests Himself unveiled,
and as He truly is to those only who pass beyond all that is either
pure or impure, who rise above the highest height of holy things,
who abandon all divine light and sound and heavenly speech, and
are absorbed into that darkness where, as the Scripture says, He
truly is, who is beyond all things.

It is not without a deeper meaning that the divine Moses was
commanded first to be himself purified, and then to separate himself
from the impure; and after all this purification heard many voices
of trumpets, and saw many lights shedding manifold pure beams:
and that he was thereafter separated from the multitude and together
with the elect priests came to the height of the divine ascents. Yet
thereby he did not attain to the presence of God Himself; he saw not
Him (for He cannot be looked upon), but the place where He was.

244

This, I think, signifies that the divinest and most exalted of visible
and invisible things are, as it were, suggestions of those that are
immediately beneath Him who is above all, and whereby is
indicated the presence of Him who passes all understanding, and
stands, as it were, in that spot which is conceived by the intellect as
the highest of His holy places; then that they who are free and
untrammelled by all that is seen and all that sees enter into the true
mystical darkness of ignorance, whence all perception of understand-
ing is excluded, and abide in that which is intangible and invisible,
being wholly absorbed in Him who is beyond all things, and belong
no more to any, neither to themselves nor to another, but are united
in their higher part to Him who is wholly unintelligible, and whom,
by understanding nothing, they understand after a manner above
all intelligence.

We desire to abide in this most luminous darkness, and without
sight or knowledge, to see that which is above sight or knowledge,
by means of that very fact that we see not and know not. For this
is truly to see and know, to praise Him who is above nature, in a
manner above nature, by the abstraction of all that is natural; as
those who would make a statue out of the natural stone abstract all
the surrounding material which hinders the sight of the shape lying
concealed within, and by that abstraction alone reveal its hidden
beauty. It is needful, as I think, to make this abstraction in a man-
ner precisely opposite to that in which we deal with the Divine
attributes; for we add them together, beginning with the primary
ones, and passing from them to the secondary, and so to the last;
but here we ascend from the last to the first, abstracting all, so as to
unveil and know that which is beyond knowledge, and which in all
things is hidden from our sight by that which can be known, and so
to behold that supernatural darkness which is hidden by all such
light as is in created things.

We say that the Cause of all things, who is Himself above
all things, is neither without being nor without life, nor without
reason nor without intelligence ; nor is He a body ; nor has He form
or shape, or quality or quantity or mass ; He is not localised or visible
or tangible ; He is neither sensitive nor sensible ; He is subject to no
disorder or disturbance arising from material passion ; He is not sub-
ject to failure of power, or to the accidents of sensible things; He
needs no light; He suffers no change or corruption or division, or
privation or flux ; and He neither has nor is anything else that belongs
to the senses.

Again, ascending, we say that He is neither soul nor intellect;
nor has He imagination, nor opinion nor reason ; He has neither
speech nor understanding, and is neither declared nor understood;
He is neither number nor order, nor greatness nor smallness, nor
equality nor likeness nor unlikeness ; He does not stand or move or

EARLY ENGLISH MYSTICS . 245

rest; He neither has power nor is power; nor is He light, nor does
He live, nor is He life; He is neither being nor age nor time; nor is
He subject to intellectual contact; He is neither knowledge nor truth,
nor royalty nor wisdom ; He is neither one nor unity, nor divinity,
nor goodness ; nor is He spirit, as we understand spirit ; He is neither
sonship nor fatherhood nor anything else known to us or to any
other beings, either of the things that are or the things that are not;
nor does anything that is, know Him as He is, nor does He know
anything that is as it is; He has neither word nor name nor
knowledge; He is neither darkness nor light nor truth nor error; He
can neither be affirmed nor denied; nay, though we may affirm or
deny the things that are beneath Him, we can neither affirm nor
deny Him; for the perfect and sole cause of all is above all affirma-
tion, and that which transcends all is above all subtraction, absolutely
separate, and beyond all that is.

LETTER TO DOROTHEUS THE DEACON
BY ST. DIONYSIUS

Translated by Father Sharpe

The divine darkness is the inaccessible light in which God is
said to dwell. And since He is invisible by reason of the abundant out-
pouring of supernatural light, it follows that whosoever is counted
worthy to know and see God, by the very fact that he neither sees
nor knows Him, attains to that which is above sight and knowledge,
and at the same time perceives that God is beyond all things both
sensible and intelligible, saying with the Prophet, "Thy knowledge
is become wonderful to me; it is high, and I cannot reach to it." In
like manner, St. Paul, we are told, knew God, when he knew Him to
be above all knowledge and understanding; wherefore he says that
His ways are unsearchable and His judgments inscrutable, His gifts
unspeakable, and His peace passing all understanding; as one who
had found Him who is above all things, and whom he had perceived
to be above knowledge, and separate from all things, being the
Creator of all.

JOHN SCOTUS ERIGENA

Extracts translated by S. M.
COMMENTS ON THE GOSPEL OF ST. JOHN

The voice of the eagle falls upon the ear of the Church. While
the physical organ catches the quick passing sound, let the soul draw
into itself the meaning of the words as immortal treasure. The sun-
sighted bird soars high above the gross air of earth, above the ether,
above the limits of the visible universe; then, borne upon the swift

246 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

wings of secret science, it beholds, with the piercing eyes of con-
templation, the lofty lands that tower above the invisible world. For
there is a visible universe, and also an invisible. Within the visible
is contained whatever human or angelic intelligence can apprehend.
But the invisible universe is hidden deep beyond the range of all
perception. It is above these two worlds that the blessed evangelist
soars. The mysterious flight of the spirit carries him outside the
universe of visible creatures and the universe of invisible essences,
and lifts him toward the secret sanctuary of the Most High. There
he beholds the incomprehensible Unity of the One which differ-
entiates itself into the Absolute and the Logos, the Father and
the Son.

Oh blessed Evangelist ! rightly art thou named John ! for thy
name means one to whom gifts have been made. To which of the
apostles was such grace given as to thee, first, to pierce into the
hidden mystery of the Most High, and then, to make known to the
human understanding the secrets which had been there revealed to
thee? Is there another who received a like gift as thine, and as rich?
Does some one reply "Peter, when he answered his Master's question
saying 'Thou art the Christ, the Son of the Living God'?" But in
that answ'er Peter seems to me rather a type of faith and of action
than of knowledge and meditation. Indeed the two disciples very
aptly symbolise those contrasting virtues, faith and knowledge, action
and meditation. Thus, one laid his head upon his Master's bosom;
what is that but the symbol of meditation? The other often wavered
and fell, symbolising inevitable action and reaction. For when a
man begins to obey the divine commandments, it is long before he
can bring his purpose to a steady level; meanwhile he fluctuates,
sailing now on the crest of virtues, and immediately afterwards
plunging into the dark troughs of the swinish nature. But with the
contemplative Seer it is not so. When the period of purgation is
past, and the meditative eye beholds the Face of Truth, then all
wavering ends reaction, rebellion, resistance, all cease.

Other facts in the Gospel narratives sharpen the lines of contrast
between Peter and John. Thus both ran to the sepulchre, and though
John outstripped Peter, Peter was first to enter. If we read below
the surface meaning of the words, we shall understand by "sepulchre"
the "Holy Scriptures." In them, as in a granite fortress, the mystery
of the Divine and Human natures is guarded. Peter is the first to
enter the guarded fortress. Faith precedes knowledge and prepares
the way for it. Yet the swifter speed of John clearly represents
the quick operation of intuition. Consider again the testimony
borne by the two men for the Master. Peter recognized Him as
God made man and subject to temporal conditions; he called
him "Christ, the Son of the Living God." That was a lofty
preception. But John's vision soared higher. He saw Christ

EARLY ENGLISH MYSTICS . 247

as God born of God before temporal conditions had begun to
exist. It is of this truth that John bears testimony when he writes:
"In the beginning was the logos" (or "In the First Principle existed
the logos"). I would have no one think that I am making odious
comparisons of the Apostles. I am not exalting John above Peter.
Is not Peter truly the Prince of the Apostles? I am considering
now, not the personal dignity of the Apostles, but the nice distinc-
tions between the lofty qualities which they seem to me to symbolise.
So, without personal reference to John or Peter, I can say that I
am comparing and contrasting Action and Meditation. Action
purges the soul till it is wholly purified. The soul climbs up a ladder
of perfection until it arrives at an unchanging constancy of virtue.
Thus Meditation is the end of Action. Therefore let me again say
that Peter (i. e. the performance of good acts and thoughts) by
reason of his right action, saw the Son of God subject, through the
mysterious Incarnation, to the limitations of flesh; while John (i. e.
the highest form of Meditation, or Contemplation) beheld with
wonder the logos of Deity existing Independent, Absolute and Infinite
within the First Principle from which it is derived he beheld the
Son in the Father. Peter, by divine inspiration, saw the temporal
nature and the eternal made one in Christ. John disclosed to our
hearts the awful sanctity of Christ's Divine Eternal Being.

Therefore I call John a swift-winged eagle that rests from flight
in view of the Awful Presence. He outsoars visible and invisible
space, and the furthest stretch of spiritual vision, and, perfect as his
Father, enters into the joy of his Father, Whose Love has given him
this perfection (deificatum in Deum intrat deificantem} . St. Paul tells us
in his letter that he was carried up to the third heaven ; but he was not
carried into the "heaven of heavens." He was raised into Paradise,
but not above Paradise. John passed through the highest heaven,
and rose above the Paradise of Angels. In the third heaven, the
sacred Apostle of the Gentiles heard ineffable words which he was
not permitted to speak unto men. But John, the contemplator of
Love's innermost Truth, entered the Holy Place that lies outside the
furthest goal of Heaven, and in that centre and Sacred Heart of Life
he heard one single Word; and to him the grace was given to pro-
claim unto men that Word, by which all angels and men are made.
Loyal to his trust he cries out to those who can hear: "In the begin-
ning was the Word."

John was not man, but more than man when he entered into the
life of the Secret Essence, the awful mystery of the One Principle
in Three Substances. For in no other way can man ascend to God,
save by first becoming God. Just as the human eye has no light
of its own to perceive color and form but must irradiate its darkness
with the solar rays, seeing the light by the light, so the soul of man
cannot know the sacred mysteries of spiritual wisdom until it is made

248 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

fit to partake of that wisdom and to be made a parcel of it. It 'is
thus that the holy Evangelist was transformed by divine alchemy;
he became a partaker of the Divine Nature. By virtue of that trans-
formation he saw God the logos existing within God the Absolute,
the Son in the Father.

"That was the True Light." Human nature, even sinless, has no
power of self-illumination. It is not the "Light of the World,"
though it can be lighted up by the rays of that Central Sun. For just
as the dark atmosphere of earth is made luminous by the light of
the sun, so the dark ignorance of the "natural man" is illumined by
the Sun of Divine Wisdom. And as the earth, lighted by the sun,
reflects light, so human nature, when the rays of Divine Grace fall
upon it, appears fairer than it is. Christ himself says to us: "It is
not you who speak, but the Spirit of your Father that speaketh in
you." In these words He teaches us to distinguish between True
Light and its reflection. He wishes us ever to listen to Him speaking
mysteriously in our hearts and saying: "Give glory to the Father,
for it is He who works through you. You do nothing of yourselves.
I am glowing in your hearts, the Light of the whole world, not seen
by the eye, but by the soul. It is not you who find me out and come
to me, but I, in you, bring you to myself. You are to become clear
mirrors of the Light that shines eternally above you." St. John
would not have us believe that the opinions of human nature are
divine intuitions, rays of heavenly light. The Eternal Light shines
upon those who, through the second birth, have begun to live in the
spiritual world. A new and stricter law is obeyed by these spiritual
babes. They turn in aspiration from the old world below them, and
bend their endeavor to reach dim heights above. They come out
from the dark shadow of death into the light of wisdom and life.
They flee from their old mother, the Earth, and turn swift feet to
their Father's home in Heaven. They oppose and destroy their
desires and vices. It is only upon such aspirants that the True Light
shines.

"And the world knew Him not." It is man, the microcosm, that
is here meant by the word "world," not the universe. For in man the
spiritual and corporeal worlds are united. It is this creature, bound
by the chains of sin and blinded by ignorance, that did not recognize
its Creator. Man could not perceive the awful splendor of Divinity
before the Incarnation; and rejected that splendor when it was veiled
in humanity. Man ignored his invisible Lord, and spurned that Lord
when He stood face to face on earth. Man refused to follow the
Friend who so patiently had followed him, would not listen to His
voice, would not accept His deifying Grace, would not receive the
exile from Heaven who had come to rescue the waif of earth.

"Born of God." Some have said it seems impossible that mortals
should become immortal, that corruption should lose its taint, that

EARLY ENGLISH MYSTICS 249

men should become sons of God and pass from the prison of time
to the freedom of eternity. But, "the Word was made flesh." If we
believe the stupendous miracle of the Incarnation, why should we
refuse faith to a much less mysterious event? If the Son of God
was made Man, why should not the man who opens the door to
Him become likewise a son? It was to this end that the \oyos
descended into the world, in order that through His Humanity, human
nature might ascend into heaven. The one only-begotten Son longed
to bring a host of foster-children to His Father. The Incarnation
was for our benefit, not for His own. He wished to make His
Humanity a medium for the transmutation of all human nature to
Divine. He descended alone, in order that he might ascend with
many. He, a God, made Himself Man, in order that He might make
Gods of men.

FROM DE DEVISIONE NATURAE

God created our souls and our bodies simultaneously in Paradise ;
but those bodies were, as St. Paul calls them, celestial, spiritual, such
as they will be after our resurrection. For the swollen, decaying,
material bodies in which we are now imprisoned, came upon us not
from Nature but from Sin. Therefore, this material body, which is
an excrescence upon our Nature due to sin, will fall away, when our
Nature shall have been restored in Christ, and established in pristine
splendor. For surely that thing cannot be eternal which has fastened
upon us as the result of sin. Yet I believe that even this excrescence
will not be annihilated, but will be transformed, by the might of
Christ, until it becomes like in kind with our nature as first created.
For as a mirror is perfected, not by dashing out its flaws, but by
transforming them, so is our present condition to be purified.

Man will not be restored to the state from which he fell, but, in
Christ, will be exalted above it, and above all celestial being. For
sin did its baleful work, yet Divine Compassion is mightier than sin.
So that human nature, purified in Christ, will not take its former
place among spiritual creatures, but will be lifted up above all
creatures into the Godhead itself, and will sit down, with Christ, on
the right hand of the Father.

No creature can of its own strength ascend to the abode of God.
But as the mind can not understand the mystery of Christ's descent
into humanity, neither can it grasp the meaning of man's ascent
toward God.

250 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

When Christ left the grave, he entered Paradise ; yet, at the same
time, he spoke familiarly with his disciples, and showed them clearly
that Heaven is nothing else than the exalted consciousness of the
spiritual nature when it has risen from the tomb of flesh. This
Heaven He promised to all who believe in Him. He taught also
that at heart there is no difference between Heaven and earth, for
Heaven is the heart of earth. The shocks and chances that trouble
earth have developed since man's fall; their purpose is not so much
to punish man as to give an opportunity for discipline and amend-
ment. Thus Christ redeems earth itself from the blight of man's
sin, and shows that Heaven and earth are one home, to which earth
is the portal. For it is not unthinkable space that separates Heaven
and earth, but the condition of a man's own heart.

Surely no one believes that when Christ talked with His disciples
after the Resurrection, He came to them from any spot of earth, or
that, when He vanished from their presence, He departed to some
other spot. After the Resurrection, not only His Divinity, but even
His Human nature had triumphed over the laws of time and place.
For Spiritual bodies are not subject to the limitations of earthy
matter: they are free from the grossness of the material body.
Christ appeared to His disciples in the form in which He had been
crucified so that He might foster their faith until their minds should
be illuminated by the truth. After a brief period of outer manifesta-
tion, He withdrew, to show Himself interiorly, in true spiritual form.
When He says: "Lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of
the world," He indicates clearly that He will be with His children,
not as the unembodied \oyos, which indeed forever sustains and
enkindles all life, but as the Human Friend, Who unites in His own
person man's nature and God's, Who raises man's nature from its
place among the dead and transmutes it, making it Divine. Yet the
Humanity in which the Master dwells among His children is free
from all local and temporal restrictions. Marvellous, unthinkable
indeed, is the manner of His present Life! For while He sits in
glory at the right hand of His Father, God of God and Light of Light,
He also visits those among man who love Him, and shows Himself
to them openly or interiorly. And though He is the Mighty Ruler
of the universe, yet He ministers in all things to the dire needs of
wretched man.

After the Resurrection, when Christ from time to time dis-
appeared from the sight of His disciples, His disappearance was not
what we should call a withdrawal to some other place; it was rather

EARLY ENGLISH MYSTICS v 251

an indrawal into the finer substance of His spiritual body. As the
disciples' vision had not yet reached the stage of perceiving spiritual
matter, He was consequently hid from them.

The whole creation was restored in the person of the only-
begotten Son. And what was then done vicariously by Christ, will
be enjoyed at the end of the world, by all creatures. For in that
Christ wrought His purpose gloriously, He wrought it not for him-
self, but for all creation. I repeat, not for man, alone, but for all
creation, creatures that are above man, like the angels, and also for
those below the human plane. In man, both the higher traits of
spirits and the lower instincts of animals are joined together. Thus,
Christ, in taking upon Himself human nature, took upon Him the
angelic and the bestial dispositions. So that the sacrifice of His
Incarnation brought no less profit to angels than to sinful men.

Life is a circle whose center is God.

FORBES ROBINSON.

Heaven is the possibility of fresh acts of self-sacrifice.

FORBES ROBINSON.

MAURICE MAETERLINCK AND
THEOSOPHY

WE are accustomed to the speculations of M. Maeterlinck in
various directions, and in various styles. He is always
clear, and always ready to take up some new theme and
make it his own; but it must be confessed that in dealing
with Theosophy in his recent book, called "La Mort," he seems to
have gone rather beyond his depth, and to have confounded the ideas
of reincarnation and the transmigration of souls.

Before taking up the questions of the nature and the persistence of
the individual consciousness, M. Maeterlinck thinks it would be well
to study two interesting solutions of these problems, which if not novel,
are at least revivals of the idea of personal immortality. These neo-theo-
sophic and neo-spiritistic theories are the only ones that he thinks worthy
of serious discussion. "It cannot be denied," he says, "that of all
religious hypothesis, reincarnation is the most plausible, and the one
least shocking to our reason. It has the advantage of the support of the
most ancient and the most universal religions, those which we have
not yet fully comprehended. In fact the whole of Asia, whence comes
to us nearly all we know, has always believed and still believes, in the
transmigration of souls." Here Maeterlinck quotes Annie Besant, whom
he styles "that remarkable apostle of the new Theosophy," as saying
"very justly" that there is no philosophical doctrine which has back
of it so magnificent a past, so charged with intellectuality, as the doctrine
of reincarnation, "there is no other, as Max Miiller has declared, upon
which the greatest philosophers of humanity have been so completely in
accord."

All this, says M. Maeterlinck, is perfectly true. But he goes no
further, the whole of Theosophy for him, seems to be compressed into
that one doctrine; and not content with a philosophy handed down to
us from remotest antiquity, a philosophy that he says is so completely
satisfying to the greatest minds of all ages, he asks for what? for
proofs! For proofs! and says that he has vainly sought for a single
one among the best writings of our modern Theosophists. He finds
them all limited to reiterated and dogmatic affirmations floating in
empty space, whither M. Maeterlinck would seem to have sought them.

Several of the earlier chapters of La Mort are devoted to the terrors
of death, dwelt upon, most of us would think, with quite unnecessary
elaboration. Apart from any psychic or spiritistic phenomena, is it
not a very frequent occurrence that a gentle indifference steals over the
departing spirit, and an absolute absence of desire takes the place of

the frenzied clinging to life which marks the fewer departures. One of
the best known physicians in New York told me that only twenty per
cent, of the deaths he had witnessed, were other than calm and peaceful
probably indifferent would be the better word. A day will come,
M. Maeterlinck is sure, when science will not only assert an opinion,
but will act with certainty when there is a question as to the release
from suffering in incurable disease; when Life, grown wiser, will
silently steal away, at the hour of its own choice, knowing that its hour
has come, as calmly as it retires every night, knowing that its daily task
is completed. There will not be any reason, physical or metaphysical,
why the approach of death should not be as beneficent as the coming of
sleep.

We are promised on the other hand, our author says, that in refining
our senses, making our bodies more subtle, we, our mind, can live with
those we call dead, and with the superior beings that surround us. It
is surprising to him that they bring us nothing in the nature of proof.
We demand something other than arbitrary theories about "the immortal
triad," "the astral body," "Kama-Loka," etc. It is possible, he concedes,
that the theosophists are right when they maintain that we are con-
tinually surrounded by swarms of living entities, intelligent and innumer-
able, "and as different from each other as a blade of grass from a tiger,
or a tiger from a man," who elbow us unceasing, and through whom
we pass without perceiving them." We go from one extreme to the
other. "If all religions have united in over-stocking the world of invisible
beings, we have, perhaps, too completely de-peopled it, and it is very
possible that some day we shall find out that the error was not on
the side we thought." Let us only remember, he continues, that we are
not obliged to prove the statements of positive religions, it is for them
to establish their truth. Now there is not one of them that presents us
with any proof that a moderate intelligence could accept as irresistible.

And be it said in passing, says M. Maeterlinck, it is always very
unfortunate to replace a mystery by a lesser mystery. In the hierarchy
of the unknown, humanity always ascends from the lesser to the greater.
On the other hand, to descend from the greater to the less, is to return
to a primitive barbarism, where man goes so far as to replace the
infinite by a fetish or an amulet. The greatness of man is measured by
the mysteries he cultivates, or before which he stops short.

"We stand before the abyss," says M. Maeterlinck, "emptied of
all the dreams with which our fathers peopled it. They believed they
knew what was there, we only know what is not there. While waiting
for a scientific certainty to dispel the darkness for man has a right
to hope for what he cannot yet conceive the only thing that interests us,
because we find it within the little circle that our present intelligence
traces upon the darkest night, is to know whether the unknown whither
we go, is to be welcomed or feared."

Outside of the positive answers given by the churches, four solutions

254 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

of this problem appeal to M. Maeterlinck as conceivable: I, total anni-
hilation ; II, survival of our present consciousness ; III, survival without
any kind of consciousness ; IV, finally, survival, or rather absorption
in the universal consciousness ; or with a consciousness which is not
the same as that we enjoy in this world, which makes V., M. le
philosophe, ne vous deplaise! It does not seem to occur to him that
total annihilation (I) and survival without any kind of consciousness,
(III) are virtually the same thing, and so is absorption in the universal
consciousness, (IV). Of a consciousness differing from our own, we
are unable to conceive at present, which leaves us with only two theories,
I, and IV, and as M. Maeterlinck confesses in his next paragraph that
total annihilation is an impossibility, we have nothing left but the uni-
versal consciousness, in which our own is swallowed up. A cheerful
philosopher found his way out of this dilemma, by asserting that if you
were not to be immortal, you would never know it. Of course unless
some other condition of consciousness than ours immediately succeeded
death, there could be no survival of the personality, and no such thing
as immortality, in the ordinary sense of the word.

And so we come round again to the point from which we started,
the theosophic ideas of death and re-incarnation, as M. Maeterlinck sees
them. He has a passage on the soul or rather the mind, which is very
significant. "How can our thought," he says, "remain the same when
there is nothing left of that which embodied it? When it has no longer
a body, what can it carry into the infinite by which it can recognize itself,
an entity who only knew itself thanks to that body? A few souvenirs
of a common life? Would these recollections, already beginning to fade
in this world, suffice to separate this entity forever from the rest of the
universe, in unbounded space, and unlimited time? But it may be said,
in our T lies hidden a superior being to the one we know. It is
probable, even certain; but how will the T we know, and whose
destiny alone concerns us, recognize all these things and this superior
being which it has never known? If I am told that this stranger is
myself I should like to believe it, but that which in this world felt and
measured my joys and sorrows, and gave birth to the few thoughts and
memories that remain to me, was it this unknown and invisible being
which existed in me without my suspecting it, as I probably lived in it
without its troubling itself about a presence that brought it nothing but
the miserable memory of a thing which is no more?" It reminds one
of Aldrich's two ghosts that meet in "desolate wind-swept" space and
the one asks the other who he is: "I do not know, the Shape replied,
I only died last night."

KATHARINE HILLARD.

THE MOVEMENT TOWARD
CHRISTIAN UNITY

CHRIST prayed that his followers might be one. The Christian
of today looks about on a multitude of sects often mutually
suspicious of one another, at most tentatively cooperative. It
has been said that America gives to the world a sect a day, and
that not even the commissioner of the census can keep up with these
ecclesiastical fissions. Like the man travelling through a wood who
could not see the forest for the trees, the Christian of today can not
see the Church for the churches. How, he asks himself, has such a
state of affairs ever come about? But the mystic with keen intuition
and deep personal devotion thinks of the ruptured body of his lord
and sets himself to do what he can to heal those wounds.

Out of this atmosphere this sense of an intolerable situation
attempts at fusion have arisen. Closely affiliated groups have united
in conferences, in social and missionary work. Such efforts have been
made by the Protestants in Canada, by the Presbyterians in Scotland
and in the United States. Sometimes these attempts have assumed the
character of independent organizations as in the case of The Federation of
Churches or the Federal Council of the Churches of Christ in America ;
sometimes they have merely attained cooperation ; in other cases they
are hardly more than armed truces. Yet the fact of the efforts is
significant. Though haphazard and often ineffective, they have to
some extent at least, ploughed up the hard ground of prejudice and
separatism ready for the seed which shall grow into the fulfilment
of our Lord's prayer, that his followers should be one.

Other influences have strengthened the tendency toward union.
The situation on the mission field has been such as to make a scandal
of present divisions. The possibility of unity in mission work was
demonstrated at the great Edinburgh Conference. Books like Dr.
Newman Smyth's Passing Protestantism and Coming Catholicism have
been widely circulated in many countries and among many denomina-
tions. The main schools of modern theological scholarship have over-
lapped denominational boundaries and established a cosmopolitanism
of religion at least among scholars.

The Church of England has always been foremost among
churches in its efforts to promote Christian unity. Through the
Lambeth Conferences of bishops it has given official expression of
its desire for reunion with all other Christians. As early as 1857
an Association for the Promotion of the Unity of Christendom was
formed in the English Church. Later a society was established to

1 8 ss

256 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

advocate principally home reunion that is union between the
protestant bodies in Great Britain and the Church of England. These
two organizations played an important part in preparing the way for
recent more consecutive efforts.

The movement toward the reunion of Christendom in the Eastern
Orthodox Church dates back to the first half of the seventeenth cen-
tury. In the East there has been constant intercourse between this
body and the Church of England. Visits and delegations between
England and Russia have increased the good will. In the United
States, too, there has been cordial interchange between the Episcopal
and the Orthodox Church. Trinity Parish, for instance, has always
welcomed the ministers of the Orthodox Church and placed one of
its chapels at their disposal for services.

This cordiality of intercourse between the Orthodox and the
Anglican and American Episcopal Churches crystallized in the
Anglican and Eastern Orthodox Churches Union, founded in London,
in July, 1906. The American Branch came into being two years later,
in 1908. A similar society for the same purpose was started in
Russia in 1912. The objects of this association are to "promote
mutual sympathy, understanding and intercourse," and to "promote
and encourage action and study furthering reunion."

In America there has long existed a society called The Church
Unity Society. Several protestant churches had appointed commit-
tees or commissions before the three simultaneous appointments of
1910. Such committees of the Presbyterian and Episcopal Churches
were conferring together several years before that date. But the
desire for Christian unity first found effective expression in what,
because of its four fundamental propositions, has since been known
as the "quadrilateral." This "quadrilateral" was set forth by the
House of Bishops of the Episcopal Church in the General Conven-
tion of 1886, and was amended and ratified by the House of Deputies.
The Lambeth Conference of 1888 accepted it and incorporated it in
its report. Various communications were exchanged with other
religious bodies, but there was no formal expression in the shape of
a society until July, 1910, when, as the result of the action of twenty-
four members of the Episcopal Church, The Christian Unity Founda-
tion was incorporated.

The objects of this society can be summed up as research and
conference. Since its incorporation it has held conferences with the
Disciples of Christ, Presbyterians, Congregationalists, Lutherans,
Moravians, Methodists, Reformed Episcopalians and Baptists. In
conference with the Presbyterians and Congregationalists certain
definite resolutions have been passed embodying the principles upon
which corporate reunion might be effected between these bodies and
the Episcopalians.

On the side of research the Foundation has issued a number of

THE MOVEMENT TOWARD CHRISTIAN UNITY 257

leaflets. "A Study on the Disciples of Christ" sets forth the doctrines
and status of this body in the United States. It has been accepted
by the Disciples as a correct statement of their position and 100,000
copies have been printed. "A Study on Methodism" has met with
the approval of Methodists and has been widely circulated. "A Study
on the Early Christian Ministry" has been recently published by the
Foundation and has attracted considerable attention in the different
Protestant churches.

In the year 1910 three commissions on Christian unity were
appointed almost simultaneously by three different bodies the Epis-
copal Church, the Congregational Church, and the Disciples of
Christ. The Commission on Faith and Order appointed at the Epis-
copal General Convention of 1910 presented an elaborate report to
the General Convention of 1913. At that convention it was not only
continued, but authority was given it to incorporate itself.

The immediate purpose and scope of this Commission is to bring
about as the next step toward unity a Conference for the considera-
tion of questions of Faith and Order, to be participated in by repre-
sentatives of the whole Christian world, both Catholic and Protes-
tant. "The Conference is for the definite purpose of considering
those things in which we differ, in the hope that a better understand-
ing of divergent views of Faith and Order will result in a deepened
desire for reunion and in official action on the part of the separated
Communions themselves." "All Christian Communions are to be
asked to unite with us in arranging for and conducting the Confer-
ence. We, ourselves, are to take only preliminary action, and at
the earliest possible moment are to act in association with others."
The work of the Conference is undertaken with the hope of ultimate
unity. The Conference itself is preliminary to any action. The
preparation for the Conference is a preliminary preliminary.

The following resolution was offered in the House of Deputies by the
Rev. W. T. Manning, D.D., of New York :

"Resolved, The House of Bishops concurring, That a Joint Com-
mittee, consisting of seven Bishops, seven Presbyters and seven Lay-
men, be appointed to take under advisement the promotion by this
Church of a Conference following the general method of the World
Missionary Conference, to be participated in by representatives of
all Christian bodies throughout the world which accept our Lord
Jesus Christ as God and Saviour, for the consideration of questions
pertaining to the Faith and Order of the Church of Christ, and that
said Committee, if it deem such a Conference feasible, shall report
to this Convention;"

The Joint Committee of the General Convention of 1910, to which
the resolution was referred, reported as follows :

"Your Committee is of one mind. We believe that the time has

258 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

now arrived when representatives of the whole family of Christ, led
by the Holy Spirit, may be willing to come together for the con-
sideration of questions of Faith and Order. We believe, further, that
all Christian Communions are in accord with us in our desire to
lay aside self-will, and to put on the mind which is in Christ Jesus
our Lord. We would heed this call of the Spirit of God in all lowli-
ness, and with singleness of purpose. We would place ourselves by
the side of our fellow Christians, looking not only on our own things,
but also on the things of others, convinced that our one hope of
mutual understanding is in taking personal counsel together in the
spirit of love and forbearance. It is our conviction that such a Con-
ference for the purpose of study and discussion, without power to
legislate or to adopt resolutions, is the next step toward unity.

"With grief for our aloofness in the past, and for other faults
of pride and self-sufficiency, which make for schism; with loyalty to
the truth as we see it, and with respect for the convictions of those
who differ from us; holding the belief that the beginnings of unity
are to be found in the clear statement and full consideration of those
things in which we differ, as well as of those things in which we are
at one, we respectfully submit the following resolution :

"WHEREAS, There is to today among all Christian people a
growing desire for the fulfilment of Our Lord's prayer that all His
disciples may be one; that the world may believe that God has sent
Him;

"Resolved, The House of Bishops concurring, That a Joint
Commission be appointed to bring about a Conference for the
consideration of questions touching Faith and Order, and that all
Christian Communions throughout the world which confess our Lord
Jesus Christ as God and Saviour be asked to unite with us in
arranging for and conducting such a Conference. The Commission
shall consist of seven Bishops, appointed by the Chairman of the
House of Bishops, and seven Presbyters and seven Laymen, appointed
by the President of the House of Deputies, and shall have power
to add to its number and to fill any vacancies occurring before
the next General Convention."

