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The 
Theosophical Quarterly 



VOLUME XX 



6' 




The Theosophical Quarterly 



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Copyright, 1922, by The Theosophical Society 





JULY, 1922 



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



THE THEOSOPHICAL MOVEMENT IN HISTORY 

IN the NOTES AND COMMENTS printed in January, 1922, an attempt was 
made to describe, at least in part, the cyclic point of the Theosophical 
Movement in the thirteenth century of our era, with special reference to 
the union of Eastern and Western thought, as illustrated by the writings of 
Roger Bacon. It was seen that, after centuries. of development, three streams 
of religious philosophy had come together: the Christian, including the Old 
Testament; the Greek, with both Plato and Aristotle represented; and the 
Oriental, through the translation in Spain of the writings .of Eastern sages like 
Avicenna. But the work of spiritual union, which seemed at that time almost 
complete, was in part abortive; it was followed by a recession and a narrowing 
of thought, which practically resulted, on the one hand, in the wider separation 
of East and West, and, on the other, in the gradual opening of a chasm between 
religious studies and natural science, the most dramatic illustration of this 
dissonance being the trial and imprisonment of Galileo. 

The purpose of the present NOTES AND COMMENTS is to seek to trace, so far 
as the limitations of the writer allow, the general course of the Theosophical 
Movement in the centuries before that cyclic point, beginning with our earliest 
knowledge of religious and philosophical life in Greece. It was suggested 
several years ago, in these NOTES AND COMMENTS, that Hellenic life and 
thought had been developed under the guidance of Masters of Wisdom, with 
the purpose that the incarnation and work of the Western Avatar might be 
carried out in Greece; and that, when Greek religious life fell short of its goal, 
and entered on a period of surprisingly rapid degeneration about the time of 
Plato, a decision was reached to change the place of the coming Avatar to 
Palestine, where a second possible field of work had been prepared through the 
spiritual life and inspiration of the Schools of the Prophets. 

3 



4 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

If we are inclined to accept this view of the religious life of Hellas, we shall 
find it exceedingly interesting to try to trace the different streams of spiritual 
thought and inspiration which were brought together in Greece, to form the 
foundation for its religious life, and thus to prepare the way for the expected 
Avatar. 

Following suggestions in Plato, we may indicate at least three such streams 
of inspiration: first, Egypt; second, the Mysteries, and particularly, perhaps, 
the Mysteries of Orpheus; and, third, the teaching of Pythagoras. In the 
Timceus and its sequel, Critias, Plato, with Critias as narrator, records the visit 
of Solon to the priests of the goddess of wisdom, Neith, at Sais. Solon (B. C. 
638-558), who was the wisest of the Seven Sages, told the story of his visit to 
Dropidas, who told it to Critias the elder, who in turn repeated it to his grand- 
son, Critias, the speaker in Plato's dialogue. 

Critias puts it on "record that the citizens of Sais were great lovers of the 
Athenians, saying that they were in some way related to them. Thither 
came Solon, and he asked the priests about antiquity. 

"Thereupon one of the priests, who was of a very great age, said: O Solon, 
Solon, you Hellenes are but children, and there is never an eld man who is an 
Hellene. I mean to say, that in mind you are all young; there is no old opinion 
handed down among you by ancient tradition ; nor any science which is hoary 
with age." He goes on to say that Athens had been founded a thousand years 
before Sais, which, according to the sacred registers, had its beginning eight 
thousand years before Solon's visit. 

This tradition would, therefore, date the foundation of Athens about 9600 
B. C., and Solon, following the same authority, puts the final sinking of Atlantis 
about the same time. An Eastern Master, quoted by the author of Esoteric 
Buddhism, appears to date the last disappearance of Atlantis in the year 9564 
B. C., which is a close enough agreement. We are, of course, well aware that 
these estimates are as little accepted by our historians as they were by the 
Athenians of Solon's time, perhaps for the same reason; but we remember that 
a comparatively short time ago the Western world knew almost nothing of the 
ancient records of Egypt, and, further, that Archbishop Ussher's chronology, 
while it has lost its validity, has nevertheless deeply influenced the historic 
imagination of the West, leaving a profound reluctance to accept the ample 
millenniums of ancient tradition, whether in Egypt or in India. 

If we agree to take the Egyptian view that Athens was founded nearly ten 
millenniums before our era as the starting point of this inquiry, we shall have 
sufficient room for another tradition, if we wish so to describe it, which is 
recorded in The Theosophical Glossary: namely, that Orpheus, founder of the 
Orphic Mysteries, was no other than Arjuna, the disciple of Krishna whose 
death in the year 3102 B. C., inaugurated the Kali Yuga, the Age of Darkness, 
which completed its fifth millennium just before the beginning of the present 
century. 

If we do accept this tradition regarding Orpheus, we may be justified in 
inferring that the substance of the Orphic Mysteries was the same as the teach- 



NOTES AND COMMENTS 5 

ing of Krishna to Arjuna: the two doctrines of Liberation through union with 
the Logos, and of reincarnation; liberation to be gained through aspiration, 
purification, and spiritual discipline. 

We come now to the third of the three streams which nourished the spiritual 
life of Hellas, the teaching of Pythagoras (about 586-500 B. C.). As we cited 
authorities decidedly unorthodox, namely, the temple records of Egypt and the 
East, regarding the antiquity of Athens and the origin of the Orphic Mysteries, 
we may now quote, in compensation, for Pythagoras, that eminently conserva- 
tive work, the Encyclopedia Britannica, and the very able article therein by 
Dr. Andrew Seth Pringle-Pattison: 

"The Pythagorean brotherhood had its rise in the wave of religious revival 
which swept over Hellas in the sixth century before Christ, and it had much in 
common with the Orphic communities which sought by rites and abstinences to 
purify the believer's soul and enable it'to escape from the 'wheel of birth.' Its 
aims were undoubtedly those of a religious Order. . . . The doctrine of the 
school which is most clearly traceable to Pythagoras himself is the ethico- 
mystical doctrine of transmigration." 

That is, the doctrine of reincarnation and Karma, and the mode of life to be 
followed by those who seek to escape from the bondage of Karma, and to enter 
on the path of Liberation ; or, to put it in another way, the fundamental teaching 
of the Theosophical Movement. 

We need not at present dwell on the contributions of Pythagoras to mathe- 
matics and astronomy, his teaching of the heliocentric system, or his addition 
of the new word, "philosophy," to the Greek language. We shall lay stress 
rather on his probable debt to Egypt and India, both of whi'ch tradition says 
he visited. In his youth, at Samos, he may well have learned the teachings 
of the Orphic Mysteries; in Egypt and India he may have passed through 
further initiations, giving him that living merr.ory of past births which has 
always been the real foundation of the teaching of reincarnation. As Krishna 
says: 

"Many are my past births and thine also, Arjuna; I know them all, but thou 
knowest them not." 

W T e come now to Plato (427-347 B. C.). We may well believe that he knew 
even more of the sacred lore of Egypt than is recorded in the Timczus and 
Critias. His frequent indebtedness to the traditions of the Mysteries is gener- 
ally accepted. In the Phtedo, speaking of life as a meditation of death, he 
connects this view with the teaching of Philolaus, who resided at Thebes to- 
ward the end of the fifth century, that is, during Plato's youth, and who was 
the author of the first written exposition of Pythagoreanism. 

We are at present concerned only with two elements of Plato's teaching: 
the divine Idea, or spiritual model of the visible world; and the teaching of 
reincarnation, in the tenth book of the Republic. The first, we may illustrate 
from the Timaus: 

"The pattern of the universe contains in itself all intelligible beings, just as 
this world contains us and all other visible creatures." This was developed 



6 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

by Philo of Alexandria (about 30 B. C. 45 A. D,), in connection with the word 
Logos; and we may conveniently speak of it as the Logos doctrine. 

To sum up: Both the Orphic and Pythagorean schools, whose debt to the 
Schools of the Mysteries in the Orient has already been suggested, were in fact 
religious Orders, with a strict discipline to prepare the disciple for spiritual 
knowledge. What appears to have been the substance of the teaching of both 
is taught openly by Plato, without any precedent discipline for hearer or reader. 
Whether this publication and vulgarization (in the literal sense) of the sub- 
stance of the Mysteries was a cause or an effect of the spiritual degeneration 
of Greece, is not important for our present inquiry. That degeneration is 
a patent fact; and, according to the tradition already cited, it rendered im- 
practicable the earlier plan for the Avatar, the divine incarnation, in Greece; 
as a result, the Incarnation took place in Judea, under a very heavy burden of 
disadvantage. 

We may think of "the religious revival which swept over Hellas in the sixth 
century before Christ" under two aspects. On the one hand, it was contem- 
porary with the Buddha's work in India, and also with the teaching of Lao-Tse 
in China; or about two thousand five hundred years after the beginning of the 
Kali Yuga, already alluded to. It may well be that this "religious revival" 
throughout the Aryan world, leaving the Far East out of consideration for the 
present, marks a main cyclic point in the spiritual life of the Aryan races, an 
occasion calling for the visible appearance of great Masters of Wisdom. On 
the other hand, we may, perhaps, regard this religious revival as a significant 
part of the preparation for the Western Avatar, an effort which was continued 
up to Plato's time in Greece. 

Palestine offered religious earnestness and aspiration, together with the 
spirit of sacrifice which appears to have deserted Greece. Therefore some at 
least of the elements heeded for the field of the Avatar's work were present in 
Palestine. But others were wholly missing, and notably the spirit of wisdom 
and understanding; the spirit which, after all deductions are made, was the 
greatness and glory of Hellas. Therefore we are able to understand, what 
tradition affirms, that after the Christian Master's visible work was completed, 
efforts were made, under his continued guidance, to infuse into his followers 
that spirit of wisdom and understanding, the inspiration that should have been 
supplied by Greece. It appears possible to trace these efforts through the 
next twelve or thirteen centuries; or, let us say, up to the time of Roger Bacon, 
which has already been discussed. 

It will be remembered that the contemporaries of Albertus Magnus, Roger 
Bacon and Thomas Aquinas refer to Aristotle practically as a divine authority. 
Dante was but echoing the common view of his age when he spoke of Aristotle 
as "the Master of those that know." And it is a commonplace that Thomas 
Aquinas formed his system, widely accepted as the orthodox theology of fol- 
lowing centuries, by blending Christianity with the philosophy of Aristotle. 
It may be worth while to suggest that a general misconception, due to the 
thought of more modern times, is often attached to this idea: the thought, 



NOTES AND COMMENTS 7 

namely, that the writers of the thirteenth century accepted Aristotle as against 
Plato; that they chose him as representing what we should call to-day the 
scientific attitude, in opposition to the mystical teaching of Plato. 

But the truth would seem to be, first, that there is not this fundamental 
opposition between Plato and the man who, for twenty years, was his enthusias- 
tic disciple; and, second, that much of what was supposed in the thirteenth 
century to be Aristotle, was, in reality, either Plato or Platonist. 

In the nature of things, we cannot discuss this 'question as fully as it deserves 
here. We must content ourselves with pointing out, as regards the first point, 
the absence of any real opposition, and that it is precisely those parts of Aris- 
totle's work which are most like Plato, and which he in all probability derived 
from Plato during the twenty years when he was Plato's pupil, that were most 
highly valued and accepted by the divines of the thirteenth century. We may, 
perhaps, best bring this out by quoting again from the Britannica, this time 
from the very scholarly and thoughtful article of Thomas Case: 

"Aristotle, like Plato, believed in real universals, real essences, real causes; 
he believed in the unity of the universal, and in the immateriality of essences; 
he believed in the good, and that there is a good of the universe; he believed that 
God is a living being, eternal and best; he believed in the divine intelligence 
and in the immortality of our intelligent souls." 

"All this, the pupil accepted from the Master's dialogues," says Mr. Case; 
and it is precisely this element in Aristotle (apart from his Logic) which the 
men of the thirteenth century stressed; this was the knowledge which, for 
Dante, made Aristotle the Master of those who know. But we may go even 
further; we may point out that just these ideas, this fundamentally spiritual 
view of the universe, with the ethical principles which follow, are of the essence 
of the Mystery teaching, of the essence of the Theosophical Movement. When, 
therefore, in the thirteenth century, this part, the most Plato-like part, of 
Aristotle, was blended with the Christian tradition, that much at least of the 
Mystery teaching, that much at least of the spirit of wisdom and understanding, 
was once more infused into the stream of Christian thought; to that extent, the 
harm done by the failure of Hellas to provide the field for the Avatar was 
repaired. As is well known, this revival of the Greek spirit of wisdom came 
to the West not directly from Greece, but indirectly, through the Arabs and 
the Moors in Spain. 

And here we may, perhaps, digress, to consider another factor in the Theo- 
sophical Movement, as it appears to us; a factor which may not wholly com- 
mend itself to the pacifist ideas of our day and generation. This is the part, 
as it seems to us the vital part, played by war in the Theosophical Movement. 

Aristotle was the disciple of Plato; he was for eight years the tutor of Alex- 
ander the Great. And Alexander played a vitally important part in the 
religious development of the Western world, precisely through his wars and 
conquests. W T e have already spoken of Philo of Alexandria and the Logos 
doctrine. The name of the city may remind us of Alexander's conquest of 
Egypt; as a result, the Greek language became firmly established there, so that 



8 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

Philo, born at Alexandria, was able to saturate himself with the writings and 
ideas of Plato and, when he came to record his Logos doctrine, wrote naturally 
in Greek. But Alexander also reached India, with the result that political 
relations were established between Greece and India, and for several generations 
made an open road by which Indian religious ideas found their way to the 
Western world, recording themselves in a number of Greek books and, in some 
degree, bringing the Eastern wisdom to the regions in which the work of the 
Western Avatar was being prepared. Finally, Alexander's conquest of Asia 
Minor and Palestine was one of the causes, probably the dominant cause, why 
the New Testament took form in Greek and not in Aramaic or Syriac, and thus 
became immediately available for the Greek-reading Western world. 

This military side of the Theosophical Movement, if we are right in so 
naming it, leads us naturally to a consideration of Islam and the Arab con- 
quests which, as we have seen, were the means of bringing not only the Oriental 
spirit, but also the Greek wisdom, as a contribution to the thought of the thir- 
teenth century. 

A flood of new light on this whole episode of history is contributed by a 
book just published, Arabic Thought and its Place in History, by Dr. De Lacy 
O'Leary, Lecturer in Aramaic and Syriac, at Bristol University. He traces 
with great care and detail the eastward spread of Hellenic philosophy, trans- 
lated first into Syriac and then, after the Arab conquest of Syria, Mesopotamia, 
Egypt and Persia, in the years 638-641 A. D., retranslated into Arabic. 

But Dr. O'Leary also makes quite clear a point already touched on: that it 
was the Platonist and not the Aristotelian part of Aristotle, that formed the 
basis of philosophical thinking in the Arabic field. He describes a blending, 
begun by Alexander of Aphrodisias at Athens (198-211 A. D.), of Plato and 
Aristotle; Plato contributing the teaching of the universal soul, while Aristotle 
contributed the teaching of the individual soul; the human soul infused and 
inspired by the divine soul. Further, Dr. O'Leary brings out the point, new to 
the present writer, that the so-called "Theology of Aristotle" which formed the 
main statement of neo-Platonic doctrine known to the Moslem world, is not 
in fact a work of Aristotle at all, but is an abridgment of the last three books of 
the Enneads of Plotinus, a book eminently mystical, and which many students 
of Theosophy think of as being a landmark in the Theosophical Movement. 
The "Aristotle," therefore, which inspired the world of Arab thought was thus 
largely Platonist and neo-Platonist : material of the Mystery Teaching, as we 
should be inclined to call it, without suggesting that Aristotle himself had any 
living knowledge of the Mysteries. 

We are inclined, then, to put forward the hypothesis that, just as the con- 
quests of Alexander played a vital r61e in preparing the field for the coming of 
the Western Avatar, whether Alexander himself had any such purpose or not; 
so in a similar way, the Arab conquests beginning in the year 638 A. D., including 
the invasions of India, and the establishment of Moslem power in Spain in the 
year 756 A. D., played a vital part in the great epoch of religious and spiritual 
thought, developed in the East and transferred to the W 7 est, which fills the 



NOTES AND COMMENTS 9 

centuries between the rise of neo-Platonism and the period of Albertus Magnus, 
Roger Bacon, and Thomas Aquinas in the thirteenth century of our era. To 
put it in another way, whether or not these events were planned to affect the 
Theosophical Movement through these centuries, that they did affect it pro- 
foundly, appears to be beyond question. 

The outcome was very like what we have already described as the result of 
Alexander's expeditions: first, the establishment of a common literary language 
from the Nile to the Euphrates, and, later, from India to the Pyrenees. We 
shall find yet another analogy in Julius Caesar's conquest of Gaul and, to a less 
degree, of Britain, which brought France within the sphere of the Latin tongue 
and Roman law; something which has had a profound influence on the spiritual 
history of the West, a spiritual influence full of vitality to-day, and destined, 
as we may think, to bring forth even greater fruit in the times to come. 

The result of the Arab conquests was far more this establishment of a com- 
mon tongue through the vast region bridging the East and the West, than an 
extension of the Arab race; and among the sages of the "Arabic" schools of 
philosophy and mysticism, there seems to be only one, al-Kindi, who died in 
73 A. D., who was of pure Arabic race. Al-Farabi (born in 950 A. D.) and 
Avicenna (born 980 A. D.) are said to have been Persians, that is, Aryans, 
though both used the vigorous, strongly coloured, and nervous Semitic tongue 
of the Arabs, and so gained currency as far West as Spain, passing thus into the 
Christian thought of the thirteenth century. 

Throughout this wide field of the Arabic tongue were spread those funda- 
mental spiritual ideas which went under the name of Aristotle, but which were 
in reality the Platonist part of Aristotle with much pure neo-Platonism added; 
or, to go deeper, they expressed that body of spiritual teaching, drawn from 
"the lodge of the Great Brotherhood, which was once the secret splendour of 
Egypt," reinforced by the wisdom and discipline of the Mysteries of Orpheus 
and the great Initiate Pythagoras, and reflected in the Dialogues of Plato. 

In yet another point, Dr. O'Leary makes a very valuable contribution to 
our study of this great theme: by tracing the recurrence of what he calls 
"transmigration" in the Arabic-writing field of spiritual and Theosophical 
wisdom and discipline; for example, in the teaching of an-Nazzam (who died 
in 845 A. D.) and al-Husayn ibn Mansur (who died in 921 A.'D.). As regards 
the latter, Dr. O'Leary writes (page 192) : "He was of Zoroastrian descent and 
seems to have held doctrines such as transmigration, reincarnation and so on" ; 
and it is several times suggested that this reassertion of the teaching of rein- 
carnation was due directly to the influence of India. In fact, we find what 
students of Theosophy are inclined to call the essential elements of the whole 
Theosophical teaching: the doctrines of the Eternal (Parabrahm), of the Logos 
or Oversoul, source of the spiritual soul (Buddhi), which inspires the nobler 
part of the two-sided mind (dual Manas), of Liberation and reincarnation, 
together with that discipline which is always associated with these teachings 
in every genuine manifestation of the Theosophical Movement. 

If space allowed, it would be profitable to consider here what was going on 



io THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

in Western Christendom, while the spiritual development which we have out- 
lined was being unfolded in the Arabic-writing world from India to Spain. 
We can, however, find room for only one suggestion. Ferrero, describing the 
causes which led to the greatness of Rome, rightly lays the greatest stress on 
moral ideals and rigid discipline : the citizen of that earlier Rome was inspired 
by the spirit of loyalty, a certain austere simplicity and the principle of service ; 
his wife and children were trained in strict obedience. These fine flowers of the 
Roman spirit passed into the Latin Church, which has always been pre-eminently 
the Church of discipline and obedience. 

The confluent streams from the Orient and from Hellas, whose course we 
have indicated, might have added to this fine heritage of the West the spirit 
of wisdom and understanding, without which discipleship is of necessity one- 
sided ; we may be inclined to say that they were moulded and guided precisely 
to bring this contribution, the whole body of the Theosophical teaching. But 
this purpose was only in part fulfilled. Thomas Aquinas did infuse much of 
the older light of spiritual philosophy into Latin theology; but very much did 
not thus find access. As we have said, the movement which was developed 
through so many centuries was largely abortive. And many of the spiritual 
barriers and difficulties of the centuries which followed the marvellously poten- 
tial thirteenth century, appear due precisely to these omissions. 

This brings us to our practical point. We have referred to the fact that the 
Kali Yuga, the Age of Darkness, reached its five thousandth year just before 
the end of last century'. It would appear that the present epoch of the age-old 
Theosophical Movement, coinciding with this cardinal cyclic point, must have 
a profound significance both for the present and the future. As we well know, 
not only all the elements of the Theosophical teachings already described, but, 
in fact, very much more, have again been brought to light for the illumining of 
the world; have, in fact, been entrusted to students of Theosophy, members 
of The Theosophical Society. To underline the opportunity, and, therefore, 
the responsibility this implies, can hardly be needed; yet we shall do well to 
keep it in mind. We shall do well to remind ourselves, those of us who recog- 
nize both opportunity and responsibility, that to make success in this high 
stewardship possible, two things are essential and by no means to be dispensed 
with: the spirit of wisdom and understanding, and the spirit of discipline; the 
love of the Light and of the Life, which are the gift and the inspiration of the 
Masters of Wisdom who give the soul to the Theosophical Movement. 



This is the teaching of experience: you must live in obedience to your beliefs* 
for otherwise, soon or late, you uill finish by believing as you have lived. PAUL 

BOURGET. 



CONVENTION 1922 



F 



RIENDS there is something my heart for a long time past has been 
saying to yours, and to-day I am moved to voice it. 



You have all been told that for the first time in the world's history, 
our Movement has been carried over the cycle. You all know, therefore, that 
every year which has passed since let us say 1901, has been different 
from any year that has ever been before; that in each of those years we have 
advanced steadily, steadily into the enemy's country; that in a certain sense 
they were years we had no business to have. 

You have not supposed, of course, in considering this matter and I am 
sure you must often have considered it that the Dark Powers have taken 
this quietly, have submitted tamely. On the contrary, they have fought with 
all their strength to resist it ; they have devised in every way to circumvent it ; 
and as on this plane their power is greater as we are obliged, as it were, to 
fight with one hand behind our backs the struggle has not been easy. But 
so far, by the grace of Heaven, they have not succeeded; we have continued 
to advance. 

O yes, we have had helpers from the other side; if we had not we could not 
have done it, humbly, gratefully, we acknowledge that. But they also are 
handicapped here by the evil and darkness in our own hearts traitors in the 
camp and what they have done they have done at frightful cost. 

Thwarted on the inner plane, the force and fury of the Black Lodge boiled 
over on the outer plane, and we had the Great War a faint reflection of what 
was taking place on the inner plane and the Great War was not won, re- 
member. Germany was not beaten, though she could have been, save that 
the Allies lacked that grace of Final Perseverance, for all their courage, 
that crowning, final courage what Napoleon called "four o'clock in the morn- 
ing courage." They had not the faith or the vision for that; they harboured 
too many delusions, and so they failed when victory was almost in their grasp. 

Let us learn the lesson, and pray for that grace of Final Perseverance as we 
pray for nothing else. The spiritual warrior must fight when he is blind and 
stricken and dead, when his feet are washed in the last drop of his heart's 
blood, when his life is utterly dissolved. For if he cannot fight in this condition 
he can never win. Victory comes, and comes only, as the crown of complete 
self-giving of devotion to a cause so passionately loved as to make that 

giving cheap. Pray I say therefore, for the grace of Final Perseverance. 

ii 



12 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

Much has been said recently of the need for chelas, for the Movement to 
develop chelas, we know that at this time chelas cannot come over to us. 
Presently many of us who worked here before the cycle turned, will have 
passed away. There are those who have been on the front line, without one 
moment's rest day or night, all these years. They cannot last forever and 
the fight must go on. We must continue to advance; we cannot stop. The 
Dark Powers would have been content to crush us, years back. Not now! 
In turn they would rush forward like a mighty flood, using our acquired 
momentum. If you need some picture of what it would be like, look at Russia, 
and the agony would be that Those who trusted us, because They trusted us, 
would have failed. None of us could endure that! 

Now do you see what I mean what my heart has been saying to your 
hearts all this while? Stop whining and snivelling in the stuffy corners of 
your life, and come out boldly, gladly, into the hardships of this glorious war- 
fare. Stop thinking about yourselves, your pains, your trials, your feelings, 
least of all your conveniences. Think of Them and of Their sacrifices which 
alone are the reasons that you are alive to-day, and not merely whirling dust 
specks in space and in Their names and for Their sakes, each one his own, 
fight to redeem a dying world: and give, give, give everything! 

Then do you know what will happen? For the first time, for the first time, 
you will know what peace is, the peace that passeth understanding; the peace 
which the Master can only give to His dearly beloved disciple who is as Himself, 
the peace They know in the midst of Their toil and never-ending conflict. 

In reality, facing our own hearts, what does it matter what becomes of us, 
so long as Their cause triumphs? We can see so clearly that that is the only 
thing worth while. Reward! aye indeed, reward enough if some day, all 
laid down, we shall catch the echo of that far distant cry: 

"Sounds as if some fair city were one voice 
Around a King returning from his wars." 

That is the spirit of chelaship; that is what makes a man a chela. 

***** 
In God's name come over and help us. The need is so great! 

K. 



THEOSOPHY' 



LET us withdraw ourselves for an hour from the turmoil of the world, 
with its immeasurable intellectual confusion and its almost unfathom- 
able moral confusion, that we may try to view life steadily, in the 
serene light of eternity. 

To give us a touchstone and a goal, let us take a sentence or two from the 
most ancient Theosophy of the great Upanishads, which come to us from the 
royal race of the Rajputs: 

"When all desires that were hidden in the heart are let go, the mortal becomes 
immortal and enters the Eternal. 

"Then, as the slough of a snake lies upon an ant hill, rejected, dead, the 
Spiritual Man, putting off mortality, rises up immortal, eternal, radiant." 

There are many ideals of success in life. Each time and nation has its own. 
Many of them represent genuine effort and real accomplishment. Perhaps the 
most widely accepted ideal in America is the office boy who makes his way 
steadily upward until he becomes the head of a great business. This is a real 
achievement, in no sense insignificant or unworthy. But we are to consider an 
attainment of another kind : the stature of the Spiritual Man, immortal, eternal, 
radiant. 

We can, perhaps, use as a stepping stone to this consideration a phrase from 
A Text-Book of European Archceology, by Professor R. A. S. Macalister, issued a 
few months ago by the Cambridge University Press, and therefore containing 
the latest word on the age-old history of man. The author of this able book 
has reached a striking generalization of mankind's long history. Under the sub- 
heading, "The Test of Humanity" (pages 95-97), he says that " Man is the first 
living being which 'revolts against a merely animal existence. . . . This en- 
deavour to ' de-animalize ' the animal is the self-expression of the ' soul ' of Man." 

The effort of the animal to de-animalize itself; a noteworthy statement of 
human endeavour and attainment. But we shall find, if we look into it more 
closely, that man has de-animalized himself in two sharply contrasted direc- 
tions: in one direction, toward the divine; in the opposite direction, teward the 
demoniac. 