Before the Convention adjourned an official letter and report
from the National Council of the Congregational Church of the
United States was read and referred to the Joint Commission.

BOSTON, October 20, 1910.
REV. RANDOLPH H. McKiM,

President of the House of Clerical and Lay Deputies,

Protestant Episcopal Convention, Cincinnati, Ohio.
MY DEAR SIR: The National Council of the Congregational
Churches of the United States, at their convention being held in

THE MOVEMENT TOWARD CHRISTIAN UNITY 259

Boston, have unanimously adopted the enclosed resolutions. In addi-
tion they have passed the following vote :

VOTED: That in view of the possibility of fraternal discussion of
Church Unity suggested by the Lambeth Conference of Anglican Bishops
in 1908, a special commission of five representatives be appointed to
consider any overtures that may come to our denomination as a result
of this Conference.

Will you not present these resolutions as adopted to the Conven-
tion of the Protestant Episcopal Church with the sentiments of our
fellowship and cordial goodwill?

Yours very truly,

RAYMOND CALKINS.

DRAFT OF REPORT OF COMMITTEE APPOINTED BY THE
CONGREGATIONAL COUNCIL.

Tuesday, October 18, 1910, p. m.

"WHEREAS, the last Lambeth Conference of the Bishops of the
Anglican Communion, which was held in London in 1908, lifted up
the ideal of Church unity in these words: We must set before us
the Church of Christ as He would have it, one spirit and one body,
enriched with all those elements of divine truth which the separated
communities of Christians now emphasize, separately, strengthened
by the interaction of all the gifts and graces which our divisions
now hold asunder, filled with all the fullness of God. We dare
not, in the name of peace, barter away those precious things of
which we have been made stewards. Neither can we wish others
to be unfaithful to trusts which they hold no less sacred. We
must fix our eyes on the church of the future, which is to be
adorned with all the precious things, both theirs and ours. We must
constantly desire not compromise, but comprehension, not uniformity,
but unity.

"AND WHEREAS, the Anglican Bishops further recommended that
for this end conferences of ministers and laymen of different Christian
bodies be held to promote a better mutual understanding; and we, on
our part, would seek, as much as lieth in us, for the unity and peace
of the whole household of faith ; and, forgetting not that our fore-
fathers, whose orderly ministry is our inheritance, were not willingly
separatists, we would loyally contribute the precious things of which
as Congregationalists we are stewards, to the church of the future ;
therefore this Council would put on record its appreciation of the
spirit and its concurrence in the purpose of this expression of the
Lambeth Conference; and voice its earnest hope for closer fellow-
ship with the Episcopal Church in Christian work and worship."

260 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

In such a spirit has this great project been undertaken. A growing
humility, a clearer and clearer conviction that Christians of all
communions have borne false witness against their brothers in other
communions, greater toleration and willingness to receive rather
than give, an increasing sense of being instruments, rather than
initiators, and an increasing dependence on prayer all these char-
acteristics are noticeable in the leaders of the movement.

Immediately after the appointment of the Episcopal Commis-
sion of 1910, steps were taken to secure the cooperation of other
Christian bodies. Informal conferences and personal interviews were
held, letters and leaflets were sent to every communion throughout
the world when adequate information could be obtained. Some
invitations, however, were held back because the Commission desired
to invite all communions in one country at the same time. By the
middle of August, 1913, thirty different religious bodies had appointed
commissions.

In June, 1912, a deputation from the American Episcopal Commis-
sion conferred with representatives of the Church of England at
Lambeth Palace. The result of this conference was that a committee
was appointed in the Church of England to "watch the progress of the
arrangements for the Conference, organize, support and help in
England for these endeavors, and especially stimulate general interest
and regular and widespread prayer in the matter. It would rest with
this committee to make arrangements for any local or preliminary
conferences in England which may be expedient." The representa-
tives of the English church present, recommended that the American
origin of the plan be borne in mind, "as also the possibility or prob-
ability that the ultimate Conference, when held, would be on
American soil." And it was decided that "invitations to other
religious bodies, or denominations, than the Church of England should
emanate not from the Committee above-named, or from the Church
of England, as such, but from the co-religionists in America of each
denomination in England." The deputation then proceeded to Scot-
land and Ireland.

On the eighth of May, 1913, an informal conference of repre-
sentatives of all the commissions which had, up to that time, been
appointed in the United States was held in New York. As this was
the first meeting on any considerable scale of "representatives of the
different commissions for consideration of the problems involved in
the work of preparing for the World Conference" it was of great
importance and marked a distinct step forward in the movement.
One has only to read the report of this meeting to realize that the
unity of Christendom is really practicable. Questions relating to
the World Conference were faced and discussed with the utmost
frankness, but in the most harmonious spirit. There was not one
jarring note. In fact it seemed to be the aim of everyone that his

THE MOVEMENT TOWARD CHRISTIAN UNITY 261

communion should be known for its gentle humility and magnanimous
generosity. For instance a representative of the Disciples of Christ
offered, in behalf of that body, to bear the expenses of the publica-
tion and distribution of a book representing the spirit of the various
communions. A member of the Episcopal Commission moved that
a deputation of five be sent to the Protestant Communions (non-
Anglican) of Great Britain and Ireland. It was, he said, the wish
of the representatives of the Episcopal Commission that this com-
mission should consist entirely of members of other communions,
but that its expenses be borne by the Commission of the Episcopal
Church. The only opposition to this motion by other commissions
was in their earnest insistence that the Episcopal Church should be
represented on the deputation. A compromise was ultimately
effected by asking the Rev. Tissington Tatlow of the Church of
England to act with the deputation for conference and counsel.

The meeting further resolved upon an Advisory Committee
composed of one representative of each of the commissions already
appointed, and of the commissions yet to be appointed to cooperate
with the Executive Committee of the Episcopal Commission. The
ideal of the World Conference was defined as "a great meeting
participated in by men of all Christian churches within the scope of
the call, at which there shall be consideration not only of points
of difference and agreement between Christians, but of the values
of the various approximations of belief characteristic of the several
churches." Organic unity, though an ideal, is not the business of
the commissions, but merely to promote the holding of such a
conference. Questions to be considered at the World Conference
should be formulated in advance by committees of competent men
representative of various schools of thought.

Three magazines have sprung up expressing the movement
toward the reunion of Christendom. The Eirene, published inter-
mittently in London, represents the Anglican-Orthodox agreement.
The Christian Union Quarterly, published in St. Louis, U. S. A., is a
"journal in the interest of peace in the divided Church of Christ."
It is published by the Disciples of Christ and is in its third year.
The Constructive Quarterly, New York and London, was started early
in 1913. It offers itself as a forum where all phases of the movement
can find expression. It attempts to set forth the constructive method
of comprising and sympathetically presenting widely divergent
Christian standpoints, in order that the different communions of
Christendom can be reintroduced to one another. Each writer is
expected to state the position, and express the spiritual values of
his churches as he sees them, without compromise. No attack
with polemical animus is allowed. That is all. Yet the signifi-
cant thing about the Constructive Quarterly is that it does actually
represent almost the whole of Christianity. On its editorial board

262 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

are men of widely different schools of thought Catholic and
Protestant from three continents. In its pages can be found clear
but courteous statements from the most important commissions of
Christendom.

Thus it is evident that the movement toward the reunion of
Christendom is neither an effort toward a monochrome uniformity
nor a poet's dream. The men who are guiding it are sane,
efficient and consecrated. Their spirit is the spirit of him who said,
"Look not every man on his own things, but every man also on
things of others." They are trying to be children of the kingdom,
and by laying aside self-will and ceasing to bear false witness one
against another to follow the guidance of Him who is endeavoring
to unite that which is divided and to testify of Him to the world
by their unity and their love.

LOUISE EDGAR PETERS.

NOTE. Leaflets giving the history of the movement since 1910 can be obtained
free from Mr. Robert H. Gardiner, Gardiner, Maine, Secretary of the Episcopal
Commission, or from Dr. Arthur Lowndes, 143 East 37th Street, New York, Secre-
tary of the Christian Unity Foundation.

Mystery is not a transient trouble in human experience to be removed
by increasing knowledge. Rather, it is a permanent problem made more
urgent by increasing knoivledge. ^ ^ F OSDICK

ON THE SCREEN OF TIME

MEDITATION AND MENTAL DISTRACTIONS.

THE Recorder was in despair. He had been unusually busy,
and it seemed to him impossible to sort and to arrange further,
for the next issue of THE QUARTERLY, the mass of corres-
pondence and the records left in his custody by Mrs. S. In
this emergency the Gael volunteered a suggestion.

"I can usually talk," he said, "when I am not wanted to do so.
How would it do if I were to talk now and perhaps relieve the situa-
tion for you? It so happens that I was asked a question the other
day which there was no opportunity to answer at the time ; and I
might attempt some reply now, through the pages of the 'Screen.' "
The Recorder gladly acquiesced.

"I was asked what to do in order to control distraction during
prayer and meditation. My belief is that there are a great many
people who would like to ask the same question and to hear it
discussed. A man begins, let us suppose, to repeat the Lord's Prayer.
Almost at once his mind flies off at a tangent, and he has to pull
it back by main force and exert what he would regard as very difficult
control in order to compel it to attend to the business in hand.

"It will be best first to consider the ideal that type of prayer
at which we should aim and which has been attained by the saints
and disciples of the past and which so far as we know is the attain-
ment of disciples today. It is quite clear, I think, that if we meet
some one whom we love and have the opportunity for half an hour's
close intercourse, we do not need to control our minds or to use
violence in order to fix our attention on what we are doing. Our
hearts, presumably, are full of pleasurable anticipation, our minds
are full of things we want to speak of, and also we long to hear
what may be said in reply, as well as the news or ideas which we
may receive. In any case, the thought of communion, of fellow-
ship, fills us with delight.

"Let us use the illustration of a man and his wife, in simple circum-
stances. Let us suppose they are working together in the fields of
Germany, or in some small store or shop in a village of France. The
wife, in that case, would be the bookkeeper and would sit in the front
part of the shop, while the husband waited on their customers. We
must suppose that they are so fully occupied during the day that,
although in view of one another, it would rarely be possible for them
to exchange remarks not immediately connected with their business.
They are working for the sake of their children. They would be
united by that common bond, and we must suppose them to be

263

264 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

united also by mutual love. Would there not be many thoughts that
they would wish to exchange at the end of the day's work? Is it not
obvious that they must look forward to some interval of rest in order
to compare together the experiences of the day? Would there be any
sense of constraint in a case of that kind? Surely in no circumstances
could there be the need of mental control! Suppose that one or the
other is so tired that speech itself becomes impossible. Would they
not, even in that case, find rest and satisfaction in the silent com-
munion of their love?

"What does this mean? It seems to me that we can draw a
lesson from the illustration I have used, even though it cannot be
pushed too far. The saints find that kind of companionship when
turning to their Master. They find in him a friend and elder brother,
to whom, without reserve, they can pour out their hearts, all that
interests and concerns them, particularly the welfare of his children
and their own. Of course another element enters in when the other
side of the Master's nature is recognized. There is the feeling of his
majesty and splendor. There is the feeling of unworthiness in the
heart of the disciple. There is the sense of the Master's immense
condescension in treating them as his children and friends. Human
love is not our topic. If it were, I should like to suggest at this point that
many human relationships are spoiled by lack of awe and of reverence,
such as is so obviously essential to any divine relationship.

"Love, therefore, is the secret of all true prayer. And if as yet
we know not love, then there must be intensity of desire.

"The lepers who asked the Master, Jesus, to cure them, did not
have to concentrate their minds upon the wording of their prayer;
they did not have to control any wandering of their thoughts. They
were intent upon that which they desired. The marvellous prayer of
the Publican, which has remained ever since as the model of what
prayer should be, was the outpouring of a contrite heart. It was the
simple and direct expression of a feeling. The prayer of the Prodigal
Son to his father was a genuine petition. Can we imagine that he had
to control his mind, or that his thoughts wandered while he prayed?
Think of the prophet Ezra : "And at the evening sacrifice I arose up
from my heaviness, and having rent my garments and my mantle,
I fell upon my knees and spread out my hands unto the Lord my
God, and said, *O my God, I am ashamed and blush to lift up my
face to Thee, my God, for our iniquities are increased over our head,
and our trespass is grown up unto the very heavens.' Here was a
man who, for the time being, had become the embodiment of prayer.
Incidentally he had identified himself with the sins of his people, and
there must necessarily be a certain element of that in all true prayer,
some enlargement of the heart so as to include others in our prayer,
and in time to include their sins with our own in our desire for pardon.

"These men, if they had not entered into the deeper mysteries

ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 265

of love, had in any case intensity of feeling to give reality to their
communion with God.

"We, perhaps, have neither the love nor the intensity. In that
case, what are we to do? We must use every faculty we possess in
order to awaken the consciousness of the heart. In the last analysis
it is the heart, alone, that can pray. And granting that our hearts,
as yet, are cold and numb, we have it within our power none the less,
by the right use of our other faculties, to bring about, within our-
selves, that condition which does exist in times of emergency or of
distress or of natural love. For this, we must use memory, imagina-
tion, understanding and will. A man must prepare himself before
he begins to pray. The first thing for him to do is to put himself
in the presence of his Master. He might well imitate Saint Teresa,
who, before saying the Lord's Prayer, imagined herself to be standing
with the Apostles when Christ taught them how to pray. First, she
used memory, recalling the incident; then her imagination, picturing
the time, the place, the persons and their behaviour. Then, by further
use of her imagination, she threw herself with desire into the past,
and felt herself to be present with those people at that time. This is
only another way of saying that she brought the past into the present ;
the fact of course being that in the spiritual world past and present
and future are one. A spiritual fact, or some incident in the life of
a Master, is a living actuality; and it is within the power of those
who pray to enter into that incident just as truly as if they were
taking part in it when it first occurred.

"After the memory and the imagination have been used, comes
the use of the understanding. Let us suppose, for instance, that Saint
Teresa, saying the Lord's Prayer, came to the petition, 'Thy Kingdom
come.' Remember, please, that she is saying it as the Apostles said
it she is saying it with them, in the presence of her Master ; she is
saying it slowly; she uses her understanding; she asks herself what
these words mean. The first meaning is obvious enough. There is
the desire that the Master may rule on earth, as he rules already in
Heaven. But she knows full well that His kingdom cannot come on
earth until it be established within herself. So she asks herself what
she can do to bring it about, either by the expulsion from herself
of things antagonistic to His will, or by the cultivation within herself
of qualities and virtues such as she believes must exist within her
before His reign can come in the earth of her own nature. So she
asks herself, always in His presence, looking up into His face, what
she can do in order to bring His Kingdom within her. She has
realized long ago that general resolutions are useless. She knows
full well that she must decide upon something to be done today. At
a particular time during the day, when as a rule there is every oppor-
tunity to be impatient, she will try to make herself not only patient
but sympathetic ; or she will look for opportunities throughout the

266 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

day to exercise some particular quality. Whenever the clock strikes,
perhaps, she will use some simple ejaculation of prayer or of worship.
There will be nothing vague about her resolution. She has used her
memory, her imagination, her understanding. All of this will be
useless unless she bring the result to earth by means of action; she
will obey her resolution, and therefore will increase her love love
being the offspring of obedience, just as obedience is the offspring of
love.

"But that is only the barest outline of the process, and it will be
necessary in most cases to give far more time to the use of the
memory. Some book should be read which will do for us that which,
at first, it is difficult to do for ourselves. It may be a book of written
meditations, or, perhaps, the New Testament itself.

"In the case of those who are not Christians, exactly the same
principle should be applied, even if the sequence of thought be differ-
ent. Suppose a man who does not believe in what he calls Chris-
tianity, but who accepts fully and to its logical conclusion the theory
of evolution. This means that he believes in the perfectibility of
man. As a preliminary to his prayer or meditation, he should think
of the great souls of the past, who, as the result of their own efforts,
have climbed the ladder of life ahead of the race as a whole, and who
foreshadow our own ultimate achievement. His mind can recall
incidents, let us say in the life of Buddha, or he can use his memory
in a more abstract way, so as to bring vividly to his consciousness
the whole scheme of evolution, spiritual, intellectual and material.
He sees himself as an atom, and yet as reflecting on that infinitely
small surface the face of the universe itself. He realizes that he con-
tains within himself, potentially, all that the highest can ever become.
He thinks of the suffering in the world, and longs to relieve it; he
thinks of the lack of joy, and longs to give joy. He asks himself
how the great ones have attained and he gets the immediate reply
that they have become what they are through the conquest of self;
they have raised themselves above the level of the little and the
commonplace; they have become, not impersonal, but divinely per-
sonal. They have transformed their personalities, and, with the help
of those who have gone before them, have transmuted alchemically
lead into gold.

"As memory, imagination and understanding are exercised, little
by little desire grows. At the first attempt the result may be insig-
nificant, but as the effort is repeated they will bring themselves, at
last, into contact with one of those great beings whose desire it is,
at all times, to help and to encourage the least effort that we make.
Then, suddenly, before they are aware of what is taking place, they
will find that their hearts are no longer cold. Later, to their amaze-
ment, they will find that the warmth has turned into flame at last,
maybe, into a passion of longing such as they have not dared to hope

ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 267

for. Then they will be able to pray: and then they will come to
understand that what they have regarded as their own exertions and
longing are nothing but the reflection within themselves of the love
of the Master to whose Ray they belong."

The Recorder, at this point, interrupted, "What you have said
suggests that no effort needs to be made until the time has come
for action; I mean for the carrying out of the resolution previously
arrived at. Can it be as easy as you would lead one to suppose?"

"It follows clearly, I think, from what I have said, that a certain
degree of preliminary effort is necessary, but no more than a student
makes who sits down to study the grammar of some foreign tongue.
I am supposing also that the student in this case has trained himself
to concentrate his mind on whatever his task may be, and to throw
himself, heart and soul, into the performance of all of his duties. If
he be a man of affairs, and immersed during the greater part of the
day in business, he must have learned to turn rapidly from one
subject to another, and to give his whole attention to each. There-
fore it ought not to be difficult for him to turn his attention from
his business, or from the other matters which ordinarily preoccupy
him, to the book of devotion which he may be reading, and to throw
himself, with the utmost mental energy, into the consideration of
his subject. This, of course, bears out the old saying that the char-
acter of our prayer is determined, to a great extent, by the activities
of preceding hours. In other words, if we meander through life, if
our thoughts during the day are scattered, if, habitually, we fail to
concentrate our minds on the performance of our duties, then, inevit-
ably, our time of prayer must reflect the chaotic condition of our
ordinary mental processes. If also we permit ourselves to be obsessed
by some thought or worry, we must suffer for it, not only during our
period of meditation, but also during the performance of any other
duty whatsoever. No one, however, can defend or excuse obsession
of that kind. On the face of it, it is a condition to be overcome.

"Whether we pray or not, we should in any case be able to give
our whole attention to some book of our own choosing. This by
rights should be one that will interest our minds, and ought to be
chosen with that purpose in view. There are very few people who
can jump directly into prayer; out of half an hour, it would be wise
to give the first quarter of an hour, at least, to reading; and this
reading ought to be carefully selected, according to the need of each
individual, and also according to that individual's need at some par-
ticular time. There may be days when even a beginner will find
delight in the Meditations of so ardent a soul as Saint Alphonsus.
There may be other days when, his mind being uppermost, he needs
something more substantial intellectually, and he should vary his
reading, therefore, according to his condition. The purpose, in any
case, is to arouse and to increase his love of the ideal, and this natur-

268 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

ally includes his love of the spiritual world and of spiritual persons,
and above all, of his own spiritual becoming, for the sake of those
spiritual persons whom he desires to love.

"You may well find fault with the attempt I have made to reply
to my friend's question; the subject is so vast, and the question is
so difficult to answer generally. People, I think, are inclined to for-
get that it is as impossible to prescribe for would-be disciples, in
general, as it would be ridiculous for a physician to prescribe for
a regiment of soldiers he must, of necessity, consider each case,
and after careful diagnosis determine what remedy, if any, should
be administered, or what the normal diet should be. In a spiritual
sense, nearly all of us are ill, and therefore require special treatment.
The utmost one can hope to do is to suggest certain principles which
must underlie the treatment of all cases. Then, if a man be so unfor-
tunate as to be compelled to prescribe for himself, he can at least
set to work in the light of those principles, and try to work out his
own salvation. One thing is certain : the more simple we are and
the more direct, the more effective we shall be in prayer and in all
other departments of life. The great saints have not been complicated
in their method of approach ; they have done that which others have
talked about doing; they have gone directly to the place of their
desire; and although this has been easy for them, after years of
experience, they must in all cases have begun it by the use of
simple faith, which convinced them that the Master they desired to
reach was far more desirous of reaching them; and that whatever
their longing to hear might be, his longing to teach them how to
listen must be infinitely greater."

The Philosopher had been unusually attentive. "I do not think
you have laid sufficient emphasis," he said, "on the character of our
general thinking. There are barriers between ourselves and the
Master which take the form of mental distractions. Perhaps it would
be more true to say that we fail to recognize His presence, and there-
fore fail to give him our undivided attention, because of clouds
between Him and us which we ourselves create. Consequently He
does not seem near, and our prayers appear to us to be spoken into
empty space, or to beat back upon us as if rebounding from rock.
Every sin is such a barrier, so long as we fail to recognize and to
struggle against it. Lack of charity, condemnation of others, feel-
ings of anger, of annoyance, suspicion, create a cloud which utterly
conceals, for the time being, the fact of the Master's presence. That
is one reason why so much stress is laid on forgiveness of others
as a preliminary to prayer, as, for instance, first be reconciled with
your brother and then bring your gift to the altar. To speak theo-
logically, we must seek and must obtain first the "grace" which
makes forgiveness possible, before we can hope for the "grace" which
makes further prayer effective. Perhaps the easiest and quickest

ON THE SCREEN OF TIME - 269

way to accomplish this is to begin by praying for those who have annoyed
us. Our prayer may be perfunctory, but as we persevere "grace" will
grow. As we become able to ask blessings heartily for our supposed
enemy, blessings will begin to flow in upon ourselves, even without
the asking.

"In any case, when troubled by distractions in prayer, by wander-
ing thoughts, we should seek always for the moral cause in ourselves
not resting content with some explanation based upon lack of
mental control. And again as always we should be particular, riot
general. Nothing is more foolish than to say, 'Well, it is just part
of my general badness!' We must seek the particular defect.

"There are, of course, other ways of approaching the same sub-
ject and as many ways as possible ought to be considered. Not
many days ago I was rereading an old book on prayer, in the form
of question and answer, which contained some excellent advice,
though quaintly worded. In reply to the question, 'In what does
purity of mind consist?' the author replied to this effect: In over-
coming the false independence which naturally inclines us to think
of what pleases us so long as it seems not to be evil ; or at least in
possessing enough self-restraint to keep our minds from constantly
running about after the vain images of material things, as children
run after butterflies."

The Recorder, frankly desirous of more good "copy," challenged
the Philosopher with the question, "But does your quaint author go back
to the foundations of things, as you were asking the Gael to do ; does
he explain why we need this purity of mind in prayer?"

The Philosopher answered : "So far as I can remember the author
replied to a similar question as follows : If the mind is accustomed
to wander continually among these idle thoughts, it cannot enter
into itself at the time of prayer; and above all, it cannot practise that
kind of prayer called 'simple recollection' which naturally requires
great recollection of mind. Moreover if our mind is always roving
about amid all sorts of amusing or agreeable objects, how can we with-
draw our inner sight from these things and fix it on the invisible?
Even if we could do so for a moment or two, these vain ideas and
pleasing images would be continually trying to reinstate themselves
in the imagination, like the clouds of dust around a traveller that keep
him from seeing where he is and whither he is going. We must,
therefore, resist the natural wanderings of the mind and continually
restrain the natural activity of the soul by not permitting it to
entertain itself with, nor even voluntarily to wander among vain,
frivolous or useless thoughts. We must look upon all these just as
if they were really wicked; and we must act as if they were so, the
moment we discover them."

The Gael evidently found in this old mystic a sympathetic
spirit, for us soon as the Philosopher paused for a moment, he said,

270 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

"But did I not hear you say that your fine old book is in question
and answer form? And where was the questioner all this time?"

"Temporarily suppressed," answered the Philosopher, "lest
someone here," looking at the Recorder, "should feel that his rightful
province was being usurped. But suppose I read to you from the
book itself? This is how it runs:

Question. This kind of purity seems to me the most difficult
of all.

Anstver. So it really is, but take notice: when once we have
experienced a first taste of God and this sweet peace of His, we
feel ourselves constantly called back again by the sweet remem-
brance of this taste which makes us involuntarily forget everything
else. And as this same attraction tends little by little to give us
a disgust for creatures [by which he means "material things"], we
finally come to advert to them only, as it were, with reluctance. Then
we enjoy mental liberty because we no longer willingly attend to
anything but God and heavenly things.

Question. But what must we do to reach this happy state?

Answer. By studying recollection, we must labor to destroy
or at least to weaken our unfortunate attachments; for these give
rise to the thoughts which are most alluring and hardest to dismiss.
Accordingly as they are weakened, we feel less pain in withdrawing
mind and thought from what we have already commenced to forsake
in heart and affection.

Question. What is to be done with thoughts which are merely
useless or frivolous?

Answer. We must drop them out of the mind as we would
drop a stone from the hand. If through inadvertence, we ever
allow ourselves to be amused by them, we must, as soon as this is
discovered, recall the wandering mind, whether by simple remem-
brance of God (or of the Master) or by a brief elevation of the heart
to Him, or by the help of a good thought prepared in advance and
ready for use when needed.

Question. Of course you do not class as useless either reflec-
tion upon present necessities, or wise forethought for the future,
or holy considerations about ourselves and our spiritual advance-
ment?

Answer. Who has ever dared to say or even to think that these
are useless? But do you wish to know one of the most artful ruses
of self-love, so jealous of preserving that freedom of thought which
forms its nourishment and its life? Do you wish to know a very
subtile illusion caused by the natural activity of the mind which,
only by the aid of painful and almost continual self-denial, can restrain
its thoughts and reflections within the bounds of strict necessity?
If so, let us discuss together the four points just mentioned by you.

1. Under pretence that we must think of what we are going to

ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 271

do or say, so many useless and superfluous thoughts and reflections
come to us that often the very time we lose in deliberating and
considering unimportant things would be enough for the execution
of them. And as for the more important things, each of which
demands its own share of time, although we try to think of all at
the same moment, they often cause in the soul a confusion of
thoughts and reflections, which so agitates, disquiets and disturbs
that whole interior and so overwhelms the mind, that we can no
longer think either of God, or of ourselves, or even of what we should
be doing. .

2. Under pretence of providing for the future, and, as we say,
of not tempting Providence, we spend much time in heaping thought
upon thought, reflection upon reflection, plan upon plan; we exhaust
ourselves with uneasy forebodings, with anxious fears, and often
with useless precautions; but when the time comes, appearances
change, or we alter our ideas and opinions; and then we begin to
take new measures, often just the contrary of those so uselessly
thought out and so vainly resolved upon previously.

3. Under pretence of what we call examination or holy intro-
spection, we discuss certain affairs and hold certain conversations.
Every trifling circumstance of time, place, person, and speech is
recalled, and is followed immediately by a new crowd of reflections
worse than useless, since generally they serve only to create vain
joys, vain fears, or still vainer hopes. All these in turn tend only to
augment our natural dissipation of mind and to destroy our interior
peace, by carrying uneasiness and anxiety into the very depths of
the soul.

4. Finally, under pretence of spiritual advancement, we vainly
and almost incessantly employ ourselves in continually, or at any rate
unseasonably, recalling the heavenly blessings and graces received,
and our courageous oblation of all actions and suffering past and
present; and still more in amusing ourselves with a thousand good
and holy plans for the future, at the expense of the present. All
the above are thoughts which interior self-denial and true mortifica-
tion should continually suppress.

Question. By what means shall we restrain the mind's natural
activity? How shall we bring ourselves to the constant renunciation
of this dearest delight of self-love?

Answer. The means is to say to oneself on these occasions:
"Such and such things have occurred. What is the use of worrying
about them now? As to what should be done or said in the future,
that can be considered at the proper time. God will provide for
everything. Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof. Will not
tomorrow and the following day bring with them their own graces?
Let me think then, only of the present as God Himself bids us do.

272 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

Let me leave the past to his mercy and the future to his providence ;
and meanwhile, let me labor peacefully and quietly for perfection of
service first, and for other things later on. As to the outcome, let
me leave it to God, casting all my cares upon His paternal bosom,
in the belief that He, as Saint Peter says, 'hath care of us/ " With
simple confidence and abandonment, we should say to God : "Lord,
without wishing to neglect anything which You prescribe for
the good of my soul or body, I hope that at the proper time and
place, You will give me the thought, the impulse, and the ability to
undertake and perform such and such affairs, which keep coming into
my mind, so often and so unseasonably. I abandon them and their
outcome to You, in order that I may more fully devote myself to
You; that I may wait patiently and with perfect resignation, until
all things happen as Your wise providence ordains."

"Does your author mean to suggest," asked the Student, "that
we should abandon all attachments and become living mummies?"

"I do not think so," the Philosopher replied. "If that was his
intention, he was certainly wrong. And that was not the doctrine of
the saints. Their teaching was and is that all human love and all
human attachment is evil unless it draw us nearer to the Master:
is, in other words, a misuse, a perversion, of a divine power. On the
other hand, attachments which draw us more closely to Him, must
be in line with his will. The point, as I see it, is that we should
beware of becoming entangled, enmeshed, or of allowing ourselves
to grow into a state of dependence upon any external prop or stim-
ulus; and that we should practise self-control, and thus gain the
dominion over ourselves which at present we lack, by constant regu-
lation of the mind and feelings. In this way we shall be able to bring
a controlled mind to our prayer and meditation."

"I agree with what you have said," the Gael commented. "But
there is one thing I want to add : nothing, absolutely nothing can be
done without desire. One reason why people have so much trouble
with meditation or prayer is that they do not put as much desire
into it as they would into the practice of a musical instrument or into
learning a game of cards. Theosophy is an experimental science.
Suppose you were studying chemistry. You would perhaps attend
some preparatory lectures on the theory of it. Then you would be
permitted to put into simple practice some of the things you had
learned theoretically. What interest you would bring to the task!
How earnestly you would desire to perform well, and to carry to
a successful conclusion, the experiment recommended as illustration
and proof of the theory you had learned ! And think of the immense
reward of spiritual progress and of any knowledge of the Master
rewards so great that those who have known what it is to govern
kingdoms have laughed at human success after a taste of spiritual

ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 273

satisfaction. There is no comparison. And although it is difficult,
I admit, to desire that which is unseen and unknown by our physical
senses, we have at all times the help of those who, though in some
cases as yet unknown to us, are none the less our friends, giving
us the utmost of help on behalf of the Master whose love draws
us, slowly but irresistibly, back to his heart which is in itself, for those who
belong to him, the source of light, of love, of joy, of power." T.

ELEMENTARY

WE CAUSE OUR OWN SUFFERING

WE cause our own suffering. We have all heard and read
this view before, and most of us, perhaps, would grant its
truth. But we have found from experience that there
is an immense difference between a theory and its prac-
tical application to life. When this is the case it is often wise to
analyse the theory so as to bring it down from the general to the
particular, from the abstract to the concrete.

W 7 e all have difficulties : especially do those have them who
are deliberately trying to live a higher life. We have family
troubles ; our relations with our friends are strained and painful ; we
are misunderstood; our work is difficult and complicated; we cannot
see clearly our duty and are puzzled what to do. There is a skeleton
in every closet, but in the case of the would-be disciple, the skeleton
does not stay locked up ; it insists upon coming out of the closet and
upon parading, in all its naked hideousness before our very eyes, until
we are driven nearly frantic with nervous dread and apprehension;
and yet "we cause our own suffering."