We may borrow a sentence from another book, by W. T. Hornaday, an- 
nounced but, it would seem, not yet published; the declaration that "there are 
no crime waves among animals," as a suggestion regarding the demoniac 
direction in which man has worked so incessantly to de-animalize himself. We 
need not try to labour the matter. A few indications will suffice. To begin 
with, take the simple question of eating. With hardly any exceptions, the 
other animals eat to live. With few exceptions, men live to eat. They have 
turned eating into an elaborate and largely unwholesome self-indulgence, run- 
ning the whole gamut of greediness and gormandizing, with only the remotest 

1 A lecture by Charles Johnston, on April 30, 1922, on the occasion of the Convention of The Theosophical Society. 

13 



H THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

concern for the restoration of the used tissue of the body. If it be said that the 
"less fortunate" among mankind do not go far in this self-indulgence, it may 
be answered that, when they attain to "fortune" this is one of the ways in 
which they almost invariably try to capitalize it. The appetite is there, ready 
for self-expression, as soon as the opportunity offers. Or take the habit-form- 
ing drugs and intoxicants. Men and women take them really in order to enjoy 
certain states of consciousness, like the fool's paradise of the opium smoker. 
They like these states of consciousness, first, because they seem to them enjoy- 
able, and, second, because in these states of consciousness they escape from the 
spiritual burden, the feeling of moral responsibility. So men and women 
enslave themselves to habit-forming drugs, forfeiting their liberty to gain the 
paradise of fools. We need do no more than suggest the degeneration of sex, 
something wholly foreign to normal animal life. 

Shameful as these many forms of self-indulgence are, they are, nevertheless, 
much less culpable than the developments of malice. The Great War has en- 
abled us better to realize the existence of malignant evil, a force altogether 
demonlike; we gained, at least for a time, a living sense of the frightful power 
and scope of this abominable sin. 

Here, then, in both sensuality and malignant evil, men and women have 
through long ages de-animalized themselves, developing, not upward, toward 
the divine, but downward, to the demoniac. 

It is equally easy to illustrate the upward tendency. Take, for example, all 
true art, whether it be painting or sculpture or architecture or music. What is 
the purpose of real art? To teach us what we ought to see; to enable us to 
enter into the consciousness of the Spiritual Man, immortal, eternal, radiant. 

But how are we to enter into the life of the Spiritual Man? How are we to 
discover the laws of spiritual life? Are we to take our answer from the Old 
Testament: "Canst thou by searching find out God?" or from the Xew: 
"Seek, and ye shall find"? Surely, the latter. All laws of life are to be found 
by seeking; are, in fact, so found. And it is a high quality in man, that he is 
willing to seek with the utmost earnestness and honesty, impelled by pure and 
disinterested love of truth, without counting the personal cost. . 

Take an example. On September 21, there will be a total eclipse of the sun, 
visible inthe Southern Hemisphere, in South Africa or Australia. It is prob- 
able that even now, in England, for instance, expeditions are being prepared; 
that arrangements will be made to transport large telescopes to the narrow 
path of the moon's shadow; that astronomers will absolutely forget and lose 
sight of personal comfort and inconvenience, and will not measure the efforts 
which they must make, in order to gain a purely ideal end. For the main pur- 
pose of these observations will be, as was the purpose of the eclipse expeditions 
to Brazil and West Africa in 1919, to learn whether the light from the stars is 
deflected or bent out of a straight line as it passes the body of the sun. A 
purely ideal and absolutely disinterested purpose, with "no nonsense of prac- 
ticality" about it, as was once ironically said. South Africa and Australia are 
among the more inhabited countries, where a fair degree of comfort for the 



THEOSOPHY 15 

expeditions will be obtainable. But this would not really make the slightest 
difference. Astronomers would go just as eagerly to the Arctic regions, to 
Novaya Zemlya, or to Easter Island in the South Pacific, in order to find out, 
to learn. 

What is wanted is exactly this determination, this purely disinterested effort 
and toil, in the search for spiritual law. When men and women begin to seek 
for spiritual law, for the laws of the Spiritual Man, immortal, eternal, radiant, 
with the same energy, the same self-forgetfulness, the same conviction, they 
will infallibly discover these laws and enter into the heritage of the Spiritual 
Man. 

Let us consider two of these laws. The first is the divine and universal law 
of obedience. To illustrate it, we may take once more the simile of gravity, 
worn by much use though it be. Man, in his movements about the world, in 
all his constructive work, can accomplish almost anything on the sole condi- 
tion that he shall discover, and obey, the law of gravity. While he obeys, not 
occasionally, but continuously, he can go wherever he wishes over the face of 
the world, or in the air, or under the water. While he obeys the law of gravity, 
he can build for himself palaces and towers. The lines of the walls of this build- 
ing, erected in obedience to the law of gravity, lead straight to the centre of the 
earth. So likewise the lines of the spiritual building, the house not made with 
hands, the dwelling of the Spiritual Man, go direct to the centre of the Heavens. 
As the palace or the tower may be solidly erected, to stand for ages, because 
gravity draws each stone downward, so may be erected the spiritual building, 
the life of the Spiritual Man, to abide for the eternities, because divine gravita- 
tion draws him upward. 

We must, therefore, if we are to grow to the stature of the Spiritual Man, 
immortal, eternal, radiant, earnestly seek after spiritual law; and, finding that 
law, as we shall infallibly find it if we seek, we must obey it perfectly, contin- 
uously, as we obey the laws of breathing. Concerning obedience to spiritual 
law, we may say this: there are, in this, our human life, many kinds of joy which 
have their beauty and their purity. Nevertheless, it seems certain that we 
touch true joy for the first time, through whole-hearted, disinterested obedience 
to divine and spiritual law, when we render up our wills to that most holy will. 

This is the law of obedience. There is also the law of divine light. Let us 
ask ourselves how the true men of science make discoveries. They begin by 
gathering facts. Then they marshal these facts, arranging them in order 
according to their likenesses and differences. But no arranging and marshal- 
ling of the facts will reveal the law. There must be added, as every true man of 
science knows, a certain miraculous divination, a piercing ray of the inward light 
to illuminate the garnered facts and reveal the law hidden within them. 

In our search for spiritual law, we must invoke the same inward light. Gath- 
ering the facts of our life and setting them in order before us, using all the powers 
of our intelligence to verify and arrange them, we must then make the intense 
effort to arouse within us that divine light through which alone real knowledge 
can be gained; and we must maintain this effort with unflinching courage and 



16 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

determination until we succeed; until the facts of life are illumined and \ve begin 
to discern before us " the small, old path, stretching far away, the path the seers 
trod." 

Something was said here, a year ago, concerning activity and rest. We 
cherish the deep-seated, profoundly false idea that our destiny is to accomplish 
something in order that we may rest, in order that our effort, our activity, may 
cease. We long for a heaven w^hich shall be an eternal sinking down into an 
infinite featherbed. But we may as well face at the outset the fact that w~e live 
in a universe quite other than that paradise of sloth, a universe where all 
motion is perpetual, where action and effort are everlasting. 

In just the same way, we may as well face the fact that our learning the lesson 
of life will be everlasting. We must again and again set in order the facts that 
we have gathered and verified, and then intently seek to illuminate them 
through the divine light that dwells within our souls. Then a part of the diffi- 
cult path before us will be lit up, and we must press onward in reverent obedi- 
ence. We must press on, obeying the spiritual law we have divined, gathering 
new facts concerning our divine life, setting them in order anew, and once more 
making the effort to bring the heavenly light upon them so that the next divi- 
sion of the path may be lit up. 

This continual toil, this perpetual and difficult invocation of the light, may 
seem to us an intolerable burden. For the mortals w r e think we are, it is intol- 
erable. But it is the proper task of the Spiritual Man we are to be the Spirit- 
ual Man, immortal, eternal, radiant and the very essence of his divine 
inheritance. 

Here a word of caution. We are destined for divinity; but not in order that 
we may behold ourselves as divine, with self-worshipping and admiration. 
Along that way of self-worship, we may indeed gain a kind of divinity: the 
divinity expressed in the words of an old popular song, caught up and echoed 
by Rudyard Kipling; the divinity of the "little tin god on wheels." Since we 
of the human family are so apt and prone to this self-worship, it may, per- 
haps, be well to engrave on our memories, as a fruitful warning, this verse con- 
cerning the "little tin god on wheels." It might even be well to write it out in 
order to keep its wisdom continually within our sight; setting it, let us say, in 
the frame of our mirrors. By so doing, we may escape from many delusions. 

Turning back to the most ancient Theosophy of the Upanishads, recorded 
so many millenniums ago, it may justly be asked how the holders of that ancient 
wisdom came to speak so confidently of spiritual law, so clearly to announce 
the Spiritual Man, the immortal. The answer is: by experience. They spoke 
with confidence because they knew. They had sought and found, and they 
had followed "the small, old path that stretches far away." Untying the knot 
of the heart, they had let go the desires that dwell there, the corrupt desires 
and evil will. Sloughing off the vesture of desires, they had laid aside mortality. 
They entered and lived the life of the Spiritual Man, immortal, eternal, radiant. 

Many students of Theosophy hold that this life of the Spiritual Man, the 
radiant immortal, penetrates all human history. The great personages of the 



THEOSOPHY 17 

Upanishads, the Buddha, the Christ: these are the Spiritual Man made manifest. 
What did they teach, what did they reveal, but the life of the Spiritual Man? 

Many students of Theosophy further hold that the divine succession has 
never failed, has never been broken nor interrupted; that there are to-day, as 
there have been in all ages, those who have attained ; those who, sloughing off 
mortality, have risen up immortal, eternal, radiant. Many students of The- 
osophy believe that these Divine Men, these Masters of wisdom, have played a 
dominating role throughout all history; that they play a dominating r61e to-day. 

What, then, is the task of these Spiritual Men? What have they striven and 
toiled for, through all the ages of man? W T e think that this has been their task, 
that they toil at this to-day : to awaken us also, to raise us up from death into 
life, to instil into our souls and minds some spark of that divine light. 

We have free will. The way in which we have through ages de-animalized 
ourselves in the first direction spoken of, the direction of the demoniac, is proof 
enough of that; proof, therefore, that we can, if we will, turn instead toward 
the divine. But, in the meanwhile, we are free to disobey, and we do disobey; 
we are free to follow after malice and evil will, and we do this; we are free to 
seek every kind of self-indulgence, whether of body or of mind, and we inces- 
santly seek both; we are free to plunge ourselves in lethargy and sloth, and we 
use that liberty to the full, to an almost incredible degree: physical sloth, mental 
sloth, moral sloth, most of all spiritual sloth. 

Yet there is within us the divine spark, the sparkle of everlastingness. The 
task, therefore, of the living Spiritual Men, the divine Masters of wisdom, as 
students of Theosophy conceive it, is this: to arouse and strengthen that divine 
spark in every one of us; to turn us from the malice and evil and disobedience 
of our wills; to wean us from our immeasurable self-indulgence; to shame us out 
of our silly and discreditable dreams; to cure us of our longing for the paradise 
of fools. This, in order that they may help us to our feet, so that, sloughing off 
the darkness of our desires, we too, each one of us, may arise as the Spiritual 
Man, immortal, eternal, radiant. 

There is, for each one of us, some way of approach ; we are, at some point of 
our natures, accessible to the light; there is some crevice, in the mind and heart 
and soul of each of us, through which the invitation of the Masters may enter, 
impelling, enkindling, irresistible. They seek that way of access with divine 
patience; a task which, one of them has said, brings indeed terrible toil and pro- 
found sadness, but also a great and ever-increasing delight; joy, when one of.ua 
awakes and begins with awe and wonder to behold the dawn. 

This, then, is the invitation, this the goal: that we too shall seek the small, 
old path, the path the seers trod; so that, sloughing off mortality, we may arise 
as the Spiritual Man, immortal, eternal, radiant. 



AKHNATON THE "HERETIC" 
PHARAOH OF EGYPT 



IV 
THE NEW KINGDOM (THE EMPIRE) 

WE have now reached a point in Egyptian history where we become 
definitely conscious of a great and painful change, slowly taking place. 
Little by little we watch the old exclusiveness, the ancient, proud 
aloofness, passing away. Egypt, like a precious jewel, jealously guarded 
through the ages, has now become an open market place where the rabble of 
the earth, bustling, inquisitive, bent only on material gain, may gather. Once 
the holy land of mystery, solitary, commanding; now, with the flood-gates 
opened, the last barriers broken down, her age-long secrets must be locked 
away to be preserved inviolate from a gaping world. Her religion, so pure, so 
lofty, in the early days, is now prostituted by its own votaries, and it is only 
round the hidden altars that the ancient faith still lingers. Had Thothmes 
III been followed by kings of equal vision and force, Egypt's material splendour 
might well have been her glory, not her ruin. This, however, was not to be. 

\Ve come now to the immediate ancestors of Akhnaton. Thothmes III was 
succeeded by his son Amenhotep II, who continued a strong rule in Syria and 
Nubia, but who had none of his father's genius, and of whom little need be 
written save the picturesque fact that he was a man of such great physical 
strength, that, like Ulysses, he found no man who could draw his bow. It is 
not entirely certain whether his successor, Thothmes IV, was his half brother 
or his son. In any case, as was the experience of each new Pharaoh, he had 
to put down an Asiatic uprising almost at once. Apparently believing in 
diplomacy as well as strength, however, he managed to cement the friendship 
with Babylonia and also formed a firm alliance with the Mitanni by marrying 
a Mitannian princess. Thus, what might have been his two chief rivals became, 
in fact, his allies. Both Amenhotep II and Thothmes IV reigned a very 
short time, the latter dying at the age of twenty-six. 

Egypt, as we have seen, had long since been recognized as the greatest 
Power in existence, her wealth was fabulous, her authority appeared to be 
unquestioned, and the Pharaoh who follows, held the whole world in the hollow 
of his royal hand. This Pharaoh was Amenhotep III, the father of Akhnaton, 
"Amenhotep the Magnificent" was the name his own people gave him. 
And yet, even at his accession, ominous signs of decay were to be seen in the 
fabric of the Empire by those who looked below the surface, but of this we 
shall speak later. He began his reign well, showing, at first, an energy which 
was necessary for the maintenance of the Empire; and it was not until the fourth 
year of his reign that there was any trouble in Nubia. Matters there were 
18 



AKHNATON THE "HERETIC" PHARAOH OF EGYPT 19 

soon set right and proved to be but a ripple on the surface. In Asia, Amenho- 
tep maintained the supreme position which his forefathers had won, each 
Asiatic power vying with the other to stand well in the eyes of the Pharaoh. 

The famous Tell el-Amarna letters began in this reign and give us an extraor- 
dinary insight into the politics and personal rivalries of that day. These 
letters are about three hundred in number, written in cuneiform on small clay 
tablets, and most of them are now to be found in Cairo, London and Berlin. 
They represent the correspondence between Amenhotep III or his successor 
Akhnaton, and the various Asiatic kings, of Babylonia, Nineveh, the Mit- 
anni, and the vassal kings of Syria and Palestine. Though chiefly diplomatic, 
this correspondence also throws many amusing side lights on the private 
affairs of these kings, who one and all appear to be chronically "hard up" and 
who turn to Egypt, whose wealth is proverbial, to help them out of their im- 
pecunious condition. The King of the Mitanni, evidently feeling himself 
especially privileged to ask favours, writes: "Let my brother send gold in 
very great quantity, without measure, and let him send more gold to me than 
to my father. For in my brother's land, gold is as common as dust. May the 
gods grant that in the land of my brother, where already so much gold is, 
there may be ten times more in times to cornel Certainly the gold that I 
require will not trouble my brother's heart, but let him also not grieve my 
heart!" by not sending the gold! He then complains that the last lot of 
gold sent him had been "very little" and bad gold at that, "chiefly copper." 
He adds reproachfully: "And who would give to anyone whatsoever a thing 
which is alloyed like this!" Babylonia, suffering from the same penury, 
writes: "Why did you send me only two minas of gold? Send me much good 
gold," and he begs that the Pharaoh will have this precious metal measured 
in his presence, for he says that the last lot "which they brought me, when I 
put it in the furnace, was not full weight." Amenhotep, with a certain tolerant 
good nature, apparently does send gold time after time, but his friendliness 
has its limits, for when a princess of the Royal House is asked in marriage by 
Babylonia, Amenhotep, with conscious pride of race, replies: "From of old, 
a daughter of the King of Egypt has not been given to anyone," meaning, of 
course, any foreigner. Babylonia, recovering serenely from this royal snub, 
declares that he will be quite satisfied with any Egyptian lady whom he can 
safely impose on his own people as the King's daughter, and with bourgeois 
pertinacity mixed with a kind of insolent logic, he maintains that nothing 
should be impossible to the Pharaoh: "Why so? The King art thou and 
canst do according to thy will. If thou give her (the Egyptian princess), who 
shall say anything against it? I wrote before ' Send at least a beautiful woman.' 
Who is there to say she is not the King's daughter? If thou wilt not do this 
thou hast no regard for our brotherhood and friendship." 1 A large number 
of these letters also come from correspondents of much lower rank, sheiks, 
emirs and governors of towns, who address the Pharaoh as their "god," their 
"sun in the heavens," who "smell the earth" and who protest their loyalty 

Winckler, Tell el-Amarna Letters; Niebuhr, Tell el-Amarna Period. 



20 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

in the most abject terms. No adulation was too great, no efforts were spared 
to make the Pharaoh appear as the sole dispenser of benefits; and it is probable 
that even a less vain man than Amenhotep would have fallen a victim to the 
blandishments of his "Syrian vassals." 

So Amenhotep, flattered and humoured, and feeling himself secure from all 
danger abroad, turned his attention to the building of temples and palaces at 
home, to the chase, and to other peace-time occupations, paying no heed to 
the writing on the wall. When he was still Crown Prince, and very young, he 
had married a girl who turned into one of the most remarkable women of 
Egypt. Her name was Tiy. There has been much speculation as to her 
ancestry, and that she was not, strictly speaking, of Royal Blood is vigorously 
maintained by some writers. As she became the mother of Akhnaton, how- 
ever, she has a peculiar interest for us, and we may say in passing that, con- 
sidering the strict law of matrilineal descent and the emphasis laid upon it, 
it is not clear how it came to pass that the claim of Akhnaton to the throne 
was never disputed, unless Tiy was actually of the Royal House. This, like 
many other obscure points in Egyptian history, may one day be entirely 
cleared up. Tiy's father, Yuaa, was Syrian by birth, perhaps one of those 
Syrian princes already spoken of, whom Thothmes III brought back to Thebes 
to be educated, and though this idea has been stoutly opposed by some writers, 
the recent discovery of a vase bearing his name has established at least his 
Syrian origin beyond a doubt, though whether it was royal or not is still 
uncertain. His high position at the court of both Amenhotep II and Thoth- 
mes IV, and his unquestionable authority during the reign of Amenhotep III, 
would certainly indicate that by birth as well as intellect he had a right to the 
trust imposed in him. He was a man of commanding presence, with a square 
determined jaw and a high prominent nose denoting great forcefulness. Mas- 
pero says that his "services were really of the priestly order." Among his 
many titles he was known as a "prophet of Min" (the god of Koptos), "the 
wise one," "the favourite, excellent above all favourites," also as "the mouth 
and ears of the King," in short, the Pharaoh's most trusted adviser. His 
wife, Tuau, was without doubt Egyptian, and it is thought more than likely 
of Royal Blood, possibly a granddaughter of Thothmes III. One of her 
titles was "Royal Mother of the Chief Wife of the King," which supports 
this idea. It was their daughter, Tiy, of whom we now speak. Whether Tiy 
owes the high position which she held throughout her long life to great strength 
of character and unequalled charm of person, or whether it was the natural 
result of high rank, we do not know. Whatever may have been the origin of 
her influence, she became the "Great Queen" and received almost equal hon- 
ours with the King. Her name is to be found not only on scarabs, amulets 
and other such objects, but it was affixed beside that of her husband to state 
documents, and she is always spoken of as "Royal Wife" and "Royal Daugh- 
ter." Although these terms were by no means unusual, they may bespeak 
her as really of the Royal Line. Among the Tell el-Amarna letters are several 
addressed to Tiy by various Asiatic Kings who beseech her to use her influence 



AKHNATON THE "HERETIC' PHARAOH OF EGYPT 21 

with the Pharaoh on their behalf, and it is more than evident that to the end 
of her life her power at court was tremendous, her protection and favour sought 
by the highest both in Egypt and abroad. She was in all respects the great 
mother of a great so'n. 

Amenhotep, then, with no eye for the gathering clouds on the confines of 
his vast Empire, and feeling himself to be invulnerable, threw his interests 
and his limitless wealth into building on a scale far surpassing all former efforts 
in splendour and size. On the western plain of the river, backed by the rugged 
Theban hills, he built his own mortuary temple of such proportions as to dwarf 
all other monuments which had been erected by his ancestors in the vicinity, 
and although he wrote, "My majesty has done these things for millions of 
years, and I know that they will abide in the earth" (a not uncommon state- 
ment, by the way, made by many of the Kings of Egypt, and undoubtedly 
referring to a consciousness of work during past incarnations) of this partic- 
ular building now hardly a trace remains, save the two mighty colossi which 
guarded the entrance and which still sit enthroned in lonely grandeur silently 
watching, as they have done through more than three thousand years, for the 
daily miracle of the rising of the sun. Behind the temple, and nearer those 
wonderful elemental cliffs which stand guard over the Theban plain, shutting 
out the Lybian desert on the west, he built his own palace of brick and costly 
woods, light and airy, bright with colour, beautifully decorated on pavement 
and ceiling with the most delicate designs; all the animal and plant life of the 
fields and marshland under foot; above, the blue sky of the ceiling, where 
floated white, hovering doves with outstretched wings and little coral feet 
bright against the snow of their breasts; the walls hung with dextrously woven 
tapestry of brilliant colour and finest texture, and everywhere glittering vessels 
of gold and silver made by the most cunning craftsmen of that day. Not far 
from his palace he excavated a large lake, more than a mile long, for Queen 
Tiy, surrounded by irregular small hills covered with bushes and flowers. 
Here the Queen must have spent many long hours, floating in her royal barge, 
protected from the hot sun by tapestries stretched over her head, the sides 
open to the cool breezes as they crept up from the river; and here she must 
have dreamed many of those devout and holy dreams which later sprang into 
such splendid life and action in her yet unborn son, Akhnaton. 

But Amenhotep did not forget his god Amen. Across the river, on the 
opposite shore, could be seen the temples and obelisks already erected by his 
forefathers, and here he himself started a series of temples and monuments 
making of Luxor and Karnak, which formed the religious quarter to the south 
of Thebes, a fitting dwelling-place for so rich, prosperous and splendour-loving 
a god as Amen. The beautiful long colonnades at Luxor, of clustered papyrus 
columns with calyx capitals, or the still more lovely closed lotus buds, must 
have been the wonder of the Egyptian world. Amenhotep set himself the task 
of unifying this vast sacred city, and of making Karnak and Luxor one large 
metropolis for Amen. An immense pylon and two huge, red granite obelisks 
were built in front of the Temple of Karnak, making it more imposing than it 



22 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

had ever been before. Also a colossus, equal in size to those on the plain across 
the river, towered above the smaller monuments. A sacred lake was made to 
the southeast of the temple, a lake which mirrored in clear-cut, crystalline 
reflections the forest of columns and the vast masses of the pylons and slender 
obelisks of the temple. Other smaller sanctuaries were built, and the whole 
of Karnak was connected with the temples of Luxor, a mile and a half distant, 
by means of a luxuriant park, where grew tall, waving palm trees, the feathery 
acacia, the sturdy sycamore, and which was everywhere brilliant with flowers. 
Along the centre of this park, in a straight, undeviating line, was an imposing 
avenue, bordered at regular intervals with huge ram-headed sphinxes, carved 
in sandstone, each one bearing the names and titles of the King. Even to-day, 
in its ruin, the effect of all this is so stupendous that it beggars description, and 
what it must have been in the days of the "Magnificent One" can hardly be 
imagined. 

Thebes had now become a monumental city, and more than ever the centre 
of the world. Its streets w r ere busy with foreigners, brought there by the trade 
which had never been so prosperous. Rich stuffs, chased vessels and weapons, 
spices and aromatic woods, metals and precious stones, horses, cattle great 
and small all the riches of the east poured in. And side by side with the 
wealth of trade in the streets and market places, was the dazzling wealth and 
splendour of the Court. Amenhotep III loved pleasure with all the intensity 
of a vain egoist. He loved hunting and never missed an opportunity to boast 
an imposing slaughter of lions, wild cattle and game of all sorts. His love of 
display led him into giving the most spectacular fetes, when he would appear 
before his people, Queen Tiy at his side, in bewildering majesty and state. 
There is a record of a brilliant water pageant in which the whole court, led by 
the King and Queen, took part, and so sumptuous was it that a special in- 
scription was made to immortalize it. The seventh month, the month of 
religious feasts, became one of such pomp and circumstance that it soon got 
the name of "that of Amenhotep," for he spared no effort to impress on the 
minds of his people his own glory as well as that of his god Amen. To celebrate 
each of these gorgeous occasions he caused to be issued a series of scarabs with 
his own name and that of Queen Tiy engraved on them, just as we to-day 
would have medals struck to commemorate some public ceremony. 

Curiously enough, very little literature of this period survives, though 
undoubtedly it must have existed. As most of the XVIIIth Dynasty is, 
however, given up chiefly to action, it is not surprising that we have less writing 
than in the Middle Kingdom. 

Art flourished in the utmost luxuriance. Wall-painting, sculpture in the 
round, and bas-relief reached a point in the way of finish which alone would 
make this brilliant period celebrated. But we can see how the times have 
changed, and it is perhaps as much in the art as in historical events that we 
get our clearest realization as to the altered standards. We have but to 
compare the portrait statues of the different periods to see what has happened, 
for while in the Old Kingdom the lofty, unapproachable Pharaoh, belonging to 



AKHNATON THE "HERETIC" PHARAOH OF EGYPT 23 

a race apart, still awes us with his silent, hidden power; while in the Middle 
Kingdom we see in the majestic, kingly faces a certain sternness, almost 
weariness, as though for all their consecrated efforts they felt themselves power- 
less to stem the tide of humanity's egoism; now, in the Empire, there is a kind 
of smiling friendliness which, though still kingly, tells more eloquently than 
anything else of broken barriers. 

So, while Amenhotep was living his life of luxury and idleness at Thebes, 
the storm clouds were gathering in ever more threatening masses in his Syrian 
provinces. Too many years had been allowed to elapse since Egypt's Pharaoh 
had been seen there in person. Also it was whispered that his life was drawing 
to a close. At last the storm broke. Serious invasions by the Kheta in the 
north threw the tributary princes of Naharin into a panic of fear, and at the 
same time, Semitic tribes from the southern desert poured in upon them in 
swarms. Thothmes III would have marched at the head of his army straight 
into the jaws of the trouble. Not so "Amenhotep the Magnificent," the 
indolent, pleasure-loving King; besides which it is possible that having, for so 
many years, felt himself secure, he could not realize that there was any serious 
danger. He sent troops, but himself stayed comfortably at home. The 
trouble was temporarily smoothed out, and no doubt he thought it to be safely 
past. In this, however, he was mistaken, it was only the beginning of worse 
troubles which followed later, though Amenhotep did not live long enough to 
face these troubles for, after a reign of thirty-six years, he died, leaving his 
Empire in all but a crumbling state. 

We have had to enter into rather a lengthy account of the political and 
social events of the XVIIIth Dynasty in order to give some idea of the world 
into which Akhnaton was born, and the Empire which he inherited; but before 
passing on to Akhnaton himself we must note a few of the changes which had 
taken place in the world of religious thought, that world against which 
Akhnaton waged his great religious combat. 

HETEP EN NETER. 
(To be continued) 



He who can see the inward in the outward, to him the inward is more inward than 
to him who can only see the inward in the inward. Suso. 



The life of a nation and all the manifestations of its civilization are simply the 
reflection of its soul, the visible signs of an invisible but very real thing. External 
events are only the appearance on the surface of the hidden woof which determines 
them. GUSTAVE LE BON. 



STUDENTS' SCRAP BOOK 



POWERS OF ADEPTS 

THE power of making himself invisible is one that has been attributed to 
the Adept in all ages, and the various references in the Gospels to the 
use made of this power by the Master Christ, are by no means unusual. 

Everyone is familiar with the incident when the multitude in the synagogue 
who had heard the teaching of the Master, wrathfully led him to the brow of 
a hill and prepared to cast him headlong - " But he passing through the midst 
of them went his way" (Luke IV, 30). Equally familiar is the healing at the 
pool of Bethesda when "he that was healed wist not who it was: for Jesus 
had conveyed himself away" (John V, 13); and that other occasion on which 
the multitude prepared to kill him, this time by stoning, but " Jesus hid himself, 
and went out of the temple, going through the midst of them, and so passed 
by" (John VIII, 59). 

The Buddhist scriptures contain many references to the different Iddhis, or 
powers among them this power of making oneself invisible with instances 
of their use. In one of the Suttas (Sacred Books of the East, vol. XI, pp. 214, 
215), Gautama says: "If a Bhikkhu [disciple] should desire, Brethren, to 
exercise one by one each of the different Iddhis, being one to become multi- 
form, being multiform to become one; to become visible, or to become invisible; 
to go without being stopped to the further side of a wall, or a fence, or a moun- 
tain, as if through air; to penetrate up and down through solid ground, as if 
through water; ... If a Bhikkhu should desire, Brethren, to hear with clear 
and heavenly ear, surpassing that of men, sounds both human and celestial, 
whether far or near, let him then fulfill all righteousness, let him be devoted to 
that quietude of heart which springs from within, let him not drive back the 
ecstasy of contemplation, let him look through things, let him be much alone!" 

Perhaps one of the most graphic accounts of the employment of this power is 
given in the life of Apollonius of Tyana, written by Philostratus. Apollonius, 
with his disciple Damis, had gone to Rome and was on trial for his life before 
the tyrant Domitian. Previous to the trial, he sent Damis to Dicaearchia, 
some days' journey from Rome, to stay with his friend Demetrius, promising 
at the same time to appear there later. To a question from Damis as to the 
nature of this appearance, whether in the body or otherwise, the teacher 
rather significantly replied, "As I myself believe, alive, but as you will believe, 
risen from the dead." Apollonius pleaded his cause without success; then 
brought the trial to a sudden close with the words " . . . my soul you cannot 
take. Nay, you cannot take even my body, ' For thou shalt not slay me, 
since I tell thee I am not mortal.'" Whereupon he vanished from the court 
(to the great confusion of the Emperor), "which," observes his biographer, 
"was the very best thing he could do under the circumstances"! He left the 
24 



STUDENTS' SCRAP BOOK 25 

court before midday, and at dusk appeared in Dicaearchia to Damis and Deme- 
trius, who were mourning his loss. Damis is represented as exclaiming in his 
grief, "Shall we ever behold, O ye gods, our noble and good companion?" 
When Apollonius replied: "Ye shall see him, nay, ye have already seen him." 
41 Alive?" said Demetrius, "For if you are dead, we have anyhow never ceased 
to lament you." The account continues: "Apollonius stretched out his hand 
and said : 'Take hold of me, and if I evade you, then I am indeed a ghost come 
to you from the realm of Persephone, such as the gods of the under-world reveal 
to those who are dejected with much mourning. But if I resist your touch, 
then you shall persuade Damis also that I am both alive and that I have not 
abandoned my body.' They were no longer able to disbelieve, but rose up and 
threw themselves on his neck and kissed him." 

In lamblichus' Life of Pythagoras there is the following: " In one and the same 
day he [Pythagoras] was present at Metapontum in Italy, and Tauromenium 
in Sicily, and discoursed in common with his disciples in both places, though 
these cities are separated from each other by many stadia both by land and 
sea, and cannot be passed through in a great number of days." Elsewhere, 
there is the statement that it was thought he accomplished this "like one 
walking on air." 

X. 



OCCULTISM 

Occultism means the study of things hidden. It means bringing the sub- 
conscious into the field of self-consciousness. There is a sub-consciousness of 
the lower nature, and there is what might be called a super-consciousness of 
the higher nature. In both cases, we have to become conscious of the thoughts, 
feelings and desires which, in the ordinary man, prompt his actions, both good 
and evil, without his being aware of their nature or origin. 

The ordinary man possesses hardly any self-consciousness. He says things - 
without knowing why he says them. And he deceives himself. He will tell 
a story about his past exploits. His motive, perhaps, is his desire to shine in 
the estimation of others; or he may talk from sheer nervousness and inability 
to keep still. He is not conscious of this. He imagines that he tells his story 
in order to entertain others. He will give away money, persuading himself 
that he is charitable. Actually his motive, impelling him from the sub-con- 
scious strata of his lower nature, may be the desire to avoid trouble, or the 
desire to appear well in his own eyes or in the eyes of others. He is not self- 
conscious, and he has got to become self-conscious before he can become, in 
the real sense, a man. 

Lack of self -consciousness means that an individual is the victim, or in any 
case the slave, of innumerable motives of which he has no understanding and 
over which he has no control. Even when, for some particular act, he guesses 
one of his motives correctly, the probability is that the motive he sees is a 
minor thread in a mixture of several different threads. 



26 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

No one can become conscious of his higher self until he has become conscious 
of his lower self, though the two processes can and should take place con- 
currently. 

A disciple knows what he is saying and why, at all times and in all circum- 
stances. The beginner knows occasionally. The ordinary man talks when 
he feels like it; rarely knows what he has said even after he has said it, and has 
about as much understanding of his motives as a moth. 

Z. 



KARMA 

Karma means the Will of the Logos in action. Paul of Tarsus speaks of 
the Logos as the wisdom of God and the power of God (Qcov-<ro<j>ia and dwa/jLls). 
Karma is absolute Justice, because God is absolute Justice. But God is Love. 
Therefore Karma is the law of Love and the ultimate expression of Love. 
Nothing can happen to us except as the expression of the Wisdom and Love of 
the Logos for us. All our trials, whether inner or outer, should be welcomed 
by us as though they were priceless gifts. These gifts come to us concealed 
very often under a veil of disagreeable and even painful events, perhaps in 
the form of an "unmerited reprimand" or in the form of contempt or some 
wound to our pride or vanity. They may come to us under the veil of some 
infirmity, some disease, or adversity. Why should we allow ourselves to be 
deceived by appearances? Need we mistake the clothing for the reality? No 
one has begun to understand the meaning or purpose of life until he at least 
tries to pierce through the veil of outer appearances, and to find concealed 
within them that which is, in truth, an expression of the being and substance 
of divinity. To find that is to find Paradise on earth, even in the midst of 
affliction. 

T. 



THE TRANSMISSION OF SPIRITUAL ENERGY 

The monads are contained within the Eternal, as suns and planets are 
contained within the ether. If the Eternal be represented as abstract space, 
each monad will appear as a "point" in that space. If abstract space be 
further conceived as a Plenum, as the "promise and potency" of all manifesta- 
tion, every "point" in the Plenum would be a centre of manifestation, a vehicle 
through which Spirit could express Itself. 

Spirit, being One and Indivisible, is present in its entirety in every monad, 
but the monads differ infinitely among themselves according to their responses 
to it. They vary from being primordial nuclei of "fire-mist," to being the 
most glorious of Spiritual Suns. But, one and all, they are in perpetual 
evolution, so that in time the dullest will become a shining host. 

The monad becomes a radiant vehicle for the Light of the Supreme, in so 
far as it grows in consciousness of the Light. The degree of its consciousness is- 



STUDENTS' SCRAP BOOK 27 

the measure of its brightness. One monad is a more perfect vehicle than an- 
other, when its response to the Spirit is more conscious, which is to say, 
when this monad has conceived by the Spirit a more conscious soul. 

Potentially, each monad is perfect. Actually, there is no conceivable abso- 
lute perfection in the manifested worlds. There is only progress, or, to use a 
less abused word, procession toward perfection. What was veiled and poten- 
tial yesterday, becomes visible and active now, and to-morrow will unfold the 
Unknowji as surely as to-day. 

How is this procession maintained? How is the faint glow of promise blown 
into a living flame? 

There is only one known method of stirring a latent centre to activity. It 
is by a transmission of energy to the latent centre from a centre already active. 
The planets, themselves dark, are made radiant by the transmitted light of the 
sun. The wheels of an engine are turned by the transmission of the energy 
contained in coal. We learn by adopting what has already been learned by 
someone else. 

According to the universal law of correspondences, a similar process of 
transmission of energy takes place on the more spiritual planes. But what 
seems automatic and uninspired here below, is enlightened and transfigured 
above. When the illumined monad transmits its light to a monad in darkness, 
it transmits its gift from the Spirit, its very life. It is the self-sacrifice of the 
First Born of the Light, of the Sons of God. 

The illumined terrestrial monad is the Master, by whose light we see our 
world, in Whose light, if we could but look steadfastly, we should see the 
reflections of our ideal selves. How does the Master maintain Himself in 
Heaven? Is it by seeking avidly to absorb and to keep all the light and life 
which He can reach? Or, is it by giving freely of all that He has to the igno- 
rant and needy; by seeking to acquire more, only that He may give more? 

W T e believe that He gives more gladly than He receives. And we say that 
this is the law of spiritual being; that, if He did not obey it, He could not be 
recognized as Master. 

But what does He give? Not external things. He has told us distinctly 
that He does not give us these. He gives what He cannot so easily replace 
His consciousness, His life, His wisdom. He entrusts them to us, to use as 
we will, to dedicate to the Giver or to cast into the mire of self-indul- 
gence. We are free. We can choose. But if we betray Him, we destroy 
not only ourselves, but part of Him. Yet, as time passes and we abuse 
Him more cruelly with every gift, He sacrifices for us not less of Himself, 
but more. 

By the sacrifice of the Logos, we are told, the great world was born, and by 
sacrifice every episode of its history has been prompted, all the climaxes of 
evolution, of the long fall into generation, culminating in the gift of self-con- 
scious free will in man; and since that turning-point, the civilizations, which, one 
and all, have passed away, because they perverted the gifts of the Avatars. 
Do we imagine that this perpetual Self -giving means nothing to the life of the 



28 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

Logos; that we can waste our lives, without disturbing the balance of vital 
forces in Those who devote themselves daily for us? 

The Logos shines not only by the Light of the Father, but by reflection from 
the Light which It has transmitted to all those lesser hosts who were in darkness 
at the beginning. If their light go out, the "Bright Star of the Morning" is 
by so much the darker, for their Light is Its own. 

STANLEY V. LADow. 



ARE WE HUMAN? 

Mark Twain suggested that when Adam named the animals of Eden, he 
called the frog a frog because it looked like a frog. One can only hope that the 
frog has remained true to its prototype. 

In like manner, we call ourselves human, because we are convinced that we 
look human. But the title of Man is the proudest and noblest upon earth. 
We must do more than look human to retain it. 

What is Man? 

Above the ancient sanctuary, it was written, "Man, know thyself." In 
the Mysteries within the sanctuary, it was shown how Man can only know 
himself by becoming himself. The neophyte learned that he was not yet Man, 
but an aspirant towards Manhood. By aspiration he placed himself, as it 
were, under the form or species of Man: his potential humanity could become 
actual. 

All this seems remote to our modern thought, for we find it difficult to con- 
ceive of earthly things as imperfect realizations of their archetypes or species 
in Heaven. "Professional thinkers" still use the good old word "species," 
but not in the good old sense. Thus the biologist groups and classifies living 
beings into species, but he means nothing exalted by that term. It merely 
signifies for him a group of living things, which have certain properties and 
functions in common. Species, in biology, are convenient figments imposed 
by the mind upon the multitudinous forms and aspects of physical nature; 
they are names not things, nomina non res, in the language of the mediaeval 
nominalist. 

In ancient times another view prevailed. The species, the prototype, the 
Divine Idea, was held to be more important and more real than the individuals 
manifesting it, for it was at once their goal and their motive power. All 
things aspired towards their appointed ends, towards the expression or revela- 
tion of their species: even the stone, said Aristotle, yearns to become a door- 
step. 

If we agree with the biologist that species are names, not things, it is useless 

to discuss the question, how human we are. We are human, just as we are, 

- by definition. The species, Man, is nothing but the name of a wholly 

imaginary collective unit, the sum of all the creatures already defined as 

human. 

However, according to the ancient doctrine, Man as a collective unit is 



STUDENTS' SCRAP BOOK 29 

real, not imaginary. Humanity is the state of being towards which we aspire, 
not that state in which we now are. If we agree with the ancients, it must be 
obvious that we are not yet, in any real sense, human beings. 

At first sight, the ancient doctrine seems dogmatic and fantastic, and to 
contradict itself. How can one become deliberately that which one cannot 
know, until one has become it? But it was part of the tradition of the Myster- 
ies that there are and have always been those who do know: the Adept, the 
Hierophant, the Initiate, who gave instruction to the neophyte, knew the 
doctrine to be true, because he had lived it. The neophyte was not asked to 
accept it upon blind faith, but to follow the Initiate by testing it through 
experience, by proving it through life. It is our present unwillingness to make 
the necessary experiments, that causes the doctrine to seem so remote and 
dissociated from facts. 

Consider what that old occultist meant, who said that Man is the thau- 
maturge of the earth, that is to say, the magical power which has built and 
directed the earth. For the ancients conceived that not only the so-called 
human races, but all sublunar things and creatures are informed and awakened 
to life by the radiance of the Heavenly Man, who is Himself the radiance 
of the Creative Logos. He is the archetype and .model of the earthly, as the 
Adam Kadmon of the Kabalah is the forerunner of the Adam formed of clay. 
He emanates a world from His nature and again He draws it back into Himself. 

But, although He transcends our imagination so greatly, we are warned not 
to fall into the error of thinking of him as an abstraction, like some bare trellis, 
to be covered, in a future inconceivably remote, with the flowers and fruits of 
a self-conscious humanity. The Heavenly Man, the Christos, is the living 
source of our life, as well as its goal. Omne vivum ex vivo.. His consciousness 
has been compared to that of a Host; it overflows the barriers of personal 
existence, and all the members of the Host share in it equally. It is that 
Oversoul, of which Emerson has said that "every man is an inlet to the same 
and to the whole of the same." 

It is our destiny if tradition speak true for one and all of us finally to 
be glorified by union with that all- compassing life of the Oversoul. But tradi- 
tion states also that there never was a time, since the first foundation of the 
earth, when there were no "Sons of Man"; when the Oversoul was not fully 
self-conscious. It is said that the earth was informed by a Host, who had 
already become men in other Manvantaras upon earlier chains of globes; and 
that, from the beginning of our planetary evolution, these "Elder Brothers" 
have shown the way for the earth-born races to become men in their turn. We 
tread upon a path blazed for us by our forerunners. If there had been no such 
forerunners, there could have been no earth. 

STANLEY V. LADow. 

WONDER-WORKING YOGIS 

It would be unfortunate if members of The Theosophical Society, younger 
in their membership than some of us, should be impressed unduly if they were 



30 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

to meet with a "wonder-working" Yogi. Years ago this happened to an un- 
seasoned member, who was swept off her feet and who by now has forgotten 
what "feet" mean. 

It may be well, therefore, for present-day members to read about such things, 
once in a while, and to realize that great mesmeric and clairvoyant powers do 
not in the least imply spiritual attainment. In many cases such powers imply 
quite the reverse. 

We quote from an Appendix to Posthumous Humanity, translated from the 
French of Adolphe d'Assier by Colonel H. S. Olcott in 18.87. The Appendix 
consists of answers to questions which Olcott sent to prominent native mem- 
bers of the Theosophical Society in India. We believe the following to have 
been written by S. Ramaswamier, then living at Madura in Southern India: 

"I have lived with Ramanuja Yogi for three years. He was an lyengar by 
caste. He died about four years ago; and although I am a Tamil Brahmin, I 
alone performed funeral ceremonies for him. He has taught me something, 
and I am trying to lead the life to the best of my ability and circumstances. 
The following are one or two of the actions I have seen him perform on several 
occasions. 

"I. He ordered my nephew, a child of a year old, to be brought to him. The 
child was made to sit on the floor in front of us. He said he was going to show 
some wonder, and that I could ask any question of the child, in any language I 
chose. He then covered himself with his rettarium [upper garment], and 
touched the child with a light rattan he had in his hand. The child immedi- 
ately sat in the posture known as Virasanam, and gave me a learned discourse 
on Raja Yoga in beautiful Tamil verse. I was so struck with this wonder 
that I did not t^ien avail myself of his permission to ask the child questions, 
but continued to be a passive hearer. While this was going on I looked at 
the Yogi, and found that his body was motionless and rigid. I thought he was 
in a trance, and tried to wake him. His body was at first like a corpse; but 
in a few seconds he got up, and at the same instant the child began to weep 
very loudly. His first words were, 'Take the child away, and give it milk 
instantly.' This was done. 

"II. On another occasion there was a trial going on, in the High Court of 
Madras, of a case in which I was interested. On the day appointed for hearing 
the case I was in Madura, and felt anxious about the result. The Yogi was 
then with me, and to him I communicated my anxiety. In a few seconds 
there was a bright spot before me of the size of a rupee. Gradually it increased, 
and I was in the midst of the light. I found that I was in the High Court, in 
the midst of the people there, and that the trial had already closed. I asked 
one of the parties present in the court the result of the trial. He told me that 
judgment was given against him. After this the Yogi touched my shoulders, 
and the light was gone. Subsequently, when I saw the same person, he 
described everything as I had seen it. But he knew nothing of my asking him 
the question. 

"III. On one occasion I left, through forgetfulness, my sampudam (a small 



STUDENTS' SCRAP BOOK 31 

circular brass vessel, containing ashes, money, etc., usually kept in the fold of 
the cloth about the waist) by the river where I had bathed. As soon as I 
returned home I looked for the sampudam, and missed it. I was sorry. The 
Yogi, who was then with me, told me to unlock a certain room of my house 
and search a particular corner. I looked in the place, and there was the sampu- 
dam as I had had it on the river bank. 

"IV. On another occasion he was talking of various things while on the 
river-bed, when we were performing japam, and all of a sudden he asked me to 
confess before him all the sins I had committed. I told him I had nothing of 
importance to tell him. He then ordered me to bring olai and iron stylus. 
He then made a seat of sand in a square shape, wrote on it some letters, and 
asked me to sit on it. After I had taken my seat, he gave me a smart blow 
with his rod. I then all of a sudden began to write. I was conscious I was 
writing, but had no control over what I wrote. I could not but write; some 
mysterious force compelled me to do it. I yielded. I felt a sort of mild in- 
toxication. About half an hour afterwards the Yogi snatched the ola from 
my hands, splashed cold water over my face, and took me out for a walk. He 
then, after some time, gave me the ola to read. But what was my amazement 
when, in my own handwriting, I found a detailed and circumstantial account 
of all my disgraceful peccadilloes which I would not for the world have had 
anybody know, much less the revered Yogi. He took pity on my state of 
mind, tore the ola into pieces, and directed me to prostrate myself before the 
sun, which was then setting in the west, and devoutly pray God that all my 
sins might be consumed in His eternal jyoti (light)." 

T. 



A human sotd is worth all the universe, someone has said magnificently. A 
human soul, mind you! Not a human life. And it happens that the less a man 
believes in the soul that is to say in his conscious immortality, personal and con- 
crete the more he will exaggerate the worth of this poor transitory life. This is 
the source from which springs all that effeminate, sentimental ebullition against war. 
True, a man ought not to wish to die, but the death to be renounced is the death of the 
soul. MIGUEL DE UNAMUNO. 



" Take up, from His nature, what is contrary to thy nature" 
Think about His nature, and about that, in His nature, which is contrary to thy 
nature. Think about it; imagine it; learn to admire, to love, to desire it. Practise 
being and doing that which thou art beginning to admire. Thus thou shall both 
empty thyself and fill thyself from Him. Z. 



TAO=TEH=KING 



AN INTERPRETATION OF LAO TSE'S BOOK OF THE WAY AND OF 

RIGHTEOUSNESS 

VI 

50. Man departs from life to enter into death. 

There are thirteen causes of life and thirteen causes of death. 

No sooner is the man born, than these thirteen causes of death drag him swiftly 
toward his end. 

What is the reason? It- is because he desires to live too impetuously. 

But I have learnt that he who rightly rules his life fears neither rhinoceros nor 
tiger in his path. 

He enters the host and needs neither breastplate nor sword. 

The rhinoceros finds no unguarded place to pierce with his horn, nor the tiger to 
tear him with its claws, nor the soldier to pierce him with his sword. 

What is the cause? There is no place of death in him. 

COMMENTING on the second line, one of the Chinese commentators 
says: "There are thirteen causes of life, that is, thirteen means for reach- 
ing spiritual life, namely: Emptiness of self, attachment to non-action, 
purity, quietude, humility, poverty, gentleness, tenderness, lowliness, simplicity, 
modesty, docility, economy. There are thirteen causes of death, which are the 
opposites of these, namely: Being filled with self, attachment to creatures, im- 
purity, agitation, vanity, wealth, hardness, violence, pride, lavishness, haugh- 
tiness, rigidity, prodigality." 

Of the next sentences, a commentator says: "Lao Tse is speaking here of 
worldly men, who are passionately attached to worldly life and who know not 
the Way. How comes it that, thirstily seeking happiness, they find misery? 
It is because they work only to satisfy their passions and their personal inter- 
ests; they do not know that, the more ardently they pursue the things of this 
life, the closer they come to death." 

Another commentator adds: "One of the men of old said: He who loves his 
life may be killed; he who is self-righteous may be soiled; he who thirsts for 
fame may be covered with shame; he who seeks perfection for himself may lose 
it. But if he stand apart from bodily life, who can kill him? If he stand apart 
from self-righteousness, who can soil him? If he stand apart from fame, who 
can put him to shame? If he seek not perfection for himself, who can make him 
lose it? He who understands this, has risen above life and death." 

51. The Way produces beings; righteousness nourishes them. These two give 
them a body and perfect them through a secret impulsion. 

This is why all beings revere the Way and honour righteousness. 
32 



TAO-TEH-KING 33 

None conferred on the Way its dignity, nor on righteousness its nobility: they 
possess them eternally in themselves. 

This is why the Way produces beings, nourishes them, increases them, perfects 
them, ripens them, feeds them, protects them. 

It produces them, but does not appropriate them; It makes them what they are, 
but does not therefore exalt itself; It reigns over them and leaves them free. 

This is what is called perfect righteousness. 

The righteousness of which LaoTse speaks here, says a Chinese commentator, 
is the manifestation of the Way in creatures. The Way expands like a river; 
it manifests itself outwardly, and becomes righteousness. When unmanifested, 
immaterial, void, it is called the Way; when it transforms and nourishes crea- 
tures, it is called righteousness. 

Another commentator finds a striking parallel for the secret impulsion of the 
Way and of righteousness: By the force of impulsion, they perfect beings and 
lead them to their complete development. In the same way, if the force of 
Spring impels plants, they cannot resist coming to birth ; if the force of Autumn 
impels them, they cannot resist coming to maturity. There is no being, says 
the same commentator, which from its birth to its complete development does 
not need the Way and righteousness. This is why all beings honour and revere 
them. There is no being that brings its nobility with it at birth. In order 
that the Emperor may be revered and surrounded with honours, he must have 
been consecrated by Heaven; that his vassals may be revered and surrounded 
with honours, they must have been appointed by the Emperor. But the Way 
and righteousness have no need that any should confer on them their dignity 
and their nobility; they are honourable of themselves. 

The ruler of the kingdom, says a third commentator, must find all his glory 
in adhering closely to the Way and in emptying his heart, in order to attain to 
the perfection of righteousness. 

52. The Principle of the world became the Mother of the world. 

Gaining the Mother, one knows her children. 

He who knows the children and retains their Mother, to the end of his days is 
exposed to no danger. 

If he close his mouth, if he shut his ears and eyes, to the end of his days he shall 
feel no weariness. 

But if he open his mouth and increase his desires, to the end of his life he cannot 
be saved. 

He who sees the most subtile things is called enlightened; he who preserves his 
weakness is called strong. 

He who uses the brightness of the Way and returns to its light, need fear no 
bodily calamity. 

He is said to be doubly enlightened. 

Before the Way had a name, says the commentator, beings received their 
principle from It; when It had a name, they received their life from It. This is 



34 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

why the Way is first called Principle, and afterwards Mother. The words, 
"her children," designate all beings. The Saint knows all beings, because he 
identifies himself with the Way, just as through the mother one knows the chil- 
dren. But, though his rare insight allows him to penetrate all beings, beings 
must never make him forget the Way. This is why to the end of his life he 
retains the Mother. The misfortune of the worldly is to forget the Way, 
through ardently seeking those things which flatter their senses. 

Concerning the shutting of the ears and eyes, a commentator says: If a man 
allow himself to be drawn away by the enjoyment of music or the love of beauty, 
and forget to retrace his steps, he pursues beings and revolts against his nature. 
Therefore he should inwardly concentrate his hearing and his sight. Therefore 
Lao Tse advises him to close his ears and eyes, in order that outward things 
may not enter into his soul. If he act thus, through his whole life he may use 
the Way, never suffering weariness. But if he gave himself up to the desires 
which flatter the ears and the eyes, if he let himself be drawn away by the im- 
petuousness of the senses without returning to the good way, he would lose his 
heart under the influence of beings and, to the end of his life, he could not be 
saved. 

With this we may compare the sentences of Light on the Path: "Before the 
eyes can see they must be incapable of tears. Before the ear can hear it must 
have lost its sensitiveness." 

Concerning enlightenment by the light of the Way, a commentator says: The 
Way may be considered as a tree of which its light is the root, and the emanation 
of its light, the branches. These branches spread themselves forth and produce 
in man the faculty of seeing, hearing, feeling, perceiving. The Way flows from 
the root to the branches. Enlightenment sets forth from the branches to seek 
the root. This is why Lao Tse says: He who uses the brightness of the Way to 
return to its light, is called doubly enlightened. 

53. // I -were endowed with perception, I would walk in the great Way. 

The one thing that I fear is to be involved in action. 

The great Way is one, but the people love by-ways. 

If the palaces are splendid, the fields are untilled, the granaries are empty. 