It is not that the skeleton does not exist and that we are the
victims of our imaginations. It is. that the skeleton is a perfectly
harmless collection of dry bones that cannot hurt us, and to which
we need pay but the attention necessary to grasp it by the nearest
bone, lead it back to the closet again and lock it up. Every time we
do this we should pull off a bone or two and throw them away. Before
very long the skeleton will be dismembered and will cease to exist.
How then do we cause our own suffering? First, because there
would be no skeleton at all unless we had originally manufactured it
in this or some other life; and second, because, once there, instead of
treating it for what it really is, a harmless aggregation of dry bones,
we clothe it with every imaginable attribute of horror and allow it
such power over us that its contemplation gives us excessive pain.
We cause our own suffering because this horror, this ability to make
us suffer, is not in the skeleton, it is in us. We allow these cords to
be vibrated by the skeleton, which of itself has no ability to play upon

274

WE CAUSE OUR OWN SUFFERING . 275.

our nerves, and can operate only with the power and to the extent
that we allow.

Why do we do this? Mostly from ignorance. Intolerable situa-
tions cease to be intolerable when we understand them. Some one we
love is ill and through our sympathies we suffer until life is a living
hell. How do we cause this suffering? How are we personally
responsible for this unnecessary pain? Through ignorance. Looked
at superficially we can see no reason for the loved one's illness, and
hence for our intolerable pain. But there always is a reason why
that illness is the best conceivable thing for the loved ones; just what
they need to bring them quickest and easiest into the Kingdom of
Heaven. This again we grant with our minds as a philosophical or
religious truth, but we do not grasp and experience it with our hearts.
If we did we would not find the situation intolerable. We must suffer
still. We can picture the Father as suffering with Jesus on the cross,
but also we can picture Him as filled with divine joy because of the
grandeur of the work then being accomplished.

Yes, we may say, it is all very well to explain suffering by God's
knowledge of its fruits. Perhaps if we could see as He could, the
incalculable good that would come from the sacrifice of Jesus, we
could bear the pain, but how about Mary and the apostles? They
did not have this knowledge. How was their suffering their fault?
If ignorance is the reason why we suffer, why are we allowed to
remain ignorant?

The answer is a little more complicated, but still very clear.
The only reason why we are ignorant, why we have not all the knowl-
edge the Father Himself has about every problem, is because of our
limitations, which are self-created things of the past : the result of
sin, of disobedience to law. We come into life handicapped with
these limitations in every direction. They make us see everything
distorted, reversed, in wrong perspective. Even the simplest and
most commonplace fact takes on some personal color, is perceived in
some wrong way. All our affairs are viewed through discolored
lenses; our skeleton a mere aggregation of dry bones appears
malignant, powerful, ruthless, vindictive ; able and anxious to inflict
every possible kind of horror upon us of which our unhealthy imagina-
tions can conceive. The Father sees this. But what can He do
about it? He knows that the skeleton is only a harmless aggregation
of dry bones; He knows it cannot hurt us; He tells us this in every
way in which a fact can be communicated to human consciousness.
He tells it ceaselessly, in all languages, at all times; by symbol, by
allegory, by art, by science, by music, by poetry, by literature, by
sermons, by books, by Christ's example, by life itself in all its infinite
ramifications.

But we do not understand, and so we suffer. What then is
there left for Him to do about it? Only one thing, and that is what

276 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

He does. In His wisdom, He knows that the very fire of this appar-
ently useless suffering will gradually burn away the discolorations
which keep us from seeing clearly, and that the more we suffer the
faster will this cleansing process go on. He knew that it was the
anguish of the apostles which would enable them to have that
ultimate vision and understanding of Christ's mission which made
them what they became. He knew they would not grudge the price.
Yet even so He did His best, Christ did His best, to prepare them,
to warn them, to explain again and yet again. But they were what
they were; their limitations prevented their seeing; and with that
beautiful compensation of spiritual law, it was the suffering caused
by their limitations, which burned their limitations away, and enabled
them to see.

That is what the Father, and hence what life is doing for each
one of us. We suffer through ignorance, ignorance caused by our
limitations; limitations caused by our past sins. But by the
magnificent compassion of God and because the universe is made
that way, this situation automatically cures itself, because the
suffering burns away the limitations, the limitations gone, we see
the facts ; and seeing the facts, we cease to suffer and find joy.

Our task them is threefold: first, to bear courageously and
uncomplainingly our present suffering; second, to seek the lesson
which Father is trying to teach us and which our suffering should
make us confront ; third, to assist the process of purification by stren-
uous and constant efforts to reverse the manner of our lives in every
direction in which the limitations have been built up.

The tone, the spirit, of TVt? New Order of Sainthood, by Professor Fairfield
Osborn, is altogether admirable. Most cordially do we approve also of the author's
statement that "The two great historic movements of Love and of Knowledge,
of the spiritual and intellectual and physical well-being of man, are harmonious
parts of a single and eternal truth." But when he asks us to admit Pasteur among
the saints, does he not ask that which Pasteur himself would have repudiated?
It is our duty to do everything in our power which is right, to preserve the life
of the body. But why? Solely to serve the purposes of soul; to give that much
more opportunity for the development of character and for the attainment of
that perfection which is man's destiny. Professor Osborn probably realizes this
as clearly as we do. But as a scientist, as one of that fold, is there not even
greater need to convert his fellows to that view, than to convert the church (the
purpose of his booklet) to an appreciation of material Science? We venture to
go further; for, if we could, we would enlist the aid of Professor Osborn to
convert the church from its worship of material things from its spiritless human-
itarianism, its mechanical institutionalism, its childish awe of the modern spirit
to some recognition of eternal purposes and of universal, endless growth into
self-conscious unity with God. E. T. H.

Letters to His Friends, by Forbes Robinson. A new edition of these Letters
makes the total number of copies issued since their publication in 1904, sixteen
thousand. Surely it is an indisputable sign of a rising tide of spirituality. There
is nothing sensational or controversial in the volume that might give it a "run."
The Letters are simply religious, genuinely religious. If a large percentage of the
sixteen thousand readers be fellow communicants of the author, that is, Anglicans
or Episcopalians, and there are as many as ten thousand readers in one church
interested in letters that are deeply religious, the outlook for the future is even
more encouraging.

The book manifests the working of Theosophical leaven, and is a splendid
illustration of some cardinal Theosophical doctrines. The author's most salient
quality is sympathy. We sometimes interpret sympathy to mean "pity" or "condol-
ence." Mr. Robinson knew that to sympathize with a man we must enter into
the man's position, see with the man's eyes, feel with his heart, think with his
mind. Only when we have thus entered into the being of another can we know
anything about him or endeavor to help. Such sympathy requires the setting
aside of self. It is the very reverse of selfishness. And it brings immense enlarge-
ment as a fruit. Mr. Robinson's sympathy is thoroughgoing. The Divine Compas-
sion shines through it. And we feel that he is one who knew the Master. "When
I get quite quiet, and my mind is sane, and my conscience at rest, when I almost
stop thinking, and listen, I am quite sure that a Personal Being comes to me,
and, as He comes, brings some of His own life to flow into my life." (Letter of
June 27, 1892.) JOHN WILFRID ORR.

277

278 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

Some Adventures of the Soul, by C. M. Verschoyle. The lives and writings
of the Saints are, to a large extent, unknown to the "world." There are notable
exceptions, such as the Imitation and The Flowers of Saint Francis. And the
number of these exceptions is increasing. People of the world are coming more
and more to recognise that Saints have left invaluable comments upon the Way
to Happiness. But mystical writings have not yet dominated secular life. There-
fore we welcome, with great pleasure, a volume of verse that sets forth experiences
of the inner life, in a form to which those who award the world's prize of distinc-
tion must give very high praise. C. M. Verschoyle writes in the two styles that
are familiar from Francis Thompson's work; one, is the inimitably naive style
of Ex ore Infantium.

Little Jesus, wast thou shy
Once, and just so small as I?

"A Prayer and The Gift" are examples of this charming simplicity. The
second is the elaborate Latin style of "The Hound of Heaven." But this new
author, in his management of rich phraseology, does not exhibit the occasional
lapses of Thompson's immaturity. The vocabulary is freighted with Elizabethan
store, "Argosies of Purple Sail," "Plangent Minors," etc.

We commend the book to all who seek spiritual treasure and exquisite literary
form. ALFRED WILLISTON.

Ara Coeli: An Essay in Mystical Theology, by Arthur Chandler, Bishop of
Bloemfontein. This book is a real contribution to Christian Mysticism, and should
appeal to all who are interested in the growth and expansion of the Church. The
author is a member of the Church of England, and he maintains that his Communion
"is the best sphere for the cultivation of mystical religion." Avoiding not only in
letter but in spirit any controversy with Roman Catholicism, he points out that
it was over-organization and suspicion that caused the almost invariable persecu-
tion which the great well-known mystics had to endure. The Anglican Church is
free from these faults ; with a strong framework of institutional religion, it supplies
also space and freedom; it is not burdened with the over-elaboration of external
observances nor by an exaggerated exercise of authority. Mysticism is the "Religion
of Experience," the mystic way is pre-eminently, in his opinion, a life.

The first seven chapters deal with the early stages of mystical development;
Disillusionment, Detachment, Mortification, The Christ-Life, Meditation. In these
the author reveals a sure knowlege, gleaned from personal experience as well as
from study. He quotes widely from the great mystics, and enters sympathetically
into their spirit and intention. In fact, in these chapters Bishop Chandler shows
that he knows, by personal experience, what mysticism and discipleship mean; and
he openly proclaims that we are called to be saints. Coming from one of the heads
of the Church, this conviction should carry weight; and it is with pleasure that
we welcome so clear a statement of belief from such a quarter, where for too
long a time low ideals and a spirit of compromise have held sway. In the chapters
on Contemplation he writes obviously from second-hand, and has missed to some
degree that which the saints themselves have written about this highest state before
final complete union with the Master. Perhaps the worst fault of the book is the
very limited understanding of what this final Communion with the Master means
and becomes. To him the visions of the saints were flashes of revelation, only to
be realized fully and continuously in heaven, after death. He does not see that
"the kingdom of heaven is within," and that what he relegates to an after death
beatitude has been and can be lived by every saint here and now. He does not
realize the humanity of Jesus, and therefore banishes him from this world to the
hereafter; and he attempts to explain the familiar intercourse of the saints with
their beloved Master by the complicated theories of modern psychology, that they

REVIEWS 279

projected their own personality, or a newly awakened part of it, to the field of
their higher consciousness, identifying the latter with the divine inspiration, the
grace, which they felt to be working in their souls. This is too frequently the
attitude taken by the Protestant Churches ; an attitude that while, perhaps, the result
of a reaction from the mediaeval miracles and divine interference of the Church,
is yet sadly at variance with the teaching of Jesus himself. In the final chapters,
entitled "All Things Are Yours," and "Symbol and Sacrament," he makes a strong
plea for the manliness and sanity of living the spiritual life. The mystic does not
leave the world, but lives "in order to gather it up into the life of God in which
we have learnt to live. In God we have found the glory of a liberty which consists
in our sonship to Him; and now the rest of creation, alienated from Him through
our apostacy, is to be reconciled to Him with ourselves in Christ." In this work
the spiritual man is equipped with the assurance of success and largeness of outlook.
"If we are on the look-out for eccentricities, we shall be disappointed. He has
no special idiosyncrasies or mannerisms, does not isolate himself from other people,
but goes about his business and does his duty in much the same way as any
ordinary good Christian man. . . . He is a man who believes intensely in prayer
as the strongest and most beneficent power in the universe, and in some form or
other his life is largely made up of prayer . . . besides being quiet and reticent,
he strikes the careful observer as extraordinarily happy. . . . Goodness, in his
eyes, is not a grumbling sacrifice to the proprieties, but Christ dwelling in Him."
These extracts may, perhaps, stimulate the reader to further investigation, for
we recommend this book as a straightforward exposition of the new religious insight
arising within the Church. A. G.

Dharma. For several years those who have been privileged to attend the
T. S. Conventions have listened to most cordial letters of greeting from Caracas,
and interesting accounts of the work done in Venezuela. I, myself, still remember
distinctly portions of those letters. After hearing them my silent comment has
been: "I wish I might know those distant brothers more intimately. I wish
I might make more than an annual connection with their zealous work." The
yearly greetings from South America to the Convention make it evident that those
far-away members realize with some vividness the great privilege and oppor-
tunity that T. S. membership gives. I felt that their appreciation and zeal would
stimulate me, and might end frequent sluggishness on my part. My silent wishes
are now, in a measure, fulfilled. In April of this year, the energetic Venezuela
Branch started a quarterly magazine, Dharma. Three numbers have appeared. I
believe I express the feeling and opinion of many members when I thank our
South American brothers, most sincerely, for this courageous undertaking. We
trust it will have the success it deserves. And we congratulate them upon the
high excellence they have attained in the very first numbers.

The new Spanish quarterly averages forty-five pages. It is well printed. The
cover has the familiar star and lotus symbols printed in black upon a greenish
blue ground. The name Dharma in large black capitals is in the centre of the
page. It is a quiet and modest cover with no suggestion of strange or startling
contents.

The editors of Dharma have shown great intuition in selecting from the
QUARTERLY, for reproduction in Spanish, articles that concern every member of
the society whether in Venezuela, New York, Sweden or Germany. One of the
first articles chosen for translation is Professor Mitchell's admirable treatise on
"Theosophy and the T. S." I have found that article invaluable. So many
inquiries come to me from new members, or from those not yet members, in
regard to the divisions and animosities that separate societies called theosophical.
I never feel it necessary to make a reply of my own. I refer the inquirer to
Professor Mitchell's article. The question is usually answered satisfactorily some-

280 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

where in its pages. Doubts and questions similar to those that perplex students
in North America may occur in Venezuela also. So I feel confident that the
article will be helpful.

There is a second article of Professor Mitchell's that on "Meditation." Medita-
tion is a subject of first importance to all students of Theosophy. It has been
written about for many centuries. Yet some people think it is more clearly and
helpfully treated by Professor Mitchell than by the hundreds of others who have
tried to describe the processes. This article has brought Theosophy to the
attention of some people by showing a connection between Theosophy and Chris-
tianity! Interest has been thus aroused, and, after a time, the readers have asked
for admission to the society. South America has a rich inheritance of meditations
from the Saints of the Roman Catholic Church. Spanish Catholics are specially
rich in the treasures of St. Teresa and St. John of the Cross. I venture to
believe that Professor Mitchell's article in Spanish will do what it has done in
its original form, namely, reconcile certain "old school" members with Christianity,
and also induce some Christians to search for the precious pearl of the Wisdom
Religion.

Writings by our great pioneers, Madam Blavatsky and Mr. Judge, are reprinted,
and add to the classic character of the new publication. Two of Mr. Schofield's
valuable lessons are translated, and an article by Mr. Johnston on the "Spiritual
Origin of Life." The surprising article, "Saintliness and Business," also appears.
That article alone is enough to make reflective people pause and consider. For it
shows that the same characteristics which make a saint make, also, a successful
business man.

Thus many articles which have proved helpful in the lives of English speaking
members are now given to Spanish members in their mother tongue. Such a
publication must be a great event in the history of the Venezuela Branch, and
one over which the members may rightly rejoice. We, too, rejoice with those
South American brothers, and share their gain. Dharma makes our common good,
the QUARTERLY, more accessible to them; it makes them more accessible to us.

S. M.

Theosophisches Leben. The October Number of Theosophisches Leben trans-
lates five articles that have appeared in the QUARTERLY. German members, who
do not read English, are thus kept au courant with the thought and interests of
the entire Society. The articles chosen for translation are those that interpret some
of the difficult meanings of the Christian Scriptures (Mr. Johnston's explanation
of Adam and Eve, e. g.), or that throw light upon the mission of Christianity.
The interesting address made by Mr. Paul Raatz at the last Convention of the
T. S. is printed in full; the address is an account of the foundation and growth
of the T. S. in Germany. There is another address, by Mr. Oskar Stoll, delivered
to the Convention of the German Branches, at Munich ; this address deals with the
Mission of the T. S. Well-chosen extracts from the writings of Tauler, Suso,
and others fill up the pages, and make the magazine interesting and helpful.

ALFRED WILLISTON.

Meditations on the Divine Liturgy, N. B. Gogol, Translated by L. Alexeieff.
Published for the Anglican and Eastern Orthodox Churches Union. A. R. Mowbray.
This book explains to Western Christians the elaborate ritual of the Eastern
Church. It shows that while the ritual is a dramatic representation of our
Lord's life, it serves also from beginning to end, as a circumference from which
the mind may travel to the inner centre. In commenting upon the doctrine of
the Real Presence, the author recognises that it is the Presence of the Master in
history that has effected whatever good is to be found in any civilisation : "if
society still hold together, if people do not breathe inveterate hatred to one

REVIEWS 281

another, the secret cause is the Divine Liturgy reminding man of holy, heavenly
love towards his brother."

The author recognises also, though not verbally, the relation of discipleship.
For the disciple is he who "manifests the real presence" of his master. Gogol
says of the priest: "If he have celebrated reverently, in fear, faith, and love,
he is purified as the vessels of the Temple, remaining pure all the day. In the
fulfilment of his varying pastoral duties in the family, among others, among his
parishioners, who are also his family, the Saviour himself is represented by him.
And in all he does CHRIST will act by him, and in his words CHRIST will speak.
Whether he lead those at enmity to make peace, urge the strong to be merciful
to the weak, soften the hard-hearted, console the sorrowful, encourage the suffering
to be patient his words have the power of healing oil and will everywhere be
words of peace and love." ALFRED WILLISTON.

The Reasonableness of the Religion of Jesus, The Baldwin Lectures for 1911
at the University of Michigan, by William S. Rainsford, D.D. Houghton, Mifflin,
1913. There is much in Dr. Rainsford's volume that is characteristic of present-
day Liberal clergymen. Belief in the "unfairness of nature" and the consequent
need of socialistic reforms ; disbelief, partial or thorough-going, in the accuracy
of the Gospel narratives, especially those portions which record miracles ; and a
misgiving as to the ability of the Church to use its opportunity in this day of
general improvement these doctrines are preached from "progressive" pulpits every-
where. They carry no conviction or solace to the soul that languishes for a
physician. But, happily, Dr. Rainsford preaches another doctrine that is not
commonly heard, and that encourages those who struggle in growing-pains of
the soul. He has caught the meaning of the Sower and the Seed of the Parables
of the Kingdom. He sees that the essence of the Master's teaching is growth;
therefore, with many apt illustrations, he speaks of religion as a living principle,
germinating, springing up in man as a grain does in the field. The first two
chapters set forth this view of religion so clearly that it would seem they might do
much good, unless a superficial reading should interpret "growth" and "change"
to mean external activities rather than repentance, conversion, and the transfer of

consciousness from lower to higher planes of life.

THEODORE ASHTON.

^QUESTIONS

ANSWERS

QUESTION 164. Please give a clue to the interpretation of Saint Luke, Chapter
xvi, the parable of the rich man and his steward.

ANSWER. The real difficulty lies, I suppose, in the strange injunction: "I say
unto you, Make to yourselves friends of the mammon of unrighteousness ; that,
when ye fail, they may receive you into everlasting habitation."

The passage is a difficult one, rendered more difficult by the reading adopted
by the Revisers : "When it shall fail."

I have heard this explanation suggested : The parable was addressed to the
disciples. The disciple is counseled to maintain an open-hearted charity towards
all, men of the world as well as disciples, for all are really one with him. He
should render all services, that may rightly be rendered, to men of the world, as well
as to disciples. It may be his fate to stray from the path. Then some genuine
service thus done to a man of the world may return to him, and may, under divine
law, be the means of setting his feet once more on the path to the everlasting
habitations. It is worth noting, that this parable of the unjust steward, follows
immediately after the wonderful parable of the prodigal son, which, I suppose, in
one of its aspects, is the story of a disciple who strayed from the path, and who,
through terrible grief and humiliation, found his way back to the Master's love.
No sentence is full of more loving wisdom than that : I will arise and go to my
father. C. J.

QUESTION 165. The teachings of Theosophy appeal to me; it all seems so reason-
able ; and yet in some way that I do not understand I hold back, my indefinite
unwillingness proving greater than my desire that had seemed so definite. I simply
cannot take the last step. Why is it?

ANSWER. For one reason, because the "last step" is probably millions of miles
away from the spot where you now stand. Theosophy, as we so frequently need to
remind our selves, is a life; it is to be lived, minute by minute, life after life, until
at last we begin to understand something about the heart of it. Then only is it
worth while to think about the last step. What appears to be giving the inquirer
genuine trouble is the taking of one of the first steps ; and sometimes they are the
most difficult, especially for those of us who have had a thoroughly "modern"
education, in which will, imagination and intellect are made to play at "Puss in the
Corner" until it is almost impossible to get them back in their rightful places. Here
is a bit of wisdom from George Macdonald that may give a clue to the inquirer's
trouble : "In the history of the world the imagination has been quite as often
right as the intellect, and the things in which it has been right have been of much
the greater importance." C. P.

ANSWER. The inquirer may be admiring himself too much ; may be seeing the
reflection of himself in the window pane, instead of looking through it to the
wonderful view without. "A man makes his own shadow," is an old saying; and it
might well be added that only he can make it. G. V. S. M.

982

QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS . 283

ANSWER. Faith, it would seem, is the first and the great essential. I know well
the spot that the inquirer describes, every inch of the ground is familiar, for I
spent years there. So long as I refused to believe I could not see. When I allowed
my heart to be master, when I believed, lo 1 all became rational again, and stood the
test of reason, which then took its rightful place as one of the instruments for
my use. M. K.

ANSWER. There are two mistakes that most of us make in our dealings with
the spiritual world. We imagine that things there are very complicated, while they
are most simple. We expect things to happen there instantaneously, without regard
to the law of seedtime and harvest. It took us months to learn to walk in the
physical world, but we expect to run in the spiritual world from the very day when
we make up our minds that we would like to enter it. Somebody has said that
the less material an art the more necessary it is to learn it by doing it. Certainly
doing is most important in the "art" of real living; and I suspect that one who
wishes to learn has to begin with doing. Applied to the case of the inquirer, that
would mean that with an earnest desire to win to the real heart of the theosophic life,
to which he cannot bring himself in one great decision, he would constantly require
himself to make many small decisions. He might, for instance, say to himself that
because he wanted to find the real light he would try to make life brighter for
some person in his circle whom he did not like ; would do his utmost, whenever he
met that person to find what was really fine and true in him, and fasten his eyes
on that; or he might set himself some everyday task that came in the line of his
duty as a thing that was to be done, every day, with the utmost perfection of which
he was capable. Think of the energy and determination in doing shown by many a
poor boy whose heart is set on having a college education ! If only we could set
our hearts with equal simplicity and definiteness on the task of "working our way"
into the Kingdom of Heaven. R. C.

QUESTION 166. How does Theosophy define Nirvana?

ANSWER. To begin with, how are we to decide how Theosophy defines
anything? Who is authorized to speak for Theosophy? Who is authorized to speak
even for Theosophists? Each has a right to his own view. None would venture
to bind others by his definition.

Nirvana has many shades of meaning attached to it, but the more positive
meaning which it has, for instance, in the Bhagavad Gita, or for the Northern
Buddhists, certainly does not imply either annihilation or loss of identity; it is
rather the finding of one's complete individuality. The tradition is, that Siddhartha
the Compassionate still exists as an individual, though he entered Nirvana two and
a half milleniums ago.

Is it not a universal experience that, at each awakening to a larger, deeper
life, one says : "I feel myself to be much more myself than before." Is not spiritual
progress a losing oneself, to find one's self? Is not just this everlasting truth
taught in the words: "He that hateth his life shall keep it unto life eternal."
Is there not every reason to believe that this is increasingly true along the line
of spiritual progress, up to, and including, Nirvana?

But after all the only way to gain true insight is the way of experiment and
experience. Follow the "noble eight- fold path" and see whether you do not
thereby find yourself by losing yourself. C. J.

I T-s-AcnvmEs

A WORD FROM THE TREASURER.

Several members have recently asked me to explain through the columns of
the QUARTERLY when the dues to the Theosophical Society are payable and to
whom they should be paid. The editor fears that all his readers will not be
interested in these facts; and I have had to promise to ask all those who already
know them to skip to the next page.

First, the Society's year closes the last of April ; it has been the custom to
regard the day of the Annual Convention as the last day of that year. In 1913,
the Convention came on April 26th, and the new year for the Society began on
the 27th ; on that day every member's dues for the year 1913-1914 were payable.
Some of our Branches and some of our members have formed the pleasant habit
of paying their dues in advance, so that when the Convention opens the Treasurer
has often received many payments for the coming year. No one, however, is
under obligation to make advance payments, but any members who have not yet
paid their dues for the year 1913-1914 are requested to send them in at an early
date. Or if this request come too close to the Christmas season to make it
convenient for all to pay, a note saying that you have the matter in mind, and
will remit a little later would be appreciated.

Second, there are several satisfactory ways in which payment may be made.
In some Branches the Branch Treasurer collects the Society dues and sends them,
in one remittance, to the Treasurer T. S. In some cases individual members
send their remittance direct to the Treasurer T. S. Members who are ordering
books or have some other business to transact with the Secretary's efficient office,
have found it a convenience to send their dues to the Secretary T. S. who then
forwards them to the Treasurer's office. This involves extra work for the
Secretary which, I know, is most gladly done, but when letters contain no other
business they might perhaps better be sent direct to the Treasurer, and by so much
lighten the work of the Secretary.

Third, the Treasurer should be addressed at Box 1584, New York, N. Y.
Several members have expressed the feeling that it would be safer to send money
to a street address ; and so I take this occasion to say that the foregoing address is
both more permanent and secure.

I cannot close this notice without expressing my sincere thanks to the many
members, whose names come to mind as I write, who have done so much, by
prompt response and by generous contributions to the expenses of the Society,
to make it possible to meet the necessary expenses of our rapidly increasing work.

HENRY BEDINGER MITCHELL.

New York, N. Y., December 1, 1913.

284

THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY ACTIVITIES . 285

Two Branches have sent to the Editor their printed list of topics for the
season of 1913-1914. As these lists may contain some suggestions for other Branches
they are given here, with the omission of dates and other information that would
be of interest only to local members.

SYLLABUS OF THE CINCINNATI BRANCH.

Opening Address.

The Future of Theosophy.

The Theosophical Society, Its Objects and Members.

The Changing Creed.

Is All Well with the World?

Seven Stages of Prayer.

Reincarnation.

Karma.

The Mystical Temple of King Solomon.

Man Mortal and Immortal.

Brotherhood.

Am I My Brother's Keeper.

Cycles.

Progress.

Renunciation.

Self-Control.

What Is Infidelity?

George Fox.

Early Religions in America.

The One Religion.

Why God Does not Kill the Devil.

Lotus Night.

PROGRAM OF THE NEW YORK BRANCH.

I. Evolution and Reincarnation
II. The Laws of Karma. Social Service

III. The Two Natures in Man

IV. The Transfer of Consciousness
V. The Vision of Life

(a) of Duty

(b) of Love

1. Life a Battle : Every Man a Soldier

2. The Meaning of Suffering. Disease, Disgrace, etc.

3. Religion. Obedience

4. The Home. Self-surrender or Self-assertion

5. Vocations, Business. Their real purpose

6. Our Neighbor, Brotherhood

7. Education. Discipline

VI. The Goal : Discipleship ; Union

ACTIVITIES OF KARMA BRANCH, CHRISTIANIA,
FOR THE YEAR 1912-1913.

The Branch meetings were, as usual, suspended in the Summer, as many
members at the time leave Christiania for holidays or for other reasons. The
regular Branch work began again in the middle of September, and meetings have
been held every Thursday from 8.30 to 10 p. m., with two exceptions only.

Once or twice a month a public lecture has been given, the average attendance

286 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

being 27. The other meetings have been devoted to the study of the New Testa-
ment, especially the Gospel of St. John. The door has been kept open for outsiders.
An earnest little circle of members and outsiders have regularly attended these
meetings.

Though the general interest of outsiders in Theosophy does not seem to have
increased in our part of the town, a devoted group of members have patiently
carried on the work, knowing that the energy put into it is not wasted and that the
Masters can direct and use this energy for their purpose.

The Annual Convention of the Branch was held on May 25th. It seemed evident
that the attending members represented a centre of peace and joy. As Mr. T.
H. Knoff, Chairman of the Branch Committee, did not wish to be re-elected as a
member of the Committee, Mr. E. Bauthler was elected Chairman for the year to
come. This refusal of Mr. Knoff's was due to the fact that he might be moving to
another quarter of the town, or even outside it, and also to the feeling that it was
wise that younger members should come to a share in the responsibility of the
Branch work.

After the Convention the members spent a very happy evening, with their
comrades of the Aurvanga Branch and some outsiders, at the house of the President
of this Branch, Mr. Alme, who lives a little way outside Christiania.

T. H. KNOFF, Chairman of the Annual Convention.
Christiania, September 12, 1913.

COMMENT

APRIL, 1914

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 ETHICS OF PSYCHICAL RESEARCH.

ON February 12th of the present year Henri Bergson was elected
a Member of the French Academy. Thus he attains the one
great honour which still remained. His life has been a veritable
triumph for pure thought. Amongst those who write, amongst
men of science, no name is more highly and universally honoured. In
every land he has his enthusiastic and devoted adherents. A writer in
THE THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY is making a systematic effort to show
the relation of Bergson's thought to philosophical thought since the early
days of Greece, and in this way to give us a true perspective of his remark-
able achievement, but for years to come, the dynamic influence of his
thought will react on the world's thinking. He is one of those who create
the standards, create the faculties even, by which they are judged, and
only time can rightly build his monument.

Meanwhile, we venture to copy, from The New York Times, a very
suggestive comment on Bergson's election to the French Academy. "At
the end of the year 1912," says this comment, "one of the London daily
newspapers asked a number of more or less eminent persons what they
regarded as having been the most important event of the year that was
just closing. Most of the replies were of the expected character, mention-
ing the conquest of the air, radium, and other obvious triumphs of man-
kind over matter. One notability, however, was original. He placed
among the most important vents of 1912 the Rediscovery of the Soul by
Bergson.' "

That is a phrase sufficiently noteworthy in itself. The comment
continues: "It was in the year in question that M. Bergson first came
prominently into the notice of the English-speaking peoples. He visited
London and afterward came to the United States, lecturing on his system

20 8 7

288 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

of philosophy and on philosophy generally. In England his works created
what can only be described as a furore, and though his admirers in
America are not apparently as numerous as in England, they are equally
enthusiastic. "Bergson has not escaped without harsh criticism. A
writer in an English review accused him of violating many of the funda-
mental rules of logic and of ignorance of some of the first axioms of
philosophy; but he emerged triumphantly from all this criticism, and is
now regarded as the leading metaphysician of Europe."

Now comes what is, for us, the most interesting part of the comment :
"The curious thing about Bergson's philosophy is, that, like the phil-
osophy of Schopenhauer, it is no more original than Buddhism or
Vedantism could be claimed as original if now taught for the first time in
the Occident. Schopenhauer obtained his ideas from that inexhaustible
reservoir of metaphysic, India, though he never admitted it. Bergson
has done the same thing, though he is more honest. His doctrine, in a
sentence, is, that the vital principle manifests itself through matter ; and
he thus comes sharply into conflict with the Monists and other products
of the Darwinian-Haeckelian schools."

This is a noteworthy estimate, but it is unjust to Schopenhauer, who
wrote enthusiastically of the Upanishads, the head and source of the
Indian wisdom: "They have been my consolation in life and will be
my hope in death." No one could say more, or more generously acknowl-
edge a debt.

There is another side of Bergson's work, another personal triumph
also, which naturally comes to mind when we speak of his election to the
French Academy: the fact that he was, in 1913, President of the Society
for Psychical Research, which has done such noteworthy work of recent
years in exploring the borderland of the kingdom of Death. It is hard
to say which is the more significant, that this Society, which has so many
highly distinguished English members, should have elected a Frenchman
President, or that Henri Bergson should have accepted its presidency.
Both facts are signs of the times, and, taken together, they suggest to
us a somewhat deeper consideration of the whole subject of psychical
research and especially of its ethical aspect.

We may refer to two articles, as giving a general survey of the
whole field of psychical research as it is to-day: First, a recent study,
in The Hibbert Journal, of what are called "non-evidential" facts of
record; statements, that is, which have been obtained through psychics,
and which seem to throw light on the general condition of the borderland
of death, while at the same time they fail to establish the personal identity
of the dead persons who are supposed to be communicating ; and, secondly,
an article in the present number of THE THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY,

NOTES AND COMMENTS . 289

which quotes from a remarkable series of letters which purport to come
from a group of very well-known men, the first generation of leaders of
psychical research, all of whom are now in the world on the other side
of death. One might call these "Letters from Hades," using that name
in the Hellenic sense, of the dwelling-place of the departed; whatever we
may think of them, they constitute one of the most remarkable series
of letters that have ever been printed.