The princes are adorned with magnificent fabrics; they carry a sharp sword; they 
fill themselves with exquisite banquets; they are puffed up with riches. 

This is what is called glorifying themselves through theft; it is not to follow the 
Way. 

In the second sentence of the text, "to be involved in action" means, to be 
bound by the bonds of Karma. The cure is detachment : to do the right because 
it is the right, without thought of personal gain or loss. 

For the fourth and following sentences, the best commentary is the saying, 
41 All that ever came before me are thieves and robbers." This is said to be the 
echo of a sentence in a ritual of Initiation. The spiritual Self, awakened and 
coming into his kingdom, sees that the personal selves that went before, the 
selves of egotism and sensual desire, were thieves and robbers, plundering and 



TAO-TEH-KING 35 

impoverishing the spiritual nature; prostituting divine powers and gifts for 
self-indulgence. In Lao Tse's words, "This is what is called glorifying them- 
selves through theft." 

54. He who knows how to establish, fears not destruction; he who knows how to 
preserve, fears not to lose. 

His sons and grandsons will offer sacrifices to him in unbroken succession. 

If he follow the Way within himself, his righteousness will become pure. 

If he cultivate it in his family, his righteousness will become abounding. 

If he cultivate it in the mil-age, his righteousness will become extended. 

If he cultivate it in the province, his righteousness will become flourishing. 

If he cultivate it in the kingdom, his righteousness will become universal. 

This is why I judge other men after myself; I judge other families after one 
family; I judge other villages after one village; I judge other provinces after one 
province; I judge the kingdom after the kingdom. 

How do I know that it is thus with the kingdom? I know it solely by that (Way) . 

The Chinese commentator says that, if one plant a tree on a plain, a time will 
surely come when it will be torn up and thrown down. But that which is 
rightly established is never torn up. If one hold an object between his hands, 
a moment will surely come when he will let it go. But that which we rightly 
preserve will never escape us. This double comparison refers to him who is 
established in righteousness and firmly keeps the Way. 

We may cite in comparison: "Whosoever heareth these sayings of mine, and 
doeth them, I will liken him unto a wise man, which built his house upon a 
rock." 

It would seem that the "sons and grandsons" are spiritual descendants, 
disciples of a Master of Wisdom, and that the sentences that follow may be 
taken to indicate the widening outlook of the disciple as he ascends from the 
branches toward the root of that tree of light, rooted in Heaven, which is the 
Way. Beginning by seeking the Way within himself, and looking within his 
own heart for the light, he is presently able to recognize that light in the hearts 
of others, a group of co-disciples, his own spiritual family. And so onward, 
until he becomes a Master of the kingdom. 

55. He who possesses firmly established righteousness is like a child new born, 
who fears neither the stings of poisonous creatures, nor the claws of wild beasts, nor 
the talons of birds of prey. 

His bones are weak, his muscles are soft, and yet he seizes objects firmly. 

He is without the passions of sex, yet there is creative power within him. This 
comes from the perfection of the life-force. 

The new-born will cry all day without losing his voice; this comes from the 
perfection of harmony in his powers. 

To know harmony is to be firmly established. 

To be firmly established is to be enlightened. 

To extend his life outward is calamity. 



36 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

When the impulse of vital energy springs from the heart, this is called strength. 
When beings have thus reached their full growth, they begin to grow old. 
This is what is called failure to follow the Way. 
He who follows not the Way, soon perishes. 

Lao Tse is here speaking of the birth of the spiritual man, of whom it is said : 
" Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God ; except a man 
be born of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God." 
The stinging, poisonous creature from whom the spiritual man is set free, is the 
snake of the lower self; the wild beasts are the passions; the birds of prey are 
the harpies of evil desires. 

It is a quaint simile, the new-born child crying all day with unwearied voice; 
the thought appears to be the power of the spiritual man to "toil terribly," 
with spiritual second wind. 

To be firmly established is to be, enlightened: "He who is perfected in devo- 
tion finds wisdom springing up within him." Then comes the contrast, where 
all the vital impulses go outward after sensual aims, and the heart is filled with 
impetuous desires. On the heels of that strength come decay and death. 

56. The man who knows the Way speaks not; he who speaks knows it not. 
He closes his lips, he shuts his ears and eyes, he controls his activity, he frees 

himself from all bonds, he tempers his light, he seems as one of the multitude. 
He may be said to be like the Way. 

He is untouched by favour as by disgrace, by loss as by gain, by honour as by 
dishonour. 

This is why he is the most honourable man under heaven. 

The commentator says that the Saint keeps himself in calm and silence. He 
restrains the intemperance of the tongue. He pays no heed to the things which 
may flatter the ears and eyes. He concentrates inwardly his power of seeing 
and hearing. 

He tempers his light; he brings light, but without dazzling anyone, giving 
to each the light he can receive. As he has few desires, the commentator adds, 
and few private interests, he cannot be rewarded ; as he possesses the fullness 
of righteousness, he cannot be harmed; as he desires neither the favour of 
princes nor glory, he cannot be honoured ; as he shrinks not from lowliness and 
abjection, he cannot be abased. This is the character of perfect righteousness; 
therefore he is the most honourable man under heaven. 

Or, as an English poet has said of one who was thus perfected in righteous- 
ness, he was "the first true gentleman that ever breathed." 

57. With rectitude he governs the realm; with strategy he makes war; with 
detachment in action he becomes master of the kingdom. 

How do I know that it is thus with the kingdom? By this: 
The more the ruler multiplies interdictions and restrictions, the poorer become 
the people; 



TAO-TEH-KING 37 

The more the people seek means of wealth, the more the realm is disturbed; 

The more the people gain of craft and subtlety, the more fantastic possessions are 
multiplied; 

The more the laws are complicated, the more robbers increase. 

Therefore the Saint says: I practise detachment in action, and the people are 
converted spontaneously. 

I love quietude, and the people become righteous of their own accord. 

I do not busy myself, and the people spontaneously grow rich. 

I free myself from desires, and the people of themselves return to simplicity. 

The present commentator is inclined to think that I,,ao Tse has in mind a 
contrast between two methods of religious training: on the one hand, such a sys- 
tem of multiplied commands and restrictions as that of the Pharisees; on the 
other, such an Order as that instituted by the Buddha, with renunciation of all 
possessions and all worldly activities, in order to secure inwardness and quietude 
of heart. There may be a reconciliation of the two which, with complete 
detachment and devotion, combines an ordered discipline of all the powers, 
and it would seem certain that, on the inner side of his Order, the Buddha 
perfected such a discipline. 

58. When the government does not scrutinize too closely, the people become rich. 

When the government is inquisitorial, the people lack all things. 

Happiness is born from misfortune; misfortune is hidden in the heart of happi- 
ness. Who can foresee the outcome? 

If the prince be not upright, upright men become deceitful, and righteous men 
perverse. 

Men are plunged in errors, and this has already lasted long. 

This is why the Saint is just, and injures not. 

He is disinterested and harms not. 

He is upright and does not chastise. 

He is enlightened and does not dazzle. 

The Chinese commentators are inclined to take this and the preceding, as 
well as the two following sections as aphorisms of practical politics, in the gen- 
eral sense of "less government in business," and modern students of excessive 
government intervention may find much to agree with in this view. 

But it seems to the present commentator that Lao Tse, while he may have 
been considering and criticizing the interfering and meticulous princes of his 
time, had also in mind something deeper; some such contrast as that between 
the legalistic Brahmans and the simplicity of the Buddha, or what Paul had in 
mind when he set faith against the works of the law. 

The Chinese commentators go deeper when they take up the sentence: 
Happiness is born of misfortune. One of them declares that, when a man has 
fallen into some calamity, if he be able to repent of his faults, diligently to ex- 
amine himself, and to be ceaselessly vigilant, he changes his misfortune into 
happiness. But when, on the contrary, a man sees all his desires fulfilled, if 



38 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

he grow haughty, abandoning himself to his passions without thinking of 
returning to righteousness, a host of misfortunes will descend upon him. 

The same commentator, considering later sentences in this section, says that 
it is not only since yesterday that men are blind, abandoning rectitude. This 
blindness comes on insensibly ;*their misfortune is, that they are unconscious of 
it. This is why the Saint is careful of even the least things; he is always fearful 
that the people may come to destruction. Unjust and greedy men become 
just and disinterested under the influence of the Saint's example, so that he has 
no need to punish them. 

There is much in this part of Lao Tse's work that suggests the sentences: 
"He shall not strive, nor cry; neither shall any man hear his voice in the streets. 
A bruised reed shall he not break, and smoking flax shall he not quench, till he 
send forth judgment unto victory." 

59. To govern men and serve Heaven, nothing can be compared to moderation. 

Moderation should be the first care of man. 

When it has become his first care, it may be said that he is storing up righteousness 
abundantly. 

When he stores up righteousness abundantly, there is nothing that he does not 
overcome. 

When there is nothing that he does not overcome, no one knows his limits. 

When no one knows his limits, he is able to possess the kingdom. 

He who possesses the Mother of the kingdom maintains himself long. 

This is to be deeply rooted, and to have a well set stem. 

This is the way of long life and an existence that endures. 

The Chinese commentators suppose that by moderation Lao Tse here means 
a wise governance both of outward possessions and of the inner powers of one's 
nature. One of them holds that the sovereign virtue, which is the Mother of 
the kingdom, is indeed the spirit and method of the Way. He who conforms 
himself to the spirit of the Way, the divine light that shines from above, both 
governs men and serves heaven. 

Beginning to follow the Way, making the profound obeisance of the soul to 
the dim star that burns within, in the fullness of time he is able to possess the 
kingdom; rooted in the Eternal, he is conformed to the life of the Eternal and 
inherits eternal life. 

CJ. 

(To be continued) 



To think evil is very much the same as doing it. ARISTOPHANES. 



LOUIS CLAUDE DE SAINT=MARTIN 



"THE UNKNOWN PHILOSOPHER" 

IT has been said that the office of a mystic is to penetrate to the bottom of 
mystery, and, leading mysticism captive, to open to our view and under- 
standing the fundamental laws controlling all things in the universe, and 
to show the connection of these laws with their directing force, which is God. 
Truly has this been said; through the centuries the method of expression only 
has varied as the individual has varied. Sometimes this expression has been 
in terms of an intricate philosophy, with its most vital truths carefully concealed 
from any but the most persistent and determined search ; sometimes it has been 
in terms of inner spiritual experience gained through the most complete sacrifice 
and renunciation, as in the lives of the great Saints. Sometimes, too, it has 
come, not through any system of philosophy alone, nor restricted by the mould 
of any one creed or church, but through the fervour of some great spirit, far 
removed from the seclusion and quiet of the contemplative life, working almost 
alone in the strife and turmoil of the world; toiling untiringly with the im- 
pelling, overmastering purpose that light might shine in the darkness even 
although the darkness comprehended it not; working ceaselessly to bear wit- 
ness of that Light which is life itself and the light of men; expressing itself in 
terms of philosophy, but reaching the heart of each one who would give heed 
through a fire of devotion, through a life of conscious discipleship. 

A great mystic, who was consciously a disciple: such was Louis Claude de 
Saint-Martin. He wrote most often under the pseudonym of "The Unknown 
Philosopher," partly, no doubt, because of restrictions imposed by the occult 
societies with which he was early affiliated, partly because of the dangers of the 
time, for he lived in the period of the French Revolution, and belonged, through 
his high social position, to the proscribed classes. Born at Amboise, in Tou- 
raine, in 1743, he was the son of noble parents, and was brought up in the Cath- 
olic Church, "devotion to God and the love of men being impressed ineffaceably 
on his mind." 1 At an early age he was sent to the College of Pontlevoi, where he 
happened upon a book on Self -Knowledge by Abadie, which appears to have 
made a most profound impression upon him. From Pontlevoi he went to 
Orleans for the study, of law, which his parents wished him to make his life's 
work. Later he became King's Advocate at the High Court of Tours. Al- 

1 The quotations in this article, as well as the facts in regard to the external life of Saint-Martin, are from the 
following works: 

The Life of Louis Claude de Saint-Martin, by Arthur Edward Waite, London; Philip Wellby, 1901. 

Man: His True Nature and Ministry, translated from the French of Louis Claude de Saint-Martin by Edward 
Burton Penny, London; William Allan and Co., 1864. 

Selections from the Correspondence between Louis Claude de Saint-Martin and Kirchberger, Baron de Liebistorf, 
translated from the original by E. B. Penny, London; Hamilton Adams and Co., 1863. 

It is interesting to note that in the Preface to this latter work Penny repeatedly makes use of the word "theos- 
ophy." 

39 



40 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

though, through the friendship for his family of the Due de Choiseul, his pros- 
pects were most brilliant, Saint-Martin soon experienced a profound distaste 
for the technicalities of the law, and was able to obtain through this same power- 
ful protector a commission as lieutenant in a regiment stationed at Bordeaux. 
The military profession in peace-time afforded him ample opportunity and lei- 
sure for the prosecution of his studies in religion and philosophy, for although 
at that time he was not yet twenty-four years of age, he had read deeply; "he 
had been dazzled by the brilliance of Voltaire, he had been fascinated by the 
natural magician of Geneva, but he had been misled by neither." 

There came to Bordeaux in the year 1767 Don Martines de Pasqually de la 
Tour, originally probably a Spaniard, also called Martinez de Pasquales, "an 
initiate of the Rose Cross, a transfigured disciple of Swedenborg, and the propa- 
gator and Grand Sovereign of a rite of Masonic Illuminism which probably was 
of his own foundation, namely, the Order of the Elect Cohens," or High Priests. 
The early history of Pasquales has remained shrouded in mystery. At the time 
when Saint-Martin came under this influence the Order, apparently an out- 
growth of a centre of Illuminism which Pasquales had established earlier, prob- 
ably about 1754, in Paris, was engaged in the study of occult science and of the 
principles of an occult philosophy, the ultimate secrets of which Pasquales does 
not appear to have divulged. Although destined later on to go far beyond the 
teachings of the Elect Cohens, Saint-Martin for several years laboured unceas- 
ingly in the various cities of France in disseminating, w r ithin certain definite 
limits prescribed by Pasquales, the doctrines of the Order, unquestionably even 
then imbued with that sense of an inspired mission which became more sure and 
definite in his later life. But in 1772 Martinez de Pasquales was called to the 
island of St. Domingo, from which he never returned, and the various branches 
of this mystic Order sustained by his death, which followed soon after his 
departure, a very definite check to their further growth and development. 

In 1774, the year of the death of Pasquales, Saint-Martin was writing at 
Lyons his first book, Des Erreurs et de la Verite. He spent much time in Paris 
where, by virtue of his birth and education and of his distinction and polished 
manners, he mingled in the highest circles of aristocratic French society; "he 
loved mankind, as being better than they seemed to be, and the charm of good 
society led him to think what social meetings might become, in a more perfect 
intimacy with our Principle." Always there was the thought of his purpose, 
his mission, that it was for him to give to others of this fervent religion which 
was his real life; "he had nothing of his own while he had anything to give, and 
he was overpaid in happiness for all that he gave. . . . He did not seek to 
make proselytes; he wanted only friends for disciples friends, not of his 
books only, but of each other." He gave, then, by this personal contact and 
intercourse, and by his books; but gradually he came to realize that his mission 
was to be accomplished by his writings, rather than by his influence, in a society 
that was already rocking on its very foundations. "There is no need to say 
that it was a time of disillusion and unbelief, of expectancy which had at least 
a touch of awe, for the Revolution was already at hand, and so also it was a 



LOUIS CLAUDE DE SAINT-MARTIN 41 

time of wonder-seeking, of portents, and prophets, and marvels. ... It was 
the worst of all times for the message of true mysticism to be heard with much 
effect, but there were yet many persons, anxious, willing, and sincere up to a 
certain point, if not wholly capable, who turned readily enough towards Louis 
Claude de Saint-Martin." 

In 1778 he published his Natural Table of the Correspondences between God, 
Man, and the Universe, which was written at Paris and Luxembourg. After 
the publication of this work, a period in his life ensues about which little is 
definitely known; it is probable that during this period he lived in Paris and 
Lyons, and that he made a journey to Russia. In 1787 he was in London, 
where his intimate relations with the French Embassy insured his reception in 
the highest circles. It was during this visit that he came to know William Law. 
The following year finds him travelling in Italy, always with the same mission 
and motive, "where again the most distinguished names, cardinals, princes, 
bishops, figure in his memorial notes." From 1788 for three years he resided 
at Strasbourg, mingling always in the same aristocratic circles, and it was there 
that he, for the first time, made acquaintance with the writings of Jacob 
Boehme, whose influence was so profound upon all his subsequent thought and 
feeling, and to whom he himself stated he owed his most important progress. 
During this period he completed UHomme de Desir, as well as UHomme 
Nouveau, the latter having been written at the suggestion of the Chevalier de 
Silferhielm, a nephew of Swedenborg. In 1791, owing to the ill health of his 
father, he returned to Amboise, "and from that time till the death of the latter 
in February, 1793" (the King was executed in January, 1793), "he was either 
there or at Paris, where he witnessed the terrors of the loth of August, 1792. 
4 The streets near the house I was in were a field of battle ; the house itself ' 
probably the palace of the Duchesse de Bourbon ' was a hospital where the 
wounded were brought, and, moreover, was every moment threatened with in- 
vasion and pillage. In the midst of all this I had to go, at the risk of my life, 
to take care of my sister, half a league from my dwelling.' So he writes in the 
most memorable, the most beautiful, the most fascinating of all theosophic cor- 
respondences, which was begun on the 22nd of May, 1792, and continued for 
five years, between himself and the Swiss Baron Kirchberger de Liebistorf." 

From the end of the Revolution until his death in 1803, Saint-Martin spent 
his time between Paris and Amboise. He was chosen a member of the electoral 
assembly from the latter place, and it is probable that his duties in this connec- 
tion turned his mind to the political aspects of his philosophical system, and 
were the inspiration of those later and lesser-known writings of his along political 
lines. In 1798 the Spanish Inquisition placed on the Index his first work, and 
this, because of the strong ties which had bound him to the Church in his early 
life, appears to have affected him deeply. It has been said that he was con- 
scious considerably in advance that the end of his life was near, and this fact 
inspired him to fresh effort, for he published in the three years preceding his 
death, L' Esprit des Choses,and that work which was the crown of his lifeand of all 
his literary effort, Le Ministere de 1'Homme-Esprit. His work was then done, and 



42 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

the end came soon after. " I feel that I am going," he said. " Providence calls 
me; I am ready. The germs which I have endeavoured to sow will fructify." 

One of Saint-Martin's commentators says truly, "When Saint-Martin was 
led into the true light of theosophy and the Gospel, he then perceived the dim 
twilight or practical blindness of all his former conceptions of the means or 
media of spiritual renovation." This vision first took the form of revulsion 
from the psychic practices of the school of Pasquales; "what can I learn from 
them (spirits)," said Saint-Martin, "which the scriptures have not already told 
me, and mysteries which I ought not to know?" And in regard to communica- 
tions with the souls of the departed, he says, in a letter to Baron Kirchberger 
from Amboise, written much later on from a greater wealth of spiritual experi- 
ence, ". . . I think you will find all you want, about intercourse. . . . Add 
to this what I told you of the relations of the living; add again this remark, that 
while we look for them in the sensible (psychic) principles in which they no 
longer are, they seek us in the spiritual and divine principle in which we are not 
yet. Finally add to all this what Jesus Christ said : 'Who are my brothers, my 
mother, etc?' 'It is they who do the will of my Father, etc.' And we shall 
here learn where to seek for those we love." His final emancipation from all 
his earlier psychic trammels, his complete surrender to the devotional side of 
true religion, finds its expression in the following words, which might well serve 
as a concentrated statement of a devotion to the doctrine of the Sacred Heart: 
"The only initiation which I preach and seek with'all the ardour of my soul, is 
that by which we may enter into the heart of God, and make God's heart enter 
into us, there to form an indissoluble marriage, which will make us the friend, 
brother, and spouse of our divine Redeemer." 

More and more, as Saint-Martin turned away from the illusions of the psychic 
world, did he become acutely conscious of that unseen world of the real, of the 
spirit, that lies within and all around us, visible to the eyes that have the power 
of vision. He says: "It is much easier to attain to the light and certainty 
which shine in the world in which we are not, than to naturalize ourselves with 
the shadows and darkness which envelop the world we are in; in short, since it 
must be said, we are much nearer to what we call the other world than we are to 
this. It will not even be very difficult to acknowledge that, to call the other 
world the world in which we are not, is an abuse, and that this world is the other 
world to us." In the light of this seeing, and of this spirit of devotion, the cir- 
cumstances and surroundings of every day, the duties and responsibilities and 
cares of the station in life in which Spiritual Law has placed us, their spiritual 
interrelation and significance, are thrown into clear perspective. "Even the 
obstacles and dangers we meet with in our work, and which become our crosses 
when we recede from them, are steps and means of rising when we surmount 
them; W 7 isdom, in exposing us to them, meant that we should triumph." And, 
again, "The man who is called to the W T ork has no need to remove from his 
place; the disease and the remedy are everywhere, and he has nothing to do but 
cry 'Abba!' It is not an earthly, but a spiritual change of place, that can serve 
us." 



LOUIS CLAUDE DE SAINT-MARTIN 43 

A spiritual transfer of consciousness, then, a change of polarity from this 
world of shadows and illusions to the world of the real, in order that the Work 
may be accomplished, and by this Work Saint-Martin means, as all mystics 
and alchemists through the ages have meant, the birth and development of that 
Spiritual Man of which St. Paul so often speaks. How is this transfer of con- 
sciousness to be consciously effected, for, as he says, "the only difference be- 
tween men is, that some are in the other world, knowing it, and the others are 
there without knowing it"? Very like the words in Light on the Path, that 
before the ear can hear it must have lost its sensitiveness, are the words which 
Saint-Martin uses to point out the Way. "Listen very attentively to this 
word sorrow when it speaks within you ; listen to it as the first helping voice 
that can make itself heard in the wilderness. ... In fact, the Word is learnt 
only in the silence of everything in this world; there only is it to be heard." 
But we must "kill out" desire as well, in order that aspiration and accomplish- 
ment may reign supreme; the lower nature must be met and conquered, in order 
that the divine power may work in and through us to overcome the forces of 
darkness. "O man of aspiration, whatever you have allowed to coagulate and 
darken within you, must be dissolved and revealed to the eyes of your spirit. 
As long as you can see a stain there, or the smallest thing remains to obstruct 
your view, take no rest till you have dispersed it. The more you penetrate to 
the depths of your being, the better you will know the ground on which the 
work rests. ... It is not surprising that it should be necessary for this living, 
active power to come into us to fit us to do its work. Those who know the real 
state of things are sensible that we must be alive and strong to do this work, 
or for it to be done in us, for evil is no mere fable, it is a power." 

Saint-Martin saw this as a continuing task, not necessarily to be completed in 
one lifetime. He does not write of this continuity of spiritual effort and of 
spiritual existence in terms of Theosophy, in terms of Reincarnation and of 
Karma, but the theosophic truth is there. Of death he says, " Death should be 
regarded only as a relay in our journey; we reach it with exhausted horses, 
and we pause to get fresh ones to carry us farther. But we must also pay what 
is due for the stage already travelled, and until the account is settled, we are 
not allowed to go forward." And again, "Death is the target at which all men 
strike; but the angle of incidence being equal to the angle of reflection, they find 
themselves after death in their former degree, whether above or below." 

When the Spiritual Man is thus awakened, when aspiration has grown and 
crystallized into intention and effort, what are the means by which the Work is 
furthered and by which the Divine power is enabled to work in and through us, 
how do we know the steps that we must take along the way? "Ask, and ye 
shall receive. Seek, and ye shall find." Saint-Martin says: "I can vouch 
that our uncertainty as to the Will of God, in regard to ourselves, vanishes 
gradually, in proportion as we seek that will, and desire it with all our faculties, 
and regulate all our acts and conduct to that end. . . . Our own wills accom- 
plish nothing without their being, as it were, injected by the Divine Will, which 
is the only will to good, with power to produce it." We know this Divine will 



44 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

for us in all simplicity, through faith, through prayer and communion: " Every 
formula is detrimental to faith, whilst faith, on the contrary, would wish to take 
the place of all formulas. This kind of faith is the ultimate end of all law; and, 
consequently, the only thing which our divine Master laboured to preach and 
inculcate in the heart of man, because He well knew that, by inculcating this 
virtue, He inculcated all others. . . . Prayer ought to be a continual spiritual 
partnership; for we ought to pray only with God, and our prayer does not 
deserve even the name, but in so far as God prays in us, for only thus do they 
pray in God's Kingdom." 

Again we find in Saint-Martin's words a parallel with St. Paul, in the ex- 
pressed conviction that there is a natural body and there is a spiritual body ; 
that the first man is of the earth, earthy; that the second man is the Lord from 
heaven. He says, in speaking of comparative anatomy: "They would do 
better to compare our superior body, which is not animal, with our own animal 
body, if they would have our veritable comparative anatomy; because it is not 
enough to observe things in their similitudes, it is essential to observe them also 
in their differences." With this deeper conviction of the nature of the Spiritual 
Man, of ever greater and greater things to be spiritually discerned, there came 
the conviction as well of a greater Work following, in the nature of things, upon 
this inner awakening and development, a consciousness of a still more glori- 
ous ministration of the Spiritual Man; the vision of a hierarchy of Workmen 
consciously serving the higher powers, of a spiritual brotherhood drawn closely 
together in ways unseen, serving all mankind as a living, vital force, rendering 
obedience and devotion to the Master who is their leader. He says, "If Man 
has the power to be the workman and handicraftsman of earthly productions, 
why should he not be the same of a superior order? . . . But if ... good, 
pious, and even enlightened men, cause joy to the Father of the family, by seek- 
ing to be admitted amongst his children, they would cause him still more, by 
seeking to be admitted amongst his workmen, or servants: for these may render 
real service to him ; the others render it only to themselves. . . . And when 
God admits a man to the first rank in the Spiritual Ministry of Man, it is to 
transform him into a living, penetrating agent, whose action shall be universal 
and permanent; God's ways are not thus made manifest for trifling or transient 
objects. Therefore, the whole universe should be as nothing in value in our 
eyes, compared with such an election, if we were happy enough for it to be 
offered to us; since we then might work successfully for the relief of the human 
Soul. . . . Why should not I aspire to the honour of serving in thy Army, 
and devote every member of my Soul to the fortune of battle, that I may par- 
ticipate in the life which is in thee, the First and the Prince of the Warriors of 
the Spirit?" 