Before commenting on this whole subject, we may add a very recent
document, which is supposed to have been dictated, in the early days of
the present year, by the psychic personality of the late W. T. Stead,
who went down with the Titanic: "It is a beautiful tribute," says the
supposed shade of Mr. Stead, "one infinitely touching and appreciated
by all, the strewing of the waters under which sank so many in that
great disaster. Beautiful as was the conception and the execution of
that conception, still more beautiful, more soul-satisfying, would be a
recognition that we who went down into the icy depths are capable, if
given an opportunity, an invitation, to live again, in a higher spiritual
sense, with our friends and loved ones whom we left. But, alas! the
clouds of unbelief, of incredulity, are so dense, and the pity of it that
living men make that cloud which bars the intercommunication. They
long for 'the touch of the vanished hand,' and yet they will not accept even
the possibility of the power and the possibility, nay, the probability, nay,
the certainty of receiving that touch. They put their hands across their
eyes and say, 'No, no. No, no. I want you, but don't come back.' That
is the attitude of humanity, not alone to us to whom the beautiful tribute
was paid, but to the unnumbered millions who have passed the veil. And
the pity, the pity of it. Stead."

Let us try to see the bearing of all this. And let us, for the purpose
of this comment, assume that among much that we may call matrix in
these messages, there is yet a residuum of genuine metal; and, for the
moment postponing the weighty question of the moral Tightness of the
process, let us ask what is the value of the assay. The first thing that
stands out strikingly is the small case that the communicating spirits, if
we may call them so, make of death, of the fact of having died, which,
in prospect, seems so formidable. One and all, they make light of it,
comparing it to an almost negligible journey, a passage from one station
to another. It would seem that, in the sense of personal identity, the
physical body counts for far less than we generally think; the psychical
part of us is far more vital.

After the act of death, Myers and Hodgson are Myers and Hodgson
still, to the tips of their fingers; indeed, we are far more certain of
their continued identity than of any continuance of form. Myers is,
as of old, impulsive, sensitive, poetical, rather morbid, perhaps; quoting

290 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

unusual lines of Shakespeare, the Brownings, Horace, Tennyson. William
James, if it be he, is lucid, forceful, judicial ; keenly criticising himself :
his memory is clear on past events, but the recollection does not embrace
each detail any more than ours; his memory was not intensified or
clarified by death, but neither was it dimmed. He is equally lucid in
what he says of the living, who fail to recognize the testimony for the
dead or to feel their presence : the settled and definite tone of being alone
is one of their great barriers. If they might know the near and close
proximity of those who have died, they would be at peace.

If this be genuine, therefore, as we assume, then Henri Bergson's
splendidly cogent analysis is fully justified. Tracing memory, not as
abiding in the brain, but as a pure psychic power, to the moment of
death, and finding it. at that point rich and complete, we are justified in
believing, he says, that it remains as full and complete "on the other
side of death."

Personal identity, then, is continuous and complete; not as a mere
memory and reverberation of life, but with real growth: new purposes,
new observation, new knowledge, flowing from the old, from the capital
carried to the new country by the adventurous colonist. It is no mere
echo-consciousness, but vital, creative, full of effort and will.

An effort, too, which is concerted with others of the "band of
brothers"; both Myers and William James, if it be they, speak of
Hodgson's presence and expert help in "putting across the footlights,"
so to speak, what they have to say. And in like manner, Gurney breaks
in with a passionate appeal that Myers be not disturbed in the first sensi-
tive days after the act of death. And these colonists in death's realm
are conscious also of the work of those who remain in "the old country" :
thus Myers speaks of new work of the "dear old chap," Sir Oliver
Lodge, while James has seen Lodge, and, speaking of Lodge's work,
declares that it is more sure than his own, more unequivocal ; Lodge has
wonderful faith and patience, he says, and is a thoughtful and careful
investigator.

If one be interested in that strange, fertile idea of the fourth dimen-
sion, one will find in these messages much that may lend colour to the
thought that those who send them find themselves in conditions that we
might call four-dimensional. Take, on the one hand the curious ignoring of
distances, so that Myers may dictate at the same time to an amanuensis in
India, another in Algiers, a third in America; and on the other such a
description as that which he gives, speaking of having seen his surviving
colleagues at a meeting looking as flat as cardboard figures seen through
a gray mist ; exactly the expression we might expect, to describe a view
from space of four dimensions.

NOTES AND COMMENTS 291

Let us come now to the more serious aspects of the question. What
is the bearing of all this on life, on our standard of values, on conduct?
One application, and a vital one, is suggested by two sentences in these
letters from beyond the grave. The first I have already quoted, as
from William James, concerning the barrier that hides the dead from
the living: "I have sat at table at home so many times since I came
here. This is one of the hardest places my wife has to pass. The settled
and definite tone of being alone is ever present there. If she might know
my near and close proximity she would be at peace." That is the point :
If we might know their near and close proximity we should be at peace.

The other is in a letter from Myers : "There is no sadder mistake
than to imagine that by mourning for the dead their state of happiness
is increased. Love they desire, but not lamentation." Need we press
the significance of these two sentences ? If they convey a true message,
then their acceptance would change the whole face of life, bringing light
into our darkness and assuaging intolerable grief. We should gradually
realize the solidarity of the two worlds, the seen and the unseen ; we
should come in time to live in a sense in both, thus gradually wearing
away the veil and mastering death.

So far the affirmative side, which we have agreed to accept, in order
that we might realize its bearing and its reach. But we come now to the
other side : the deep misgiving whether, if all this be true, it is also wise
and right. Is there not, to begin with, a deep offence to our feeling of
reverence in the manner of these peerings into death, and the atmosphere
that surrounds them. Take, for illustration, the sentence quoted as from
Edmund Gurney, who died twenty-five years ago: "I have come to warn
you for my friend, to implore you not to let them call him. He gets no
rest day or night. At every sitting, 'Bring Myers! Call Myers!' . . .
For God's sake don't call him." Frankly, one finds this violation of the
deepest sanctities horrible, and no supposed gain of knowledge lessens
one's feeling of profound offence against spiritual law. Immortality, in all
our purest intuition, is bound up with holiness, but there is no thought
of holiness here; nothing but rasping and raucous curiosity, as vulgar
as that at a catchpenny show.

Then is there not, on the showing of these letters themselves, the
most serious danger to those thus summoned from their rest? The
indications are, that they pass at first into a condition of stillness, of
gestation, in which slow and sensitive growth begins, opening the way
for more spiritual, more subjective after-states, rising gradually from
the psychical to the spiritual, from the earthy to the heavenly. What
thought, then, could be more shocking than that our prying curiosity
might bring about what one can only call spiritual abortion, a result such
as proceeds from ripping or crushing a chrysalis? What monstrosities

292 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

in the other world might not be brought about in this way? Take a
sentence quoted as from Myers: "In my present state thoughts pain
me more than wounds or burns could do while I lived." Think, then, of
the danger of inflicting wounds or burns on what one may, perhaps, call
a spiritual embryo, passing through the critically dangerous period of
gestation.

Sir Oliver Lodge and those who work with him, in what we must
all admit is a pure and self-sacrificing love of truth, would, perhaps, reply
that, even granting that these dangers are as real and formidable as we
have suggested, yet there are occasions when one is justified in running
grave danger, even in inflicting serious pain. The knife and cautery are
used by the surgeon, and wisely and rightly used. So that these
pioneers may be regarded in a sense as making the sacrifice of their well-
being, their spiritual life itself, perhaps, that we who remain may learn
the high truth of immortality.

To this eloquent and moving plea, there are two answers. The first,
which has for us a tremendous significance which it had not for its first
hearers, is this : "If they hear not Moses and the prophets, neither will
they be persuaded, though one rose from the dead." These investigations
do not convince the skeptic, though they may give more vivid color to
the thought of those who already believe. If there be, as we are
persuaded, a growing belief in immortality, it is rather in spite of these
psychic pry ings than because of them; it is a part, far rather, of that
growing spiritual life of our time, which is affecting all science, from
chemistry to philosophy, all religion from practical conduct to abstruse
theology, all life, from the most direct dealing with our fellowmen to
our conception of the All-Merciful. If one speak somewhat frankly,
these researches with their department of publicity and their sensational
announcements have vulgarized rather than fortified the thought of
immortality ; and fundamentally because they seek to promote a belief in
immortality divorced from the idea of holiness.

There is the heart of the matter. If there be a right and legitimate
knowledge of the things of death and the beyond, of the further growth
of that mysterious soul which struggles submerged in our earthly lives,
then one cannot doubt that this knowledge can come in one way alone:
through spiritual growth and illumination gained through obedience to
the deeper law; through holiness as having its heart and being in obedi-
ence. Bodily sight, the exquisitely delicate mechanism of the eye with
its most mysterious power of vision, comes as the result of long develop-
ment, a growth of powers gained by the strictest obedience to law, in a
realm where there is but one penalty of disobedience: death. Can we
believe that spirtual vision is more easily come by; is less under law,
law far deeper, far more exacting, searching the things of the heart,

NOTES AND COMMENTS 293

as natural law searches the powers of organic life ? Is there not something
repulsive as well as vulgar in the thought of these automatist communi-
cators, often blindfolded, entranced, with painful writhings and spasmodic
gestures, being the authentic representatives of the vision of the soul?

We are conscious, therefore, of a deep-rooted conviction, that while
the investigators are earnest, sincere, sel f -de voted ; while, as we believe,
very much of what they record as coming from the dead, does indeed
so come, a quite authentic message ; yet the whole of this science of the
dead may be wrong in its line of advance, highly dangerous to the
communicators from beyond death; not illuminating, but rather mis-
leading, for those who receive their communications, and who allow
their view of spiritual law to be coloured and shaped by them.

It is quite thinkable that this singular band of psychic seekers, now
re-united, it would seem, in their new realm, may not at all represent the
normal and rightful processes of life after death. In virtue of their strong
bent, accumulated energy and psychic momentum, of their wills and
thoughts being set upon visualizing, so to speak, the things of death
and the beyond, may they not have built up about them a quite exceptional
and unrepresentative psychic atmosphere, in a realm where, it seems
certain, thoughts are plastic and formative powers? May their position
as communicators not be a part of this abnormal state, something not
intended or approved by the deeper law; and therefore fundamentally
productive of error rather than of truth?

But there may be, on the other hand, a right and true mode of
approach; not through a stark and mechanical exploitation of the
abnormal psychic faculty of others, but through our own slow and normal
growth, and the unfolding of powers not psychical but spiritual. It may
well be that spiritual life, resting in holiness and founded on unceasing
obedience of heart and act, is not limited, for a knowledge of the deeper
things of life and death, to dialectics and a threshing of testimonies of
the past; that virtue will do more than establish simple Tightness of act
between man and man ; that it will, indeed, enrich and develop the whole
nature, moral and spiritual, bringing real faculties and powers to light,
whereby we might, as our whole life and consciousness are spiritualized,
come into knowledge, at once lawful and authentic, of what now lies
hidden in the great beyond. If we rightly consider the matter, are not the
recorded testimonies which we dispute over, the ancient records of faith,
the fruit of just such spiritual growth, the honestly gained treasure of
those who entered by the door, not stealing in some other way ? Have we
not high authority for the truth that we can know the doctrine only as we
live the life?

FRAGMENTS

A VOICE called from long, long distances : "Behold ! Give ear !"
And I raised my eyes and saw the armies of Heaven marching
across the sky, and great St. Michael leading. And as file after
file of them passed in endless crores of millions, I heard the
paeans of victory so loud that the roar of Hell was silenced.

In my heart spoke another voice, beloved above all voices:
"Remember, child, remember, when the light grows dim and in dark-
ness the way is hard to find ; when men's ears are deaf and their hearts
are hard and they will not turn or listen ; when all your toil seems vain
and the goal an endless vista, remember the armies of Heaven marching
across the sky, and the great St. Michael leading."

"You cannot enter into communion with me without suffering, for
my life is a life of suffering; nor can you otherwise know its tran-
scendent joys, for joy is its fruit. To go half-way is misery; but all

the way is heaven."

CAVE.

THE EASTERN CHURCH

III
THE RUSSIAN CHURCH.

THE change from the vexed and harassed sea of theological
bickering which we studied in the last paper, to the swift strong
current of Russia's religious history is so abrupt and surprising
that a moment must be taken for readjustment. It seems almost
incredible that the content of the headlong torrent on which we at once
find ourselves borne irresistibly along can be identical with that of its
wide and shallow source, and that point granted, we must take into
definite account the factors of velocity and depth in order to understand
how the whole expanse of laughing ripples can find an outlet between
such narrow banks.

The actual physical geography of the country to be traversed is
no negligible quantity in its religious development; a country of vast
distances, impenetrable forests, monotonous undulating steppes and frozen
plains bound together and linked to the outer world by a network of
magnificent rivers, the only possible highways of communication and
civilization. Up one and another of these, the first missionaries sailed
to visit the barbarous Scythia; and though the legends are a vague
shadowy jumble of homely and miraculous events, reality is impressed
upon them by the names of the Volga, the Dnieper, and the Neva, the
topographical truths bearing witness to the germ of fact at the center
of the stories. We can deny any save a symbolic existence to the
millstone which St. Anthony so adroitly transformed from a weight about
his neck to a sailing craft on which to journey, but the actuality of the
Rome whence he fared forth, of the seas and rivers which he navigated,
and of the picturesque stronghold of old Novgorod where he ultimately
arrived, binds the tale to the land and water world of our positive
knowledge. The figure of the voyaging St. Andrew may lack to our
heavy imaginations the semblance of a flesh-and-blood man, but the
low-lying banks of the Dnieper, which he so eagerly scanned from the
prow of his vessel are still present to help vivify the image of the
explorer, and the heights of Kieff makes plausible his prophetic exclama-
tion: "On these hills shall shine forth the grace of God! Upon them
there shall rise a great city of many churches!" A clearly conceived
country also makes it easier for us to picture the more historic adventures
of Cyril and Methodius, to appreciate the magnitude of their labor in
penetrating the wilds where they had first to acquire a barbarous tongue
and then invent for it an alphabet before giving to the inhabitants the

295

296 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

priceless gift of their vernacular translation of the Gospels and the
Psalms.

It is with a people somewhat leavened by such influences that we
find the country populated at the time of its actual conversion in the
middle of the eleventh century; while over them reigned a prince,
Vladimir, whose Slavic immobility was at least faintly stirred by the
blood of his Norman ancestor Ruric and by the influence of his grand-
mother Olga, the first royal convert to Christianity.

The event is chronicled in the very next generation by "the venerable
Bede of the Russian Church," Nestor, himself a monk of that very
convent prophesied by St. Andrew at Kieff. Through his narrative we
can vividly sense the temper and mind of the Prince in his interviews
with the successive delegations which flocked from all sides in high
hope of capturing him and his subjects each for its own spiritual fold.
Keeping in mind the heavy burden of dialectics borne presumably in
their theological budgets, it is enlightening to note through the eyes and
mouth of a contemporary both the arguments used as decoys and the
essentially racial reactions of the wary prize.

Upon the Mussulmans' heaven, the description of which closed their
long dissertation on God and the Prophet, Vladimir turned his back with
some apparent regret, but with a quite comprehensible refusal to give
up the very present joy of unlimited vodka for a kindred joy in a
problematical future. "Drinking is our great delight, we cannot live
without it," was his ultimatum. To the arguments of the Roman
Catholics who suddenly materialized out of the West, his opposition was
quite as characteristically national, his abrupt decision "Go home! our
fathers did not receive their religion from the Pope," voicing the defer-
ence of a very Russian for custom and precedent ; while in his query "do
you wish perhaps that we too should suffer loss of country through the
wrath of God?" with which he angrily dismissed the Jewish delegation,
we hear sounded the typical note of dominant patriotism.

His final interview with a philosopher from Constantinople must be
given at some length for its delightful presaging of the future. We may
well suppose that the Grecian scholar had at his disposal all the subtleties
of theology and of culture, yet the wiles of wisdom were his too and his
address to the grown-up child confronting him was in this wise : "We
learn, O Prince, of the many false and wicked people who have sought
to lead you to their belief; that of the Mussulmans is an abomination
in the face of heaven, and judgment will fall upon them as of old on
Sodom and Gomorrah !" which struck so immediate a moral spark from
the prince that he cried "This is shameful!" and spat upon the ground.
"As for the Papists," continued the Greek, "they celebrated the mass with
unleavened bread, therefore they have not the true religion." Which
was accepted without question, the mind of the Prince pushing forward
to the spontaneous inquiry "Why was He in whom you believe crucified
by the Jews?" which gave the coveted opening for a long and positive

THE EASTERN CHURCH - 297

affirmation of the Divine act from before the beginning of the world to
the ultimate finality of the Seventh General Council, closing with a
recital of the rewards and punishments meted out to the just and the
unjust. Up to the point we feel, and feel with sympathy, no response
in the mind of his royal audience; but here he produced from the
folds of his mantle a powerful argument in the shape of an actual
picture of the Last Judgment, an incontrovertible, eye-convincing proof
that the saints on the right hand did indeed ascend into a heaven of
comfortable golden glory, while the sinners on the left descended as
obviously into a painful flaming hell. The deep sigh which its contem-
plation elicited from the Prince and his exclamation "Happy are those
on the right ! Woe to those on the left !" may be taken as an epitomized
vindication of the long struggle against iconoclasm which has so stirred
the Eastern Church in the preceding century, and as a foreword of the
vast influence sacred pictures were to play in the religious and national
life of Russia. Its quick appeal was destined to wax into a passion,
not for works of art as such but for pictorial emblems and visual instruc-
tions. Everywhere in public and in private these painted representations
became the consecrating element, to an extent only paralleled in the history
of Egypt, where the picture-encrusted churches of Moscow were proto-
typed by the ancient temples.

By following the fortunes of one of the most revered of these
pictures, that known as "Our Lady of Vladimir," one could gather an
almost unbroken history of the nation. Believed to have been painted
by Constantine the Great, it was brought back by Vladimir himself after
the victory of Kherson and finally deposited in the most sacred of
Russian cathedrals. Used on every great occasion of national thanks-
giving, or carried in the van of battle, it represents exactly the idea
of an ancient palladium, a watchword and a flag to support the courage
of generals and the patriotism of troops.

It is only by a distinct effort of the imagination that the West
can realize what these archaic images represent to the minds of another
race, or how widely the Bible story is disseminated even now by the
means of primitive pictures, but we can better our comprehension by
noting Vladimir's immediate quickening. When however the Greek,
encouraged by the emotions so evidently produced, sought to clinch matters
at once with the exhortation "Then if you would enter heaven with
the just on the right, consent to be baptized!" he discovered to his
chagrin that he had struck too soon, that the metal of the mind was still
too cool to be malleable, for after a moment of profound reflection the
Prince replied "I will wait yet a little while," and sent him home gift-
laden but not triumphant.

A year passed, but the fire evidently smouldered, for at the end
of that time a delegation of nobles was despatched to spy upon each
belief on its native heath. They returned with an unfavorable report
of the Mussulmans because forsooth they "prayed with covered heads

298 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

and the stench of the mosques was insupportable," and with a frank
scorn for the bare dullness of the German churches; but over the
splendor of the service at Constantinople they sang a very paean of
praise. Not in vain had the Patriach's order "Let them see the glory
of our God," been carried out with all the resources which the unrivaled
richness of the Cathedral of St. Sophia could command. The effect of
that gold-encrusted interior, resounding with the music of the choirs,
with picture and vestment blended in the blue mist of swaying censors,
upon the rude denizens of the frozen north is told us in their own
words: "We knew not if we were not in heaven, for in truth it would
be impossible on earth to find such richness. We can only believe that
we were verily in the presence of God, and it is impossible for us to
remain longer where we are." Nevertheless remain they did, and that
for some time, for the obdurate prince was still averse to change. It
was not until his victory at Kherson for which he had cannily bartered
a promise of baptism to the new Deity, and had further utilized the
selfsame pledge in acquiring the Princess Anna as his wife, that he
finally yielded himself to the rite.

But the fateful step once taken his whole zeal belonged thence-
forward forever to his adopted faith. His former idol, the poor old
wooden god Peroun was disenthroned, dragged mercilessly across
country at a horse's tail and summarily thrown into the Dnieper; and
the assembled people, whether in forced obedience or in glad imitation
of their prince, were one and all immersed in the river beneath the
heights of Kieff, the Greek priests reading the prayers of baptism and
so accomplishing to all outward intent the Christianization of Russia
at one fell swoop. In such wise was the whole knife-edged mass of
orthodoxy, which had been crystallized from the mist of philosophical
speculation by centuries of heated discussion accepted in its entirety,
without examination, on the evidence of the wrappings in which it is
presented. It is a striking spectacle of a people converted without
missionaries, without bloodshed, without hesitation, but simply through
the command and example of their ruler; a significant foundation for
an empire destined to build its structure through the interaction of a
limitless energy and a faithful, unquestioning submission. In no other
modern nation is the Church so immediately under the influence of the
Sovereign, the Sovereign so immediately under the influence of the
Church. Even the right of investiture, elsewhere but a passive and
formal acceptance of the crown, here becomes a religious ceremony
with the Tsar himself as the active agent. Duly prepared by fasting
and seclusion he himself recites the confession of the orthodox faith
and offers up the prayer of intercession for the empire; and after
himself placing the crown upon his own head enters the sacred doors
of the innermost sanctuary and in virtue of his consecration communicates
with bishop, priest and deacon.

In the Cathedral of the Archangel Michael, within the Kremlin,

THE EASTERN CHURCH . 299

lies the long succession of the early tsars, above the coffins their por-
traits painted each with a glory around his head not the glory of a
saintly, but of this imperial canonization. Twice a year a funeral service
is performed for all those "who there lie buried under the burden of
sins, voluntary or involuntary, known to themselves or unknown." With
these solemn words in mind we pause involuntarily before the tomb of
him who as the first crowned tsar of Muscovy lies next the altar in the
most sacred place; that Ivan, surnamed the Terrible, a synonym to all
civilization for cruelty, lust and madness. Yet for thirteen years this
whirlpool of force, which was the instrument of the most colossal crimes
known to history, was utilized with unabated power for the consolidation
and reformation of the Russian Empire, reclaimed through the combined
efforts of his wife and his confessor to stand valiantly at the helm of
the ship of state and guide it through a period of brilliant achievement.
At the end of the thirteen years these influences were removed or
crushed and the remainder of his career is one mad fury of insanity,
the occasional gleams of pious zeal bearing only the hallmark of fanatical
emotional indulgence.

The hurricane of his passion devastated all within its path, save
alone the "one white pillar in the East," the Holy Orthodox Church
which in its priestly and monastic orders withstood the onslaught. From
the first emerges the figure of St. Philip, the one martyr of the Eastern
Hierarchy, who suffered death not for high ecclesiastical pretensions
but in the simple cause of justice and mercy, for his unflinching stand
against the cruelties of the mad monarch. In his voice rings out so
high a courage that it imparts a vibrant life to the whole obscure
succession of those early prelates: "I am a stranger and a pilgrim
upon earth and ready to suffer for the truth. Where would my Faith
be if I kept silence? Here we offer up the bloodless sacrifice of the
Lord; yet behind the altar flows the blood of Christians. As the
image of God I reverence thee; as a man thou art but dust and ashes."
His one word as he was dragged from the cathedral was "Pray!" His
one word to his executioner, "Perform thy mission !"

An equally fearless rebuke, and more effective in its immediate
results came from the ranks of the second order, the "Black Clergy,"
and is brought home to us through the annals of an adventurous traveler
of that time. His description of the wandering hermits is worth quoting :
"There are certain eremites who go stark naked save a clout about their
middle, with their hair hanging long and wildly about their shoulders
and many of them with an iron collar about their necks even in the
very extremity of winter. The people like very well of them because
they are as pasquins to note their great men's faults, since they take
them as prophets, giving them a liberty to speak as they list without
controlment. Of this sort I saw one, a foul creature, an impostor or
musician; yet it is a very hard and cold profession to go naked in
Russia."

300 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

This gives the portrait by an eye-witness of Nicholas of Plescow
as he must have appeared when he emerged from his hut to defend
the people from the blood-lust of the Tsar, fresh from the carnage of
Novgorod and bent upon another like orgy. The maniac was moved
by the sound of the church bells "those tongues of the Russian religion"
to implore the blessing of the holy man upon him and his enterprise.
The retort was embodied in a lump of raw flesh, a well-directed shock
to his piety and as well as to his sovereignty, for the great fast of
Lent was being rigidly observed. "Ivasko, Ivasko" called out the hermit
from his doorway, "thinkest thou it unlawful to eat beasts' flesh, yet
lawful to devour the flesh of men?" And pointing to a black thunder-
cloud overhead as an instrument of God's wrath, threatened him with
instant destruction should he touch a hair of the least child's head.
Ivan trembled and retired and Plescow was saved.

Such an incident throws fresh light on the strong appeal of the
asceticism to the mediaeval mind, and of the comparative practical
value of an ideal of personal holiness over and against the imposed works
of charitable brotherhoods and didactic laws. Time and again as we
study, we see crises averted, destinies altered, the nation preserved either
through the instrumentality of such solitary zealots, or through the
organized effort of the cloistered monks. The story of the Troitzki
Monastery situated some sixty miles from Moscow in the midst of a
wilderness of woods amply refutes the charge of selfish religious seclu-
sion.

Through the two great historical crises of Mediaeval Russia, one
the period of the Tartar dominion, the other that of the Polish invasion,
it emerges again and as the impregnable fortress, a living centre of
courageous inspiration. The remonstrances and prayers of its founder
Sergius, braced the spirit of the Grand Prince Demetrius and drove
him forth to the battle of the Don, where one of his monks, as champion
of Christ, a coat of mail drawn over his habit, began the fight by
single combat with a gigantic Tartar chosen from the Mussulmans'
host. To the credit of that victory the first great repulse to the Tartar
power, must be added that of the final blow. When Ivan III wavered,
as had Demetrius before him, it was Sergius' successor, the venerable
Archbishop Bassian who drove him almost against his will to the field.
"Dost thou fear death, which is the lot of all, man and beast and
bird? Give these warriors into my hand and old as I am I will not
turn my back upon the Tartars." Thus urged Ivan returned to the
camp, the Khan of the Golden Horde fled without a blow, and Russia
was freed forever from that menace. The familiar cross surmounting
a crescent is a witness to the fact that it was in very truth a triumph
for the Christian faith over threatened annihilation, an heroic struggle
well worthy of the Church Militant.

We are so used to thinking of the Russians as the oppressors of the
Poles, that it is difficult to conceive a time when the parts were reversed

THE EASTERN CHURCH 301

and the partition of Russia was the threatened evil. Yet it was this
dread which first engendered the bitterness between the two great
Slavonic nations, and which in turn so deeply stamped Russia with its
vehement anti-Papal prejudices, for papal supremacy and Polish conquest
were interchangeable terms. In the last extremity of the struggle, when
Moscow had fallen into the hands of the invaders, when Hermogenes the
Patriarch had been starved to death, imprisoned almost within the walls
of his own cathedral; when Latin services were being chanted in the
Kremlin and anarchy was threatening ; the Trinity Convent was still equal
to the long siege. Its warlike traditions raised up soldier-monks, and
the Archimandrite Dionysius sped the national patriots forth to victory.
Rude pictures still represent in strange confusion the mixture of artillery
and apparitions, fighting monks and fighting ghosts which drove back
the assailants from the walls of the beleaguered fortress. The convent
was for a time the whole empire and its victory was the deliverance
of Russia.

The very existence of the present imperial dynasty is a living
tribute to the services of an hierarchy at this time of their country's
need. The race of Rurik had passed in the murder of the child Demetrius,
the nobles had proved themselves a worthless dependence, so it was to
the clergy that the people looked for a new leader. Philaret, afterward
Patriarch, and his wife Martha, secluded as a nun during the long
wars, were the parents of Michael Romanoff, the future Tsar. Small
wonder that fruitful years in the joint history of Church and State
followed, with the unexampled condition of a father directing the one,
a son the other, each cooperating for the common good of both. It
may be termed the beginning of the Russian Reformation, a period
which reached its climax of effectiveness in the latter half of the eigh-
teenth century in almost as unparalleled a circumstance ; the close friend-
ship of the Tsar Alexis for the greatest of Russia's ecclesiastical
reformers, the Patriarch Nikon. The story of his life is a really great
drama, woven from the conflicting elements of high ideals, ungovernable
passions and unswerving loyalty to his one and only friend; enacted
partly amidst the pomp and splendour of the court, partly in his long
exile on the frozen shores of the White Lake, partly in his tragic journeys
by sledge or on foot through wastes of snow or primeval forests. His
departure from the see which he vacated in a burst of fury provoked
by the adroit baitings of his enemies, brought the six years of his active
reforms to a sudden close, but during that time he and his royal patron
had worked as one man in all acts of government, passing all their time
together, "in the Church, in the council chamber and at the friendly
board," and much had been accomplished. It is primarily this relation-
ship which differentiates him from the great reformers of the West to
whom he is often compared. Far from maintaining the independence
of the hierarchy against the civil power, or from trampling the imperial
government under foot, his leading idea was cooperation between Church

302 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

and State, his enmity solely with a barbarous nobility and an ignorant
clergy. The final break with the Tsar was a purely personal quarrel,
engendered and fostered by the legion of nobles whom he had insulted
or affronted, and between them was only the wall of bitter misunder-
standing and wounded affection. We have an astonished account of both
the robust Nikon and the docile Alexis in the journal of one archdeacon
Paul, a garrulous effete visitor from the Church of Antioch. After
the self -revealing statement that he had "at length roused his languid
mind to the task and stretched toward the object his recoiling pen,"
he proceeds : "An occurrence which confused our understandings was
that so far was the multitude from being content with their lengthened
services, that the Deacon brought the Patriarch the Book of Lessons;
and not only did he read therefrom, but he expounded the meaning to
the standing assembly, until our spirits were broken within us during the
tedious while. His heart did not ache for the Emperor nor for the
tender infants standing uncovered in the intense cold. What most
excited our admiration was to see the Tsar with his hands crossed in
humility, the other displaying them with the boldness of an orator; the
one guarding his senses and breathing low, the other making his voice
ring like a loud bell. His janissaries are perpetually going about, and
when they find any priest or monk intoxicated they imprison, strip and
scourge him, and then set him to sift flour day and night in the bake-
house. God grant him moderation!"

Here we see the perplexity of a contemporary over two of Nikon's
most drastic measures the introduction of extempore preaching and the
disciplining of a dissolute clergy. He exhibited in himself a new type
of pastoral virtues; of unbounded munificence he founded hospitals
and almshouses; with summary justice he personally released innocent
victims from the prisons; he broke ruthlessly through long-cherished
customs; the advances in education inaugurated by the terrible Ivan
were started into new life, the printing press was again set to work
and deputations of scholars were sent to the Grecian monasteries to
collect manuscripts ; partly from Greece, partly from Poland, he imported
Cossack choristers to supplant with their chants "the gross and harsh
intonations of the Muscovites," the initial step in the development of
that vocal music which has since become the glory of the Russian
worship. Toward the Mother Church at Constantinople, his habitually
domineering mind was eagerly and sensitively open to teaching and
impressions, and since from that source little else was to be had, the
result was an overweening emphasis of antiquated ceremonial and
ritualism. It is appalling to see the dynamic force expended on such
seeming trivialities as a benediction given with the three instead of
two fingers, an embroidered altar cloth replaced by a white one; or
a wrong inflection in pronouncing the creed, yet the frantic opposition
which these innovations provoked, brought new ardor to a church still

THE EASTERN CHURCH 303

childishly incapable of connecting the outer form with the inner signifi-
cance, and roused them to a fiery defense of the one thing they could
perceive the precious casket in which their faith was enshrined.
Furthermore, the pouring of this freshly heated mass of molten
enthusiasm into the old moulds gave a strong, sharply-defined image to
be the heritage of future generations, a valuable replica of the truth
preserved almost intact from Apostolic times.