We thrill at the splendour of this vision, at this militant cry of the soul; our 
hearts burn within us in the realization of the underlying purpose and motive. 
Here was no laying hold of the Kingdom of Heaven for growth in personal stat- 
ure and personal holiness; the purpose was, to give. Through this cry there 
rings the consciousness of an instant and pressing necessity; of the world's great 



LOUIS CLAUDE DE SAINT-MARTIN 45 

burden of sin; of the infinite need of mankind, ceaselessly existing, for the wis- 
dom of God and the power and love of God. For Saint-Martin time and place 
were transcended and transmuted, and there came to him a vision of the con- 
tinuity of spiritual life and of spiritual effort in the universe, of the brotherhood 
of man and of our mutual interdependence. His heart went out in pity and in 
love to all those in darkness and in shadow, unknown and unknowing; to all 
mankind, past, present and to come; he asks incessantly for those things of the 
real and infinite world in which we have been born, that he might the more truly 
give, that through him these things might in some measure descend upon all. 
A great Christian mystic, Louis Claude de Saint-Martin, on fire with love 
and devotion to his Master and Lord, labouring ceaselessly that not only his 
own day and generation, but also that souls in years to come, might know that 
those things which come to pass in the Kingdom of God may come to pass also 
in us. But something more than a great Christian mystic, for although he 
wrote so often in terms of the religion of Christ and in words that the great 
Saints of the Church might themselves have used, there shines through and 
between and behind the words themselves the light of a higher vision, of a 
deeper and wider understanding nay, of a surer knowledge than is often 
vouchsafed to those who are hemmed in by the restrictions, by the dogma of any 
one religion or creed. It is the Light of Divine Wisdom, kindled in the heart 
of a true disciple by the great Elder Brothers; the light of Truth itself, ever the 
same and unchanging, than which no religion is higher, that irradiates his 
thought and its expression. Unquestionably conscious of this Light, con- 
sciously using it as a representative of the Lodge in furthering their Work, of 
which he so constantly speaks, it is difficult to doubt that Saint-Martin was, 
too, in conscious relationship with those great Companions, under their guid- 
ance and direction ; it were difficult otherwise to account for some of the things 
which he says, still more difficult to explain some of the things which he does not 
say. A great Theosophist as well as a great mystic, but, above all, a great soul, 
who laboured for the Masters of Light in the holy land of France, where mighty 
works have been done in their name; who had worked for them before, perhaps; 
who will work for them again. 

STUART DUDLEY. 



Courage is always accompanied with clear insight and a keen sense of our own 
nothingness. xx. 



A VEDIC MASTER 

PRASHNA UPANISHAD 



TRANSLATED FROM THE SANSKRIT WITH AN INTERPRETATION 

I 

PRASHNA UPANISHAD, "the Mystical Teaching of the Questions," 
brief though it be, is a masterly summary of the Secret Wisdom. It 
illustrates two fundamental principles in the method of the Eastern 
Schools: first, that the seekers for wisdom must be tried and tested by a pro- 
tracted period of probation, during which they must show that they possess 
real aspiration, selfless devotion and moral purity; second, that the disciple is 
taught in response to his own questions. He must have worked out the ques- 
tion for himself, and it must be a real question, before he is given the answer. 

The six questions here asked and answered are not taken at random. They 
begin with the universal, and proceed gradually to the particular, so that both 
macrocosm and microcosm are covered. And, without pressing the likeness 
too far, we may see, in this group of six disciples under their Master, a symbol 
of the six principles of man's complex nature, synthesized by the seventh, 
Atma, the Divine Self. 

Sukeshan son of Bharadvaja, Satyakama son of Shiva, Gargya grandson of 
Surya, Kaushalya son of Ashvala, Bhargava of Vidarbha, Kabandhin son of 
Katya: these, verily, devoted to the Eternal, set firm in the Eternal, seeking after 
the supreme Eternal, drew near to the Master Pippalada, with kindling-wood in 
their hands, saying, He will declare it all. 

To them, verily, the Seer said, Dwell together with me for a year more, with fervour, 
service of the Eternal and faith; then ask questions according to your desire. If 
we know, we shall declare everything to you. 

And so Kabandhin son of Katya approaching asked: 

Master, whence, verily do these beings come forth in birth? 

To him he said: 

The Lord of beings was desirous of offspring. He brooded with fervour. Brood- 
ing with fervour, he produces a pair, Matter and Life. These two will make beings 
manifold for me, said he. 

The sun, verily, is Life, and Matter, the moon; Matter, verily, is everything here, 
the formed and the unformed; therefore form, verily, is Matter. 

And so the sun, rising, enters the eastern space; thereby it gathers up the eastern 
lives among its rays. As it illumines the southern, the western, the northern, the 
lower, the upper, the intermediate spaces, as it illumines all, thereby it gathers up 
all the lives among its rays. 

Thus, verily, the Fire-lord, the universal, all-formed Life arises. 
46 



A VEDIC MASTER 47 

// is this that is declared in the Vedic verse: 

The all-formed, the golden, the all-knowing, 
The final goal, the one light, fervent. 
Thousand-rayed, hundredfold turning, 
The Life of beings, rises this sun. 

The circling year, verily, is a Lord of beings. Of it there are two courses, the 
southern and the northern. Therefore they who worship, saying, "Offerings and 
rewards are our work!" win for themselves the lunar world. They, verily, return 
again. Therefore those seers who desire offspring follow the southern course. 
Matter, verily, is this Path of the Fathers. 

And so by the northern, by fervour, by service of the Eternal, by faith, by wisdom 
seeking the Divine Self, they win the sun. This is the home of lives, this is the 
immortal, the fearless, this is the higher way; from this, they return not again. 
This is the resting place. And so there is this verse: 

The five-footed father, twelve-faced, they declare, 
In the upper half of heaven, a giver of sustenance. 
But these others call him the far-shining one in the upper heaven, 
Set in a seven-wheeled chariot of six spokes. 

The month, verily, is a Lord of beings. Its dark half is Matter, and the bright, 
Life. Therefore these seers offer sacrifice in the bright half, but the others, in the 
other. 

Day and night, verily, is a Lord of beings. Of this, verily, day is Life, and 
night is Matter. They waste their life who find love in the outward, but service 
of the Eternal finds love in the hidden. 

Food, verily, is a Lord of beings. From it, verily, is the seed of life, from which 
these beings are born forth. Therefore they who fulfil the vow of the Lord of beings, 
produce a pair. 

Theirs, verily is the world of the Eternal, 
Whose are fervour and service of the Eternal, 
In whom truth is set firm. 

Theirs is the stainless world of the Eternal; not theirs, in whom are crookedness, 
untruth, or glamour. 

The answer of the Master Pippalada begins with the First Logos: the triune 
Being, manifested threefold, as the Lord of beings, the Life, and Matter, or 
primordial substance. The general tendency of the whole answer is, by apply- 
ing the law of correspondence, to show that this threefold division is found 
throughout the whole of the manifested worlds, here represented by the sun 
and moon, the circling year, day and night, food. The unfolding of the 
whole cosmic process is implied. 

The cosmic process is first illustrated by the visible sun and moon, the sun 
shining by its own light, the moon reflecting that light; the two thus symboliz- 
ing Spirit and Matter. 

But every phrase should be carefully thought out; every epithet is full of 
meaning. For example, the sevenfold division of the spaces, east, south, west, 



48 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

north, lower, upper, intermediate, corresponds to every sevenfold system, 
such as the Sevenfold Heavenly Host, the seven globes, the seven races. It 
may be said that the globes or the races develop in succession as the life-power of 
the Logos enters them and penetrates them with its rays. The Vedic verse, 
on the surface a description of the visible sun, is likewise a parable of the 
spiritual sun, the Logos. 

What is said of the circling year has also its deeper meaning. It refers to 
the two ways, Liberation and Reincarnation; also called the Path of the sun 
and the Path of the moon, or the Path of the Gods and the Path of the 
Fathers. 

And there is here also an allusion to the fundamental division in the spiritual 
history of India: on the one side, the Mystery teaching of the Rajputs; on the 
other, the sacrificial system and priestcraft of the Brahman hierarchy, who 
say, "Offerings and rewards are our work!" As against this sacrificial system, 
the Rajput sages taught "fervour, service of the Eternal, faith, wisdom, the 
seeking of the Divine Self." This is the way of the Gods, of the sun, of Lib- 
eration; those who go that way return not again. They are not constrained by 
Karma to fall again into rebirth. 

In later ages, Krishna and Siddhartha the Buddha taught this way of the 
sun; both were Rajputs and not Brahmans; both pointed out the way of 
Liberation. 

The five-footed father is the year divided into five seasons: the cold season, 
the hot season, the lesser rains, the greater rains, the period after the rains. 
The twelve faces are the twelve months. The seven-wheeled chariot is the 
sevenfold body of the sun: the visible sun with its higher principles. The 
wheel with six spokes set in the nave is a symbol of every system of six prin- 
ciples synthesized by the seventh. 

The contrasted halves of the year, and of the months, are elsewhere used in 
the Upanishads to symbolize the positive and negative poles of a series of 
ascending planes; the soul which passes from the smoke of the funeral pyre, 
through the negative pole of plane after plane, is the soul following the way of 
reincarnation under the bondage of Karma. The soul which rises from the 
flame of the funeral pyre to the positive pole of each plane is the soul free from 
the bondage of Karma, following the path of Liberation. 

It is said that theirs is the world of the Eternal, whose are fervour and serv- 
ice of the Eternal. This latter also has the technical meaning of chastity, as 
opposed to the desire of offspring. The graces which lead to the Eternal are 
those already enumerated, as possessed by the six disciples who came to the 
Master Pippalada. They came, bringing kindling-wood in their hands: the 
readiness to be enkindled, to "take fire." 

And so Bhargava of Vidarbha asked him: 

Master, how many bright powers uphold a being? How many cause this to 
shine forth? Which of them is the chief est? 
To him he said: 



A VEDIC MASTER 49 

Radiant ether is a bright power, air, fire, water, earth; voice, mind, sight and 
hearing also. They, shining forth , declare, We uphold this frame, establishing it. 
To them the chiefest Life said: Fall not into delusion. I, verily, dividing 
myself fivefold, uphold this frame, establishing it. 

They were incredulous. He, from pride, ascends as it were above. As he de- 
parts upward, the lesser lives all, verily, depart; and as he returns, all, verily, return. 
Like as the bees all follow the honeymakers' king when he departs, and all return 
when he returns, so did voice, mind, sight and hearing. They, rejoicing, praise 
the Life: 

This burns as the Fire-lord, this is the sun, 

This is the Rain-lord, this the Wind-lord, 

This is the Earth, Matter, the bright one, 

Being, non-being and what is immortal. 

As the spokes in the nave of a wheel, 

In the Life all is established; 

Verses and formulas and chants, 

Sacrifice and weapon and prayer. 

As Lord of beings thou movest in the germ, 

Thou, verily, art born forth; 

To thee, Life, these beings bring the offering, 

Thou, who standest firm through the lives. 

Thou art chief bringer of offerings to the bright powers, 

Of the Fathers, thou art the first oblation; 

Thou art righteousness and truth of seers, 

Of the line of Atharvan and Angiras. 

Thou art Indra, Life, by thy radiance, 

Thou art Rudra the preserver; 

Thou movest in the sky as the sun, 

Thou art the Master of the stars. 

When thou descendest as rain, 

These thy beings, Life, 

Stand rejoicing, for they say, 

We shall have food according to our desire. 

Thou art the Exile, Life, the one Seer, 

Thou art the consumer, the good Lord of all; 

We are the givers of thy food, 

Thou art our Father, the great Breath. 

That form of thine which dwells in speech, 

That form of thine in hearing and sight, 

That which is spread forth in mind, 

Make it auspicious! Go not forth! 

All this is under Life's sway, 

Whatever is set firm in the three heavens; 

Guard us as a mother her sons, 

Grant us grace and understanding! 



The second question and answer carry us from the universal to the individual, 
to what we may call an enumeration of the Seven Principles. These are Atma, 
the Life, and the five elements: radiant ether, air, fire, water, earth; with the 
powers, both of perception and of action, which correspond to these, though 
not all the powers are enumerated. 

Then we have another version of the parable, translated in Kena Upanishad, 
where it is said that the Eternal won a victory for the Bright Powers, who ex- 
alted themselves in this victory, claiming it as their own. And, just as the 
Eternal there showed them its superiority and their dependence, so the Life 
here demonstrates its sovereignty over the lesser lives. These lesser lives, 
the lower principles, are but reflections and aspects of the spiritual Life. This 
is the fundamental reason why the personal self must in all things be subor- 
dinated to the Divine Self, each one of the personal powers being rendered 
obedient to that. 

In the hymn of praise sung by the powers, the One Life is recognized as the 
living and spiritual reality in all manifestations, whether of the celestial powers, 
or the spiritual forces which were held to dwell in the Rig Veda verses, the 
Yajur Veda formulas, the Sama Veda chants, and the seers of the line of Athar- 
van and Angiras, who, through these verses and chants, offered adoration and 
sought divine graces. 

This hymn is a spiritualization of the whole system of the Three Vedas ; or, 
perhaps, a recognition and revival of the spiritual life with which they were at 
first endowed, and which later was obscured for those who handed them down. 

And so Kaushalya son of Ashvala asked him: 

Master, whence is this Life born? How does it come into this body? Or dividing 
itself, how is it established? Through what does it depart? How does it lay hold 
of what is outside? How is it with reference to the Self? 

To him he said: 

Many questions thou askest! Thou art bent on the Eternal, therefore I tell it to 
thee. 

From the Divine Self, verily, this Life is born. As the shadow extended beside 
a man, so is it with this. Through the power of mind it comes into this body. 

Like as a king, verily, enjoins his lords, saying, Rule over these villages and 
these villages! thus, verily, the Life disposes hither and thither the lesser lives: in 
the lower powers, the downward-life; in sight, in hearing, in the mouth and nostrils, 
as the forward-life it establishes itself; but in the midst, the binding-life, for this 
binds together the food which has been offered, and from this these seven flames 
arise. 

In the heart is the Self. Here are the hundred and one channels; from each of 
these, a hundred; from each of these, two and seventy thousand branch channels. 
In these, the distributing-life moves. 

And by one, the upward-life ascends; it leads through holiness to a holy world, 
through evil to an evil world, through both to the world of men. 

As the sun, verily, the Life rises outwardly, and it links itself with this forward- 



A VEDIC MASTER 51 

life in the power of sight; and the power that is in earth, supports the downward- 
life; what is between, the shining ether, is the binding-life; the wind is the distribut- 
ing-life. 

The radiance is the upward-life. Therefore, when his radiance has become 
quiescent, he goes to rebirth through the powers dwelling in mind. 

According to his thinking, he comes to life; his life being linked by the radiance 
with the Self, leads him to the world that he has moulded for himself. 

Whosoever, thus knowing, knows the Life, his offspring fails not; he becomes 
immortal. There is this verse: 

He who knows the origin, the entrance, the dwelling and the lordship of Life 
fivefold, he reaches the immortal; knowing this, he reaches the immortal. 

There is a touch of humour in the eager disciple who, permitted to ask his 
Master one question, straightway asks six; and there is charming urbanity in 
the Master who answers, because the disciple is bent on the Eternal. 

This third question, or group of questions, brings to a point what has been 
said concerning the Life. Whence comes this Life? Through what impulsion 
does it enter the body? The answer is, that the Life comes from the Divine 
Self. Or, to put it in phrases more familiar to some, Buddhi, which is the 
substance and source of the lower principles, is itself a manifestation of Atma. 
Nor could there be a finer and more beautiful expression of the relation of 
Buddhi to the lower principles than the parable of the king and his lords whom 
he set over these and these villages. 

We have next what may, perhaps, be described as the anatomy of the astral 
or magnetic body, in which the life-force circulates; with the five modes of the 
life-force and the properties of each. The hundred and one channels have 
already been spoken of in the story of Death and Nachiketas: "A hundred 
and one are the channels of the heart; of them, one rises to the crown." This 
upward-life carries the soul to the paradise between death and rebirth, through 
the power called "the radiance." When this radiance expands, the soul enjoys 
paradise. When the radiance has expended itself and grows quiescent, he 
returns again to birth, drawn by the impulses dwelling in mind, the mental- 
emotional nature; powers that have remained latent through the period of 
paradise. He enters a life moulded by his own thoughts and deeds; his Karma 
shapes his destiny. We have, therefore, though only in outline, the teaching 
of Karma and reincarnation, as a part of the teaching revealed by the Vedic 
Master to his six disciples. 

C. J. 
(To be continued) 



ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 



THE THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY," said our Visitor, as we sat in the 
garden at dusk, pretending there were no mosquitoes, "there seem 
to be several Theosophical Societies: which of them does the THEO- 
SOPHICAL QUARTERLY represent?" 

This was easy, so the Recorder volunteered an answer. "There is but one 
Theosophical Society entitled to the name," he said, "and that is The Theo- 
sophical Society which the QUARTERLY represents. In their respective ways, 
both the Adyar Society, of which Mrs. Annie Besant is the head, and the 
Point Loma Society, for which Mrs. Tingley is responsible, seriously and de- 
plorably misrepresent Theosophy and the purposes of the real Society. But 
properly to understand this, you would have to know about the past as well 
as about the performances of the present. I strongly advise you to read Pro- 
fessor Mitchell's pamphlet on the subject, The Theosophical Society and 
Theosophy, which is advertised for sale under "Standard Books" on the inside 
cover-page of the QUARTERLY. Every inquirer would find it interesting, and 
every student ought to familiarize himself thoroughly with its contents. 
There are several little societies, in addition to the two I have mentioned, 
which use the name 'theosophical,' but which have no connection with the 
parent Society founded in New York in 1875." 

We were a smaller group than usual. Someone asked for a friend and was 
told that he was absent on account of his sister's illness. "She is a devout 
Christian, a most saintly woman," the Philosopher remarked. "And I 
think her illness is due in part to that fact. It is not easy to explain. But 
hanging on the wall by her bedside is that splendid passage from MacLaren 
which runs to this effect: 'The one misery of man is self-will, the one secret 
of blessedness is the conquest over our own wills. To yield them up to God is 
rest and peace. What disturbs us in this world is not "trouble," but our 
opposition to trouble. The true source of all that frets and irritates, and wears 
away our lives, is not in external things, but in the resistance of our wills to the 
will of God expressed by external things.' 

"Nothing could be more sound or more true, but like every truth that can 
be uttered, there is a world of trouble in it! People who are devout, are far 
too much inclined, as a rule, to assume that illness is a cross which it is their 
duty to accept as an expression of God's will. Yet illness is a handicap. If 
there are letters to be answered, household or business duties to attend to, 
illness means that we have to drive ourselves to the point of exhaustion in 
order to get anything done. This, in turn, means that we are less well able to 
perform the same tasks to-morrow, and less well able to resist disease." 

"You do not agree with Zeno, then," the Student interjected. 

"Excuse me, but I do," replied the Philosopher. "Zeno declared that, 
unlike moral evils, illness is not an evil in itself. And I agree with him abso- 
52 



ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 53 

lutely. Illness may be a man's pathway to Heaven, and his only pathway. 
But you will remember that Zeno classed illness with poverty, saying that 
wealth and health on the one hand, and poverty and illness on the other, are 
neither good nor bad in themselves, but that everything depends upon the use 
we make of them. To be poor does not imply that it is our duty to remain 
poor. On the contrary, poverty may best serve its purpose if it galvanize a 
man into intense activity and the fixed determination to escape from it. And 
the same thing is true of illness, except that there is a far more positive and 
general obligation to escape from that, than to escape from poverty. Illness 
worries your friends, and at times may cloud your mind. In my opinion, it is 
just as much a duty to throw it off, as to throw off your clothing should that 
catch fire. You will not be able to throw it off as quickly, but intelligence and 
will should be set to the task, with absolute determination to succeed. If one 
remedy fail, another should be tried. We may be beaten, but we need not 
surrender: we can go down fighting. In other words, it is not the illness that 
is the 'cross'; it is the labour of combating it." 

" But how about an incurable disease, such as tuberculosis in its latest stages? " 
our Visitor asked. 

"While there is life there is hope," the Philosopher answered. "More 
battles have been lost for lack of final perseverance than for any other cause. 
Therapeutics is in its infancy. Forgotten remedies are being rediscovered 
daily. Just as physics is working with invisibles, etiology is becoming more 
and more inclined to seek for the cause of disease in what we should call the 
astral or psychic body. I am not a homeopathist; none the less, following 
Hahnemann, and Paracelsus before him, I suspect that the most orthodox 
practitioner of the future will prescribe odours of different kinds where now 
he would prescribe pills. ... But I am not arguing that all diseases are cur- 
able. My whole point is that God alone knows, and that we have no business 
to assume the possession of omniscience and to pronounce ourselves or others 
incurable, so long as the breath of life remains. And if this be true of acute 
diseases, it is even more true of what are known as 'chronic ailments.' The 
very word 'chronic' suggests ' habit' and there are mental as well as physical 
habits. As I have several chronic ailments at this moment, I ought to know 
what I am talking about!" 

We laughed. Then the Student became personal. "You are at that in- 
teresting age, my friend, when chronic ailments are almost certain to develop." 

But the Philosopher, in this case, proved himself a philosopher. "And what 
age would you call that?" he asked serenely. 

"Oh, anywhere between forty-five and sixty," the Student smiled at him. 

"The prime of life," countered the Philosopher. 

At this point our Antiquity, as we affectionately call him, interjected with a 
seriousness which impressed us: "A critical age, as dangerous, almost, as that 
of adolescence and young manhood. Read Through the Gates of Gold, and read 
between the lines, for one of its tendencies, which Michel Corday, among other 
French authors, has perceived so clearly that he has turned it into a fatality. 



54 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

But it has other tendencies, even more dangerous because more subtle. The 
desire, though deeply hidden, to renew youth by reverting to the sensations 
and stimulations of youth, if it be gratified, precipitates an end that corresponds 
with the last flare of a guttering candle. The danger in that case, however, is 
evident. A man's previous training in the control of his imagination, ought 
easily to save him. But it is far more difficult, at that age, to use the imagina- 
tion positively and creatively and in new channels, than simply to forbid its 
activities along lines we know to be wrong. Yet it is this new and constructive 
use of the imagination which alone can save a man, whose 'moon is waning,' 
from the consequences I have in mind. 

"The symptoms of those consequences are manifold. Different people are 
affected in different ways. Generally speaking, the trouble is loss of hope, 
boredom, or perhaps a turning of the heart from the pains of life. We have 
'had enough.' We are disillusioned. We begin to realize how infinitely little 
we can accomplish, either in ourselves or for others. We fail to realize how 
infinitely important that little is. Youth nearly always has an objective, which 
it sees as intensely worth while. Middle age often reaches a condition in which 
it has no objective, except the determination to do its duty to the end, and, 
as an objective, that spells defeat." 

"I don't feel a bit like that," the Philosopher exclaimed, jubilantly. 

"So much the better for you," our Antiquity replied. "In the nature of 
things, if a man were to feel like that all the way through himself, all of the 
time, he would die in short order. His liver, and in fact all his vital organs 
would cease to function! It does happen occasionally. But in most cases 
Karma comes to the rescue. The man has children who nearly worry him to 
death, and the lethargy of his liver is jostled by the irritations and anxieties 
provided by his environment. You laugh. I suppose that is because I have 
made his liver the scapegoat. But science is beginning to find in the change 
of the electrical polarity of the cell, the cause of cellular disintegration or in 
any case of cell disease ; and it is only one step from that to the discovery that 
an acid condition in the mind will affect the electrical balance and thus will 
produce an acid condition in the blood. 

"However, even worries and irritations will not save our friend from himself, 
for they entail a reaction in their turn, and sometimes extinguish the last spark 
of fight in him." 

" So it is 

" 'Fight one last greatest battle under shield, 

Wage that war well : 

Then seek thy fellows in the shadowy field 
Of asphodel. . . .' 

that you are coming to, is it?" the Philosopher inquired. 

"Not if you mean a fight between the human will and the will of nature," 
answered our Antiquity. "Very far from that. Part of the trouble is that 
at the age we are considering, a man feels that he must either fight or go under, 
when in fact it is not resistance that is needed, but co-operation." 



ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 55 

"Co-operation with what, may I ask?" said our Visitor, as the speaker 
paused, seeming to look at his own thought at a distance. 

"Co-operation with the soul, would be one way to express it. But let me 
illustrate my meaning. Take two partners in business. One is about thirty. 
He has immense vitality, which enables him to go through a day's hard work 
as if it were a game of base-ball. His idea of a 'rest' is to organize amateur 
theatricals, or a Boy Scout parade, or a lawn tennis tournament. Even when 
business is worrying, it is still a game, which he plays as he might play chess 
keen to win, but not greatly more so than if he had a nickel bet with his wife 
on the performance of the new bake-oven he had selected and purchased. He 
would work like a demon to win (to prove his wife a pessimist !) , but all in the 
spirit of a game. The other partner, let us suppose, is at what the Student 
called the ' interesting ' age of the Philosopher more than thirty in any 
case! He works hard, nearly always against the grain, uncomplainingly it is 
true, and occasionally with enjoyment, but for the most part from a strong 
sense of duty. He needs money, or those dependent upon him need money. 
So he works and works, with the same motive that actuated him last year and 
the year before that and the year before that. When he feels tired, he tells 
himself he is growing old, and, by an effort of will, sticks at it. He knows 
j ust the things that money can give him and others and he knows just 
the things that money cannot give him, and others. He knows, for one thing, 
that money cannot give him or anyone happiness, even though it can prevent 
certain minor kinds of unhappiness. Can you imagine his condition, as 
time passes? And then, can you transfer the picture from the sphere of 
business to the sphere of discipleship? Can you see what the older man 
needs to do?" 

If we had any suggestions in mind, none of us produced them. So our Antiq- 
uity proceeded to answer his own questions. 

"The older man," he said, "has been functioning on the same plane, has 
been using the same weapons, has been actuated by the same motives, for years. 
In his lower nature he craves novelty and in truth needs it though in all 
probability he recognizes neither the craving nor the need. His soul craves 
novelty too, though in an entirely different sense, because the new condition 
his soul craves can be brought about only by the transfer of motives to another 
and a higher plane, and by the use of new weapons which are powers of the 
soul as yet uncultivated in the personality. In some cases he must cultivate 
the positive side of virtues which in the past he has exercised only negatively." 

"That is absolutely beyond me," our Visitor protested, pleadingly. 

"I beg your pardon," our Antiquity murmured. "Let me try to explain. 
The passive aspect of virtues is their pralaya, which is the reason we make no 
progress with them when we take them in their passive form. For we then 
work against the law of their nature (that which is in pralaya cannot manifest), 
and we also work against the law of acquirement, which demands positiveness 
at every point. Endurance is an example. In itself it is a passive virtue, the 
negative aspect of courage. Yet endurance, in the nature of things, has its 



56 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

positive and negative sides. To acquire it, or to practice it, we must take its 
positive aspect." 

Once more we laughed, this time in sympathy for our Vistor, whose only 
comment was, "For pity's sake!" 

"Let me try," said the Student. "I think it may be easier to express in 
terms of our failings rather than in terms of virtue. But let us begin with a 
diagram." 

"Worse and worse," our Visitor sighed. 

"All right," assented the Student. "Let us postpone the diagram and begin 
with a straight line! At one end you have ordinary human shyness, which 
wants to hide self from observation, and which is due to extreme self-conscious- 
ness. At the other end, or pole, you have the self-consciousness which loves 
to be 'in the lime-light,' which longs to occupy the centre of the stage, which 
projects itself, and. a picture of itself as seen by others, into every event and 
decision. Clearly, as I see it, they are opposite poles of one and the same 
defect, no matter, for the moment, how we may define that defect. You may 
have noticed in family heredity, that a shy generation, representing the nega- 
tive side of the defect, often produces offspring the reverse of shy, and vice 
versa. Some children, anyhow, have a genius for picking out the most inno- 
cent qualities of their parents, and of deflecting these into aggressive faults! 
But the point I want to make is that while the positive side of a defect is more 
objectionable and is more of an obstacle than its negative side, the negative 
side of a virtue is almost indistinguishable from a positive fault. Charity 
which consists merely in not being unkind, means complete lack of charity in 
the true and positive sense. Our friend the Antiquity said that the passive 
aspect of virtues is their pralaya. This means that they are asleep, and 
charity which is asleep is about as useful as a gun without a cartridge." 

"I think I see what you are driving at," our Visitor conceded. "But what 
has this got to do with the middle-aged man?" 

"Everything," our Antiquity answered. "His condition primarily is due to 
negativeness. He may be immensely positive in some ways; he may be 
capable of aggression in the best sense and for the best purposes. But when- 
ever, deep in a man's heart, you find depression, discouragement, lack of hope, 
above all, lack of an objective which he is determined to attain and which he 
believes he can attain now, you may be sure that the fundamental cause is 
negativeness, and that he can make himself positive only by the right use of 
the imagination. He must create an objective if he has not got one. He must 
create new motives in place of those he has used. He must evoke from his 
own soul, and in that sense must create in his personality, the new powers or 
weapons, the right use of which represent the next step in his development. 
'Nothing is but thinking makes it so.' Reflection is a magical power which 
the middle-aged man (or woman) may use and ought to use to make a new 
creature of himself before the old creature dies for lack of youth and of youth's 
illusions." 

"Where do I come in?" inquired the Philosopher, ruefully. "I want to be 



ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 57 

told just where I am wrong and what I ought to do about it. The fault I find 
with your dissertation is that it has been far too general. Now I want you to 
be specific and to aim straight at me!" 

But our Antiquity knew better. "That is not my job," he said. "I leave 
that to my betters and to yours. The one suggestion I can make is that 
not only a man at your age, but every man, of any age, who is on the path of 
discipleship, ought at regular intervals most carefully to re-examine his method 
of prayer and of meditation, to see if it is sufficiently positive, sufficiently con- 
structive, and to determine also whether he has fallen into a habit, because, if 
so, he should change his method for a time, even if in other respects it should 
seem satisfactory. 

"I suppose you will still think me too general; but surely you must see that 
every case is different. It would be misleading in the extreme to attempt 
more than a statement of the principles involved. For one thing, many 
cases are complicated by the fact that through the blindness or sins of their 
youth, men, by the time they have reached middle age, often have missed their 
true vocation. If they had found and followed that, they would now be 
' healthy, wealthy and wise,' and happy into the bargain. As it is, the channels 
along which their life-forces were intended to flow^are blocked. Their outlets, 
so to speak, are stopped up. Their prana is thrown back upon itself. This 
causes congestion, and the negativeness of which I was speaking. In such 
eases, new channels have to be dug, which is no easy task. But it can be done, 
and the secret of success is to proceed on the theory that victory is assured." 

"But I thought you were speaking chiefly of discipleship," said our Visitor. 
"In what sense are you using the word 'vocation'? How can a disciple have 
missed his vocation?" 

"There are many ways in which discipleship can be expressed," our Antiq- 
uity answered. "You know, for one thing, the difference between the active 
and the contemplative life, and the possible combination of the two. But a 
disciple may be married or unmarried ; engaged in outer business or in what the 
world would call 'doing nothing'; may live near the centre of the Society's- 
work, or may live in a place where any work of that sort is impossible." 

"Our conversation has travelled a long way from its starting point," the 
Recorder ventured at this juncture. 

"All well brought-up conversations do," retorted the Student. 

"But occasionally they return home again," we persisted. 

"I should like to lead ours there," the Philosopher volunteered. "It was I 
who began the trouble by speaking of the illness of our absent friend's sister 
that devout and saintly Christian. Perhaps the heaviest part of her cross is 
that she can so rarely go to Church, for practically she is bed-ridden; and 
while she is sincerely interested in Theosophy, her Church comes first. She 
has missed discipleship for just that reason." 

"What on earth do you mean? " exclaimed our Visitor. "You have reasoned 
with me because I frankly proclaim myself a heathen and because I cannot 
endure Church services!" 



58 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

"Thereby hangs a tale," the Philosopher answered. "I happen to know 
that the Historian, with her brother's approval, wrote to her very frankly 
about the way she was standing in her own light, and that the only result was 
that she clung more closely to her Church and grew still more cool, as it were, 
toward Theosophy." 

"Perhaps that was due to the Historian's point-blank style," suggested the 
Student. 

" I think not. I think he just told her the truth as he saw it, and that, con- 
fronted with the truth, she clung to the form and reacted against the spirit. 
As a matter of fact I saw the Historian's letter, before it was sent to her, and 
can remember what he wrote. It was something like this: 

"You want, I believe, completely to serve the Master Christ with all the 
powers, whatever they are, that you possess. You know that there are certain 
barriers between yourself and Him, as there are barriers between every one of 
us and Him, so long as any elements of radical 'unlikeness' to Him remain in 
us. You know that such barriers may exist on all planes moral, intellectual 
and so forth. You know that likeness to Him is the key to the problem and 
the only way by which we can approach or serve Him, and you know that this 
'likeness' is not simply a question of moral likeness, but that necessarily it 
includes similarity of attitude toward such problems of life as we at least can 
see as problems. 

"For instance; neither you nor I could possibly interpret history as the 
Master interprets it. But our degree of blindness at that point would not lead 
us into the error of interpreting history as the result solely of economic forces. 
He sees far more deeply; but we can see how great a part is played by moral 
and spiritual factors, and that the evolution of nations must correspond to 
the evolution of souls. 

"Obviously, the difference between ourselves and the materialist, in this 
case, is vital. The attitude of the materialist would make him stone blind 
to the Master's purposes, and utterly unable, therefore, to serve the Master 
or to co-operate with His agents. 

"This means that in every respect we must try to see things and persons and 
events and organizations, as the Master sees them. We must use our imagina- 
tion; we must try, in all humility, 'to put ourselves in His place.' And do 
not say that this is too bold a thing to do, because, in the interpretation of 
history, you can do it and have in fact done it. 

"How, then, does the Master regard the different Churches? Let us admit 
at once that we do not know. Would His attitude be at all like that of the 
Gael, in the last 'Screen of Time'? Frankly, I do not think so. I can imagine 
a high chela reading that 'explosion' with considerable amusement, comment- 
ing, perhaps, that it is fortunate for the Gael that the Master's patience with 
him is so much greater than the Gael's with any of the Churches! But we 
can be sure of this: that the Master sees the different Churches as means, 
more or less good, more or less bad, as means to the Father's ends, and as one 
set of means among many, because He would see art and science and literature 



ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 59 

and politics, and the relations of races, not to speak of health and disease, of 
hunger and climate and a host of other things, as means which He can use to 
the same divine ends. 

"But what is the attitude of a disciple toward the Churches? Even here, we 
cannot afford to dogmatize, because the attitude would not be exactly alike in 
any two cases. In all cases, however, there would be great detachment (the 
opposite of indifference, by the way). A disciple would work through a Church 
for the Master. Except in unusual circumstances, he would work in and 
through the Church in which he was born, as part of his family Karma. But 
while necessarily he would receive inspiration and help from the Church of 
which he is a member, his primary motive would not be to receive, but to give. 
And he would be entirely independent, spiritually, of its ministrations. Even 
excommunication from its membership, while it would grieve him, would do 
so on account of the Church he had desired to serve, rather than for any reason 
personal to himself. 

"The more enlightened of the Christian saints have made this quite clear. 
St. John of the Cross, in the third Book of his Ascent of Mount Carmel, speaking 
of the 'right use of Churches and Oratories,' declares in effect that they should 
be used only as means to an end, and never as ends in themselves. People who 
cling to Churches, he says, are 'like children to whom, when we want to take 
anything from them which they hold in one hand, we give something to hold 
in the other, that they may not cry, having both hands empty.' 

"The saints of other religions have been still more explicit. No more hide- 
bound Church has ever existed than that of the Brahmins, yet Shankara 
Acharya, a Brahmin, dared to say openly that no man could become a disciple 
until he had acquired 'the condition of refusing to lean on external things,' 
the first and most elementary definition of which includes all ritual and Church 
observance. A disciple may practise ritual; he may observe the Law in the 
Jewish sense of the word : but he cannot be a disciple so long as he leans upon 
it or is in any way dependent upon its observance. The Law is for the mul- 
titude, which must lean upon something, and cannot lean upon anything unless 
it be external. But such dependence upon external things makes likeness to 
the Master impossible at that point, and therefore acts as a barrier between 
ourselves and Him, between you and Him. In other words, you are 'tied 
and bound,' not by 'the chain of your sins,' but by that which in most people 
would be a virtue. 

"The Historian, as an old and admiring friend, then told her that he cared 
too much for her happiness to be willing to remain silent when he knew on the 
one hand how sincere and deep was her desire for discipleship, and, on the other 
hand, how impossible her own attitude was making the attainment of her goal." 

"She was offended?" 

"I think not. But she did not understand. And she might at least have 
remembered that St. John of the Cross was canonized, and that Shankara is 
acclaimed Acharya by every living Brahmin of to-day, who thereby recognizes 
in him, as Mr. Johnston has told us, a saint 'who causes others to go forward.' " 



60 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

At this point it occurred to the Recorder that the topic of Church member- 
ship, its opportunities and its pitfalls, would make a good subject for an article 
in the QUARTERLY. So he turned to one of our regular contributors who was 
present, and asked, "What are you thinking of as the subject of your next 
article?" The reply was prompt: "Of nothing. Each article I undertake 
shows up such lamentable deficiencies and such lack of ability to think, that 
I would rather dig post holes than write anything." 

This raised a storm. Every one of us instantly desired to contribute! 
Theoretically it would have seemed impossible to crowd so much good advice 
into five minutes. The Philosopher led off. 

"Yours is an old complaint," he remarked. " But the worst of it is, in your 
case, that you feel the same way about most of your efforts, and not only about 
the QUARTERLY, you feel like that about your business, even about your 
prayer and meditation, I suspect. You would feel that way about your post 
holes if you dug them. And you do not realize that this attitude toward what 
you do is your most formidable barrier and limitation, and not the performance 
which you see and criticize and condemn." 

"At any rate," observed the Contributor cheerfully, "after writing articles 

all these years, the very number of them ought to act as a remedy before long, 

at least if there is anything in the proverb about water wearing away stone." 

"Don't build on any such false hope," warned the Student. "The only 

remedy is to attack the attitude in itself, trying to understand it. Begin by 

absolutely forbidding yourself any such thoughts by regarding such thoughts 

as a sin just as a man, who has been a drunkard, must stop drinking before 

he can hope really to understand the evil of which he has been guilty." 

"It is one of the usual penalties of sin," interjected the Sage, " that we have to 

go to an opposite extreme for a time, before we can attain a balanced attitude." 

"Yes," agreed the Student, "just as a man who has ruined his digestion by 

overeating, may have to starve himself for a time before he can afford to eat 

normally." 

"And remember," continued the Sage," that there is only a hair-line between 
the power of anxiety which is constrictive (as Mr. Judge said), and really 
awful because of the paralysis it engenders, and that other power of anxiety 
that simple but intense desire to serve which, because it trusts, enables us 
to give our utmost and our best: just a hair-line, just a turn of the hand. And 
please believe, because it is the truth, that many people have passed from the 
one to the other, at least in some directions, and that you can do so too, gaining 
freedom of action thereby, which means the full, free use, of all your faculties 
of heart, mind, imagination." 

" Public speaking," the Student took advantage of a momentary pause, "is, I 
think, as good an illustration as any. We have all seen more than one man, almost 
speechless from anxiety during his first attempts, pass from that to freedom." 
"Remember, too," added the Sage, "that the greater the initial constriction, 
the greater may and should be the ultimate ability to give, in this as in all 
other fields of 'self-expression.'" T. 



LETTERS TO STUDENTS 

January 22nd, 1912. 



DEAR 

I am glad to acknowledge your letter of the 2yth of December which has 
interested me greatly. You write about meditation and the difficulties you 
experience. It is one of the most difficult of subjects and we all have lots to 
learn about it. I shall try to reply to your several questions and comments in 
the hope that it will shed some light on the matter. 

First of all, you are quite right in thinking that confusion has arisen because 
of the mixing up of the names "meditation," "concentration," "contempla- 
tion," and others. For instance the Meditations of Marcus Aurelius are really 
only thoughts about life, and from our point of view this is a misuse of the term. 
The fundamental difficulty, however, is because real meditation is an activ- 
ity of the inner self and transcends the brain and all forms of mental activity. 
Consequently there is immediate trouble when you attempt to describe it in 
terms of thought; when you try to explain it to the brain, whether your own or 
another's. 

Please keep this fundamental idea in mind, that'meditation is an activity of 
the inner self, and not of the intellect or mind. In order to induce this inner 
activity, or in order to give it a chance, we have to quiet the outer activity; 
hence the advice to practise concentration, which is in order to learn control 
of the activity of the brain or mind. Concentration itself is not a part of medi- 
tation, nor does the mind or brain have anything to do with it. Of course it is 
here that there is the greatest confusion, for nearly everyone tries to meditate 
with their minds, as if it were some kind of mental activity. On the other 
hand, if we were to divide meditation into stages, in order to make it clearer to 
beginners, we should certainly consider that the preliminary stage had to do 
with mental control. The borderland, therefore, makes another area of con- 
fusion. People who want to learn how to meditate are told to do certain things 
with their minds. They understand those stages, but do not realize that they 
are only preliminary exercises, as it were, which precede the real thing. 

We do have to learn how to quiet our minds entirely, and at the same time 
remain awake and positive and active. Most people go to sleep as soon as 
their minds cease functioning, but that is not necessary; it is simply that their 
inner selves are not sufficiently awake and sufficiently alive to take the place 
of mental activity when mental activity stops. 

There are several ways of helping to awaken this inner self and to assist the 
general situation. Aspiration, devotion, love of the Masters, prayer es- 
pecially prayer all are activities of the inner self, and when cultivated tend to 
awaken and strengthen it. I do not believe that it is possible to learn how to 
meditate in the real sense without these other qualities or virtues being de- 
veloped to a considerable degree. The inner self must be fed and must be 
given life and strength and virility before it can function freely, as it does in 
meditation. 

61 



62 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

These thoughts may help to make the matter a little clearer. I shall be 
glad to go back to the subject if you care to ask more questions. 

I am most grateful for your good wishes, which I heartily reciprocate. 

With kindest regards, I am 

Sincerely yours, 

C. A. GRISCOM, JR. 



June 2nd, 1912. 
DEAR 

My reply to your letter of April fourth has been delayed by the extra work 
entailed by the Convention. I am very glad you sent me a copy of the news- 
paper containing your verses, which I have read with interest. 

You say that you have no actual knowledge of the existence of Masters, 
and that you do not consider the proof of the existence of the living Christ as 
conclusive ; and therefore you find it difficult to cultivate in your heart love of 
the Masters or of the living Christ. It is a common trouble, and has a very 
simple solution. We never can know of the existence of the Masters through 
our minds, because our minds do not reach to the plane where they exist. We 
have got to learn of their existence through our hearts, through feeling, through 
the power of love, which I advise you to cultivate. In speaking of the heart, 
I of course do not mean the physical heart, but that part of the nature which 
we designate by that word, the part with which and through which operate 
not only our deepest feelings but also our wills and such qualities as devotion 
and aspiration. If you attempt to weigh evidence of the existence of the Master, 
you are entering on an endless and a hopeless problem, with a faculty that 
will never and can never get you to a safe haven. I strongly advise you to drop 
all that side of the question, for the time being at any rate, and to centre all 
the powers of your nature on the effort to reach your own soul, and through it 
the great spiritual beings who function on the plane where your soul dwells. 

You say that even if you could reach these great spiritual beings they would 
fill you with awe, but would not of necessity inspire you with love. That is 
again because you are considering the matter with your mind, which does not 
love and has no power to love. As a matter of fact when you do, as you un- 
doubtedly will, come into contact with those great beings, through your devo- 
tion, aspiration and prayer, the reaction upon you will be not to inspire you 
with awe but to fill you with love, and the clearer the vision, the greater will 
be the love you feel. 

The road to the Masters is through obedience, and until you are able to dis- 
cover for yourself what they wish you to do, the only safe thing is to follow with 
perfect faithfulness those in junctions 'which reach you in other ways and which 
you have reason to believe come from them. 

I thank you very much for your Easter greetings, and shall be glad to hear 
from you frequently. 

Yours sincerely, 

C. A. GRISCOM, JR. 



LETTERS TO STUDENTS 63 

October 22nd, 1912. 
DEAR - 

Going back to your letter of the third of July, and to your first question, as 
to whether I speak with authority or as one of the scribes : I don't quite know 
what you mean. No one in the Theosophical Movement speaks with authority 
save the Masters; and you will learn from experience that even they rarely 
exercise the authority which they have. 

One of our cardinal principles is that you must always use your discrimina- 
tion, and should not accept any statement save as something to be tested by 
your own intuition. On the other hand, there is a point reached in Occultism 
when the most implicit obedience, the most absolute self-surrender, are the 
essential requisites of progress. 

There would appear to be a contradiction here ; and indeed the spiritual life 
is a series of paradoxes. The reconciliation of this apparent contradiction lies 
in the fact that it is not until you realize that there is no essential difference 
between your own higher self, or your real inner self, and the Master who 
stands at the head of your Ray, that you can surrender yourself to him and be 
perfectly obedient to him. 

So far as your particular point is concerned, it does not require authority to 
make a definite statement of that kind. It only requires a little experience, 
and a little knowledge of the spiritual experience of others. You, yourself, 
can test the validity of the statement by reading the biographies and the auto- 
biographies of some of the saints and mystics. 

It may seem to you presumptuous to believe that you can come into contact 
with Masters, by purification and self-conquest. Or it may seem to you that 
the amount of these virtues that will be necessary before you can hope for such 
a privilege is more than you would be capable of acquiring. But I think you 
are forgetting their side of it, and are overlooking the fact that they are most 
keenly anxious to reach you, and that they are doing everything in their power 
at all times (and I mean this literally) to encourage, stimulate and help you to 
the point where you can enter into conscious, daily communion with them. 
They want you, not only for your own sake, but because they want efficient 
disciples who will help them to reach and to gain other souls. 

I have read with interest what you say about the way in which you attempt 
to meditate, and I think that, for the time being, the method ought to be fruit- 
ful and helpful. One comment I would make is that you should address your 
prayers to the Master whom you hope to reach, and not to some abstract, 
infinite and remote Heavenly Father who transcends your imagination. 

The subject of meditation is one that you will learn a great deal more about 
as you progress, and another paradox is one that you have got to find 
out about for yourself! 

I shall be glad to hear from you again when you feel like writing. 

With kind regards, 

Sincerely yours, 

C. A. GRISCOM, JR. 



64 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

December ist, 1912. 



DEAR 

I have your letter of November 26th, which I shall answer immediately 
because of the question which you ask me whether I have seen the Masters 
myself, and whether I possess absolute knowledge of their existence. 
* ******* 

What earthly difference does it make to you what my opinion about such 
matters may be, or what my experience may have been? That is mine,*not 
yours; and nothing can make it yours. I believe in the Masters and in their 
existence so do a lot of other people, but the most that this can mean to 
you is that it justifies you (or you may think that it justifies you) in trying 
to find out for yourself about them and their existence. 

It is the same thing with the experiences of the saints, except that we can 
say in addition that they have left detailed records of their inner experiences 
for the help and guidance of others. It is therefore possible for you intelli- 
gently to direct your own efforts and to check the validity of your resulting 
experiences with their recorded experiences. 

You seem to think that because the visions of the saints differ, that is a 
criticism against them; but from my point of view it should have been so, or 
such things would not be in accord with our theosophical philosophy which 
teaches that there is not only a single spiritual being known as Jesus Christ, 
but that there are other Masters and countless disciples of all kinds and grades, 
who are helping the members of the human race to reach enlightenment. 
There is no doubt in my mind that Jeanne d'Arc did see the angel Michael and 
was helped and guided by him. But she also saw Saint Catherine and Saint 
Margaret; and all this means to my mind is that in her military exploits she 
was helped by Saint Michael, who for two thousand years has by tradition and 
legend been considered a warrior ; and that in her personal life she was helped 
by two women disciples, who may actually have been Saint Catherine and Saint 
Margaret, or may have been two disciples to whom her mind with its Catholic 
education, gave these -names. 

You must remember that all of the experiences of the Saints that have come 
down to us, come through two colourings : one the colouring of the mind of the 
saint himself, through which they would naturally be affected by his time, en- 
vironment, etc. ; and the other, the layer of colour from his biographer. It is 
our business, with our enlarged vision, to see the fundamental truth beyond 
these veils, and all that this fundamental truth really amounts to is that it 
is possible for human beings at any time to reach the spiritual world, and to 
come into conscious communion with spiritual beings who will help them in 
their fight for self-conquest and self-purification. 

I should like to hear from you about these things when you have thought 
them over further. Thank you for the information you give me about your 
own past religious experiences. 

With kindest regards, I am 

Sincerely yours, 

C. A. GRISCOM, JR. 



DEAR 



LETTERS TO STUDENTS 65 

January 26th, 1913. 



I have read with care what you say about the matter of asking me a personal 
question about my own experience, and that you did not mean this in any way 
to be an infraction of proper procedure. 

Perhaps if I put the matter to you in another way it will help you to clear 
up your views. You can regard Christianity, real Christianity, which does 
not differ except as to method from any other kind of effort to reach the heart 
of life, as an experimental science, and you can approach it just as you would 
the study of chemistry. You read in books, or you are told by your teachers, 
certain general laws which govern the association of the elements. In accord- 
ance with these laws you are told that if you combine certain elements in cer- 
tain ways, something definite will happen, an explosion, a reaction, a new com- 
bination. You take this on faith in most instances, for it has been verified by 
experiment so often that it is hardly worth your while to try it yourself. But 
you can if you like. So it is with the facts of the spiritual life. The laws are 
laid down in countless books of all religions. Methods differ, but not very 
much. The great difference is not in the method so much as in the style of 
language or the symbol or analogy w r hich is used to explain the law, or in the 
emphasis w r hich is placed upon some one or another part of the process. You 
are told that if you do certain things faithfully, you will get certain results. 
You can take this on faith because it has been verified so often in available 
human experience, or you can take the attitude of the doubter and say that 
you are not sure those results will follow. In either event the obvious thing 
to do is to try the experiment. The one difference between chemistry and 
discipleship is that in chemistry, the matter being one entirely of the mind, 
we can learn from the experience of others, while in discipleship we have to do 
everything ourselves in order to know, for we only know truly what we are, 
what we have ourselves lived. 

******** 

With best wishes, I am 

Fraternally, 

C. A. GRISCOM, JR. 



Pure love is not mercenary; it does not find its strength in hope; it is content to- 
love. BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX. 



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Painted Windows, by A Gentleman with a Duster (who is at this writing catalogued in the 
New York Public libraries as Henry Scott Oliver, and hailed in the London reviews as Harold 
Begbie); G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1922. 

This book should be of interest to many readers of the QUARTERLY, not only because it is 
entertainingly and even brilliantly written, but because it is a sign of the times, of that fer- 
mentation of thought, and re-awakening, which have been increasingly manifest since 1875. 
The author "seeks to discover a reason for the present rather ignoble situation of the Church 
in the affections of men," and to this end he studies the character, utterances, and writings of 
twelve prominent leaders of religious thought in England. The character sketches are bril- 
liant, fair-minded, seeking virtue rather than defect, and never carping or captious. Ex- 
cellent selections are made from the published books or utterances of each individual; and 
the several characteristic contributions are brought out clearly The author strives to be 
constructive, and he seems to be thoroughly sincere for he has been suspected of insincerity, 
we feel unjustly. He is looking for a "unifying principle" which should characterize the 
attitude and efforts of the many Christian denominations not so much in the ordinary sense 
of Church Unity, as from a realization of the need for better understanding both of natural and 
of spiritual laws, and above all of the true purposes of Christianity. His attitude here is gen- 
uinely theosophic, and the method of his book is distinctly a parallel with the theosophic 
method. He sees that the intelligent worldly man of the Western world to-day, is outside the 
Christian field, even if he be sometimes nominally enrolled in one or another of its Churches. 
He sees that Christian principles do not rule statesmen or politicians except in so far as it is 
expedient to appeal to them. "Look closely into the great achievements of the Washington 
Conference and you will find that the nations are not voluntarily seeking the rational ideal of 
peace, but are being driven by urgent necessity into a course of reason " (p. 212). He hopes to 
turn the Church's "moral earnestness, its manifold self-sacrifice, and its great but conflicting 
energies" away from "a war of words," from blind satisfaction in, and dependence on, tradition 
alone, into a path of real and practical leadership in the things of the spirit, leading men con- 
sciously, as spirits, "out of the darkness of an animal ancestry into the Light of an immortal 
inheritance as children of God . . . born again into the knowledge of spiritual reality" 
(p. 228). "It is curious," he writes pointedly in conclusion, "if Christianity is from heaven, 
that it exercises so little power in the affairs of the human race. Far from exercising power in 
any noticeable degree, it now ceases to be even attractive. The successors of St. Paul are not 
shaping world policy at Washington; they are organizing whist drives and opening bazaars. " 

No one is likely to agree with all that the author suggests. His "politics of idealism" 
is linked with a lamentable pacifism; he seems to have no understanding of a Master's 
peace. Yet he feels that out of her present lethargy "the Church can only be roused by the 
trumpets of war" (p. 226), and he approves of Bishop Temple's militant Christianity! He 
is, with so many others to-day, far more concerned with a reformation of the present world for 
the benefit of future generations, than in the transformation and salvation of the individual 
forgetful that the individual of the future, however favourable his environment, must still be 
saved as an individual, and that only one by one is the true kingdom of heaven achieved as 
the hearts of men are changed. A. G. 

66 



REVIEWS 67 

Black-wood's Magazine for June (Edinburgh) contains the usual "Musings without Method," 
which always are instructive and with which the present reviewer almost invariably finds him- 
self in complete sympathy. Very often we are asked where to obtain a sane view of current 
world events. We know of no better means than these "Musings," which are sound, and 
.which never descend to the cheap tone of more than one English weekly. We are convinced 
that it is the duty of students of Theosophy an opportunity for service as well as a duty 
to understand what is going on in the world, and to keep in touch with the main currents of 
modern thought and action, with which the magazines and newspapers of America have, 
unfortunately, only a superficial acquaintance, and not always even that. 

T. 

La Mystification des Peuples Allies: Pourquoi? Comment? Par Qui? by Andre Cheradame; 
Imprimerie Ch. Herissey, Evreux (Eure), France. 

Those who read the THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY while the great war was being fought, may 
remember frequent references to the earlier works of M. Cheradame, particularly to his Le 
plan pangermaniste demasque, and to his The United States and Pangermania. His present 
book is at least as enlightening, and we wish greatly that it could be translated into English and 
widely read. The author again unveils Germany's plans, and also explains her purpose in 
debasing the value of the paper mark. The influences which surround Mr. Lloyd George are 
clearly indicated, as well as their connection with Hugo Stinnes and others in Germany who, 
while pretending to disagree among themselves, actually are co-operating, with amazing success, 
to mystify the Allies and to turn a military defeat into a Pangerman triumph. 