What would have occurred had there been a puerile effort to fit the
doctrine to their comprehension, is evidenced in the vagaries of the
Raskolniks, the dissenting sects scattered broadcast over the length and
breadth of Russia. The disturbing innovations of Nikon and the drastic
reforms of Peter the Great which followed in their wake, drove forth
large numbers of zealous reactionaries from the fold of the established
Church to follow the dim star of personal interpretation. It is an
anomalous form of Protestantism since they disassociated themselves
not because cramped by the inelastic bands of orthodoxy, but because
they could not keep pace with those leaders, whom they name respectively
the False Prophet, and the Very Antichrist. Driven by the first to the
verge of despair by such innovations, as a thrice repeated Hallelujah, or
a cross lacking three transverse beams, they suffered actual martyrdom
rather than submit to the drastic reforms of the radical Emperor.
Could there be anything more impious than his change in the calendar,
his assertion that the world was created in January when the snow was
on the ground, not in September when the corn was ripe? Or that
smoking was less wicked than drinking, when the Scriptures plainly avow
"Not that which goeth into a man but that which cometh out of a man
defileth him?" Or that the potato might be sinlessly devoured when
it was so obviously the forbidden fruit, the very apple of the earth
and of the devil?

Against one much desired Westernism even the more docile and
receptive of his subjects set their faces so firmly that he was forced
partly to rescind and modify his commands the heinous order that
the image of God should be defaced by the shaving of the beard, which
since the eleventh century had been a proud distinction between orthodoxy
and heterodoxy; and a smooth chin is even to-day almost unknown
amongst either the peasants or the clergy.

That the Russian Church, containing such elements should have
survived the shock of Peter's revolution, proved its vitality. After the
first convulsion it became apparent that the country as a whole had
embraced the changes and moved with them, and wild superstition gave
way before the thrust of rough common sense. Into the oath taken
by bishops at their consecration were introduced these remarkable pro-
visions pledging them against both pious frauds and corrupt lassitude:
"I will not, for the sake of gain suffer to be built superfluous churches,
or ordain superfluous clergy. I promise to require that there be erected

304 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

no tombs of spurious saints. I will diligently search out and put down
all impostures practised under the show of devotion, and will provide
that honor be paid to God only, not to the holy pictures, and that no
false miracles be ascribed to them."

Under the shadow of personal religious grievance, the real funda-
mental change in church government crept in almost unnoticed and
unmolested. The substitution of the capital of St. Petersburg for Moscow
was the outward sign that the course of the new Empire was westward,
while the boundary between the new and old ecclesiastical Russia came
in the abolition of the office of Patriarch and -the substitution of a
Synod of prelates as the governing body. Although this was presided
over by the Tsar himself, his power was scarcely altered by the change.
Peter was as much and as little the head of the Church as his prede-
cessors. He had it is true, removed the possibility of a rival in the
State, but the office was abolished chiefly because he was enraged at
the retrograde obstinacy of the last Patriarch, because he wished to
sweep away barbaric ceremonial and because he wished to substitute
here as elsewhere, the rule of colleges and bodies of men for that of
individuals. The institution which thus perished was scarcely more than
a century old, and its destruction was sanctioned by his most powerful
ecclesiastical supporters.

Throughout his whole remarkable career his one desire was to
seize the good wherever it could be obtained that he might add it to the
sum total of his people's welfare, never to throw away or subtract from
the essential heritage of their race. As we read of his direct personal
dealings with the various western denominations we realise keenly that
he is of the same type as Vladimir. He heard the doctrines and attended
the worship of each country which he visited. In the Free-Thinkers of
Amsterdam, in Lutheran and Quaker, Episcopalian and Non- Juror, even
in the very Pope himself we feel the hopeful rise of the proselytizing
spirit at his open-minded approach, the aftermath of discouragement as
time and again he turned back with added content to the shelter of his
hereditary belief. Throughout all his wanderings he faithfully observed
the Eastern fasts ; in his battles he carried always a sacred picture from
the Troitzki Convent; and the motto under which he fought was "For
the Faith and the Faithful." Both in the wooden hut where he lived
to watch the erection of his capitol, and in his cabin at Zaandam a
room was set aside for his devotions, and "ora et labora" was the quota-
tion with which he closed the address to his Senate.

To have kept such a hold on such a man whose clearest virtue was
eager open-mindedness, whose darkest crimes were those of an ungovern-
able passion is an adequate vindication of the strength inherent in his
belief. In return his violently shaping hand gave it a form which could
harbor the progressive spirit of the age, a freedom which in the next
generation fostered scholars and leaders not only well in advance of

THE EASTERN CHURCH - 305

the flocks under their care, but fully abreast of advanced European
thought. Their personalities are for us almost unpardonably shrouded
by the veils of distance and language, so that it is only to special
students that the names of Ambrose and Plato, of Innocent or of
Theodore Globensky carry their due weight.

Even today like hindrances veil from our full understanding this
one example of a living Church which finds its medium in nationality,
a hindrance which is increased by the ingrained Protestantism of our
attitude. It is hard for us to brook conservatism or the abrogation of
the liberty of private judgment. Yet the tolerance which it so generously
extends to alien sects commands a like return and instead of voicing
our doubts and objections we can bow humbly to many of their claims;
can grant their direct uninterrupted succession back to Apostolic times:
and can honor an unsullied body of Christianity in its primordial complete-
ness that "has no need to be discovered, only to be preserved, to be
received through faith not reason, and enjoyed as a life of mystic com-
munion assured by a hierarchical priesthood." And we may reverently
close with the words which shine forth on its banner "This is the Apostolic
Faith, this is the Faith of the Fathers, this is the orthodox Faith, this
Faith has established the world."

ANNE EVANS.

All the weakness, and perhaps one ought to say the growing weak-
ness of the Church in the modern world, comes, not as is supposed from
Science having raised up self-styled invincible systems against Religion;
not from Science having discovered, having found arguments against
Religion, supposed victorious reasons; but from this that what remains
of the socially Christian world is profoundly wanting to-day in charity.
It is not reasons at all that lack it is charity. All the reasons, all the
systems, all the pseudo-scientific arguments would be nothing, would have
but little weight, if there were but one ounce of charity.

CHARLES PEGUY: Notre jeunesse.

THE PSYCHICAL "CHOIR
INVISIBLE"

WILLIAM JAMES died at Chocorua, in the White Mountains
of New Hampshire, on August 26, 1910. Very naturally,
as his lively interest in things psychical and the great question
of communication with the dead was so well known, there
was much speculation as to whether he would try to communicate with
his friends, and as to whether he would succeed, though it would seem
that there had been no specific compact or promise on his part, as there
had been, for instance, in the case of Frederic Myers.

In reply to this general question, it is affirmed, by those who have
given their lives to the solution of these problems, that Professor James
did make the effort to communicate, and that he succeeded in sending
messages to his friends which would fill several pages of print; that
his return was exceptionally prompt, there being an interval of only a
fortnight between his death and the first considerable message, and that
even within twenty-four hours after his death, he consciously made the
effort to appear to clairvoyants on both sides of the Atlantic. One of
these, known as Mrs. Smead, a lady of high character, described the
apparition of a man in a black gown, whom she did not then recognize,
but whom she later identified as Professor William James, when she
saw his portrait. The other clairvoyant, Mrs. Verrall of Cambridge, a
woman of exceptional gifts and scholarly mind, said that she had
"dreamed" that Professor James had come to her, seeking to communi-
cate ; the dream being, in fact, the method of communication.

And shortly after this the detailed messages began, coming for the
most part through two "automatists," Mrs. Smead and Mrs. Chenoweth,
under the general supervision of Dr. J. H. Hyslop, who, as a friend and
fellow-worker of William James, was exceptionally interested in the
experiment, and also exceptionally well qualified to judge of its success. In
the two series of messages, through the two scribes, the shade of William
James, if it be he, blends two elements : memories of his own past, with
a view to the identification of his personality; and comment on his
present surroundings, with a considerable amount of philosophizing
thereon. As to the memories, it must suffice to say that they are in
many details both striking and vivid, their coincidence with the facts,
or their apparent error, being carefully noted in the record of the experi-
ments. As to his post-mortem surroundings, the noteworthy thing is,
that he does not at all appear as a solitary spirit, sending messages solely
on his own initiative. He is rather the newest recruit to a well-organized

THE PHYSICAL "CHOIR INVISIBLE" 307

band, chief among whom are the shades of the famous leaders of
psychical research: Richard Hodgson in this country, and across the
ocean, Henry Sidgwick, Edmund Gurney and F. W. H. Myers.

To make the part of Professor James in this long-continued effort
really intelligible, both as to method and as to matter, it will be necessary
to run over briefly what had been taking place in the other world before
his death; I mean the ordered series of communications which have
been coming, for several years now, from shades of the founders and
chief workers of the Society for Psychical Research.

Let me try, by a simile, to convey the impression their continuing
work makes on me, a work carried on now, so far as most of them are
concerned, from "the other side of death." Once, a good many years
ago, I was at a concert, of mixed orchestral music and song, which
had been sufficiently animated and successful. The last number, an
orchestral piece, was marked by a quaint piece of shadow-play ; whether
it was a personal fancy for that occasion only, or a tradition of that
piece of music, I am not musician enough to know. But at any rate
as the piece drew towards its close, I was astonished to see the 'cellists
one by one stop playing, gravely swathe their big fiddles, don their
overcoats and hats and depart, the remainder of the orchestra still
playing. The brass followed suit, and then the wood wind and the
drums, till all were gone, even the conductor, save only the first violin,
who still fiddled furiously, oblivious of the world and all things. Then
at last with a start he awoke to his solitude, and he too stilled his music
and departed.

Had the symphony continued, but with invisible musicians, like
the Beyreuth orchestra, we should have a perfect image of the psychic
"choir invisible." First Edmund Gurney, then Henry Sidgwick, then
Frederic W. H. Myers, then Richard Hodgson, then Frank Podmore,
then William James, laid down their instruments and disappeared. But
their music has continued; continues still; and of this latest movement
of the psychical symphony, I shall try to give some connected impression.

We most of us remember how Richard Hodgson, the young Aus-
tralian, came to this country to investigate Mrs. Piper. He had studied
at Cambridge under Professor Henry Sidgwick, and had there fallen
in with psychic research, and become enthusiastically interested, but
quite unconvinced of the deeper phenomena. He used the methods of
a detective; his mind was positive, quick, humorous, resourceful; his
patience inexhaustible. Among his early American friends was a young
New York lawyer, who appears in the record under an assumed name,
George Pelham, the initials and Christian name being genuine. Hodgson
records that he and G. P. once had a talk about death. G. P. scouted the
idea of immortality, mocked at Hodgson's researches, and then suddenly
burst out: "If I die first, and find myself alive, I'll make it lively for
you!"

308 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

G. P. shortly afterwards met with a sudden and violent death, the
result of a fall, as he was coming home from dinner. How his shade
returned, and "made it lively" for Richard Hodgson, with such effect that
the latter was at last convinced of G. P.'s identity after fighting every
inch of the field, is now matter of general knowledge. The young
New York lawyer broke the ground; he was the path-finder for the
"twentieth century ghosts." In nearly all later manifestations and appar-
itions, as, for example, the communications of Myers and Gurney, he
played a prominent part, supplying force for weak communicators, experi-
ence for new-comers, enthusiasm for all. And this impartially through
three continents ; for it becomes perfectly obvious that, for these vigorous
ghosts, space as we know it simply does not exist, at least in the sense
of forming any barrier to communication. Indeed, a stock expedient is
to communicate the same word through scribes, one of whom may be
in Boston, another in London, another in Algiers, another in Bengal,
at the same moment; thus furnishing a striking test of genuine super-
naturalism.

It is evident that, for the surviving soul, a body is needed before
it can communicate, whether an astral or etheric body of its own, or
the partially borrowed body of some one still living. Most of these
communications come in this last way, the soul taking possession of a
living body either partially or wholly; that is, either writing with the
hand of the living person, or entrancing the person, entering the body,
and speaking with the living lips. The latter was often the case with
Mrs. Piper; the former was more often the method used with other
scribes, like Mrs. Verrall of Cambridge, and the ladies known as Mrs.
Holland, Mrs. Smead and so forth; private persons of undoubted
integrity, who dislike newspaper notoriety and prefer the use of ficti-
tious names. As to the method of "possession," the shade of Richard
Hodgson, writing through Mrs. Piper, thus expressed himself, to
Professor Hyslop:

"Do you remember a joke we had about George's putting his feet
on the chair, and how absurd we thought it ?"

Professor Hyslop, who did not remember anything of the kind,
asked :

"George who?"

The discarnate Hodgson, still writing with Mrs. Piper's hand,
answered :

"Pelham, in his description of the life here."

Still unresponsive, Professor Hyslop replied:

"No; you must have told it to someone else."

"Oh," replied Hodgson, "perhaps it was Billy. Ask him." Which
Professor Hyslop did, with the following result: "Billy" was the name
by which Hodgson had always called Professor Newbold, of the Univer-
sity of Pennsylvania, so he was asked regarding the pertinence of the
incident. He replied that he and Dr. Hodgson had laughed heartily at

309

some statements of George Pelham, when he was trying to communicate
after his death, about what he did when he was communicating. He
asserted that he was in the medium's head, and his feet on the table, while
he was trying to communicate through her hand. The incident is good
to prove identity, as the facts were quite unknown to Professor Hyslop.

Using some such method as this, therefore, the shades of Myers
and Gurney tried to communicate, having as their channel an Anglo-Indian
lady, a cheerful, healthy person in the thirties, who had the power of
automatic writing. Here is an extremely interesting example of their
joint work. I use roman and italic type to represent the alternation of
pen and pencil in the script, which was written about three years after
Myers' death ; Gurney had been dead fifteen years. Myers first writes :

"The obscuration of consciousness was prolonged in my case to
an abnormal period. Nearly the whole of the first year was hidden from
me. I was entranced as it were. That accounts for some failures of
compact, does it not? It is all so far more difficult than one imagines.
Even granting the strength to reach the threshold, one can but fall help-
lessly upon it, spent, and one's message stilled. / dislike writing with
pencil. Yes, ink is far more congenial to me. The publication of the
book [Myers' book, Human Personality, published after his death] was
a tremendous help to me, and to others of us. It set new strength, new
power, free in our direction, and even blind interest, unintelligent
thoughts, can be an assistance. It's the blank, hateful indifference that
is the second death to the spirit, the ghost that once was man. I almost
regret now that we so evaded the good old word 'ghost' in our Proceed-
ings; it was slurred and perverted by misuse, but we should have tried
to ennoble it again. 'Holy Ghost' means more in the services of the
Church than Holy Spirit "

[Gurney writing] : "It's not much good, his power fails so soon.
Take a pencil. Always a pencil for me, I hate ink. Don't be discouraged
about the man who's just gone. The fine quality of his mind alone
makes it harder for him to sway an alien brain, or move an alien hand.
The 'burliness' they used to laugh at in me stands me in better stead now
perhaps. For my own part I have nothing to say as yet. If your hand
is much influenced by me, it will be all the harder for F. [Myers] to
influence it. Begin your writing with a pen tomorrow."

To me, the personalities of/the two writers, both of whom I remember
seeing at meetings of the S. P. R. in by-gone days, seem perfectly distinct
and clear ; altogether distinct also from the personality of Mrs. Holland.
One can hardly imagine one's own hand talking to one in this fashion,
for instance:

"I can't help feeling vexed, or rather angry, at the half-hearted
way in which you go in for this; you should either take it or leave it.
If you don't care enough to try every day for a short time, better drop
it altogether. It's like making appointments and not keeping them.
You endanger your own powers of sensitiveness and annoy us bitterly."

310 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

The author of this scolding is the shade of Edmund Gurney, the recipient
is Mrs. Holland. Three days later, he harks back to the same key:
"Now listen: you must write every day, just a few minutes some
time every day for one whole month. Make up your mind to do it. Half
the time and energy we spend in scolding you and trying to keep
you up to the mark would give splendid proofs that people are longing
for. Don't stop to wonder who will see them; that will be arranged.
You do the writing, and the need for it, the use for it, will be shown."

The character of Edmund Gurney, and what he calls his "burliness"
comes out finely in that, and indeed in everything he has written.
Frederic Myers is not less distinctive: poetical, sensitive, full of allu-
sions to the classics and to his own work and theories, as well as to
the conditions he has found "at the other side of death." I wish space
permitted me to illustrate this fully.

Some months after these letters were written, Richard Hodgson
joined the "choir invisible," being stricken suddenly while playing hand-
ball at the Boat Club in Boston. He died five days before Christmas.
Hardly a week had passed before he was trying to communicate, and
one of his first questions was, whether the Christmas cards he had
prepared had been received by his friends. In his case, there were a
number of striking points of identification, some of them rather painful
for survivors. For instance, there was a ring, given him by a lady,
who alone besides himself knew where he had got it; this disappeared
at his death, and, communicating through Mrs. Piper, his ghost declared
that he had assuredly had it on when he started for the boat club; that
he had taken it off and put it in his waistcoat pocket, because it hurt his
hand when he played ball, and that it was in his pocket still. He even
indicated the place where the waistcoat would be found, and where,
in fact, it was found. Then there was a love-story; a girl whom he
had been passionately devoted to, and whom he had been unable to
marry because of his devotion to ghost-hunting and the limitation of
income this entailed; this again had been unknown except to her,
and forms a strong indication of identity. There are many detailed
communications, enough to fill a volume. Indeed, they fill several
volumes, especially the very striking proofs called "cross-correspond-
ences," the essence of which is, that the ghost dictates the same words
or thoughts to scribes in different places, different continents sometimes,
at the same time, and they are later brought together. In the case
of the ghostly Myers, these are as striking as they are voluminous; all
kinds of out-of-the-way allusions, obscure phrases from Plotinus, in
the original Greek, tags of modern poetry, ancient mythology, ideas
from Myers' own books, Latin phrases, and so on, were sent at the same
time through two or three scribes in different places, in extraordinary
abundance, and with extraordinary convincingness for whoever is willing
to be convinced.

In the late summer of 1910, two more of the musicians vanished

311

from the earthly stage, Frank Podmore and William James. Presently
their music was heard from behind the curtain.

Professor William James died, as we already noted, on August
26th; on August 27th, his wraith, afterwards recognized from a pub-
lished photograph, appeared to the lady known as Mrs. Smead, one
of the sensitive scribes concerned in this record. At the beginning of
November the ghost of William James began to write through another
scribe, known as Mrs. Chenoweth. It is characteristic of him that he
dwells chiefly on minor details, which, in his view, are far the best for
identification. For example, addressing Professor Hyslop, he says:

"I have a recollection of meeting you first with Richard [Hodgson].
It was at a small gathering or small company, and after it was over, we
met and talked. That was about your own work with Mrs. Piper.
I do not recall whether that was my first introduction to you, but it was
about that time. I was impressed with your fervor, and laughed with
Richard about it afterwards."

A few days later, following out the same theory of detail, William
James wrote:

"Bread and milk and berries often made the meal at night in the
summer, and the vegetable kingdom furnished a large part of my food
always. I was fond of apples and some kinds of fish. These may seem
remarkable things to return from heaven to say, but you will appreciate
their value. I can see the headlines in the newspapers now, if this were
given out."

On September 12th, a few days after his death, William James
said, through Mrs. Smead, that he had tried to communicate with Mrs.
Verrall, "across the water," and investigation showed that early that
same morning Mrs. Verrall saw James in a dream, and had the
impression, which she recorded, that he was trying to communicate with
her.

There remains yet one more of the "choir invisible," Frank Podmore.
He does not seem to have communicated himself, but he shows up
strongly in Hodgson's ghostly declarations. Thus a month after his
death, and a few days after the apparition of William James to the
learned lady in England, the shade of Richard Hodgson thus delivered
himself :

"We are having much fun with Podmore. He dies hard, too, and
argues and argues in a circle, just the same as ever. Between him and
Hudson we have a merry time. Sidgwick is most interested in James'
experiments. He does not care so much for Podmore's dilemma, although
he often argued and worked in the same direction. You know the
early days of Sidgwick were filled with all sorts of explanations that
gave us no end of trouble. But S. has opened his eyes, and Podmore
was born blind, sure as you live."

A few days later, Hodgson cheerfully says: "We have cooked
Frank's goose."

312 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

A year after his death, William James, thinking backwards to
his journey to Nauheim in search of health, said:

"Tell Mrs. James that I am not sorry that I went across. That
was not what caused my death, although I can still hear her troubled
tone as she said, 'I am sure you were not able to go, and I am sorry
we went.' It would have been harder to stay. The anxiety would have
been too great. Here is my sign, Omega."

This was the sign agreed upon, before his death, with Professor
Hyslop. On this the Hodgson ghost cheerily comments:

"Same cautious William, but faithful and lovely as a spirit can be."

Here this record must close. Thus do the "choir invisible" continue
to make music, gay or pathetic, behind the curtain. The cogency of
it all is, to me, irresistible; far more effective when taken as a whole
than these few excerpts suggest. Without doubt, these investigators
have proven, for whosoever will rightly weigh the proof, that the dead
live, not remote but close to us, not forgetful, but vividly remembering
the life they have just left, and on whose verge they hover. On their
condition, these records shed much light; it is etheric or astral, not
bound by space, but fluid, vaporous, the vapor instantly moulded and
colored by their thoughts or by the thoughts of the living, directed to
them.

Therefore I am convinced that the record is true. At the same time,
I am even more deeply convinced that these experiments are highly
dangerous and should never have been made ; that there is but one right
way to raise the veil of death : the way of holiness and purification. Never-
theless, let these experiments stand for what they are worth, and let us
learn from them what we can of the mysteries of life and death.

JOHN CARLTON.

You do not need much time to love God, to renew the thought of
His Presence frequently, to lift up your heart to Him and worship Him
in its depths, to offer Him all you do and all you suffer; and this is the
real "Kingdom of God within you," which nothing can disturb.

ARCHBISHOP FENELON.

KARMA

THE word "Karma" is a Sanskrit term whose literal meaning is
"action." The "Law of Karma" means, literally, the "law of
action," the way action works. This is something with which
we are all very familiar. We are observing it every day, and
experiencing its operation every instant of the day. For all life is action,
of one form or another, and the laws of action are the laws of life.

Though we recognize the truth of this the instant it is stated, it
seems somewhat strained to use our common English word "action" in
so broad a sense. It is true that we speak of the "action" of the will,
the "action" of love, or of ambition, or of thought. But if the field of
action be not specified, the first impression the word conveys is of some
external and sensible movement, the exertion and manifestation of some
outer rather than of some inner power. The Eastern term is free from
this narrowing connotation of externality. It retains the universal quality
of Eastern thought, which conceives of life as one undivided whole, and
of the great principles and laws of life as operative throughout its whole
extent, changing only the form of their manifestation from plane to
plane, as light may change to heat, but remaining themselves essentially
unchanged. Karma is action; but the implication is that Life, in its
wholeness, is the actor, and that the field of action is the whole field of
life. The study of Karma is the study of life in terms of action.

What are the terms of action? When we attempt to formulate our
knowledge of the way things act, we are likely to think first of such a law
as that of "cause and effect." All about us we see causes working out into
effects, which in their turn become causes producing further effects,
and thus establishing an endless chain. We think of every action as a
link in such a chain ; and we know that in some hidden way every effect
must have been already present in its cause, so that the action and the
effect must have been only the unfolding of the content of the cause.

Or perhaps, if our minds turn more naturally to physics than to
philosophy, we may think of that basic principle of energetics that every
action involves reaction. I press my hand against the wall. The wall
presses against my hand with equal force. Were its resistance to cease,
the pressure would of necessity cease. I cannot act without being acted
upon. My own act returns upon me; and whatever act I perform, I
perform, through reaction, upon myself. If I am the actor, I become
automatically the recipient of the result of my action.

Each of these two aspects of the law governing action, is an aspect
of the law of Karma, of the modus operandi of life. Could we really

* An introductory presentation of the subject for discussion at a meeting of the New
York Branch of the Theosophical Society.

314 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

comprehend their significance and universality we would have the clue
to many problems which now perplex us. Such comprehension, however,
is not easily gained from abstract statements, whether these be couched
in the language of philosophic generalization or of scientific dogma. The
great Masters and Teachers of life have never taught through formulas.
They have turned to life itself for the portrayal of life. Their similies
are all vital and living. They ask us to "consider the lilies of the field,
how they grow," and liken the Kingdom of Heaven to a grain of mustard
seed. Were the parable of the Prodigal Son the only scripture we pos-
sessed, we would still have the law of Karma set forth for us with a
lucidity and completeness which volumes of expository literature could
not rival.

We of the West, however, have strange difficulty in viewing our
own lives as under law, and perhaps the story of the Prodigal Son is
too close to the story of each human life to enable us to see it in right
perspective. Let us begin with something simpler. Let us, also, consider
the lilies, how they grow, and see if we can learn the lesson of the grain
of mustard seed.

"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. But when the fruit is brought forth, immediately he putteth in the
sickle, because the harvest is come." And again: "For every tree is
known by his own fruit. For of thorns men do not gather figs, nor of
a bramble bush gather they grapes."

This is the perfect picture of Karma, the way life acts. Life
"bringeth forth fruit of herself" from each seed fruit of its own kind,
"first the blade, then the ear, after that the full corn in the ear." To us
one seed may look much like another, so small, yet so charged with
limitless potentialities : an acorn, and forest upon forest of oak ; a single
grain of wheat, and food for the human race for untold myriads of years ;
a feathered speck blown by the wind, and a spreading plague of weed
which man must fight for centuries. No microscope can show us what
we may hold within our hand, no physical or chemical analysis can force
the seed's secret, if life itself has not first revealed to us its content.
"Wherefore, by their fruits ye shall know them." This is the action of
life, it makes manifest in full and perfect detail the hidden content of
the seed. It brings forth the fruit, of itself; and when the harvest is
come man puts in the sickle, and, in the light of life's lesson, plants or
refrains from planting that seed again. If the sickle be not put in, life
repeats its lesson. The seed falls and plants itself, and multiplies after its
kind.

To speak of this familiar process of organic growth and reproduction
as the perfect picture of Karma is to imply that it is representative of life's
action not only on the plane of vegetable or animal life but on all planes

KARMA 315

of life. It is well worth while to examine this implication, and to deter-
mine for ourselves whether we believe it to be valid. Are all life's
actions truly comparable to the reproduction of a seed and to the manifes-
tation of its hidden potentialities? Or is this typical only of plants and
flowers, and of a "Kingdom of God" which does not include the world
of men? Was Christ speaking of some distant hereafter, or of the
Kingdom which is within us, here and now?

Let us consider a realm in which this illustration will seem as foreign
as possible, the realm of logic and of mathematics, which so many
deem cold and dead. What is the nature of our action there? How
does life act in a mind thinking clearly? What are the laws of "pure
thought ?"

For many centuries Geometry has typified them, and it is not difficult
to see in Geometry the same law that is operative in organic growth.
We take, as seeds, a few simple-seeming statements which we call axioms,
and a few more which we call definitions and postulates, and thereafter
the action of our thought is to unfold their meaning and their content.
The whole science of Geometry lies in these few statements, as all
the flowers of the garden lay in the seeds the gardener planted. But their
potentialities, their implications and inevitable consequences, the full
meaning and significance with which they were charged, could not be
realized in advance of thought. The action of thought, at least of
all logical thought, is precisely this progressive realization of the content
of a mental concept. Our logic adds no new element. It only makes
manifest that which our concept already contained. For over two
thousand years mathematicians have been thus unfolding the concepts
defined by Euclid's axioms, and the end is not yet, though proposition
has been added to proposition in unnumbered sequence. But the validity
and inevitable necessity of each such proposition lay in the axioms them-
selves. When Euclid affirmed these, he affirmed, though unknowingly,
all their consequences, all their hidden wealth of content which the action
of thought has made manifest.

There is another aspect of this illustration which it is important
that we should perceive clearly if our view of Karma is not to be partial
and misleading. To the Greeks, and indeed nearly to our own time,
the axioms of Euclid seemed self-evident and obvious. They presented
themselves so plausibly as to make it appear that we had no choice but
to accept them. They seemed inevitable and necessary. But as their
consequences were developed and experienced in the expanded science of
the Geometry to which they led, man began to see the true nature and
limitations of this Geometry. It became evident that it did not exhaust
the possible, and that there might be other worlds whose measure might
be in different terms. We began to ask ourselves whether we were
indeed forced to accept these initial axioms to which we had at first
yielded such unquestioning assent. If they were as universally valid as
they had appeared to us, if our acceptance of them as the basis of our

316 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

thought were indeed forced, then we were forever confined to just this
Geometry and to no other. For from the compulsion of our logic, from
life's action as it operates through our reason upon these axioms, there
was no escape. If the result was to be different, broader and more
inclusive, its basis had to be different, broader and more inclusive. From
each seed life brings forth fruit after its own kind. Over this we have
no control. However much we may wish it, we cannot "gather grapes
of thorns or figs of thistles." If we wish a different crop we must
plant different seed. It is here that we have control. Whatsoever it
be that we choose to plant, life brings forth and makes manifest, inevitably,
unalterably. But we cannot plant thorns and have grapes grow from
them ; nor can we develop a non-Euclidean Geometry from the Euclidean
axioms.

The Law of Karma is as constant in the world of thought as in
the world of growing plants. It makes manifest the nature and content
of what it acts upon. It brings all things to their harvest. But when the
harvest is come, and this content is revealed, then man can put in the
sickle and choose anew, in the light of life's lesson, the seed which he
will plant. This is what we have today recognized in our study of
Geometry. The axioms of Euclid were not forced upon us. Obvious
and inevitable though they at first appeared, there is no one of them that
cannot be denied. We chose them, blindly it is true, and not knowing
then that we had the power of choice. But now that their nature has
been revealed to us, we see that we might have chosen differently, and
that a different choice would have led to a different Geometry. ,They
only appeared to us as universal truths. In actual fact each separated
the universe into two regions: the one being the region in which this
axiom was valid, the other being the region in which it was not valid.
Thus the axioms in their totality defined a very limited realm in
the world of thought ; and the Euclidean Geometry pertains only to this
realm, being confined to the part common to the valid regions of all its
axioms. Outside this realm different Geometries exist, as rich and
richer than that of Euclid, and which we are today studying from
another choice of other axioms. We have come to see, for example, that
one of Euclid's axioms is precisely the definition of finitude, and that
its opposite is the definition of that which is infinite. Choosing this
opposite, the action of thought unfolds and makes manifest for us
qualities and properties of infinitude; as in our other choice it unfolded
and made manifest the characteristics of the finite. We have learned
that we can choose our own world.

The same laws of action that we have seen operative in such widely
different conditions as those of organic growth and logical thought may
be traced on all planes and in every department of life. The doctrine
of Karma is the doctrine that these laws are characteristic of the whole
movement of the elan vital, that in them we have a true picture of the
way life works, in us as throughout the universe. Each thought we

KARMA 317

entertain, each emotion we yield to, each principle of conduct we adopt,
has its own life-cycle and tends to reproduce itself. It is like a seed
which we plant in the soil of our consciousness. We take it into ourselves,
and there it lives and grows and develops according to its kind; life,
of itself, bringing forth the fruit and making manifest its nature' and
its content. We speak of this life-cycle and unfolding content of any
thought or deed or feeling as its Karma, as its inevitable fruit under the
alchemy of life's action, extending our use of the term from the action
itself to the result which cannot be separated from it. And because we
have taken the seed into ourselves, and because the life which acts
upon it acts through us, and so is our life, the Karma is also ours and
we experience its results. The crop of each field is the fruit of the seed
that is sown in it.

When we first look at our life and actions in the light of this
doctrine of Karma, it may seem to us that we had little part in choosing
the seed which was planted. The greater portion of our thoughts and
feelings and actions seem perhaps little more than obvious reactions
from our environment. We were angry. But, in such circumstances,
who could help being angry? If we had not been provoked we would
not have been angry. We tell ourselves that our feeling was forced upon
us, inevitably; that we had no choice.

It was thus that the Greeks accepted the axioms of Euclid, not
questioning the existence of an alternative, and it was thus that for
centuries we confined ourselves to the logic of the finite. But when life
develops the consequences of our anger, and brings forth its fruits, and
we find them bitter to our taste, we are compelled to ask ourselves if
it was as necessary as it seemed. Was there nothing we overlooked?
No other feeling we could have fostered? No other course we could
have followed? "Everything has two handles by which it may be lifted.
Thy brother has done thee an injury. An injury has been done thee?
Nay. He is thy brother." We were free to choose which thought
we would harbour; by which handle we would seek to bear that which
happened. The result we have experienced was not the result of the
incident, but the result of our choice. However blindly and ignorantly
that choice was made, the action of life reveals its full significance, so
that when we come to choose again, there is no longer excuse for either
blindness or ignorance. We cannot say we do not know what we choose ;
nor can we blind ourselves to the existence of an alternative; for we
have experienced the consequences of our choice, and we know that as
there are other fruits there must be other seeds.

Sound as this reasoning is, it will doubtless seem to many of us
more theoretical than practical. Argue with ourselves as we may, we
still feel that much of what we give entrance to, and of what life
develops within us, is the inevitable result of our environment. We feel
that in actual fact we have less choice at any given moment than would
theoretically appear. We are what we are, creatures of habit and tern-

318 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

perament, and we can predict with some certainty the way in which
we would respond to given circumstances, even though this way may
be not at all the one we would wish to choose. There is truth in this
feeling, and its basis is the very law of Karma which we are considering.

Our habits and our environment alike are the Karma of our past.
Our lives are not virgin fields in which no seed has ever before been
sown, but are rich and rank with vegetation, with growing crops of
many kinds from former plantings. Over the seed we have sown we
have no longer full power of choice. We can root up the plant or await
its harvest. But we cannot change the nature of its fruit. As in each
instant we are sowing for the future, so also are we reaping from the
past. "Be not deceived ; God is not mocked : for whatsoever a man soweth
that shall he also reap." Our own acts return upon us and are registered,
inwardly in our habits, outwardly in our environment. Both are self-
chosen and self-made, in that their initial cause was of our choice and
making. Both are God-chosen and God-made, in that they are the result
of life's action upon these causes; and this action is always beneficent.

The full universality of this aspect of Karma is perhaps more difficult
of comprehension than is the converse aspect with which we have been
dealing. It is easier for us to believe that each cause we set in motion
will have its effects, and that we shall share in those effects, than it is
for us to perceive that every effect we experience is the result of causes
in which we also shared. One reason for this may be that when we
think of anything as a cause we are thinking consciously of its dynamic
power of producing effects, whereas much of what we experience, either
in ourselves or in our circumstances, we accept unthinkingly as simply
static, as simply happening. Not looking for causes we do not find them.
Another reason is that we sow our seed so unconsciously and carelessly
that the very fact that we have sown at all passes from our memory.
How many of our thoughts and feelings and acts of the day do we
remember by night? We "sleep and rise, night and day," and the seed
springs and grows up, we know not how, for life bringeth forth fruit
of itself. And the harvest finds us amazed and unprepared. We say:
"Some enemy hath done this." But we ourselves are our only enemy.
If we do not remember the sowing of yesterday, can we expect to
recognize the fruit of seed sown perhaps centuries ago?

The parables of the Kingdom of God are parables of life's action.
But they are also parables of husbandmen, of those who consciously
and purposefully till and cultivate the fields allotted to them. We shall
not wholly understand these parables until we also become the husband-
men of our own lives, studying life's action and consciously and purpose-
fully co-operating with it; consciously and purposefully choosing the
seed which we plant, uprooting the weeds which would choke it, watering
the soil and tending the crop. Few of us can yet say that we are
such husbandmen. In most lives the acreage under cultivation represents
but a small portion of the whole ; and it may be useful to consider what

KARMA 319

is happening in the waste and neglected land, where plant and weed
grow uncared for, and their seed falls of itself or is blown afar by
the wind.

It is not difficult to find here a simile for the part played in our
life by habit and environment. The seed which falls and is planted, falls
and is planted automatically, as habit acts, reproducing itself. The soil
into which it falls is what it is because of what has been grown there
throughout the past. Each crop grown upon a field modifies its soil
in. its own way, some enriching, some impoverishing. Each makes for
itself its own environment. It is really only in the neglected portions of
our lives that habit and environment rule supreme, in those fields where
the sickle is not put in, though from these waste regions many troublous
seeds are blown into the fields we wish to cultivate and where choice is
consciously exercised.

But let us try to deal with this matter of habit and circumstance
more directly than by simile. They are, we have said, the result of
Karma as it acts in our own lives. Habit, temperament, personal
character, is the result of its inner action, of the inner reproductive
power of acts and thoughts and feelings to repeat themselves, or to tend
to repeat themselves, as plants bear seed of their own kind and, if
unchecked, will multiply. In like manner the circumstances of our lives
are the result of Karma's outer action. This outer action of Karma
we have seen to consist in the progressive unfoldment and development
of the inner content of each thing upon which life acts. It makes manifest
the true nature of each thought or feeling or principle of conduct, forcing
us to become conscious of its significance and to experience its conse-
quences. Through this experience we are made, sooner or later, to face
the question whether it is what we wish, as each husbandman determines
from his harvest whether he wishes to plant that seed again.

Now let us trace this two-fold action of Karma, as it operates
through our own conduct, in some familiar examples. We give way
to an impulse of irritability and selfishness. We know it tends to make
us more irritable and more selfish. It puts us in bad humour, and this
humour tends to vent itself upon all about us. It requires a very definite
act of will to prevent its spreading far beyond its initial cause, and if it
be not checked it multiplies astonishingly both in its inner intensity and
in its outer expression. We find ourselves irritated by innumerable little
incidents which would not ordinarily have affected us. In this very
direct and immediate sense our environment mirrors back to us our own
mood and inner condition. Or, changing the simile, our mood acts like
a coloured lense, opaque to all rays save those of its own colour, so that
all we can see of the great rich universe about us are its irritating
elements; and as we respond to these with further irritation, the habit
of irritability begins to form in us.

But the outer effect of our irritability is not merely an optical
illusion. It is, on the contrary, very real and by no means confined to

320 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

ourselves. Those upon whom we vented our irritation are obviously
affected by it. Their attitude toward us changes. Little by little, if
not at once, we estrange their friendship. Our self-centeredness and
selfishness work outwardly to isolate us. We find ourselves shut off
from friends, from all true companionship, from all sense of closeness
to others or to life itself. We see only cold looks around us, and are as
aliens in our own homes. Thus life forces us to see and to experience
the full content of our actions, the true nature and significance of the
principle of conduct which we adopted. It also forces upon us the
question : Is it what we wished ?

When this question presents itself, we usually try to avoid it,
or else we answer impatiently: "No, of course not. But it's not my
fault. Supposing I was irritable, I had good cause to be. Anyone
would have been irritated." Then life proceeds to repeat the lesson, on
a larger scale. The process continues until the question can be no longer
avoided or answered so cavalierly. We are compelled to recognize that
from the logic of events there is no escape. If we do not wish isolation,
then we must adopt some other principle of conduct than that of
irritable self-centeredness ; and from the pain and pressure of our isola-
tion, the outward Karma of our conduct, is born the will to correct
it, to sow no more such seed, but to uproot the weed which bears it,
and to plant other seed which will flower into such a life as we desire.

Or, as another illustration, let us suppose that we are self-indulgent
in some one or other of our appetites. Let us say in eating. What is
the Karma of this? The inward action is the establishment of a habit
of self-indulgence, manifested in our eating, but spreading rapidly
throughout the whole nature, as a weed will spread from one field to
the next. Self-indulgence in one direction breeds self-indulgence in all
directions; so that if this habit were to continue long unchecked the
whole moral nature would be seriously impaired. Some dim perception of
this begins to dawn upon us as we find ourselves little by little departing
from the stricter standards we had formerly set ourselves. But we are
very likely to blind ourselves to the true situation as long as we can,
so that we are soon in real and grave danger.

But this inward habit-producing and habit-spreading action of
Karma is but one of the two directions in which it works; and the
outer action contains the corrective of the inner. The over indulgence
in eating results in indigestion, which mirrors back to us the true signifi-
cance of what we have done. If we heed this warning, we correct our
self-indulgence. But if, as is most probable, we do not heed it, and seek
only to escape from the effects, without remedying the cause, life repeats
the lesson more pointedly. Our indigestion becomes chronic, or we
develop some stomach or intestinal malady which compels moderation in
diet, unless, indeed, we are so unfortunate as to have the diseased
organ removed by a surgical operation, which permits us to continue
our self-indulgence and moral deterioration until life forces its conse-

KARMA 321

quences upon us through some other and more serious failure of our
powers. But we are concerned here with the normal rather than the
exceptional case, and in the normal case the outward Karma of wilful
self-indulgence is compulsory self-control, life steadily increasing the
pressure until we yield to its compulsion, until we are forced to choose
the way of health and of self-mastery.

In each of these illustrations we see Karma, the action of life, as
the means by which it is made possible for man to have, at every point,
free will and choice, and yet to be always safeguarded. He is never
permitted ignorantly and blindly to become permanently other than he
would be. Karma reveals to him what he chooses, and makes him
perceive, by experiencing, the life to which it leads. This experience
presses upon him with increasing weight, until it compels his recognition
and attention, and forces him to measure it by the standard of his heart's
desire. Is it truly what he wishes? If not, he must choose anew.

"In His will is our peace." It is thus that we are made. Our life,
a ray of the Divine, retains this as its inmost essence and its deepest
truth. Nothing that is not His will, however its seed may glitter
and attract, can in its fruits, in its reality and fulfilment, satisfy us. So
we sow and reap and gather into barns, and, looking upon the harvest,
choose new seed to sow and reap again, until of our own choice we choose
the seed of immortal life which He has given us. "Be not deceived;
God is not mocked : for whatsoever a man soweth that shall he also reap.
For he that soweth to his flesh shall of the flesh reap corruption ; but he
that soweth to the Spirit shall of the Spirit reap life everlasting."

From the corruption of the flesh and the ashes of the death to which
it leads arises the desire for a life that shall be incorruptible and that
shall not die. Within the desire is the power of fulfilment, the Karma
inherent in its vitality. The great foaming river of life and of God's
will is shoreless. It throws its spray far. But every drop finds its
way back to the unbroken stream.

So brief a presentation of so great a subject must of necessity leave
untouched far more than it can indicate. What has been said can only
be considered as a basis for further inquiry and discussion, and to give
point to such discussion I venture to suggest some questions.

What can be said of the effect upon man of the environment into
which he was born and of the character which we say he inherits? Can
these be considered to have been in any way created or chosen by himself
or to have been his Karma?

Is there unmerited suffering? Is suffering always the "penalty" of
personal sin or wrong doing? If we choose the seed of love, or heroism,
or greatness, as the seed we wish to plant, must we expect suffering
as part of its fruit? Can we crave and desire suffering? Has it a
real part to play ? Is it in itself an evil ?

322 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

Does the recognition of the universality of law in the universe make
it appear only as a mechanism? Does the law of Karma deny the
existence of Compassion? If law and order and the principle of cause
and effect rule in a nursery, does the mother love her children?

Can we regard great disasters involving many people, as the action
of Karma? (For example the Titanic disaster.) Can it be considered
to have been the personal Karma of each passenger and member of
the crew ?

Can we assume that each happening between two people is the
Karma of both? Are Karma and Fate synonymous terms, or do they
stand for different concepts? What is the difference, if difference there
be?

If Karma is universal, and all is under Karma, how do we ever
make a new decision or a new start? What did Christ mean when He
said : "I make all things new" ?

How is Karma "worked out"? What does it mean to be forgiven?
Does forgiveness mean freedom from consequences? Do we want a
debt forgiven, or do we want to be helped to pay it? Can we be loosed
from consequences ?

What is the effect of mercy, forgiveness, compassion? What is
the dynamic and Karmic effect of love ? What is vicarious atonement ?

What is the bearing of the doctrine of Karma upon our desire
(or duty) to help others? How can we help others? Is the helping of
others interfering with their Karma? Can we interfere with Karma?

If Karma acts in a double line (inwardly reproductive, outwardly
corrective) can we help by attempting to affect one without touching
the other? Is it possible to affect one without affecting the other? Can
one line be regarded as cause and the other line as effect ? What bearing
has this upon "social service"?

HENRY BEDINGER MITCHELL.

JACOB BOEHME

late Metropolitan of Denmark, Doctor Hans Lassen
Martensen, in his scholarly review of the life of Jacob Boehme,
A characterizes him as the greatest and most famous of all Theos-
ophists, and as one who has fairly gained the cognomen
Philosophus Teutonicus. It is certain that Boehme has exercised no
small influence upon intellectual development, both in its theosophical
and philosophical aspects. Hegel and Schilling, although they criticize
the form in which his ideas are cast, yet are self-acknowledged borrowers
of "The God-taught Philosopher." In the religious field, we have, on
one hand, Franz Baader, the Catholic, and, on the other, William Law,
the Protestant mystic, indicating Jacob Boehme as their spiritual
father and guide. To the introduction of "Behmenism" so-called into
England, the Quaker Movement owes indirectly much of its power,
notably its noble doctrine of salvation as nothing short of the very
presence and life of Christ in the believer.

A humble peasant, without learning or scientific education, yet
penetrating, with his gigantic imagination, into the deepest secrets of
Nature, Boehme presents one of the most remarkable phenomena in the
history of mankind. He speaks of the mysteries of God with certitude,
as one who beholds directly; yet he, the seer, is a humble nonentity, a
child. "I would," said he, "that you should look upon my writings as
those of a child, in whom the Highest hath driven his work." In another
epistle he thus writes of his method: "I am verily a simple man, and
have neither learned nor sought purposely after this high mystery, nor
know anything of it. I only sought the Heart of Love in Jesus Christ,
and when I had obtained that to the joy of my soul, then was the
treasure of natural and divine knowledge opened and given to me. Again
I will not conceal the simple childlike way which I walk in Jesus Christ.
For I can write nothing of myself, but as of a child which neither
knoweth nor understandeth nor hath learned anything, but only that
which the Lord vouchsafed to know in me, and according to the measure
wherein He manifested Himself in me. . . . And I besought the Lord
earnestly for His Holy Spirit that he would be pleased to bless and
guide me in Him. I resigned myself wholly to Him, that I might not
live to my own will but to His ; and that He only might lead and direct
me, so that I might be His child in His Son, Jesus Christ. ... In this,
my earnest Christian seeking, wherein I suffered many a repulse . . . the
Gate was finally opened to me, so that in one-quarter of an hour I
saw and knew more than if I had been many years at an university.
At which I stood exceedingly astonished, not knowing how it had
happened to me."

324 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

The outward events of Jacob Boehme's life are few and simple.
He was born in a hamlet near Gorlitz in the year 1575, of well-to-do
peasants. Not being robust enough to follow his father's calling, at
the age of fourteen he was apprenticed to a shoemaker in Gorlitz, at
which trade he remained throughout the greater part of his life, humbly
earning his living, ever listening to the voice within, and writing down
what he could catch of its wonderful harmonies. From his birth, he
seems to have been gentle, kindly, sincerely pious, and on terms of
good will with all men; nor, to the day of his death in 1624, is there
recorded of him a single lapse in outward act from his exalted inner
standard of holiness. His vision is clear, his mind balanced : there is no
account of ecstasies, nor of the angels that fill Swedenborg's writings;
nor, indeed, of any supernormal occurrence, if we except the early
record of the visit of the mysterious Stranger who tells him of future
greatness in the power of the Spirit.

In 1612 was published his first work, Aurora, wherein he tries to
arrange in a coherent whole glimpses of the universe (the macrocosm)
and man (the microcosm), which he had previously seen fragmentarily,
but now in more definite outlines. This work, however, was not intended
for publication, but for his own use, as a "memorial" to aid him when
his visions occasionally vanished from him, and he could not recall
what he had seen. The inspiration comes "like a shower of rain"
what he catches, he has, he tells us of his experiences. The surrepti-
tious copying and publication of Aurora brought down upon him the
charge of heresy from the local Lutheran body, and persecution which
continued until within a year of his death, ending only with the death
of his arch-enemy, Gregorius Richter, the Pastor of the Lutheran Church
in Gorlitz. Boehme met and refuted the libels and accusations of Richter
patiently, but at the same time with spirit and dignity, stoutly maintaining
his ground when the validity of his vision was questioned, yet humbly
conscious of the inadequacy of his own powers to transmit the full light
of it: as, for example, where he says, "It is not I who know this:. It
is Christ who knows it in me," or again, in answer to his opponents,
"You say truly enough that I was not present at the creation of the
world, and that I consequently cannot describe it, but the Spirit who is
in me was present, and now reveals it at this time." "And yet I am
a poor mouthpiece," he confesses. He also admits the obscurity and
imperfection of his earlier works, but avers that he gradually obtained
greater clearness. Boehme, in fact, added to the defects of his method,
and made his subject needlessly difficult of comprehension, by employing
physical categories (such as salt, mercury, sulphur,), when mental or
ethical terms ought to have been used. This fault is happily absent from
his latest and most valuable work The Way to Christ, which includes
as its latter half The Supersensual Life, exquisitely translated and
paraphrased by William Law. Here Boehme's writing is exceedingly
simple, yet profound in thought and exalted in spirit. That which might

JACOB BOEHME 325

be said of the whole of his philosophy, viz: that it amplifies and
elaborates through specific detail the words "In God we live and move
and have our being," applies especially to The Supersensual Life.

The necessary limits of a magazine article prohibit more than a
passing glance at Boehme's philosophy. The fundamental task which he
has set himself is to apprehend God, and in this light to apprehend the
world. But the God whom he seeks to know is the God of Revelation
to show Him forth as The Living God. This is Boehme's focal point.
"For Boehme, the idea of Life is inseparable from the idea of Mani-
festation. Life is an unfolding from darkness to light, from the hidden,
indefinite and unknown, to the manifested, definite and knowable. But
Life and Manifestation can only be conceived of as a movement between
contrasts, and as the mediation of these. Without contrasts, there is
neither life nor manifestation ; without contrast, without another, there is
only eternal immobility, stillness and repose, in which nothing can be
distinguished or perceived. Boehme's problem is, therefore, not only
a problem of unity and triplicity (problem of Trinity), but a problem
of unity and duality, of Spirit and Nature, seeing that God must be
conceived of as at the same time Spirit and Nature, and this is the
problem for which Boehme occupies first rank." (Martensen.) "For
God has not brought forth creation that He should be thereby perfect,
but for His own manifestation, that is for the great joy and glory."
(Signatura Rerum 16. 2.) In another passage Boehme inquires, "What
was, prior to the existence of the angels and creation? God was, alone
with Light and Fire (or, God was, alone with two fire-centres, the lucid
and the dark fire-centre,) and the angels and the souls of men and all
creatures lay in an Idea or spiritual model, in which God from eternity
beholds his works."

Let us try to make this somewhat more intelligible: We have, as
a starting point, a unit, which Boehme designates as the Abyss the
primal stillness in which there is, as yet, no manifestation, only the
pattern or model, which he calls The Uncreated Universe, lying in the
mind of God. Boehme's conception of the unmanifested God takes the
form of

I An Unoriginated Will.

II This Will divides, as it were into

a : The Spirit- Will, the lucid fire-centre, which points Unity :
b: The Nature- Will, the dark fire-centre, which issues forth and
separates itself from the Spirit- Will, multiplying itself into the infinite
number of wills and powers of which manifested life consists. There-
for the Nature- Will represents multiplicity, diversity. Hence we have

I The Spirit-Will, the unmanifested Unity underlying all diversity.

II The Nature-Will, the diversity by which Unity knows itself.

326 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

Now the division of the Nature-Will into innumerable wills has
brought about dissension and strife, every will pushing, crushing every
other will. Yet, in order to have life, manifestation, development, there
was need of this " contrarium," this Nature-Will. An obscuration has
thereby taken place, but it was necessary so that the Light might be
manifested. Contrast has thus come into being, without which (as has
been shown) nothing could be perceived or distinguished. But evil has
also come into being by this conflict between the many separated wills.
Evil, not only in the human world, evil in its cosmical sense is the "Dark
Point" which constantly disturbs Boehme. What is its origin? "All
is out of God," he reasons, yet "God has made no devil out of Himself,
but angels to live in glory." To answer the question he explores the
original Will which has assigned to Itself, for Its manifestation, certain
progressive conditions*, having for their object the subordination of the
Nature-Will to the Spirit-Will as its vehicle and medium of manifes-
tation.

The Process by which the Nature- Will, proceeding out of Spirit,
passes through Nature back to Spirit.

This process is sevenfold, which divides itself into two triads, the
lower, the higher, and the link between, uniting them.

The Lower Triad is dark, negative, hostile to Spirit, yet restless and
unsatisfied in that attitute. It consist of three qualities or "Natural Prop-
erties," the first and lowest being Contraction, the second Expansion,
the third Rotation; or, since Boehme insist that this sevenfold process
embodies the principles upon which all evolution (spiritual as well as
natural) is carried on, let us follow out these Natural Properties in the
progress of the human soul. We have the natural, unregenerated man
showing forth the first Natural Property, Contraction or its inner corres-
pondence, Selfishness. He would draw all things, all wills to himself.
Yet he feels within himself at the same time an outward going desire;
the wish to objectify himself, to impress himself upon things exterior
to himself. He propagates his kind, he builds, paints, models, writes,
invents. And yet he finds this Expansion or Outward Desire in constant
antagonism to the first Property, Self-desire, the result of the conflict
between the two being the third Natural Property Rotation or Rest-
lessness, Anguish.

Whilst this is taking place on the lower plane, the Spirit above is
yearning for Nature. Similarly, Nature's disillusionment leads her,
yearning, towards Spirit. She feels within herself that, somehow, per-
manency, harmony, peace are her birthright, yet all experiences here-
tofore have led to impermanency, discord, strife, yet Nature will not
immediately surrender her unruliness and subordinate herself. The
light of the Spirit must descend as a conqueror, penetrating the darkness

* Boehme constantly repeats that in order to understand this progression, it must be con-
ceived of as taking place not in a temporal manner in succession, but in an eternal manner
in simultaneity, or all at once.

JACOB BOEHME . 327

and discord, and in the resulting tremor and shock the soul knows herself
united to Spirit. This is the fourth, the unifying Property, designated
by Boehme the Lightning Flash, that Divine Fire which consumes all that
is gross and selfish in the natural man, whose original properties, i. e. :
Selfishness, Desire, Restless Anguish exist now in their purified condition,
and his will has become one with the Spirit- Will. Thus is the soul "born
from above," and we arrive at the central point of Boehme's teachings,
viz: that Nature must pass through the second birth, "the fire of the
lightning" to its light and freedom. "Per ignem ad luceml"

This brings us to the upper Triad, where the soul begins to assume
definiteness, as it were, begins to know itself from within, and that
quality, before known as Selfishness or Contraction exhibits itself as
Gentle Love, the Fifth Natural Property: Love, which draws together
all the powers to unity and reconciliation.

Nature has now entered a new realm. She knows herself in her
true relation, no longer as a collection of separate, discordant wills, but
as the outward harmonious expression of the one Spirit- Will. The soul
seeing itself no longer separated, but one with all other souls in the
Oversoul, now may express itself truly, because of that vision. Hence
its quality, the Sixth Natural Property; is termed "The Chord" or
"Harmonious Sound."

The highest and Seventh Natural Property is the perfected universe.
As regards the soul, it is the goal, union with God, and its name is The
Kingdom, the Glory of God.

SUSAN W. ALLISON.

(To be continued.)

The more a man lives, the more a man creates, the more a man loves
and loses those whom he loves, the more does he escape from death.
With every new blow that we have to bear, with every new work that we
round and finish, we escape from ourselves, we escape into the work we
have created, the soul we have loved, the soul that has left us.

Jean Christophe: ROMAIN ROLLAND.

BERGSON'S PHILOSOPHICAL
POSITION

VIII

HENRI BERGSON was born in Paris in 1859 ; his father being
a Jew and his mother an Irishwoman. This endowment of the
self-confidence and richly colored imagination of the Celt, and
the versatility and flexible genius of the Hebrew, together with
an education and environment in the progressive and spiritual atmos-
phere peculiar to the France of the last two generations, gives Bergson
an heredity and setting that in some ways may explain his unusual mind
and the many features and directions of his brilliance. Sir Oliver Lodge
in speaking of the states of consciousness uses a striking phrase. He
speaks of the stratum of dream consciousness, and the consciousness
beyond dream he calls the "stratum of genius." If genius be the revela-
tion of a higher or spiritual world, is it not very suggestive when we
find the genius of a modern philosopher leading him directly towards
a realization of the spiritual world, a method of approach to which he
seems already to have revealed by his philosophy? This is what singles
Bergson out from amongst the many thinkers of the day; all of whom
are seeking the light, none of whom has succeeded in building upon
such sure and solid foundations. It is because he has opened the door
in a very real way to the inner world, and has not merely led up to
that door, that he is so immensely popular, and so expressive of the
spirit of his generation. How far Bergson is conscious of what he is
doing and accomplishing for the world, how far he is naively and faith-
fully following his own inner guidance and intuition irrespective of other
considerations, cannot be said; but with the matter still undecided, one
is not without justification for the impression that Bergson knows more
than he speaks, and is wisely biding his time. In the meanwhile he
is laying very broad and very firm foundations, and considers teaching
his mission.

His life has been uniformly that of a student and college professor ;
and until recent years when he has been in demand in England and the
United States as lecturer, he has lived in quiet seclusion at Auteuil, just
outside of Paris. He was educated at the Lycee Condorcet, being
admitted as a foreigner. At twenty-one he was naturalized. His early
interests lay in the direction of mathematics and mechanics, and at the
end of ten years of labor his work was couronne. As he entered more
deeply into these sciences, however, the philosophical implications
assumed greater proportions, and he was led to see their total inadequacy

BERGSON'S PHILOSOPHICAL POSITION 329

when applied to life and life-processes. When convinced of this, he
abandoned a narrowing scientific training, entered the Ecole Normale
Superieure, and in three years was graduated in philosophy. After
spending over seventeen years in teaching in various lycees and colleges,
notably Clermont, where in 1889 he wrote his first book Time and Free
Will, the thesis for his doctor's degree, he was in 1900 appointed
Professor at the College de France, and in the following year was elected
a member of the Institute. This winter, Bergson was elected to the
Academy to succeed Emil Ollivier.

It is in the way that Bergson has built up his conclusions, both
from a wide knowledge of modern science, philosophy, and psychology,
and from a subtle and profound study of his own mind, heart, and
consciousness, that makes him the expert whose ideas have spread so
rapidly throughout the West, and whose teaching forces one into making
a personal decision either for him or against him. A half-way position
is impossible; though if one agrees with him one can go much farther
than he has as yet gone. This compelling definiteness is the character-
istic of all truly original thinking and acting; and it is interesting to
watch the different philosophic, scientific, and religious bodies range
themselves into opposing camps. For Bergsonism is by no means con-
fined to philosophic circles. In France there is a Bergsonian art and a
Bergsonian literature; and, more important, perhaps, in results, a Berg-
sonian Catholicism and a Bergsonian Labour Movement. The Syndi-
calists claim Bergson as the philosophic interpreter of their principles,
though he must not be condemned on that account! Amongst the
Catholics the main stimulus has been a renewed study of the saints and
mystics ; and it might be suggested in passing that, possibly, it is just the
lack of such study that makes the new Immanental Idealism of Professor
Eucken fall short of affording satisfaction when it becomes a philosophy
of religion. Many priests were in constant attendance at Bergson's
lectures; and it is significant to note that his influence upon the young
priesthood reached such a point that in 1907 an Encyclical and Syllabus
was issued from the Vatican, forbidding attendance at these lectures.
This was followed in August 27, 1913, by an unqualified denunciation
of Bergson's philosophy by the Pope; while at the same time Mgr.
Farges received a letter, which has since been made public, from
Cardinal Merry del Val "in the name of the Holy Father," congratulating
the French prelate for having so "successfully" exposed Bergsonism in
his recent book "as dangerous to the Christian faith." Several other
books written from the same point of view have since been published.
To this Bergson is reported to have replied simply that he has developed
his philosophy without touching the question of the existence of God.
He says that he has, however, watched "with sympathetic interest the
endeavors of some of his pupils to utilize his philosophy in support of
Christianity," and he states that his clerical opponents have "utterly

330 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

misunderstood" his ideas and that their claim that he sets intuition in the
place of reason is quite unfounded. He has further announced that
he will make the attack of the Vatican the subject of this winter's course
of lectures. These, we hear, are crowded to overflowing, as are all his
lectures.

In America Bergson has been widely read and criticised. Most of
the representative magazines, sectarian, non-sectarian, literary, or scien-
tific, have discussed, analyzed, and passed judgment. Roman Catholicism
and Free Thought are hostile; while between these extremes there
seems to be a general spirit of tolerance, and also a somewhat tentative
spirit, a sense of hesitancy, of marking time, until Bergson will
have committed himself more specifically. The scientists in their
utterances are more or less antagonistic; of all such articles that
have come under notice only that of Sir Oliver Lodge seems to sym-
pathize with Bergson's conception of life as a "creative impulse pervading
matter." Biologists especially complain that he does not understand
their true position. With a few exceptions the representatives of the
various schools of philosophy dislike Bergsonism for placing limits
on the intellect and its ability ever to understand the real secrets of life,
the heart and soul of our being. This Bergson does in no qualified way,
and he sums a brilliant exposition of this point with the statement "The
intellect is characterized by a natural inability to comprehend life"
(Creative Evolution, page 165).

It can be seen even from this superficial glance at the effects of
Bergson's work that there is an element which rouses people not only
to thinking but to action ; that appeals to a universal component of us
all. Only a living force can cause such a reaction ; and philosophy, which
has too long lived within the shell of the mind, burning what light it
had under a bushel, seems now to be coming forth, prepared to resume
its proper place as in the old days of the Greek initiates.

Personally Bergson is a charming man to meet, and his lectures and
conversation once heard are not easily forgotten. He is slim and spare,
but full of quick energy and not mere surface" vitality. His eyes are
large, intense, at times delightfully humorous, and full of fire. His voice
is low but clear; and while speaking he throws all of his interest and
force into what he is saying, seeking rather to raise his hearers to an
equal conviction and understanding with himself by persuasion and
sympathy, than by controversy, argument, or the use of telling points.
His head has been aptly compared to that of Emerson, pointed chin,
small, firm mouth with closely cropped moustache, deeply arched eye-
brows, and a fine, domed head, with broad, high forehead, giving ample
room for a big brain. He commences his lectures directly to the point,
and, when lecturing in his native tongue, uses no notes. He seems to
include each individual in his audience; after a while one finds oneself
en rapport with his mind, forgetful of surroundings, or the sense of

BERGSON'S PHILOSOPHICAL POSITION 331

personality, and eager to follow the lead into new realms of thought
and experience, rich in suggestion and burdened with meanings.

In the private lectures on "Spirituality and Liberty" delivered in
English to the Philosophical Department of Columbia University during
February, 1913, Bergson opened with the statement that his own study
of the world philosophies was limited to the West ; he had never studied
the Eastern and Oriental systems. This is the more interesting as his
method and treatment of the great philosophical problems of our civiliza-
tion are in many ways the method and treatment native to the far East,
notably to the philosophy embodied in the Upanishads. Bergson has,
however, by no means carried out his method into the spiritual realms
as do the Upanishads; all that can be said is that his method, logically
continued and completed, would lead him to a recognition of the same
ultimate truths.

Bergson himself roughly divided the History of Philosophy as he
knew it, into three stages : the first, drawn by the "perceptive faculties,"
was represented by Heracleitean naturalism; the second, resultant of
awakened "critical faculties," was voiced by Zeno; and the third, a
combination and natural development of these two the "faculty of
forming concepts," was earliest represented by Socrates, Plato, and
Aristotle. Coming from Greek times to our own, we find a similar
arrangement possible. Descartes, Berkeley, Leibnitz, and Spinoza
followed the perceptive tradition ; Kant, and after him Fichte, Hegel, and
Schopenhauer, criticised the mind through the mechanism of the mind;
and this led to the third stage, to what is now called Positivism and the
body of modern Idealism. Within all these systems, Bergson pointed
out, there is Faith, Faith in perception, Faith in criticism and in the
mind that criticises, Faith in consciousness. But this Faith is an intu-
ition, not obtainable through any course of reasoning or process of the
mind. Once we see this superficially less obvious truth, we are
confronted with an entirely new problem, and we have three alternative
propositions: "(1) Belief in Intuition, external or internal; (2) Criticism
either of Perception or of Mechanism; and (3) Either resignation of the
mind to a superficial comprehension of existence, or, substitution to the
earlier Intuition" which means that while exercising the faculty of
intuition we come into closest and least artificial touch with Reality,
and attain some certainty of knowledge.