Z. 

Will-Power and Work, by Jules Payot, Rector of the Aix-Marseilles University; Funk and 
Wagnalls Company, 1921. 

This is a book that deals with self-education, a subject in which all readers of the QUARTERLY 
are interested. It is suggestive and helpful. The author does not seem to be connected 
with any officially recognized religion, but his attitude is essentially religious. He defines real 
intelligence as the ability to profit by one's experience, and claims that he has done so. As one 
result, he discovered in the course of time "that human life would be in no way above the life 
of the beasts of the field if it were not an effort toward a spirituality more and more pure." 
Basing everything upon experience upon that of others as well as upon his own he gives 
us his conclusions upon such subjects as how to work with the least waste of time and energy; 
upon the management of attention; upon the right use of memory, and upon the advantages 
and dangers of reading. He insists that "intelligence implies a strong moral education," and 
he does not define "moral" narrowly, as may be judged from his corollary, "We recognize 
the unintelligent by their inability to see a question dissociated from themselves." We wish 
that we could have been brought up with this book as part of our curriculum ! 

T. 

The Crowd A Study of the Popular Mind, by Gustave Le Bon; Fisher Unwin. 

That he may understand more of himself and of the world in which he lives, every student 
of Theosophy should read and study this book. It deals primarily with the psychology of 
crowds, but it deals also with those elements in ourselves which enter into the composition of 
crowds, or, rather, which are likely to become predominant in us if ever we permit ourselves 
"to swim with the crowd." Further, it is an illuminating study of democracy as a method of 
government. It does not deal with principles, but with known facts, and draws the lesson 
from those. It is a book to read and to recommend. 

E. T. H. 



ANSWERS 




QUESTION No. 269. .4s a question arising from answers in the January issue of the QUAR- 
TERLY, / should like to know whether the artist, who is a genius, gets a glimpse of Reality and 
expresses it through the medium of his art, whether painting, sculpture, music or poetry? Or is he 
merely imitating psychic reflections of the spiritual light? I wonder to what extent the instrument 
must be pure, in order to give us a faithful translation of a divine inspiration. 

ANSWER. The answer to the first part of the question is, Yes. The second part of the 
question seems to be based upon the supposition that a psychic reflection necessarily is a dis- 
tortion. The fact, as I understand it, is that the light of the spirit cannot be translated into 
terms of human consciousness, or be expressed in words, or colour, or form, or sound, as we know 
these modes of expression, except as the result of reflection from or through some plane of the 
psychic world. But this does not imply distortion. The three higher planes of the psychic 
world, corresponding to the Atma, Buddhi, Manas of the human principles, are pure and clear, 
and reflect truly. The four lower planes distort and pervert, because in themselves they are 
distorted and perverted : they are reflections of reflectors. 

As an answer to the third part of the question, I suggest that theoretically the human instru- 
ment should be pure utterly in order to translate divine inspiration faithfully. But purity, in 
the deeper sense, as Light on the Path tells us, depends upon the plane from which the motive 
or impulse springs. We know, unfortunately, that a man who has been a creative genius, can 
fall from those heights to the depths of banality. \Ve also know that a man who has sinned 
grievously, can rise to heights of pure and self-sacrificing devotion to truth, to beauty, to 
goodness. We know, finally, from the lives of great artists, that pure and unselfish devotion to 
beauty does not always imply pure and unselfish devotion to goodness or to truth. Impurity 
in one direction is certain, in time, to pollute other impulses and motives originally pure; but 
until that pollution has been consummated, we shall often find flashes of real genius from men 
whose lives, in the ordinary sense, are the reverse of pure. 

T. 

QUESTION No. 270. The three Gunas in nature, Sattva, Rajas and Tamas, are said to be 
active in all created beings on the earth, and amongst the heavenly Hierarchies. (" There is no 
creature on earth nor among the hosts in heaven who is free from these three qualities which arise 
from nature," Bhagavad Gita, Chapter 18.) I. Do these Gunas act spontaneously and periodically 
at certain times, and after certain periodicity numbers for individuals and nations? 

2. How can this law be combined with the law of Karma? 

ANSWER. Gunas or Trigunas are defined in the Theosophical Glossary as: "The three 
divisions of the inherent qualities of differentiated matter i.e., of pure quiescence (sattva), 
of activity and desire (rajas), of stagnation and decay (tamas). They correspond with Vishnu, 
Brahma and Shiva." As inherent qualities of matter it would appear that they must affect all 
spirit incarnated in matter, that is all beings short of the Absolute, though in varying degree. 
The coarser the matter, the more tamas and the less sattva; the finer the matter, the more 
sattva will predominate and the less there will be of tamas. The "body" of a high spiritual 
68 



QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS 69 

being must be composed of matter, inconceivably fine, and yet still differentiated matter, with, 
potentially at least, all three qualities of sattva, rajas and tamas. 

The law of cycles affects all forces in the universe. There are periods of out-breathing and 
in-breathing, of growth and of decay, of light and darkness, spirituality and materialism. So 
there must be periods of greater activity for the tamas quality, and other periods for rajas or 
sattva. When its cyclic time comes, stirred to activity by universal law, the tamas or sattva 
quality in the matter with which we are clothed is roused and acts on us, "spontaneously" so 
far as we are concerned. The same thing must be true not only of individuals but of nations, 
and of the very stars in their courses. This is the truth that lies back of much-ridiculed astrol- 
ogy, for stars and men are parts of one universe and are moved by the same laws and the same 
cycles. 

2. There would seem to be no difficulty in reconciling this law with personal Karma. Where 
a man stands, in the path of his evolution, is determined by what he has done in the past, by 
the relation which his will has borne to universal law, by his obedience or disobedience. This 
is his Karma. Where he stands, again, determines the strength and kind of universal force 
that will play upon him. Two travellers start on a journey. One pushes on steadily, crossing 
the rivers in his path in the dry season and arrives safely at his goal. The other loiters by the 
way, is overtaken by floods in the rainy season and is drowned. Cyclic law was the same for 
both, and the Karma of daily duty, faithfully performed or faithlessly neglected, determined 
its effect on the individual. 

J. F. B. M. 

ANSWER. (i) The questioner should begin by asking himself what he knows about the 
Gunas, from his own experience of them. What, for instance, does he know about Tamas, the 
quality of inertia, of lethargy, of sloth, inherent in nature? He must know that this quality 
has more power over him at certain times than ordinarily, perhaps when he first rises in the 
morning. If so, he can answer at once that Tamas affects him periodically and, in a sense, 
spontaneously, though as an expression of the law of cause and effect, which is Karma, seeing 
that his inertia is not inflicted upon him by some outside agency, but is the result of his own 
past conduct, and may be due to some form of self-indulgence, such as over-eating. 

Having answered the question in the light of his own experience, the questioner should 
remember that Tamas, like every other lower quality, is spiritual in its origin, and should ask 
himself of what it may be a perversion. He will then see that inertia results in stagnation, 
which is death, and he will understand what H. P. B. meant when she said that Tamas corre- 
sponds with Shiva, because Shiva is the Destroyer or Re-creator of the Hindu Trinity of quali- 
ties. As always, the perversion contains within itself its own antidote, by self-destruction. 
(2) As Karma is the law which governs the action of the Gunas the Law of Cause and Effect 
there can be no question of "combination." Gunas are qualities; Karma is law; both operate 
on the planes of differentiated matter. In Nature, everything save the will of man, acts under 
law; and even man's free will (or self-will) can do no more than modify the operation of law, 
always to his own destruction if he persist. 

C.-T 




REPORT OF THE ANNUAL CONVENTION OF THE THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY 

Delegates, members-at-large, and members of the New York and other Branches were assem- 
bled at 64 Washington Mews on Saturday, April 29th, 1922, long before the hour set for the 
opening of the Annual Convention of the T. S. At 10.30 A.M. the Convention was called to 
order by Mr. Charles Johnston, Chairman of the Executive Committee, who asked that tem- 
porary organization be effected. On motion made by Professor Henry Bedinger Mitchell, and 
seconded by Mr. Acton Griscom, Mr. Johnston was nominated and duly elected as Temporary 
Chairman. It was moved by Mr. J. F. B. Mitchell, and seconded by Mr. Gardiner Hope Miller, 
that Miss Julia Chickering be elected Temporary Secretary. She was so elected, and the tem- 
porary officers were installed. Mr. K. D. Perkins moved that the Temporary Chair appoint a 
Committee on Credentials. Motion seconded by Mr. E. T. Hargrove, and carried. The Chair- 
man stated that since this was a Convention of Branches of the T. S., which had voting power 
according to the number of their members in good standing, he would appoint on that Commit- 
tee those who knew these facts Professor Mitchell, the Treasurer T. S.; Miss I. E. Perkins, 
the Secretary T. S., and Miss Martha E. Youngs, the Assistant Treasurer. The Committee 
was asked to report to the Convention as soon as possible. 

ADDRESS OF THE TEMPORARY CHAIRMAN 

MR. JOHNSTON: While the Committee is performing its very essential work, I shall take the 
opportunity to address a very cordial welcome to all those here present as delegates of Branches 
of The Theosophical Society, or as members who are not delegates. Every Convention, I think, 
is quite properly called the most important Convention that The Theosophical Society has ever 
held. It ought to be so. Each year should see us in advance of our mark of the year before, 
better equipped for our work, and doing more valuable service. It is therefore entirely true 
that this is the most important Convention since the Society was founded forty-seven years 
ago, and the responsibility which we bear, as representing The Theosophical Society and as 
individual members thereof, is what I ask everyone to keep in mind throughout the whole of the 
Convention. 

The atmosphere of the world to-day has been growing steadily more turbid : there is a failure 
to see intellectual principles, which is bad; and a failure to discern moral principles, which is far 
worse. In this steadily rising tide of confusion, The Theosophical Society stands, and must 
stand, as the one firm rock in the outer world, the only centre where it is absolutely certain 
that moral principles will be discerned and that right intellectual principles will be enunciated. 
That is our responsibility to the world and to the future. The Theosophical Society is to form 
the foundation stone of the future religious movements of humanity. Each one of us is an 
integral part of that foundation stone and must share its firmness, steadiness, and integrity. 
Therefore each one of us, and the Society as a whole, has a heavy moral and spiritual responsi- 
bility which I hope that everyone of us will keep in mind during the Convention. Every 
moment of it is of vital importance. Our responsibility is the measure of our opportunity. 
Therefore let us go forward to our opportunity with faith, courage, and a splendid hope. Let us 
make the Convention a great success. 



THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY ACTIVITIES 71 

REPORT OF THE COMMITTEE ON CREDENTIALS 

PROFESSOR MITCHELL: Having examined all the credentials presented, the Committee on 
Credentials begs to report that 22 Branches are represented here to-day, either by delegates or 
proxies, entitled to cast 101 votes. These Branches are in six different countries, Venezuela, 
South America; Great Britain; Norway; Canada; Czecho-Slovakia and the United States 
while our members-at-large, not here entitled to representation, would add to the number of 
countries participating in our Movement. The Branches so represented are: 

Altagracia de Orituco, Venezuela Newcastle, Newcastle-on-Tyne, England 

Aurora, Oakland, Cal. New York, New York 

Aussig, Aussig, Czecho-Slovakia Norfolk, Norfolk, England 

Cincinnati, Cincinnati, O. Pacific, Los Angeles, Cal. 

W. Q. Judge, Gateshead, England Pittsburgh, Pittsburgh, Pa. 

Hope, Providence, R. I. Sravakas, Salamanca, New York 

Indianapolis, Indianapolis, Ind. Stockton, Stockton, Cal. 
Jehoshua, San Fernando de Apure, Venezuela Toronto, Toronto, Canada 

Karma, Kristiania, Norway Venezuela, Caracas, Venezuela 

Krishna, South Shields, England Virya, Denver, Colorado 

Middletown, Middletown, O. Whitley Bay, Whitley Bay, England 

On motion made and seconded, the report of the Committee on Credentials was accepted, 
with thanks, and the Committee discharged. 

The next business being the permanent organization of the Convention, Doctor C. C. Clark 
nominated Professor Mitchell as Permanent Chairman; this was seconded by Mr. Hargrove, 
and carried. For Permanent Secretary and Assistant Secretary, respectively, Miss Perkins 
and Miss Chickering were nominated by Mr. Woodbridge, seconded by Mr. C. M. Saxe, and 
declared elected. The permanent officers being installed, a vote of thanks to the Temporary 
Chairman was moved, seconded, and carried. 

ADDRESS OF THE PERMANENT CHAIRMAN 

THE CHAIRMAN (PROFESSOR MITCHELL): Each year that I have watched our Convention 
assemble, each year that you have given me the high privilege of serving as its Chairman, my 
first thought has been the same. I make no apology for the fact that it is mine again to-day, 
nor since each one of us can give only what he is, speak only the truth that fills his own heart 
and soul for the fact which may seem more to demand apology, that I shall again voice it as 
though I had never done so before. My first thought is of the age-long effort, the endless sacri- 
fice and splendour of courage, the heroic self-giving, and indomitable will, the untiring patience 
and undimmed radiance of hope, the stored treasures of the spirit and the concentration- of infi- 
nite power, which come here to a focus as on a single point. 

My mind goes back in retrospect over the forty-seven years since the Society was founded 
nearly half a century ago. I see again, as though they were still here with us, the figures of 
those, great'or lowly, who gave to it their best, their life, their all some of whom I knew and 
loved, in whose footsteps or by whose side the magic of a happy Karma permitted me for a time 
to walk; some whose pictures now look down upon us from these walls, Mr. Griscom, Mrs. 
Keightley, Miss Hillard, General Ludlow, Madame Blavatsky, Mr. Judge. Judge! whom so 
many knew, and never knew! whose humility rose around him hiding him from us, till General 
Ludlow likened him to a submerged continent, revealing its lofty peaks as but islands jutting 
from the surface of the sea. But in the perspective of time, the sea subsides, and we see the 
height of those towering mountain ranges of attainment, the far expanse and fertile planes of his 
human sympathy. We need distance to see mountains; we can delimit continents only on a 
world-wide map. 

And beyond these, antedating our present outer foundation in that far perspective of our 
true history which these Conventions conjure to our sight we see others, whom we never knew 
in life, those not of our own time or ray, but linking century to century through all the past: the 
long ranks of the servants and agents, the warriors and ambassadors of the great Lodge which 



72 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

sent them forth. For the most part their faces are hidden from us, but we catch the gleam of 
the divine radiance reflected from burnished helm and armour, from lance and shield and sword 
the bright weapon of obedience with which they waged their immortal warfare to which 
we, too, are called. And behind them others, and still others; long lines converging on the 
Masters and Avatars of many lands and races Christ and Buddha, Krishna and Osiris, till 
sight is lost and blinded in a sea of light. The hosts of heaven look down on us to-day. 

What is it that they see? We have no visitors here now. This is one of the few times in the 
year when we meet and speak as members and as delegates, with no outsiders present, with no 
need to conceal our feeling or to veil our thought. But if some passing stranger were to enter 
by yonder open door, what is it he would see? We are not meeting in an imposing hall but in 
what was once a stable in an obscure mews. Our numbers are not impressive a few score 
only are here. Nor is it a gathering of those whom the world acclaims, who have been given the 
world's gifts of place and fame. As we look about us we see only the kind familiar faces of 
trusted, long-tested friends. Very fortunately there is not a newspaper in the city which either 
knows what we are doing or would deem it worthy of a line of print. To the eyes of the curious 
we should seem too respectable to be interesting, too small and quiet to possess significance in 
this time of turgid talk and turmoil. And yet the great Lodge of Masters, their chelas and 
their chelas' chelas, are looking down on us to-day, as the inheritors of the ages, the trustees of 
the world's hope. 

As Mr. Johnston reminded us, we have been told that the Society was founded to become the 
corner stone of the future religions of humanity, to form a nucleus of a universal brotherhood. 
Do we realize what these words mean? Do we think of what it means to be a nucleus? Of 
what lies stored in the nucleus of a living cell? So small we cannot see it with the unaided eye, 
in that tiny speck of living substance is concentrated the accumulated experience, the summed 
achievement, of aeons upon aeons of upward striving life. It is itself that life. It stretches 
back to the primordial slime and the primordial light, beginningless, infinite, divine. It sums 
and holds within itself all that preceded it. The whole evolution of its race or kind is stored in 
it. Every hard-learned lesson, every hard-fought struggle, every victory won and every power 
gained, through unnumbered generations, is here held and synthesized made dynamic in the 
present and formative of the future. What that future may bring to it, to what such a living 
nucleus may lead, no man can say. For the goal to which life presses in its ceaseless evolution 
is as far beyond all human ken as the infinite transcends the finite. 

If this be true of the nucleus of every living cell, of the germ plasm of fish and bird and beast, 
of the seed of every tree and plant, what must it mean to form the nucleus of a universal brother- 
hood of humanity of the whole human race? Can there be any human achievement of the 
past, anything which has been created and gathered up in the unbroken stream of human life, 
that has not come down to be now contained in it? Can there be any virtue which man has 
ever exemplified, any experience of soul or heart or mind, any height of moral grandeur, any 
nobility of spirit or splendour of power, or heroism of self-sacrifice, any height or depth of wis- 
dom, any reach of consciousness or gift from the Divine, that man has ever known, which must 
not be contained within the nucleus of the brotherhood of humanity; which must not now be 
here, living, dynamic, formative, the gifts from the great of all the past, to the nucleus The 
Theosophical Society is to form? 

So small is the nucleus! So small these vehicles of life! So silent are life's processes, but so 
infinitely potent! There is no blare of trumpets attending the growth of a nucleus. It takes 
place silently, smoothly, surely, through generation after generation; unfolding its potentialities, 
gathering up again into itself its actualities; unhurriedly, undeviatingly, unrolling the divine 
plan of its evolution. 

It faces forward. It presses ever on into the unknown. It fronts difficulties, hardships, 
change and enemies of every kind. It must conquer or cease to be. It conquers. It passes 
through wracking crises to emerge transformed by new powers born therein and yet it is for- 
ever the same, itself, beginningless and from eternity. Such is the life of the nucleus such 
the life of our movement; the life that lives in us here to-day, which we meet to further, to make 
manifest, and to pass on to those who shall inherit the trust which is now ours. 



73 

" The kingdom of heaven is like to a grain of mustard seed . . . which indeed is the least of 
all seeds: but when it is grown, it is the greatest among herbs and becometh a tree." The 
thought comes to us in the words of Christ, but the parable is far older than his incarnation in 
Palestine. We find it also in the Upanishads, "This soul of mine, in the inner being, is smaller 
than a grain of rice, or a grain of barley, or a grain of mustard seed . . . ," for this symbol of 
the seed is drawn from the mystery teaching of the Lodge itself. 

What makes the seed a true symbol of the soul, of the kingdom of heaven? It is because it is 
a nucleus. It is because it stores in itself the age-long evolution of the past, the infinite poten- 
tialities of the future. It is because, too, of its power to respond to the hidden forces of earth 
and air and water, and the light and heat of the sun to the nether powers of darkness and to 
the etheric powers of light. It sends its roots deep into the earth, and draws upon the nether 
energies of decay and foulness, purifying and transmuting them by its magic alchemy. It sends 
its shoots upward to the light, and opens its budding leaves to the rays of the sun. It draws to 
itself the moisture of water and the breath of air, and from all combined, it builds an upward 
aspiring growth a growth which is fruitful, which bears seed and reproduces itself. "But 
when it is grown, it is the greatest among herbs, and becometh a tree, so that the birds of the air 
come and lodge in the branches thereof." It has the power to respond; and that power, too, 
is ours. 

Let us think, for a moment, of these nether and superior powers, to which the seed responds, 
to which we must respond, and which, themselves unbounded, bound the narrow zone in which 
our personal lives are lived. 

The mathematics of the infinitesimal and of the infinite are alike different from the mathe- 
matics of the finite; and this same difference is manifest in physics and in mechanics, though it 
has not yet been so clearly formulated there. If we look within the atom, to the realm of the 
infinitesimal, and study those minute centres of force which we call electrons, we find ceaseless, 
dynamic motion, and the spontaneous, self-liberating energy of radio-activity. If we look 
above us to the infinitudes of space, to the blazing suns and stars and the planets that revolve 
about them, we see this same self-moving quality, the same inherent energy, the same infinity of 
power continually liberated and active. But in the world of the finite, in the realm between 
these two as in a zone of equilibrium, we find a different law the law of inertia, that bodies 
remain at rest or in motion in a straight line, unless acted upon by an external force. Here 
alone do we find bodies which are not self-moving, forms which must draw from either above or 
below themselves for the vital energy that is to animate them. 

So we must draw our life to live; and so, day by day, consciously or unconsciously we do draw, 
either upon the powers of those unplumbed depths of darkness which constitute the lower 
nature, or upon those yet greater forces of the divine light and radiance of the higher nature, 
the infinite powers of the spirit, radiating from the hierarchy of heaven as light radiates from 
the suns of space. To one or the other, man opens and yields himself, now moved by good, now 
swept away by evil, held in duality, in passivity and inertia, confined to the finite, till he 
learns the lesson of the seed, which is likened unto the kingdom of heaven, which responds to 
both, but makes its response selective and creative, transmuting the evil into good, drawing forth 
the power that is buried in darkness and turning it to the light; uniting both with the moisture 
of water and the breath of air which pertain to its own plane, and building from all its upward 
growth in obedience to the divine plan that lies within its nucleus. 

Do we, I wonder, realize anything of the potency of these powers? We can see something of 
their effects if we care to look. The record has been written large in the history of mankind 
again and again. We can read it in the Russia of to-day, and learn from it what it means to 
liberate those dynamic energies which lie just below the threshold of human life the self- 
moving demoniacal forces of envy, jealousy and hatred, of fear and falsehood, of lust and cruelty, 
torture and murder; the powers of unreason which drive men mad, and hurl them to their own 
destruction, causing them to destroy in one mad orgy the half of what civilization painfully 
acquired through the ages. By far the greater part of it was unconscious, mere mediumship. 
But not all was unconscious. There were those who knew what they were doing and whose 
knowledge gave them power. They had studied long what to do and how to do it. They had 



74 



THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 



deliberately chosen their part and prepared themselves to act it. They waited only opportu- 
nity, and when it came they seized it. They deliberately invoked the powers of darkness, delib- 
erately opened the gate to all the host of demons who throng the nether world. It is they who 
are now Russia's rulers. By their acts they ceased to be human ; and a brotherhood of human- 
ity has no place for them, until, with the blood of their victims, the divine alchemy transmutes 
and transforms them through all the lower kingdoms back to the estate they threw away. 

But on the other side we may see as clearly, if we will, the action of the powers of light in the 
heroism to which innumerable human souls were lifted in the Great War. The call of duty, the 
crying need, the pressure of circumstance which is the pressure of God's hand touched 
some secret spring within a man's nature and its walls fell away, opening him to an influx of 
divine power which swept him forward to heights of heroic valour of which, in himself, he could 
not have conceived. At such times, so animated, men moved careless of pain and mortal 
wounds, in a splendour of self-abnegation of which they were alike unconscious and personally 
incapable. Why? Because there the door had been opened, and the infinite powers of the 
spirit let loose. Because there men responded to the spirit, and so lived with its life. Often it 
was unconscious, mere mediumship, as I said before. But it was not always unconscious. 
There were those who were not mediums but mediators, who reached up consciously to the divine 
source of inspiration and of power, and who deliberately sought to make it operative in their 
own lives and in the lives of their fellows; who, also, had for long prepared themselves, long 
striven to fit themselves to do what they there did. If any human agencies can be said to have 
won the war they are these mediators, who added to the power to respond the power of conscious 
invocation. 

It is this power which differentiates man from all the other finite forms of life. It is the power 
by which he may transcend himself and rise above the finite world, which is dominated by 
inertia, to the infinite world of the spirit where all is vibrant with inner vitality and moving 
with its own inherent energy. This power of consciousness is ours to-day the power to become 
conscious mediators, drawing down into our own lives and into the life of the whole world, the 
infinite, transforming energies and divine wisdom of the hierarchies of the Spirit; for like can 
call to like across the depths of time and space, from pole to pole, from the nadir to the zenith, 
from the little to the great, and though these divine powers far transcend our human finiteness, 
yet are they immanent in the nucleus of what humanity has been and is to be. This is our most 
precious heritage, making us, in literal truth, the inheritors of the ages, the trustees of humanity's 
hope. Let us treasure and use it as such. 

And so, even though we should be, in the eyes of a stranger, insignificant and small, even as 
a grain of mustard seed, let us cease to look upon ourselves with the eyes of strangers, ignorant 
of our origin and our destiny. Let us cease to act as strangers at our own doors, but entering 
into our inheritance, let us strive, in all humility, to see ourselves as the Lodge sees us, as the 
recipient of their gifts to us, as the inheritors of their achievements, as the nucleus of a universal 
brotherhood. And let us gratefully and gravely take up the responsibility which is ours. 

Mr. Perkins* motion that the Chair appoint the usual three standing Committees was sec- 
onded and voted. The Chair made the following appointments: 



Committee on Nominations 
Mr. Charles Johnston, Chairman 
Mr. George Woodbridge 
Miss Hope Bagnell 



Committee on Resolutions 
Mr. E. T. Hargrove, Chairman 
Mr. Acton Griscom 
Mr. J. F. B. Mitchell 



Committee on Letters of Greeting 
Dr. Archibald Keightley, Chairman 
Dr. C. C. Clark 
Mrs. M. F. Gitt 

The Reports of Officers were next called for, and Mr. Johnston, reporting on behalf of the 
Executive Committee, said: 



THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY ACTIVITIES 75 

REPORT OF THE EXECUTIVE COMMITTEE 

MR. JOHNSTON: Mr. Chairman and Fellow Members: Happy is The Theosophical Society 
in the year when it has very little history. That has not always been the case; but, happily 
it has been so this year; we have had no crises or major disturbances. There are events which 
are not destructive but constructive, and the Executive Committee has to record one such, 
which really marks the close of a period. In the report of this Committee a year ago, some- 
thing was said about the situation of certain Branches outside this country. On one such 
situation, I shall ask another member of the Committee to report in detail. But I shall try to 
outline, for the benefit of many new members, the way in which the situation arose which is 
now being happily adjusted. That will make clear the present situation and perhaps some- 
thing of the past history of the Society during a very eventful period as well. 

Founded in 1875, The Theosophical Society entered, about 1894, a period of storms of 
exceptional violence. Following the line of thought that Professor Mitchell suggested, one 
may say that the great forces which he indicated were trying to shake the nucleus from its 
firm centre. The result was an external fractioning of The Theosophical Society. That was 
the period in which the many national theosophical societies came into being. The Theosophi- 
cal Society in America took that title at the Boston Convention of 18^5, because those who 
adhered to Adyar had, in fact, receded from the true principles of Theosophy, and it was 
necessary that the parent Society, founded in America, should affirm the fact that it repre- 
sented the original impulse, the true principles, of the Theosophical Movement. The same 
sifting process acted throughout the whole field of Theosophical activity; as a result, national 
societies or branches took form in England, in other European countries, and in South America. 
Presently the process of reintegration began, and a memorial of that period is found in the 
fourth By-Law of our Constitution. This By-Law provides that "in the event of any organi- 
zation, person or persons, outside of America applying for affiliation with or membership in 
the Society, the Executive Committee shall prescribe the manner in which the same shall be 
accomplished, and shall have power to adjust the dues." The process there indicated in due 
time established closer relations between The Theosophical Society in America and the national 
societies or branches in other countries. The next step would naturally be a thorough reinte- 
gration. One aspect of this, I shall ask Mr. Hargrove to report to you. This is the major 
subject of the Executive Committee's report. 