The immediate grasp of this fact, the seizing hold at the very outset,
not of the external forms of thought and speculation presented to him
by the world's thinkers and philosophers, but of the essential reality and
life hidden behind and within these forms which, without that life,
simply could not and would not exist, shows at once the difference
between Bergson and those philosophers whom we have been considering.
His "method" of proving this position is so extremely simple that if he
had not worked it out with all the thoroughness of the earlier systematists,
and with so much greater and more convincing precision than they, it

332 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

would be almost an exaggeration to call it a method. Bergson has simply
seen and stated the very self-evident fact, one about which we never
think, but which, when brought to our attention, at once finds in us an
instinctive agreement, that within any intellectual or perceptive bond
that unites our consciousness to the world of reality about us, there
is a vital bond, an essense of Life itself that alone gives the appearance
of life and reality to this outer form. Knowledge does not and cannot
rest on the intellect alone, else intellect would be life, would create life.
It rests on an intuition of life which goes to the true inwardness of
things; which rests on the unity of being, and penetrates the veil inter-
posed by Maya and the "sense of separateness." In his little book
Laughter, a scrupulously finished and beautifully written piece of literary
craftsmanship, which remained twenty years in the hands of the author
before he was satisfied to publish it, there occurs this passage, in which
Bergson has risen above the level of metaphysical discussion and has
revealed to some extent the height to which he can go. "Deep in our
souls we should hear the strains of our inner life's unbroken melody,
a music that is ofttimes gay, but more frequently plaintive and always
original. All this is around and within us, and yet no whit of it do we
distinctly perceive. Between nature and ourselves, nay, between ourselves
and our own consciousness a veil is interposed: a veil that is dense and
opaque for the common herd, thin, almost transparent, for the artist
and the poet. What fairy wove that veil? Was it done in malice or in
friendliness? We had to live, and life demands that we grasp things in
their relation to our own needs. Life is action."

Does this not remind us of Light on the Path?

"Listen to the song of life. . . .

"Life itself has speech and is never silent. And its utterance
is not, as you that are deaf may suppose, a cry; it is a song. . . .

"Look for it and listen to it first in your own heart. . . .

"There is a natural melody, an obscure fount in every human heart.
It may be hidden over and utterly concealed and silenced but it is
there."

To understand knowledge, then, we must first find our true relation
to life itself, extracting from it by study, observation, and meditation
some of its deeper and more vital meanings. Intuition is the achievement
of this, the rapprochement between the whole personal consciousness
and the creative or divine life within.

Our true relation, says Bergson, is best discoverable, and least
distorted, in the will. The effort of our wills to come into immediate
touch with the life-stream within us, and not only the mere effort, but
a sympathetic effort, a willingness to conform to whatever truth may
be revealed to us, a receptive spirit unprejudiced by previous mental
concepts, this will develop the faculty of intuition, and will bring us a
deeper and more permanent consciousness of reality.

BERGSON'S PHILOSOPHICAL POSITION 333

Bergson is not a prolific writer, and so the development of his
thought can readily be traced by the progress of his books. Time and
Free Will plunges into the heart of the problem; for once Bergson
had decided that in an understanding of our will lay the door which
could open to us new apprehensions of truth, he entered upon a most
exhaustive and brilliant analysis of this whole plane of our conscious-
ness. From a study of will with its close relation to all mental and
psychologic states he saw the necessity of solving the problem of memory,
so often dependent on will, and of how the mind can enter into and in
any way effect the matter of our bodies; together with all the extra-
ordinary psychologic phenomena such as lapsed memory, hypnotism,
multiple personality, and the like. It took him five years, he himself
writes, to read everything on these subjects. The fruits of this vast
research took form in Matter and Memory, published in 1896. The
book is a technical treatment of spirit and matter, their interrelation and
attributes. Its conclusions might very briefly but suggestively be summed
in its own words: "Spirit borrows from matter the perceptions upon
which it feeds, and restores them to matter in the form of movements
which it has stamped with its own freedom"; a conclusion of so
original a kind that it requires a knowledge of modern psychology
properly to appreciate it.

Laughter, appearing in 1900, treats of various phases of our
psychology as demonstrated in our sense of the comic, our reaction
towards our fellow-men; and closes with some most suggestive passages
springing out of a discussion of our aesthetic sense. An Introduction to
Metaphysics, which appeared in the Revue de Metaphysique et de Morale,
January, 1903, contains the most complete and exact exposition of
''intuition" and the "intuitive method." It has already been translated
into German, English, Italian, Hungarian, Polish, Swedish, Russian, and
other tongues.

Creative Evolution, Bergson's chief work, appeared only seven years
ago, and already no study of philosophy is complete without it. The
background of the book is not the same as that of its predecessors ; here
Bergson has brought to bear all that is most up-to-date in the natural
sciences, prominently biology and embryology. It contains the essence
of all his earlier works; and brings to bear on the problems of science
and human psychology an inspiration and creative imagination that truly
recreates philosophy for us. Moreover, Bergson is a literary artist,
and he has finally proved that obscuration and technicality are the deca-
dence of philosophy and not its high water mark. Creative Evolution is
by no means unscientific or "popular" as the exclusive use that word;
on the contrary it is written by an expert, who not only is master of his
subject, but who has the gift of "tongues," the ability to convey his
ideas far more by frank simplicity than by close analysis ; and a command
of style that varies from incisiveness to flexibility, from persuasion almost
to command, from picturesqueness to the charm and convincing immediacy

334 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

of poetry. Thus the past "presses against the portals of consciousness
that would fain bar it out," and memories, "messengers from the
unconscious realm, remind us all what we are dragging behind us
unaware": definitions very different from those of John Stuart Mill or
even of Kant; and of a higher order.

Bergson is this year the President of the Society for Psychical
Research and while he is not thereby committed to its conclusions, it shows
in him the tendency to a breadth of mind and to a receptiveness of spirit
that is the essential of lasting inner growth. His time at present seems
to be given, and wisely given we think, to the development of the real
purpose of his philosophy; to the effort at clearing up the constant
misunderstandings which arise, apparently, from either superficial study,
or from the hostility born of prejudice. His popularity is unprecedented;
and we have to look for its explanation as much in the ripeness of the
times for such an advanced step, as in the form in which his philosophy
is embodied. Western civilization is arriving at a point when, with the
circling of our knowledge of the world, a great synthesis of all human
thought is quite naturally and inevitably taking shape. The world-old
wisdom of the Upanishads, with its "profound and impregnable doctrine"
of the Self, the teachings of Buddha and of Shankaracharya, all the
newly revealed traditions and learning of China, the finely- wrought
philosophies of Greece, culminating with the vision of Plato, the tremen-
dous inspiration of Jesus and the zealous voice of his interpreter St.
Paul, the speculations of Plotinus and the Neo-Platonists, all the early
Christian mystics, and the contributions of later European thought down
through Spinoza, Berkeley, Kant, Hegel, and Schopenhauer to the modern
Idealists and Pragmatists: all these, combining with the immense mass
of material furnished by modern physical and biological science and
psychology, are preparing a great birth, out of which must arise a new
philosophy, and more than a mere philosophy, a new religious spirit,
which means a new inner life for the human race. Already this genera-
tion is becoming conscious of itself ; it is attempting to realize its position
in the long historic chain; it is trying to turn back upon the life-force
behind it, and ask "Why am I here? What have I to do?" Bergson's
popularity springs from his ability to make this generation self-conscious.
A new philosophy we need not expect, the same germinal thoughts have
come to us from ancient India, inspiring, or at one with, the heart of
philosophy after philosophy and religion after religion. But it is only
to-day that the knowledge of the world enables it to recognize this
immense concensus; and Bergson has provided somewhat of a new form,
a new garment of illustration and expression, for these world-old
principles.

The philosophy of the Upanishads was nothing if not practical
"Do the will and ye shall know the doctrine" and Bergson, departing
from the useless theories of metaphysics, is giving us also a teaching that

BERGSON'S PHILOSOPHICAL POSITION - 335

we have to learn and to practise in ourselves ; for so only will it become
vital and intelligible to us.

This is the strength of his message, and source of his contagion.

Tolstoi has said that a man's religion "is the relation which he believes
himself to bear to the endless universe around him," and has divided this
relation into three great types: the first when, as an isolated, selfish
individual, man seeks all possible personal advantage and pleasure from
the universe; the second, when, recognizing himself as an integral part
of society of some clan or tribe or country in which he finds himself
he seeks to use and mould the universal resources not for personal ends
but for his community, or for the human race ; and the third type, when
a man recognizes a divine origin and expression in the universe, and
seeks to obey this "Will that sent him into the world." In other words
a man believes ; which means that he acts on the theory, either that the
universe exists for his enjoyment, or for the development and perhaps the
profit of the race, or for the fulfilment of the divine "Will that sent him
into the world." Whether or not we agree with this extended meaning
of the word "religion," we can see that broadly speaking it embraces the
attitude of the Western world today, the thinking or unthinking multi-
tude. To the first group belong the vast majority, who, whatever their
intellectual statements of belief may be, act almost entirely from motives
of self-interest and personal gratification. To the second group belong
those who think more deeply, or who feel with greater sensitiveness the
suffering of others. A great many people are a combination of these
first two, with conflicting elements in their nature. To the third belong
those who are "religious," who have accepted some creed or theology,
who feel the divine consciousness stirring within them, and act occasion-
ally on its impulsion. These wage a definite war on their crassly selfish
instincts, see some meaning and purpose in the progress of humanity,
and aspire towards a better and less limited life. It might further be
suggested that in the first type self-will rules the man ; that in the second,
self-will is checked by a consideration for the general good, in which the
individual having a share, is also a beneficiary where improvement is
effected ; while in the third, self-will is found in opposition to the divine
Will, and the self has to be restrained and controlled until completely
mastered and used finally as an instrument for the divine ends. Mastery
of the self-will is accomplished by the divine Will, the self becoming
more and more at one and in harmony with this conscious and divine
Will.

In the early stages of this development man is hardly aware of his
relation to the universe ; he is inclined to accept things without question,
or to imitate blindly the beliefs and traditions of his fellow-men. The
more advanced and metaphysical philosophers, who have had the power

336 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

to turn back on their own consciousness and learn of it, have seen that
the world of nature, the world of perception, is not and could not be
the most real world ; that the quality of self-consciousness could nowhere
be found in the outer world, and could only be found in their own
intimate consciousness of being. To bridge the gap between this outer
and inner plane, one higher than the other, to explain the reality of
the one plane in terms of the other, this has been the task of philosophers.
But there is another relation of man to the universe, the next step
beyond that taken by the metaphysician and philosopher; a step about
which all the religious teachers and saints have written, and which to-day
as never before is open to all men for consideration and trial. Most
great philosophers have fallen short of this step because, once they had
gathered energy to perceive the stream of consciousness they found within
themselves, and, by so doing, had discovered the primary reality of self-
consciousness over the outer world, they remained passive in that realiza-
tion, turning back again to the study of the world instead of pushing their
way further into the new realm they had penetrated. But just as the
effort to turn within led to the extended knowledge of the primary reality
of consciousness over the material creation, so, if this inner effort be
continued long enough and with a certain faith and intensity, in the
silence and solitude, and in the detachment from the pull of the outer
world and from the endless web of the mind with which each man
surrounds himself, there will accumulate a new and deep power to enter
more fully into this luminous reality within. The consciousness becomes
aware of another Consciousness, appealing to it, drawing it, giving it life,
raising it, as it were, to another plane or dimension. This experience,
which, once given the trial, awakens the intensest longings for further
and further communion, is termed "mystical" and "hallucination" by
materialistic thinkers, who (too often with "religious" people) confound
the great vital fact of the soul's power of spiritual perception with
certain efforts to express those perceptions, dimly felt, in terms of meta-
physics or of the imagination. In Christian teachings this communion
is clearly indicated by the "Kingdom" which is "within," by the life
of the Father in the heart and soul of the disciple ; in the Upanishads it
is described as the awakening to the Self, the "way of pure aspiration,
the way of the gods, the solar path, the way of full Liberation." By
following this way, by approaching this Power from above through the
consciousness within the mind and heart, we find the doors are opened
to all that is highest and best in the life of humanity ; we find that Faith
is no longer blindly imitative and servile, but dynamic ; we find renewed
inspiration, heightened imagination, creative force, intellectual capacity,
and above all a rein vigo ration and turning of the will ; a voluntary offering
of ourselves to the profund and over-mastering impulse enkindling us
to realize this richer life and keener actuality. So from this new step,
taken consciously by the disciple, taken unconsciously by some of the
poets, but ignored by the scientific philosopher and metaphysician, we

BERGSON'S PHILOSOPHICAL POSITION 337

are led to the divine nature, to the divine power, to righteousness and to
wisdom and to light.

Henri Bergson has caught a glimpse of this step. His terms are
philosophical, not religious, are scientific, not mystical ; but he is describ-
ing the same effort, the same experience, and his contribution, therefore,
has profound significance for the student of all such searchings after
Divine Wisdom.

The term "intuition" has taken on a new and a richer meaning since
Bergson used it. Who has absolute knowledge of religion, he asks in
effect, he who analyses it in psychology, sociology, history, and meta-
physics, or he who, from within, by a living experience, participates in its
essence and holds communion with its duration? And "philosophy can
only be an effort to transcend the human condition" (Introduction to
Meta. p. 77). Intuition, as nearly as he can express it, is "intellectual
sympathy" and is the outcome of our clearer vision of the function and
limits of conceptual thinking. In the introduction to Creative Evolution,
a masterly summary of his philosophical position which intimates much
for the future, he writes that "our thought, in its purely logical form,
is incapable of presenting the true picture of life, the full meaning of
the evolutionary movement." He explains this by asking, "Created in
life, in definite circumstances, to act on definite things, how can it embrace
life, of which it is only an emanation and aspect? Deposited by the
evolutionary movement in the course of its way, how can it be applied
to the evolutionary movement itself? As well contend that the part is
equal to the whole, that the effect can reabsorb its cause, or that the pebble
left on the beach displays the form of the wave that brought it there."
Not one, then, of the categories of the mind can "apply exactly to the
things of life. ... In vain we force the living into this or that one of our
molds. All the molds crack. They are too narrow, above all too rigid,
for what we try to put into them."

He will not stop here, this difficulty cannot be a barrier; else why
this craving for certain truth, and how this ability to live in spite of
lacking the knowledge about living? Must there not be a limitation in
the very instrument with which we are seeking knowledge, and if so,
how to arrive at knowledge by other means? Turning round upon the
mind, he sees that the evolution applied to unorganized matter can
equally apply to life, and that therefore intellect, being but a single
such emanation of life, obviously attempts the impossible when it would
reconstruct all things, even life itself, with "the powers of conceptual
thought alone." Practically all that the mind of man has done is to say,
through the mass of contradictions, paradoxes, and endless complications
in which it found itself involved, that " 'It is no longer reality itself that
it will reconstruct, but only an imitation of the real, or rather a symbolical
image' . . . ." Bergson refuses to be satisfied with this as man's achieve-
ment. We must realize first that the intellect has limitations, but we

338 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

must also realize that, however supreme intellect may seem to us as an
evidence and instrument of reality, yet all the power in the universe is
not confined within the bounds of this one direction of its energy. The
intellect can be made the instrument of other powers, can be used by
them or combined with them. "Must we then give up fathoming the
depths of life? Must we keep to that mechanistic idea of it which the
understanding will always give us an idea necessarily artificial and
symbolical . . . ? We should have to do so, indeed, if life had employed
all the psychical potentialities it possesses in producing pure under-
standings that is to say, in making geometricians. But the line of
evolution that ends in man is not the only one. On other paths, divergent
from it, other forms of consciousness have been developed, which have
not been able to free themselves from external constraints or to regain
control over themselves, as the human intellect has done, but which,
none the less, also express something that is immanent and essential in
the evolutionary movement. Suppose these other forms of consciousness
brought together and amalgamated with intellect: would not the result
be a consciousness as wide as life? And such a consciousness, turning
around suddenly against the push of life which it feels behind, would
have a vision of life complete would it not? even though the vision
were fleeting."

This is a splendid vision, and paves the way along which man can
attain to knowledge, to Wisdom, and rise to a higher plane of conscious-
ness than that which he now knows. Bergson has, perhaps deliberately,
avoided the consideration of those forms of consciousness which are
superior to ours he mentions only those known to scientific investigation,
such as instinct in animals, or the group consciousness of bees and ants,
and the like. In its place we shall consider what he says about spirit
and God: all that he has here done is to offer modern materialism a
new and wider vision, using its own limited and restricted terms of
knowledge, asking if the collective and complementary consciousness,
embracing all inferior forms of consciousness, would not infinitely exceed
the single human intellectual outlook. This is the wedge by which
Bergson enters the spiritual world.

In answer to the criticism which immediately arose that after
"turning around suddenly against the push of life," any vision resulting
from such an effort would necessarily be interpreted to the personality
through the mind, in the form of concepts, and that Bergson could not
escape at all in this way the intellect he wished to elude, he writes "It
will be said that, even so, we do not transcend our intellect, for it is
still with our intellect, and through our intellect, that we see the other
forms of consciousness. And this would be right if we were pure
intellects, if there did not remain, around our conceptual and logical
thought, a vague nebulosity, made of the very substance out of which
has been formed the luminous nucleus that we call intellect. Therein

BERGSON'S PHILOSOPHICAL POSITION 339

reside certain powers that are complementary to the understanding,
powers of which we have only an indistinct feeling when we remain
shut up in ourselves, but which will become clear and distinct when
they perceive themselves at work, so to speak, in the evolution of nature.
They will thus learn what sort of effort they must make to be intensified
and expanded in the very direction of life."

As soon as man has realized that there is something more for his
combined intellect and will to do, some region beyond and above the
materialistic and mental planes of his normal activity, he can find the
way, because it is there. Bergson has believed that there is more for
man than theorizing, that his inheritance is not limited to vague gropings
after the truth, that the forces of life, the elan vital, back of him,
are not to be checked by matter, however dense, or by intellect, however
finite; but that by co-operation with the consciousness within, man can
rise to an illimitable and transcendent life.

JOHN BLAKE, JR.
(To be continued}

In general the risks of temporary disaster which great ideals run
appear to be directly proportioned to the value of the ideals. The dis-
asters may be destined to give place to victory; but great truths bear
great sorrows. What humanity most needs, it most persistently mis-
understands. The spirit of a great ideal may be immortal; its ultimate
victory, as we may venture to maintain, may be predetermined by the
very nature of things; but that fact does not save such an ideal from
the fires of the purgatory of time. Its very preciousness often seems
to ensure its repeated, its long-enduring, effacement.

The Problem of Christianity: JOSIAH ROYCE.

EARLY ENGLISH MYSTICS

VI
RICHARD OF ST. VICTOR

"The most persuasive of the mystics." FATHER FABER.

TWO centuries intervene between John Scotus Erigena and
Richard, the Scotchman, who in 1163 became prior of the Abbey
of St. Victor, near Paris. One great epoch of thought ends
with Erigena. Another had begun when Richard left Scotland
for France. The Patristic period of Christianity closed with John Erigena.
Richard's work falls in the Scholastic period of Christian thought. The
Scholastic period extends roughly from the 9th to the 14th century.
The first period is accurately described by Mr. John Blake, Jr., in the
October issue of the QUARTERLY: "During the Patristic period all that
was best in Neoplatonism became absorbed into Christianity, and evolved
what is called Christian Platonism." The endeavor of the Scholastic
period was to absorb Aristotle.

Alcuin sowed the seed for the Scholastic harvest. It was said that
in his work as teacher, he subordinated intellectual to moral interests.
Thus he several times expressed disapproval of the time given to Vergil
by some of his former pupils at Charlemagne's palace, he urged them to
study rather the Hebrew Scriptures. Yet Alcuin did give secular instruc-
tion in logic and rhetoric ; and the material that he used he originated
none was a meagre portion of Aristotle's writings that had been trans-
mitted through the centuries of barbarian invasion by commentators like
Boethius. The movement of intellectual expansion to which Alcuin gave
the initial impulse, received its largest contribution from the Spanish
Arabs in the 12th century. Aristotle's scientific treatises of which Chris-
tian Europe was ignorant, were being studied and commented upon by
Moslem scholars and physicians. In 1150 a Christian bishop in Spain
supervised the translation into Latin of some of these Arabic works.
By 1225, all of Aristotle's writings were accessible to Latin Christendom.
The inrush of this pagan stream of science aroused alarm, and prohibi-
tions were placed on the writings. But from one after another the ban
was removed, until in 1254 even the treatise on "Physics" was recognised
as fit for study. And by the third quarter of the century (Aquinas died
in 1274), the tributary stream had mingled itself (very partially) with
the original Christian source, and a broader volume of water flowed along.
Aquinas's great effort was to blend harmoniously paganism and Chris-
tianity, to make Greek philosophy a serviceable handmaid to the Christian
religion.

340

EARLY ENGLISH MYSTICS 341

It was a superb opportunity thus offered to the Christian Church in
the 12th and 13th centuries an opportunity to practise the Theosophic
method of accepting the good in alien systems of thought and thus
enriching one's own treasure. The chance was given the Church to
approximate nearer true Catholicism by adding to the mystical fervor of
Plato the intellectual breadth of Aristotle. The Church did not accept
fully as it might have done the great chance given it. So that to-day
the world is just beginning to recover from the mistake then made.
Ecclesiastics of the Scholastic period failed to fraternise religion and
science. The harmonious blending they strove to effect was nominal and
superficial. Religion and science were left each unfortified by the strength
of the other. The intervening centuries have witnessed their fratricidal
war. If the Church had been able to use this opportunity, it would have
accomplished another very desirable reconciliation. Aristotle's scientific
treasury came to Christendom through the Spanish Moslems and Jews.
If ecclesiastics had truly fraternised religion and science, they might,
perhaps, have effected an entente cordiale with Mohammedanism and
Judaism. But this chance, too, was lost. And the Turk and the Jew are
still outside the pale of the Church. The very partial success of Aquinas's
effort to harmonise paganism and Christianity is shown by the position
given to Aristotle in Dante's Divine Comedy. Dante erected his magnifi-
cient cathedral on the substructure of Aquinas. Dante pays great
reverence to Aristotle as "the Master of those who know." But he
assigns to this Master a place, together with other pagan philosophers,
within the domains of hell banished from the presence of God.

The present essay is a study of Scholasticism in its beginning. It
is not concerned with the culmination represented by Aquinas (1225 to
1274) but with a period a century earlier. Before Aristotle's writings,
with the Arabic comments, had been translated, the intellectual activity
of the ecclesiastical scholars had used up the scanty materials they had
at hand, the meagre store handed on by Boethius and others. In using
up this material, the mediaeval intellects had been sharpened to a very
fine edge. We have seen how eager were Alcuin's pupils for knowledge,
and how restlessly they questioned and perplexed him. Since the 8th
century scholars had grown more acute and disputatious. At the end
of the 10th century they turned a large measure of their energy into a
dispute over a problem of metaphysics. The question at issue was the
relation of the individual to the universal. That controversy represents an
age of transition. In essence it is a struggle carried on between the old
and the new by partisans who did not surmise the possibility of har-
monising the new with the old.

That mediaeval polemic may draw less ridicule from us to-day if
we try to parallel it with other controversies, ancient and modern. In
ancient India, for example, there were the two systems of discipline
known as Yoga and Sankhya, one the way of intuition, the other of
abstract reason. It is hardly possible to doubt that the partisans of each

342 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

system regarded one another with suspicion and rivalry. For the Gita,
harmonising both, declares that: "Children, not wise men, speak of
Sankhya and Yoga as different; he who has perfectly mastered one
finds the fruit of both. The goal that is gained by the Sankhyas is
also reached by the followers of Yoga; who sees Sankhya and Yoga as
one, he indeed sees!" In modern times, the polemic over literature
and science seems not an unfair parallel. How impossible it appears to
us to-day to exaggerate the importance and value of Sartor Resartus
or the Descent of Man. What vistas those books opened in the inner
world and in the outer! Contemporary culture has harmonised and
included both books. Present-day readers look upon literature and
science as complementary subjects, not as rivals. But how did the
partisans of literature against science, and vice versa, regard each other
in 1850? We know that Carlyle sneered at those who endeavored to
find mystery in a Ley den jar. And we know also the lofty indifference
of certain scientists to the "futility," literature.

The controversy in the llth century was no more foolish than that
ancient effort in India or than the modern Western endeavor to make a
rivalry where only harmony reigns. In the Patristic-Platonic period
of Christianity, belief in the Absolute Reality of the Invisible One led
with it a companion belief in the "illusory nature of all temporal things."
When the scientific treatises of Aristotle began gradually to filter into
that Patristic world, there came a jar. Why should such interest Jae given
to things as they are, phenomena, when they all are perishable? Thus
the contest arose incited by keen minds that lacked material to keep
them normally active. The debate concerned itself with the nature of
Reality. Does Reality exist, they asked, in individual objects that one
can see? Or is Reality to be found in the Universal Idea that is
abstracted from individual objects? The old school, the Christian
Platonic, maintained the illusory nature of phenomena and declared that
only the Universal Idea is Real. To this school was given the name
Realists. On the other hand, some who called themselves adherents of
the new Aristotelian school maintained that individual phenomena alone
have Real existence, and that the thing called a Universal Idea is a
shadowy something that has no other being than what is given it by a
process of intellectual abstraction. To the disputants on this side of
the controversy the name Nominalists was given ; perhaps Phenomenalists
would have been a better name, as signifying those who maintained
that individual phenomena alone have real being.

That metaphysical controversy represents a collision between the
old school of thought and the new, the Platonic and the Aristotelian.
To harmonise the two, to blend the new with the old, was the task
accomplished by the monks of St. Victor. In 1108, William of Cham-
peaux, an eminent scholar, who had been lecturing in Paris at the
Cathedral school of Notre Dame, retired to the quiet shrine of St.
Victor. William had been worsted in dispute with his pupil Abelard.

EARLY ENGLISH MYSTICS 343

William was an extreme Realist. Abelard represented a form of Nomin-
alism. In the secluded shrine William modified the extreme views which
had been criticised by his rationalistic pupil. Men of a moderate temper
were drawn about him; gradually a community arose that became
celebrated as holding firmly to the old school of thought, while at the
same time, it opened its doors to the new studies. The influence of
the Abbey in harmonising the two schools of thought was of great value.
For Abelard was on the side of the new knowledge. And Abelard's
rationalising mind led him toward heresy, caused the condemnation of
his doctrines, and cast suspicions upon the new knowledge itself. The
expansion of the mediaeval horizons might have taken much longer time
and struggle but for the sage conduct of the men who dominated at St.
Victor. The Abbey became known as the stronghold of mysticism
the characteristic of the Patristic period. By standing on that firm
foundation of the past, and at the same time holding out a welcome
hand to the strange new knowledge and method, it allayed suspicion and
alarm, and helped the cause of expansion and culture.

Hugh was the first head of the monastery to become celebrated.
He was a continental Saxon by birth, and his lifetime covers the years
from 1096 to 1140. An uncle of Hugh's had come into contact with
William of Champeaux, and when this uncle returned into Germany
he advised his nephew to join the French group of devout and learned
students. Hugh went to St. Victor's in 1115, and in 1133 he became prior.
Hugh was a man of sage counsel. He knew that vanity, not zeal for
truth, most often leads men into controversial activity ; and that personal
victory rather than the triumph of righteousness is the goal of
debaters. He refused to enter into the dispute about the reality of the
universal or of the individual. He would take no side at all. He
seemed to care neither about the extreme opinions nor the compromising
middle. He was discriminating enough to see that zeal to condemn an
opponent's mistake often blinds combatants to all the positive virtues
that may be in the opponent's doctrine. Hugh did not make that
common mistake he tested the things that seemed good, no matter what
their source, and if the test proved them sound, he held fast to them.
Hugh and Abelard were two very different types. Abelard sought the
applause and publicity that controversy brings. And Abelard's argumen-
tative, rationalistic thinking led him to grave doctrinal errors. Hugh
did not attack Abelard as partisans on the opposite side of the
controversy did. He repudiated Abelard's heresies; but he was able
to see that the scientific aspect of truth which interested Abelard was not
at all responsible for Abelard's conclusions that there was much to
be commended in the new knowledge, and that those commendable
qualities were much needed just at the moment. Hugh thus made
himself part of the new scientific movement which many others were
vilifying.

344 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

Abelard had compiled a manual of theology which he called Sic
et Non. In that treatise, the method is to state an opinion, what some
Fathers have said in favor and what others have said against it.
There he left matters a most baffling inconclusiveness for perplexed
minds. Abelard wrote a more orderly Introduction to Theology. But
in this he deduced heretical conclusions. Hugh saw the tendency and the
need of the hour a methodical system or science of Theology. In the
De Sacramentis, he supplied the need until a century later Aquinas
gave the Summa.

Hugh is known by his mystical works rather than his theological
treatises. The Summa Theologica in the 13th century carried the
Scholastic movement to its culmination. That exhaustive treatise of
Aquinas superseded Hugh's De Sacramentis and other manuals. But
the fame and influence of Hugh's mystical writings were not so eclipsed.
His writings have won such distinction that be is very commonly spoken
of as the originator of the allegorical method of interpretation. It is
an error so to regard Hugh. Erigena explained the various modes of
interpreting Scripture, beginning with the historic, passing to the moral,
and finally rising to the spiritual. St. Jerome wrote an allegorical inter-
pretation of the New Testament genealogies. Through all the centuries
from the birth of Christianity, the Scriptures have been interpreted in the
allegorical way. St. Paul so interpreted the story of Hagar, and the
story of Adam. Later scholars may have called Hugh the originator of
allegorical interpretation because he and the Abbots who succeeded him,
won rich stores of spiritual treasure from the Scriptures, at a time when
many other ecclesiastics were using religion largely as a subject for
argumentation.

It is one of Hugh's successors who finds a place in this series of
Mystics, Richard, a Scotchman. He became prior in 1163, and maintained
his predecessor's attitude toward the intellectual controversy that engaged
the attention of so many others. He stood apart from it, and devoted
his energy, mental and spiritual, to a study of the inner meaning of the
Scriptures. Richard's mystical treatises won him distinction. Dante
gave him a place in the Heaven of the Sun as one who "in contemplation
was more than man." Che a considerar fu piu die viro. Father Faber
calls Richard "the most persuasive of the mystics."

Richard's writing is a splendid illustration of the successful harmon-
ising of Platonic and Aristotelian thought. Like his predecessor Hugh,
Richard is a mystic ; his mysticism would enrol him with the saints of the
Patristic period. But Richard is a scientific mystic. He has added
Aristotle's genius for systematising to Plato's religious fervor. Richard's
interest was the scientific rather than the devotional side of mysticism.
He knew that the mystic's aim was union with God through Contem-
plation. And I believe he reached that end. But the task he set himself
in writing was to explain to others the method by which one draws near
to the goal. Richard writes of the science of the inner life. He describes

EARLY ENGLISH MYSTICS 345

the laws of spiritual growth. He deals with the physiology of the
spiritual man with the stages of development and the relations of inward
forces. His subject is the W 'ay to Contemplation.

His best known works are the two entitled Benjamin. The lad
Benjamin, the last and favorite son of Jacob, being spirtually interpreted,
means Contemplation. Richard and his companions got their hint for
that interpretation from the 27th verse of the 68th Psalm. In the version
that was used by Richard (St. Jerome's) that verse reads: Ibi Benjamin
adolescentulus in mentis excessu. "There is Benjamin a youth, in
ecstasy of mind." From that hint Richard made an application of the
story of Jacob and his sons to the inner life. In the present day it is
sometimes said that the spiritual interpretations of the early centuries
are quaint. Perhaps those interpretations seem quaint only because we
are somewhat unfamiliar with the region of the inner life.

Richard interprets the story of Jacob, his wives and sons, as an
account of man's inner progress up to the point of Contemplation in
which man reaches his end, union with God. Jacob stands for the
Master who brings into activity the powers of the human heart and mind.
Leah and Rachel, the two wives, symbolise the Mind and the Heart, or
Personal Will and Spiritual Will. Leah, the Mind, has a disorderly
handmaid who is usually confused in drunkeness, namely, Reason. Rachel,
the Heart, has also an attendant, Imagination, who is often a great
chatterer. From these four women are born Jacob's children, the Virtues.

Leah, the Mind, is the first to conceive. She brings forth in due
order four sons; 1, Ruben, or Dread of pain; 2, Simeon, Sorrow for
sins; 3, Levi, Hope for forgiveness; 4, Judah, Love of righteousness.
Next, Rachel subjects her vagrant Imagination to the Master, and two
more sons are born ; 5, Dan, Sight of Pain to come ; 6, Naphtali, Sight
of Joy to come. Leah, emulating Rachel, subjects her attendant, Reason,
to the Master, and two sons are born ; 7, Gad, Self-restraint ; 8, Asher,
Patience. Leah herself then brings forth three more children ; 9, Issachar,
Joy over inward sweetnesses; 10, Zebulun, Hatred of sin; 11, Dinah,
Humility. Lastly, Rachel, the beloved wife (symbolising the heart), gives
birth to the Father's best-loved sons; 12, Joseph, Discretion, and, after
a long interval, 13, Benjamin, Contemplation. Rachel dies in giving
birth to Benjamin. That death signifies that in Contemplation man is
united to the Master and the desire of man's heart is attained.

A captious mind might find it possible to pick flaws in Richard's
system. But Richard's treatise evidences acquaintance with spiritual
powers as real forces. And it would be better for us to exert ourselves
in acquiring the virtues whose course he traces, rather than to waste
our effort in argument over his arrangement.

SPENSER MONTAGUE.

TO one reading the sacred books of China for the first time
there comes with added force and significance that quotation
often seen where lovers of books are wont to congregate, "A
good book is the precious life-blood of a master spirit embalmed
and treasured up to a life beyond life." As we look back over nearly
forty centuries during which these texts have given forth their message,
we stand in awe before their antiquity alone; but in the books them-
selves, we see that it is the truth which they contain, or rather the
aspect of the Truth, which has enabled them to live through the ages.
And many are the exigencies which they have survived; again and
again have they been all but lost because of the perishability of the
silk and bamboo tablets on which they were inscribed; more than once,
have they become almost completely unintelligible through changes in
the form of the language; political strife and internal warfare have
caused their mutilation from time to time ; and at one period, a tyrannical
ruler eager to break all connection with the much worshipped past,
and ensure the establishment of his own power, condemned them all to
the flames, very nearly accomplishing their total annihilation. Yet today
the Truth in them still shines forth, its light undimmed. Doubt may
arise as to whether certain of the texts are of genuine antiquity, ques-
tion may be made as to which portions were contributed by one or
another of the old philosophers, endless wrangling may busy the trans-
lators, concerning possible interpretations of difficult and abstruse
passages; but beneath or behind these surface difficulties, we find the
message of the "master minds," and feel the life of the great nation which
contributed to make that message what it was.

The ancient religious books of China fall naturally into three main
divisions, in accordance with the three great lines of religious thought,
Taoism, Confucianism and Buddhism. The last named, Buddhism, intro-
duced into China probably in the 3rd century, B. C, and officially recog-
nized in the 1st century, A. D., is a comparatively recent addition to the
religious life and thought of the country. The first complete Chinese
edition of the Buddhistic canon dates from about the 7th century of our
era; we are told that there are numerous original Chinese Buddhistic
works (practically none of which are available in English), but far the
greater part of the Buddhistic literature of the country consists of trans-
lations from the various Indian dialects, made by teachers and preachers
from India and Central Asia, who for a period of six hundred years

346

THE SACRED BOOKS OF ANCIENT CHINA 347

carried the Buddhistic teachings into China. As a record of the develop-
ment of Chinese Buddhism, this literature might be of decided interest,
but since neither the religion itself nor the main body of the literature
is indigenous to the country, it is elsewhere that our interest lies, if we
are regarding the sacred books as a monograph of the Chinese people,
the highest expression of their life and thought.

It is to the Confucian canon that one naturally turns, when con-
sidering the ancient religious books of the country, the chief reason being
the tremendous part they have played in moulding the moral life of the
nation. Just how much of these works we owe to Confucius (5th-6th
centuries B. C.), is a matter of much conjecture and controversy. Some
scholars tell us that he revised and re-arranged the literature of earlier
times, gathering together and compiling scattered material, and in some
cases leaving upon it the stamp of his own personality. Others declare
that he had nothing to do with the writing of them and that even the
Hsiao King or Classic of Filial Piety, the very mention of which
suggests to most minds the name of Confucius, was the work of another.
Whatever the truth may be concerning the form of the texts, it is certain
that their material antedates him, in most cases, by many centuries. He
said of himself that he was a transmitter and not a maker, one who
believed in and loved the ancients, and in his talks with his disciples he
is said to have taught nothing for which he could not adduce good
authority. His service above all else was his inculcation of reverence for
the sacred books, the enthusiasm for them which he communicated to
his disciples and the impulse to study them which he aroused in all who
followed him.

These ancient books are divided into the five King, the titles of which
are as follows: The Shu or Book of Historical Documents; The Shi
or Book of Poetry; The Yi or Book of Changes, concerned for the most
part with the practice of divination ; The Li Ki or Record of Rites; The
Khun Khiu or Spring and Autumn, written by Confucius himself and
giving a brief chronological history of his native state of Lu from
B. C. 722-481.

There are also the four Shu or Books of the Four Philosophers; but
while these are classics, they are not, with the exception of the works
of Mencius (the greatest writer of the Confucian school), generally
included among the Sacred Books. It is with the five King, then, King
meaning the books of greatest authority, that we will be here concerned.
These books give a simple, clear and, we have reason to believe, accurate
picture of the Chinese national character of ancient times. They make no
claim to revelation or divine inspiration, nor do they set forth a religion
in the sense usually implied by such a phrase.

The oldest and perhaps the most important of the texts is the
Shu King, or Book of Historical Documents, dating back to the 24th
century B. C. The accuracy, indeed, the very existence, of this work is
due to the fact that in primeval days each court had its recorder or

348 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

annalist whose duty it was to write on tablets all the important business
transactions of the court and all charges given by the ruler to his feudal
princes. There is evidence of the existence of these recorders as far
back as the Hsia dynasty (B. C. 2205-1765) and as for the accuracy of
their work, Confucius states that in his own day a court recorder would
leave a blank in the text rather than enter anything for the truth of
which there was insufficient evidence.

The first few chapters of the Shu King begin, "Examining into
antiquity we find," and the entries are evidently not contemporaneous
with the times of which they treat. They are believed to be contem-
poraneous, however, as far back as the 22d century B. C., and the mate-
rial, a number of disconnected historical memorials, extends over a period
of 1700 years. The book opens with an account of the legendary emperor
Yao (B. C. 2357-2255), under whose rule the country enjoyed a period
of universal concord, China's Golden Age. This emperor chose as best
fitted to succeed him, Shun, a man of the common people. We learn
that the latter was the son of a blind man; his father was obstinately
unprincipled, his step-mother insincere, his half-brother arrogant; yet so
great was his filial piety that he not only lived harmoniously with them,
but led them to self-government. After this, we need hardly be told
that "He was profound, wise, accomplished and intelligent, mild, cour-
teous and truly sincere." These two kings are supposed to have calculated
the movements of the stars, to have arranged a calendar with an inter-
calary month, to have determined uniform weights and measures, to have
given the people good laws and to have administered all the affairs of
their kingdom justly and with great wisdom. They set before their
subjects "an example of the most extended love, virtue, righteousness,
reverence, and yielding courtesy" and they served as a model for
posterity through the centuries that followed. To comprehend fully the
meaning of this last statement, to understand the reverence, veneration
and emulation with which the ancients were universally regarded, it
is necessary to realize the value of probably the two strongest influences
in the moral life of China, namely the doctrine of filial piety and the
practice of ancestor worship.

It may be well here to leave the Shu King for the time being and
note from the Hsiao King or Classic of Filial Piety, how completely alien
to the Chinese mind is the western idea of the liberty and dignity of the
individual as distinct from the community to which he belongs. Filial
piety was regarded as the "root of all virtue," "the stem out of which
grows all moral teachings." In the words of Confucius,

* "Of all creatures with their different natures produced by heaven
and earth, man is the noblest. Of all actions of man there is none greater
than filial piety. This should go even so far as making one's father
the correlate of Heaven" (the last phrase is explained by Legge to

* Translations used are by James Legge, Sacred Books of the East, edited by Prof.
Max Mueller.

THE SACRED BOOKS OF ANCIENT CHINA 349

mean ruling on earth as God rules above.) Furthermore, of the list
of 3,000 offences in the Chinese penal code, there was, according to the
master, no one greater than being unfilial. That the term possessed a
far broader significance than that of simple obedience is shown in the
following passage also belonging to Confucius.

"Our bodies to every hair and bit of skin are received by us
from our parents, and we must not presume to injure or wound them:
this is the beginning of filial piety. When we have established our
character by the practice of the filial course, so as to make our name
famous in future ages, and thereby glorify our parents: this is the
end of filial piety. It commences with the service of parents ; it proceeds
to the service of the ruler; it is completed by the establishment of the
character." In practice it was made to apply to every detail of life from
the least to the greatest ; it was considered "the fundamental principle of
human virtue, the great source of social happiness, and the bond of
national strength and stability,"

That a large measure of this filial regard should be directed toward
the sovereign, is quite natural since the latter is regarded as the parent
of the people. The other reason given for the veneration of the rulers
of antiquity, namely ancestor worship, leads us to a consideration
of the religious beliefs and practices of the people.

In the Shu King we are told that the great Shun on succeeding
Yao, "sacrificed specially but with the ordinary forms, to God ; sacrificed
with reverent purity to the Six Honored ones ; offered their appropriate
sacrifices to the hills and rivers; and extended his worship to the host
of spirits." He also observed from the first all the ceremonial of
ancestor worship. It may be mentioned in passing that "the Six Honored
Ones" are supposed by one Chinese critic to mean the spirits ruling over
the seasons, cold, heat, sun, moon, stars and drought.

Concerning the ceremonials of ancester worship we have, perhaps,
the fullest information in the Shih King or Book of Poetry. This book,
a collection of ballads, songs, hymns and other pieces of a more
strictly Chinese character is second in importance only to the Shu King.
Confucius laid upon it the utmost emphasis as a means of inculcating
"propriety and righteousness," teaching that it was from these poems the
mind received the best stimulus. "A man ignorant of them was like
one who stands with his face to the wall, limited in his view and unable
to advance" ; accordingly the poems were preserved in the memory of all
who considered themselves his followers. Aside from this fact, it is
interesting to note that poetry in ancient China held a position of impor-
tance for purposes of government. According to some authorities, it was
the custom, during the early ages, to lay before the emperor the poems
of the various states at certain periods of the year ; the sovereign, judging
by their means what was good or bad in the government of the state or
in the moral and religious life of the people, meted out reward and punish-
ment to his feudal princes accordingly.

350 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

The part of the Shih King known as the "Odes of the Temple and the
Altar" is the only part which is professedly religious, the poems being
for the most part connected with the royal ancestor worship of three,
in particular, of the ancient dynasties. No mention is made of the
worship of the common people but the observances were binding on all
alike. The following ode is fairly typical ; it is stated to be "in praise of
the virtue of King Wan, blessed by his ancestors, and raised to the
highest dignity without seeking of his own,"

"Look at the foot of the Han, How abundantly grow the hazel
and arrow thorn. Easy and self-possessed was our prince, In his
pursuit of dignity (still) easy and self-possessed.

Massive is that libation-cup of jade, With the yellow liquid spark-
ling in it. Easy and self-possessed was our prince, The fit recipient
of blessing and dignity.

The hawk flies up to heaven, The fishes leap in the deep. Easy
and self-possessed was our prince: Did he not exert an influence
on men?

His clear spirits were in the vessels ; His red bull was ready ;
To offer, to sacrifice, To increase his bright happiness.

Thick grow the oaks and the buckthorn, Which the people use for
fuel. Easy and self-possessed was our prince, Cheered and encour-
age by the spirits.

Luxuriant are the dolichos and other creepers, Clinging to the
branches and stems, Easy and self-possessed was our prince, Seeking
for happiness by no crooked ways."

Poems such as this were composed when on certain prescribed
occasions the worship of the ancestor was observed with great ceremony.
All the members of the family gathered together, one member personating
the dead, sacrifices were made, and a great feast held, the whole being
attended with much pomp and splendor. The poetry connected with these
rites abounds in detailed descriptions of sumptuous feasts, gorgeous
trappings and all the intricacies of elaborate ceremonial.

These observances were no mere rites in memory of the dead; that
they were actual worship and that the continued existence of the spirits
of the dead was believed in is evidenced in many ways. One of the
most convincing proofs is the fact that as soon as possible after the
burial of the dead, a sacrifice was made for the repose of his spirit,
a spirit-tablet was placed in the family shrine, and into this the spirit was
supposed to enter. "The son was then able to think of his father as
never far from him," and the deceased was supposed to extend his
protection over his descendants, securing for them as many as possible
of the good things of this world. Through this form of worship the
ancestors of the kings became the tutelary spirits of the dynasty and
the ancestors of each family became its tutelary spirits.

THE SACRED BOOKS OF ANCIENT CHINA 351

The following passage from the odes is a further expression of the
belief in continued existence after death:

"Looked at in friendly intercourse with superior men, You
make your countenance harmonious and mild; Anxious not to do
anything wrong. Looked at in your chamber, You ought to be
equally free from shame before the light which shines in. Do not
say, 'This place is not public; No one can see me here.' The
approaches of spiritual beings Cannot be calculated beforehand ; But
the more should they not be slighted:"

This constant worship of the ancestors naturally led to an extreme
reverence for antiquity; and reverence itself as a trait of character
was held in the highest esteem. Again and again, the sages exhort,
"Learn the lessons of the ancients," and from the emperor Shun, we
find quoted repeatedly, "Let me be reverent ! Let me be reverent 1"

Besides the worship of ancestors the people sacrificed also to
numerous spirits, who were supposed to exercise power over the soil,
the crops, the grain, the land. The following is an ode, probably of
thanksgiving to the spirits of the land and grain:

"Very sharp are the excellent shares, With which they set to
work on the south lying acres.

They sow their various kinds of grain, Each seed containing
in it a germ of life.

There are those who come to see them, With their baskets round
and square, Containing the provisions of millet.

With their light splint hats on their heads, They ply their hoes
on the ground, Clearing away the smartweed on the dry land and
wet.

The weeds being decayed, The millets grow luxuriantly.

They fall rustling before the reapers. The gathered crop is
piled up solidly, High as a wall, United together like the teeth of
a comb; And the hundred houses are opened (to receive the grain).

Those hundred houses being full, The wives and children have
a feeling of repose.

Now we kill this black-muzzled tawny bull, with his crooked
horns, To imitate and hand down, To hand down the observances
of our ancestors."

The third form of worship mentioned above, the worship of God,
is referred to throughout the sacred books, only incidentally. There were
two great occasions on which it was rendered by the sovereign, the
summer and the winter solstices, others occurred at stated periods during
the year. The use of the word Heaven, is found almost constantly in
the books of the Shu King, and in this connection it is well to note that
the Chinese character often employed to designate Heaven, was also,

352 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

as is the case in our own phraseology, frequently used to refer to the
Deity. From many passages in the Shu we learn that to the ancient
peoples of China, the relation between the powers of Heaven and the
fortunes of mankind was close and constant. In the Shi as well, the
idea is strongly emphasized. One poet writes "Let me not say that it
(Heaven) is high above me. It ascends and descends about our
doings. It daily inspects us wherever we are." By Heaven were estab-
lished all social relationships and social distinctions ; all good and ill fortune
likewise were Heaven sent by a direct system of reward and punishment.
For it was not till the time of Confucius that there took definite shape
the doctrine of the sins of the fathers being visited on the children,
the prevailing doctrine among the Chinese of the present day. Nowhere
do we find the idea that God demands love and reverence from mankind,
nor is there any belief in a devil who tempts man and rejoices in his
fall. Again, the idea of possible reward or punishment after death
seems not to have been entertained. The old classics are silent as to
any retribution other than that which was meted out during a life time.
"Heaven sends down misery or happiness according to man's conduct."

As will be seen this was a belief of an essentially practical nature,
and one which led to no lofty speculation, to no mystical ideal. Through-
out the sacred books we find the possession of "pure virtue" extolled as
the highest and noblest condition to which man could attain but to this
"pure virtue" belonged no metaphysical significance. In the Shu we
are told that, "There is no invariable model of virtue ; a supreme regard
to what is good gives the model of it. There is no invariable char-
acteristic of what is good, that is to be supremely regarded, it is found
where there is conformity to the uniform consciousness in regard to
what is good." Pure virtue then, would seem to be attainable through
development on a material or psychic plane, rather than through any
process of spiritual growth, and the Confucian teaching, through the
observance of which one became "the superior man" was a code of a
thoroughly practical nature.

This does not mean, however, that "pure virtue" was made easy of
attainment. The nine virtues, as set forth in the Shu are: "Affability
combined with dignity ; mildness combined with firmness ; bluntness com-
bined with respectfulness; aptness for government combined with rev-
erent caution; docility combined with boldness; straightforwardness
combined with gentleness ; an easy negligence combined with discrimina-
tion; boldness combined with sincerity; and valor combined with righte-
ousness." Truly no mean aim !

As for the means of attaining to the virtuous state, the cultivation of
humility, gentleness, reverence were accorded their fitting place; the
power of active goodness as opposed to the restraint of punishment was
realized; also self-conquest was recognized at its true value and held in
the highest esteem. But perhaps a few passages from the Shu will be
especially pertinent here:

THE SACRED BOOKS OF ANCIENT CHINA 353

"To set up love, it is for you to love your relations; to set up
respect, it is for you respect your elders. The commencement is in
the family and the state ; the consummation is in all within the four
seas."

"Want of harmony in the life rises from the want of it in ones
inner self ; strive to be harmonious."

"By trifling intercourse with men, he" (any may) "ruins his
virtue; by finding his amusement in things of mere pleasure he
ruins his aims. His aims should repose in what is right. ... If
you do not attend jealously to your small actions, the result will
be to affect your virtue in great matters."

"Indulging the consciousness of being good is the way to lose
that goodness; being vain of one's ability is the way to lose the
merit it might produce."

"Finally, enlarge your thoughts to the comprehension of all
heavenly principles and virtue will be richly displayed in your
person."

One means to the attainment of virtue, or perhaps we might almost
say one aspect of virtue, considered by the Chinese people to be of first
importance, was the observance of the proprieties. An entire classic,
the Li Ki, or Book of Rites, is given over to the presentation of the
rules of propriety. And here we find that practically every act of a
Chinaman's life, or rather the mode of performing that act, was fixed
and determined by rules, the ignorance or neglect of which would bring
upon him scorn and derision. One section of the Li Ki prescribes the
rules for regulating the behavior of a scholar or officer on state occasions.
Another prescribes the carriages, trappings, clothing and personal orna-
ments to be used by the emperor during each successive season of the
year; the days for certain ceremonial observances, the time for giving
orders concerning husbandry, forestry and all the industries of the
kingdom. When one considers the complexities of Chinese court life,
it is quite conceivable that the persons concerned might be grateful
indeed, for this systematic arrangement of the manifold details.

It is the part of the book prescribing the rules of mourning that
causes one to realize most fully the difference between the Chinese and
the Western point of view. Here the book gives elaborate directions
concerning the most minute details of a very intricate funeral ceremony,
it also regulates the garb of the mourners to the point of stipulating
whether the hair shall be arranged in one way or another and whether
the robe shall have even or frayed edges. Graduated rules are given
for beating the breast, leaping and stamping, and the time and place for
wailing are fixed. This last might seem an advisable precaution, but
the book merely states that for certain degrees of relationship wailing
shall take place in the east room, or at the door or in the lane. Whole
pages are devoted to the degrees of mourning, indicating for example how

354 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

a man shall mourn for his great grand-uncle, his spinster great grand-
aunt, a married great-grand-aunt, a spinster first cousin of grand-father,
and so on seemingly without end.

It is difficult to see at first how a book of this nature could hold so
high a place and what bearing these exaggerated proprieties could have
on the possession of virtue; yet the connection was considered a close
one. To begin with, the word Li means "a step or act, that whereby we
serve spiritual beings and obtain happiness," and it therefore contains
a religious import. Further than this, the Chinese insist that ceremony
without reverence is nothing and absolute sincerity was a requisite in
the observance of the rules : From this point of view we find less incom-
prehensible the statement that the rules are "the highest expression of the
truth of things," the very framework of society being built on this
underlying truth. Or again when we read, "The rules of propriety serve
as instruments to form men's characters, and they are therefore prepared
on a great scale. Being so, the value of them is very high. They remove
from a man all perversity, and increase what is beautiful in his nature.
They make him correct, when employed in the ordering of himself ; they
insure for him free course when employed toward others. They are
to him what the outer coating is to bamboos, and what its heart is to a
pine or cypress."

Of the Chinese King there is only one which we have not yet
touched upon. This is the Yi King a book on divination, divination by
means of the tortoise-shell or stalks, playing a very large part in the
religious life of the country. The basis of this book is a series of
eight trigrams gradually increasing to sixty-four hexagrams, believed
to have been handed down to posterity by Fu-hsi, the supposed founder
of the Chinese nation. These figures are composed of a whole and a
broken line. In early historic times two of the sovereigns wrote a brief
explanation of what each of these figures suggested to his mind and
the practical course to which it directed, when regarded from the stand-
point of divination. Thus a text of sixty-four short essays was drawn
up and later writers have added to this, ten appendices. So enigmatic and
symbolical is the book that throughout the ages it has defied all attempts
at explanation. How great an enigma it has proved, will be shown in a
brief paragraph from Legge's translation which we venture to quote:

"Confucius declared that he would like to give another fifty years
to the elucidation of this puzzling text. . . . 'Chu Hsi alone,' says a Chinese,
'was able to pierce through the meaning and appropriate the, thoughts
of the inspired man who composed it.' No foreigner, however, has
been able quite to understand what Chu Hsi did make of it. ... Several
have gone so far as to set all native interpretations aside in favor of
their own." He then goes on to explain that by one it is said to be a
calendar of the lunar year, by another to contain a system of phallic
worship, by another the vocabulary of the language of a tribe whose very
existence had to be postulated for the purpose.

THE SACRED BOOKS OF ANCIENT CHINA 355

As a fair example of the style of the text the following section or
paragraph will suffice; "In the first or lowest line" (meaning of the
trigram) "undivided, we see its subject as the dragon lying hid in the deep.
It is not the time for active doing." Successively, each line of the various
figures receives similar treatment.

The appendix too, is very enigmatic, but it is interspersed with
numerous passages, philosophical in tone. Thus we have, "It is the way
of heaven to diminish the full and augment the humble. It is the way
of earth to overthrow the full and replenish the humble," and so on,
giving many observations of like nature. And it is only such passages
as this that make reconcilable to the Western mind the assertion that
the book is "fitted to correct and perfect the character of the learner."

In the books of the Confucian canon we find without doubt, the
noblest expression of the moral life of ancient China, reflecting a standard
which is well set forth in the following words of Confucius himself:
(they concern the four qualities to the possession of which "the superior
man" should attain) "To serve my father as I would require my son to
serve me, I am not yet able; to serve my ruler as I would require my
minister to serve me; I am not yet able; to serve my elder brother as
I would require a younger brother to serve me, I am not yet able; to
set the example in behaving to a friend as I would require him to behave
to me, I am not yet able."

Nowhere, however, as has been mentioned before, do these books
promulgate a religion as such. The ancient Chinese, if he observed in the
highest sense his duty to his neighbor, might attain to the condition
of "the superior man" and yet pass his whole life without concern for
anything above or beyond immediate circumstances. We find more
than one translator complaining of the lack of theology and dogmatic
teaching. This attitude is most pronounced in P. Gallery's introduction
to his own translation of the Li Ki. Here he states that in this book where
there might be expected the fullest treatment of religious beliefs, the
writer passes lightly over everything that is pure speculation and
mentions these grave matters only with the utmost indifference. He
then goes on to say, "According to my ideas this proves two things:
first, that in ancient times the greatest geniuses of China possessed
concerning the creator, nature and the destiny of the soul, only obscure
notions, uncertain and often contradictory; second, that the Chinese
possessed in a very feeble degree, the religious sentiment, and that they
do not experience, like the races of the Occident, the imperative need
of solving the mysteries of the invisible world."

Aside from any other points of issue which may be raised by this
statement, the assertion that "the Chinese possessed in a very feeble
degree the religious sentiment" is certainly open to question, one of
the strongest arguments to the contrary being the speculations of Lao-tse
and the existence of the Tao-te-King. But Taoism is a subject in itself.

JULIA CHICKERING.

THE ADEPTS AND MODERN
SCIENCE *

MODERN science is a bugbear for many a good Theosophist,
causing him to hide his real opinions for fear they should
conflict with science. But the latter is an unstable quan-
tity, always shifting its ground, although never devoid of an
overbearing assurance, even when it takes back what it had previously
asserted. The views of scientific men have frequently been brought
forward as a strong objection to the possibility of the existence of
Adepts, Masters, Mahatmas, perfected men who have a complete
knowledge of all that modern science is endeavouring to discover.
Many trembling members of the Society, who do not doubt the
Masters and their powers, would fain have those beings make their
peace with science, so that the views of nature and man put forward
by the Mahatmas might coincide with the ideas of modern investi-
gators. It will be profitable to try to discover what is the attitude
of the Adepts towards modern science.

The question was raised quite early in the history of the Society
in the correspondence which Mr. Sinnett had with the Adept K. H.
in India, and there is in the answers published by Mr. Sinnett in
The Occult World enough to indicate clearly what is the attitude of
such beings to modern science. That book will often have to be
referred to in future years, because the letters given in its pages
are valuable in more senses than has been thought ; they ought to be
studied by every member of the Society, and the ideas contained
therein made a part of our mental furniture.

It is evident from the remarks made in The Occult World that
the persons to whom the letters were written had a high respect
for modern science; that they would have liked to see science
convinced of the machinery of the occult Cosmos, with all that that
implies ; that they thought if modern scientific men could be convinced
by extraordinary phenomena or otherwise about the Masters and
Theosophy, very beneficial results to the Society would follow. There
can be no doubt that if such a convincing were possible the results
would have followed, but the hope of convincing our scientists seemed
vain, because no way exists to alter the attitude of materialistic
modern science except by a complete reform in their methods and
theories. This would be a bringing back of ancient thought, and
not agreeable to modern men. To pander in any way to science

Reprinted by request from The Path. Volume VIII, No. 5, August, 1893.
356

THE ADEPTS AND MODERN SCIENCE 357

would be impossible to the Masters. They hold the position that
if the rules and conclusions of nineteenth century science differ from
those of the Lodge of the Brotherhood, then so much the worse for
modern conclusions, as they must all be revised in the future. The
radical difference between occult and modern materialistic science
is that the former has philanthropy as its basis, whereas the latter
has no such basis. Let us now see what can be discovered from
the letters written by K. H. to Mr. Sinnett and another.

Mr. Sinnett writes : "The idea I had especially in my mind when
I wrote the letter above-referred to was that, of all tests of phenomena
one could wish for, the best would be the production in our pres-
ence in India of a copy of The London Times of that day's date.
With such a piece of evidence in my hand, I argued, I would under-
take to convert everybody in Simla who was capable of connecting
two ideas together, to a belief in the possibility of obtaining by
occult agency physical results which were beyond the control of
modern science." To this he received a reply from K. H., who
said: "Precisely because the test of the London newspaper would
close the mouths of the sceptics it is inadmissible. See it in what
light you will, the world is yet in its first stage of disenthralment,
hence, unprepared. . . . But as on the one hand science would find itself
unable in its present state to account for the wonders given in its
name, and on the other the ignorant masses would still be left
to view the phenomenon in the light of a miracle, every one who
would be thus made a witness to the occurence would be thrown
off his balance and the result would be deplorable." In this is
the first indication of the philanthropic basis, although later it is
definitely stated. For here we see that the Adepts would not do
that which might result in the mental confusion of so many persons
as are included in the "ignorant masses." He then goes on to
say: "Were we to accede to your desires, know you really what
consequence would follow in the trail of success? The inexorable
shadow which follows all human innovations moves on, yet few
are they who are ever conscious of its approach and dangers. What
are they then to expect who would offer to the world an innova-
tion which, owing to human ignorance, if believed in will surely
be attributed to those dark agencies that two-thirds of humanity
believe in and dread as yet?"

Here again we see that Adepts will not do that which, however
agreeable to science, extraordinary and interesting in itself, might
result in causing the masses once more to consider that they had
proof of the agency of devils or other dreaded unseen beings. The
object of the Adepts being to increase the knowledge of the greater
number and to destroy dogmatism with superstition, they will not
do that which would in any way tend to defeat what they have in
view. In the letter quoted from, the Adept then goes on to show

358 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY

that the number of persons free from ignorant prejudice and religious
bigotry is still very small. It is very true that such an extraordinary
thing as the production of The Times in India across several thousand
miles of ocean might convince even hundreds of scientific men of the
possibility of this being done by a knowledge of law, but their belief
would have but little effect on the immense masses of uneducated
persons in the West who are still bound up in religious bigotry and
prejudice. The Adept hints that "the inexorable shadow that follows
all human innovations" would be a sudden blazing forth again of
ignorant superstition among the masses, which, gaining force, and
sweeping all other men along in the immense current thus generated,
the very purpose of the phenomenon would then be negatived. On
this the Adept writes a little further on, "As for human nature in
general, it is the same now as it was a million years ago, prejudice
based upon selfishness,- a general unwillingness to give up an estab-
lished order of things for new modes of life and thought and occult
study requires all that and much more proud and stubborn resistance
to truth if it but upsets the previous notion of things: such are the
characteristics of the age." "However successful, the danger would
be growing proportionately with success," that is, the danger would
grow in proportionate the success of the phenomenon produced. "No
choice would soon remain but to go on, ever crescendo, or to fall, in
this endless struggle with prejudice and ignorance, killed by your
own weapons. Test after test would be required and would have to
be furnished; every subsequent phenomenon expected to be more
marvellous than the preceding one. Your daily remark is that one
cannot be expected to believe unless he becomes an eye-witness.
Would the lifetime of a man suffice to satisfy the whole world of
sceptics? In common with many you blame us for our great secrecy.
Yet we know something of human nature, for the experience of long
centuries, aye of ages, has taught us. And we know that so long as
science has anything to learn, and a shadow of religious dogmatism
lingers in the hearts of the multitudes, the world's prejudices have
to be conquered step by step, not at a rush." These simple remarks
are philosophical, historically accurate, and perfectly true. All spirit-
ualistic mediums know that their visitors require test after test. Even
the dabbler in psychic matters is aware that his audience or his
friends require a constant increase of phenomena and results, and
every earnest student of occultism is aware of the fact that in his
own circle there are fifty unbelievers to one believer, and that the
believers require that they shall see the same thing over again that
others report.

Proceeding with this matter to another letter, the Adept says:
"We will be at cross purposes in our correspondence until it has been
made perfectly plain that occult science has its own methods of
research as fixed and arbitrary as the methods of its antithesis, physi-

. 359

cal science, are in their way. If the latter has its dicta, so has the
former." He then goes on to show that the person desiring to know
their science must abide by their rules, and taking his correspondent
as an illustration, he says: "You seek all this, and yet, as you say
yourself, hitherto you have not found sufficient reasons to even give
up your modes of life, directly hostile to such communication." This
means of course that scientific men as well as other inquirers must
conform to the rules of occult science if they wish to know it, and
must themselves change their modes of thought and action. He
then goes on to analyze the motives of his correspondent, and these
motives would be the same as those impelling science to investigate.
They are described to be the desire to have positive proofs of forces
in nature unknown to science, the hope to appropriate them, the wish
to demonstrate their existence to some others in the West, the
ability to contemplate future life as an objective reality built upon
knowledge and not faith, and to learn the truth about the Lodge and
the Brothers. These motives, he says, are selfish from the stand-
point of the Adepts, and this again emphasizes the philanthropy
behind occult science. The motives are selfish because, as he says,
"The highest aspirations for the welfare of humanity become tainted
with selfishness if in the mind of the philanthropist there lurks a
shadow of a desire for self-benefit, or a tendency to do injustice, even
where these exist unconsciously to himself. Yet you have ever dis-
cussed but to put down the ide