The minor subject of the report overlaps that of the Secretary of The Theosophical Society. 
It may be described as an interweaving among the Branches, and the establishing of threads 
of connection with isolated members. A twofold effort has been carried out: to bring about 
a stronger flow or circulation of spiritual force and understanding among the Branches; and at 
the same time to establish lines of force between the heart of the Society and the isolated 
member. I shall ask Mr. Hargrove to report on the situation in England. 

MR. HARGROVE: Mr. Chairman and Fellow Members: I do not find much to add to what 
Mr. Johnston has said. You will have seen in the THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY of last January, 
under T. S. Activities, the report of the Convention of the British National Branch of The 
Theosophical Society, which was held at Newcastle-on-Tyne, on September i8th, 1921. And 
you will have noticed therefore that the following resolution was proposed by Mr. Lincoln, 
seconded by Captain Graves, carried unanimously, and afterwards signed by all the members 
present: "Resolved that the British National Branch, as such, cease to exist, and that in 
future each Lodge would describe itself as the . . . Lodge of The Theosophical Society." 
That means that instead of a separate British Branch of The Theosophical Society composed 
of the group of lodges in England, we are now once again a single Theosophical Society with 
lodges or branches in England on exactly the same footing as the New York Branch, or any 
other Branch in the United States. This was certainly a very important step in the life of the 
Society, and in the life of its work in England. 

It is true that one or two of the English members were inclined to say, "Well, I suppose 
that means that we are swallowed up by America." But you know there are worse fates than 
to be swallowed up! Everything depends upon who or what swallows you! Some people 



76 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

might say that I have been swallowed by America, others, that I had swallowed America, 
although, so far as that is concerned, I had to! You must, if you live here! Seriously, how- 
ever, I cannot think of any better fate than being swallowed up by The Theosophical Society. 
Who was it who said, "The zeal of thine house hath eaten me up" ? We are not speaking of 
annihilation, of Nirvana as some missionaries interpret Nirvana, but of a real swallowing up. 
And I would suggest to any of our good friends over there who may still be inclined to be fearful, 
that they should change the phrase, "swallowed up by America," which is not fair, and think 
instead of the one Theosophical Society; and should say to themselves, "It is not something 
to regret; we must necessarily desire above all things that we be swallowed up by the Society." 
I mean, of course, that society of which Professor Mitchell spoke to us this morning. Ideally 
speaking, that is what ought to have happened long ago, and if a Branch in this country or 
anywhere else begins to think of itself as something separate, something having a life independ- 
ent of the Society as a whole, that Branch should recognize this as a fault and not a virtue, and 
should set to work to acquire that spirit of solidarity and unity, without which we separate 
ourselves and in that way cut ourselves off from the inspiration of the Movement as a whole. 
The large majority of English members, I am sure, recognized that this amalgamation of the 
Society as a whole was a step forward and not backward, an opportunity and not a handicap. 
Headquarters in this country, I know, has done everything possible to extend a hand of greeting, 
and to make the members in England recognize that they are closer than ever to the heart of 
the work. 

What the Movement needs there, as everywhere, is to push its roots more deeply. In the 
past there has been too much concern about increasing the membership, too much concern 
about propaganda. Propaganda will take care of itself if each individual member will realize 
that the future of the work depends upon his own growth into Theosophy. We should think 
of that Ashvattha tree that is spoken of in the Gita, with its roots above and its branches below, 
drawing sustenance from above, spreading outwardly below; but incapable of growth, incapable 
in any case of fruitage and leafage without fruitage is not what we want unless its roots 
reach to the heavens. And so the future of the work, there or anywhere, depends ultimately, 
in my opinion at least, upon the number of disciples that the membership develops. What 
would be gained if all of England at this moment were converted to a belief in Reincarnation 
and Karma? You would not change the nature of the people an atom. You would not change, 
you could not change the character of the people by a hair's breadth. You would put one 
dogma in the place of another. That is all. And therefore propaganda as sometimes con- 
ceived the propaganda of talk is not what is needed. What is needed is the realization 
that only by incorporating Theosophy in the will is outer growth desirable or safe, or in the 
real sense, possible. Now I am sure, as I have said, that the large majority of members in 
England realize that to the full, and that therefore, if for no other reason, they recognized their 
opportunity when the Society as a whole drew them closer to itself. Because no man can grow 
alone. Every member of the Society is dependent upon his fellows, is dependent upon the 
life that he draws from the centre of the Society, which is the centre of Theosophy, which is the 
Lodge. 

On motion made by Mr. Auchincloss and seconded by Mr. Mitchell, the Convention voted 
to accept the report of the Executive Committee, with thanks to the Chairman of the Committee 
and to Mr. Hargrove. The next report was that of the Secretary. 

REPORT OF THE SECRETARY T. S. FOR THE YEAR ENDING APRIL 28ra, 1922 

Branch Activities 

Were it possible, I should like to reflect to you the glimpses of our different outposts that 
come through the Branch reports and the year's correspondence. None, let us say with pro- 
found gratitude, are satisfied with what they have done for the Movement. Yet, as one reads 
these reports, one cannot fail to recognize the presence of life. Not the life of the ordinary 
association, based on common likes and ambitions, but a life from above that broods over 
those little groups because they are serving, not themselves, but the Great Lodge. 



THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY ACTIVITIES 77 

Willed effort, purposed devotion, determination to serve, these are the characteristic 
marks of the year. Those who have made the most intelligent effort have the most to harvest 
for the Movement. One of the gratifying features of the year has been that seed which ap- 
peared sterile has sprouted. Branches which had wistfully ministered to visitors, year after 
year, have now had the reward of seeing them apply for membership and set to work. Such 
ought to prove good recruits, for at least they should know us as we are, while new recruits 
occasionally make the mistake of expecting that every T. S. Branch will consistently maintain 
an ideal attitude, overlooking the fact that they, themselves, might be very much out of place 
in such company. 

It has been gratifying also to note the new sense of solidarity in the English Branches, and a 
closer touch with headquarters, as well as a new impetus. They made a sacrifice, in relinquish- 
ing their national organization, taking the same status as all other Branches. The reward 
of whole-hearted sacrifice appears to have come to them in new life and opportunity. 

Certain Branches whose membership is widely scattered have tried, with success, making 
definite assignments for Branch reading each member contributing, by letter, questions or 
comments which are then sent the rounds, and serve to illumine the study for all. Other 
Branches have corresponding members. That plan, which had already been tried in America, 
was proposed to members in England by the Executive Committee. The response has been 
enthusiastic. Each one of the older Branches there has now taken in some unattached mem- 
bers, and the Branch Secretaries are keeping those distant members in touch with the Branch 
work. 

There is another significant element in certain reports a greater sense of collective re- 
sponsibility. Some express it as the need for concentration in their own ranks; others speak 
of definitely striving to maintain that unity of heart which alone will enable them to be of 
service; others speak, quite simply, of preparations for the training of those younger members 
who will succeed them. 

The Theosophical Quarterly 

The reports show a constant increase in the use made of the QUARTERLY in Branch meetings 
and in Study Classes. Perhaps another year more Branches will try the experiment of putting 
the magazine into the hands of their regular visitors, with advance announcement of the points 
to be covered. While the enthusiastic commendations of the QUARTERLY leave nothing further 
to be desired in that direction, it appears to your Secretary, that some return current ought to 
flow from the membership of the T. S. back to those who produce the magazine. That would 
mean giving and what have most of us to give to those who make the magazine what it is? 
Much, I suspect just because we are where we are; because the current that flows from them 
to us must have its return, however poor and diminutive at the start. Better use of the maga- 
zine is one phase of a return current. There must be other very natural ones. 

New Activities 

One of the new activities of the year came about in the natural, incidental manner which 
one comes to associate with Lodge guidance. The New York Branch had the good fortune 
to get a very comprehensive Syllabus for the year's work. It was suggested (by Doctor 
Keightley, to be exact) that this was too good to be restricted to local use. So copies were 
sent to each Branch. Some promptly adopted it as their plan of study, seeing the advantage 
to all of unified effort. One Branch, in England, wished to know what was said on those topics; 
notes were taken for their benefit. Then the Executive Committee designated the Assistant 
Secretary T. S. as recorder. After each meeting, she sends a digest of the addresses to the 
English Branches, and to several other Branches which have asked for it. All the reports 
received from these Branches speak with the most sincere appreciation of the impetus which 
their Branch work has thus received. [A letter just received from Venezuela speaks of excel- 
lent reports they have had from one of their members who is temporarily in New York.] 

The generous subscriptions to the "propaganda fund" at the last Convention, and since, 
have made it possible to send specimen copies of the magazine, without charge, to all interested 
inquirers; also, regularly, to all libraries asking for it. 



78 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

Special Convention Day meetings are held by several Branches. Their object, they say, is 
to unite themselves with the Society in action; to send all the reinforcement they can, and to 
receive the new life poured out by the Lodge. 

One Branch, none of whose members ever saw Mr. Griscom, has instituted a memorial 
meeting, held in December, at which his immense contribution to the Movement is gratefully 
reviewed and commemorated. 

One Charter has been issued, for a Branch at Gateshead, England. The members there 
followed a course that is to be commended. First they held meetings, to test out the quality 
of the interest; then when additions came, they organized and applied for their Charter. In 
several other quarters a similar plan is now being tried. 

M e mbers-at-Large 

Not long ago, a member of the Executive Committee remarked that this seemed to be the 
era of members-at-large, their time of great opportunity. How, I have been asking myself, is 
it possible for this Convention to pass on to our isolated members its appreciation both of the 
difficulty of their position and of the doors to great usefulness which are open to them? Most 
of the members here present are in Branches, and know the stimulus to renewed effort received 
through Branch associations. What should we accomplish if we were alone, pioneers, required 
to find the means to sustain ourselves and to be fruitful, in a country that is outwardly hostile 
or undeveloped? All members of the T. S. are expected to seek the gift of tongues; not elo- 
quence, but that discriminating sympathy which speaks to each man in his terms, and broadens 
for him his own faith. The member-at-large is forced to learn this lesson. He often finds that 
nobody wants to hear about Karma and Reincarnation even though knowledge of them has 
remade the whole of life for him. Perhaps this means that he was set in those surroundings 
not to expound Theosophy but to show, first by life and then by word, some of those deeper 
meanings of the religious forms he finds about him to which his Theosophy, if he understands 
it truly, is the key. Or perhaps he is to learn to be the heart of his little community, sensitive 
to the real needs of others, striving constantly to keep true to his own centre that he may know 
what Masters want and may serve them aright. There are many possibilities and beinga 
T. S. member he need not consider and ponder them alone. He has open to him, through the 
Secretary's Office, the experience and judgment of the older members. Never was there a 
university in which knowledge was so freely and discriminatingly given. Would that those 
isolated members who are in earnest might believe this in literal fact, and seek such help. It 
would not be permissible to present this appeal for indeed I mean it to be such had there 
not been response, already. A simple letter of friendly inquiry was sent out from Headquarters 
to members not recently heard from. Your Secretary had no idea whether some of them were, 
theosophically speaking, dead or alive. Alive, was the response in most cases. It makes one's 
heart glow to recall some of those letters from isolated members who for years had had no 
contact with their fellows, yet had kept their lamps burning (drawing their supplies largely 
from the QUARTERLY) and were desirous to be of use in the Movement. Still with all that 
splendid courage and persistence, many of them are fully persuaded that for them, as they are 
placed, there is no way to help in the Movement; things must always go on as they have gone. 
What might they not accomplish if their devotion, their experience in living the theosophic life, 
could be rightly directed, could be harnessed, and so set to work! But in the world to-day 
there are only a few among many millions who have had the advantage of theosophic teaching. 
Should not those few, in all humility, ask and keep asking, How can the Movement use me? 
What do I need to learn before I can be set to work? Such questions, if persistently sent in, 
would have to be answered. There is training to be had; there is need of trained workers. 

P. O. Box 64, which visiting members sometimes propose to visit, stands as the entrance to 
several departments of the work. The addressing of magazine envelopes has again been done 
by Mrs. Helle, Miss Hascall, and Miss Goss; Mrs. Vaile has the subscribers for her portion; 
the book orders are put up by Miss Lewis and Miss Graves; Miss Youngs is cashier, while 
Miss Wood and others have regular "chores." The Secretary wishes to thank these members 
most cordially, on your behalf, also the officers of the Society, whose experience the Secretary 
is permitted to have the great pleasure of transmitting to members who need and desire it. 



THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY ACTIVITIES 79 

At eighty-five, your Secretary-Emeritus is taking a rest from the routine work of the Office. 
She will always be delighted to receive letters from old friends in the Society. But let them 
be letters which need no other answer than the immediate one that will go from her generous, 
responsive heart. Until long after eighty she carried on the Secretary's work in such a manner 
that many of our isolated members say they look forward to seeing her, face to face, beyond 
"the change that men call death." 

Respectfully submitted, 

ISABEL E. PERKINS, 
Secretary, T. S. 

Mr. La Dow moved, Mr. Miller seconded, and the Convention voted the acceptance of the 
Secretary's report, with thanks. The Chairman then read the following greeting which Mrs. 
Gregg sent to the Convention: 

"Greeting and blessing and love to all members in Convention assembled. I want to assure 
you and all our members that I shall be with you in spirit on Convention Day; also that I shall 
do what I can to aid in the Theosophical Movement, in every possible way. I am comforted 
to know that 'they also serve who only stand and wait.' Again I would send my love to each 
one and would assure you of my devotion to our Cause." 

MR. PERKINS: Those of us who have had the privilege of meeting here, year after year, 
always look forward to the happiness of seeing Mrs. Gregg, and of getting that little, shy smile 
of greeting which was always waiting for us. I know this Convention wants to send its love to 
Mrs. Gregg, and I hope the Convention can send her some flowers, to tell her of the love our 
hearts are sending out to her. During all these years she has laboured so faithfully; she has 
been a true mother to our far-off members. She kept in touch with them, kept the life-current 
of the Society flowing to them, made them feel the reality of their membership, when often they 
had no other way of feeling it. I should like to have flowers go to her to express the love of the 
Convention for her. 

MR. WOODBRIDGE: One of the great Masters has said that we tend to think in worn grooves, 
and that it takes courage to fill them up. It takes courage to think of our Secretary as eighty- 
five. I had always thought of her as the spirit of youth. I am glad Mr. Perkins suggested 
that our greeting should go in the form of flowers, for the spirit of purity and devotion and 
sacrifice that flowers typify, in giving up their life, seems a fitting means of expressing 
our love. 

THE CHAIRMAN: I am quite sure there can be but one opinion in regard to this motion, but 
I shall put it to the vote so that all present may have the pleasure of recording their feeling. 
[It was unanimously carried.] The Chair appoints Mr. Perkins and Mr. Woodbridge, a com- 
mittee of two to carry into action their very happy suggestion. The report of the Treasurer 
being next in order, I shall ask Mr. Johnston to take the Chair. 

REPORT OF THE TREASURER OF THE THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY 

PROFESSOR MITCHELL: I should like to say at once that it is a happy repprt. I want to 
remove your fears and establish a sense of ease as soon as possible. You will see as I read the 
report, that the dues for the current year represent the smallest item in our list of receipts. 
There are special contributions of $500; general contributions of over $550; subscriptions and 
donations to the QUARTERLY of over $650; and our Propaganda Fund, over $1400. It is in 
such contributions that our credit balance originates, for there is little chance of decreasing our 
disbursements. The large item is one from which we all gain immeasurably, the printing 
and mailing of the THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY. Beside the pension of $240, the other expense 
items are for the postage and stationery used by the Secretary's Office and the Treasurer's 
office. When one recalls the list of helpers whose constant assistance was recorded by the 
Secretary T. S., and sets over against this volunteer corps, the multitudinous duties that in the 
ordinary magazine require a staff of well-paid assistants, it is interesting to note that the 
expense of carrying on this work for our magazine was $3.75. All the other expenses of the 
Society's work for the year appear in that final item, miscellaneous, 50 cents. 



8o 



THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 



APRIL 28, 1921 -APRIL 27, 1922 



Receipts 

Current dues $468 .61 

General contributions 564.14 

Special contributions 500.00 

Propaganda Fund 1475 - 

Subscriptions and donations to the 



THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY . . . 



1923 Dues prepaid . 



657.28 

$3665.03 
I55-84 



Disbursements 

Pension 

Printing and mailing the THEO- 
SOPHICAL QUARTERLY (4 num- 
bers) 2365.36 

Expense of Subscription Depart- 
ment THEOSOPHICAL QUART- 

TERLY 3.75 

Stationery . '. 48 .38 

Postage 71.15 

Miscellaneous .50 



Balance April 27, 1921 



3820.87 $2729.14 

456.14 Balance April 27, 1922 1547.87 



$4277.01 



$4277.01 



A ssets Liabilities 

On deposit Corn Exchange Bank, April issue of the THEOSOPHICAL 

April 27, 1922 $1559-87 QUARTERLY $559 . 19 

Deducting outstanding checks un- 1923 dues prepaid 155-84 

cashed 1 2 . oo 

$715-03 
Excess of assets over liabilities. . . . 832 . 84 



$1547-87 



April 27, 1922. 



HENRY BEDINGER MITCHELL, 

Treasurer, The Theosophical Society. 



You see, it is a very satisfactory report, particularly if we can hope, as was the understanding 
and intention when the propaganda fund was established, for subscriptions to it each year. 
Let us remember, however, what was said last year, that the Society does not wish any member 
to subscribe for more than he or she can do, in the just proportionment of other expenses and 
with the reduction of income which very many people in these days have to face. If we are to 
continue the magazine at its present low rate, we must rely upon donations as we have always 
done, and we therefore hope that the subscribers to the propaganda fund of last year may be 
willing to renew their subscriptions this year, increasing or decreasing them, as may be. Before 
I close this report, I wish to extend my thanks, and trust you will extend your thanks, to the 
Assistant Treasurer, Miss Youngs, who has done all the work, to whom this report is due, and 
to whom our very grateful thanks are due. 

MR. JOHNSTON: While reporting for the Executive Committee, I said there were no crises 
in our history this year, but I think the fact that we have a balance, a substantial one, running 
into three figures, is a crisis! When I heard the Treasurer say, "But against this balance we 
have also this liability," I once more breathed familiar air. 

Dr. Stedman moved, and Mr. Acton Griscom seconded, the acceptance of the report and the 
hearty thanks of the Convention to the Treasurer and Assistant Treasurer. This being voted, 
Professor Mitchell resumed the Chair. 

MR. J. F. B. MITCHELL: If it is in order, in connection with what was said about the propa- 
ganda fund, I should like to ask if the time is near at hand when the price of printing books is 
getting down to the point where we can hope for reprints from the QUARTERLY. There are a 



THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY ACTIVITIES 81 

great many series of articles that I, for one, have been looking forward to having in book form 
for many years. During the war, prices were high. I am in hopes that if the propaganda 
fund comes up to the figures of last year, we may look forward to the publication of some of 
these articles in book form. 

THE CHAIRMAN: The suggestion is one which the Book Department and the Executive 
Committee will take very seriously into consideration. I quite agree that there is a vast supply 
of material in the QUARTERLY which it is desirable to put into available form. The Secretary 
tells me, however, that whatever else may have come down, the item of labour, as represented 
in all phases of bookmaking, has not come down. Our next business is the report of the Com- 
mittee on Nominations. 

REPORT OF THE COMMITTEE ON NOMINATIONS AND ELECTION OF OFFICERS 

MR. JOHNSTON: The Committee on Nominations presents names for two members of the 
Executive Committee, for a Treasurer and Assistant Treasurer, for a Secretary and Assistant 
Secretary, six names in all. Members know, I think, that the Executive Committee con- 
sists of six members, and is built on the plan of having two of them go out of office each year. 
So at any time there are four members in office, and being a majority, this provides absolute 
continuity and stability. Besides this principle of rotation, we have another very excellent 
principle, that is, when you get a good man do not let him go. On the basis of that principle, 
we nominate Dr. Keightley and Mr. Perkins to serve for three years on the Executive Com- 
mittee, succeeding themselves. The same principle applies to the nomination of Professor 
Mitchell as Treasurer and Miss Youngs as Assistant Treasurer; and of Miss Perkins as Secretary 
and Miss Chickering as Assistant Secretary. 

MR. WOODBRIDGE: The Committee feels that it has been so successful in expressing the real 
desires of this Convention that I would move that the Secretary be empowered to symbolize 
this by casting one ballot for all six nominees. [This motion was seconded by Mr. Acton 
Griscom; and the Secretary of the Convention reported that the ballot had been so cast.] 

CAPTAIN HAMLEN: I notice in that report no mention whatever of rent. That conveys to 
my mind that we owe somebody a very enormous vote of thanks for the quarters in which we 
are meeting. I have asked two members of this organization, and they do not seem to know. 
May I ask who it is? 

THE CHAIRMAN: That question would be a little difficult to answer, publicly. But we may 
say that as a Convention of the Society, the Convention owes its presence here to-day to the 
fact that the New York Branch is able to offer it the hospitality of this studio. 

On motion made by Mr. Acton Griscom and seconded by Mr. La Dow, the Convention 
adjourned until 2.30 P.M. 



AFTERNOON SESSION 

When the Convention reconvened, at 2.30 P.M., the Chairman called for the report of the 
Committee on Letters of Greeting. 

REPORT OF THE COMMITTEE ON LETTERS OF GREETING 

DOCTOR KEIGHTLEY: The Committee has received, and read with deep interest, a large num- 
ber of greetings. Time will not permit me to read them all to you, but I hope that in the Con- 
vention Report for the July QUARTERLY, space will prove to be more elastic than to-day's 
time, and that these letters may all be represented there. I should like, first, to read you the 
message received from an absent member of the Executive Committee, Colonel Thomas H. 
Knoff, and to precede it by a reference to his desire to be here which I am permitted to quote 
from a letter written by him to the Secretary T. S. 

"Circumstances prevent me, as usual, from coming over to the U. S. A. and from attending 
the Convention. I suppose that I shall never have the opportunity to profit by being present 
at such an occasion. But I can join you in mind and heart, and partake in the spiritual strength 
and blessings bestowed on the Convention." 



82 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

Doctor Keightley then read Colonel Knoff 's greetings, followed by the letter from Mr. Julin 
of Arvika, Sweden, by letters from Venezuela, and by others, all of which are printed under 
" Letters of Greeting " at the end of this Report. The reading was interspersed with interesting 
comment on the work in different countries, as reflected in the letters. Also there was the 
following recommendation : 

DOCTOR KEIGHTLEY: Your Committee would like to be permitted to step somewhat out of 
its prescribed line, and to make a suggestion, which grows out of the study of these letters. 
Would it not be possible to arrange to have the reports of the proceedings of the New York 
Branch still further multiplied, so that a copy could be sent to each Branch that wishes them? 
As the Branches in England say these records have been so helpful in uniting and stimulating 
their efforts, I wish that other Branches, and some of our isolated members also, might have the 
incentive and the encouragement of receiving these reports which emanate from New York. 

THE CHAIRMAN: With Doctor Keightley's permission, I shall ask that this suggestion be 
referred to the Executive Committee, for more detailed attention than could be given it here. 
In addition to these formal letters of greeting, surely members have received other letters which 
are in their hands more personally. 

MR. HARGROVE: Since I spoke to you this morning, I have received a letter from Mrs. 
Graves which more than confirms what I ventured to suggest, about the feeling of the large 
majority of the members in England, and certainly of members of the Norfolk Branch, such as 
Mrs. Bagnell and others, regarding the step in advance taken by the Society in England. I do 
not think there could be a better, briefer summary of what I attempted to say this morning of 
the attitude of most of the members in England than that given by Mrs. Graves in the following 
letter: 

NORFOLK, ENGLAND, 

April 1 6th, 1922. 

The Norfolk Branch of the T. S. has sent greetings through me, as its Secretary, to our 
fellow members in America, at the time of the annual Convention, and we are fortunate, this 
year, in having a delegate, in the person of Miss Bagnell. But I should like to add to what I 
have written, the expression of our great appreciation of the arrangement by which we, as a 
Branch, are now directly affiliated to the Headquarters of the Movement in America, and our 
gratitude for the advice and help that we have received, directly and indirectly, as a conse- 
quence of this. I think we are realizing that it is not the number of members, but the sincerity 
and earnestness and sustained effort of each individual, that counts, and in this connection we 
may take literally the saying of the great Christian Master, "Where two or three are gathered 
together in My Name." In these days of apparent chaos and confusion and self-seeking, it 
is hard to see clear through the mists and waves of psychism and materialism. So much the 
more, I think, do we need to realize that it is a time for inner, and not for outer, work; that each 
of us should see to it that our own inner light is well trimmed and kept burning steadily; that 
we should strive unceasingly and faithfully to reach our ideal, the ideal of discipleship, with all 
that it means. 

With the greetings of our Branch to our comrades, I am 

Yours sincerely, 

ALICE GRAVES. 

THE CHAIRMAN: We have also a further letter from the Norfolk Branch which I should like 
to read at this time. [Printed under "Letters of Greeting."] It is a matter of gratification 
and a very Veal gain to hear these letters, bringing to a focus the power and force of the Move- 
ment which is manifest in so many different lines. Here is another letter in which the writer, 
a member of the Cincinnati Branch who was their delegate last year, explains her inability to 
be present, and expresses her regret. And again a letter from one of the Pittsburgh Branch 
delegates, Mrs. Danner, stating that Mr. Danner's sudden illness, from which he is fortunately 
recovering, prevented their being here to represent the Branch. 

A vote of thanks to the Committee on Letters of Greeting was moved, seconded, and carried. 
The Chairman then asked Mr. Hargrove to report for the Committee on Resolutions. 



THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY ACTIVITIES 83 

REPORT OF THE COMMITTEE ON RESOLUTIONS 

MR. HARGROVE: Mr. Chairman and Fellow Members: On behalf of the Committee that 
you heard nominated, I have to introduce first the three customary resolutions: 

I. Resolved that Mr. Johnston, as Chairman of the Executive Committee, be requested to 
reply to the letters of greeting. [Carried.] 

II. Resolved that this Convention of The Theosophical Society hereby requests and authorizes 
visits of the officers of the Society to the Branches. [Carried]. 

III. Resolved that the thanks of the Convention and the Society be extended to the New 
York Branch for the hospitality received. [Carried.] 

During the war and prior to the war, it was my privilege, as Chairman of this Committee, to 
introduce certain resolutions that bore upon the outstanding problems of that time; and it was 
objected, by certain former members in Germany, that this was subversive in so far as it com- 
mitted the Society to opinions. They were mistaken about that, as they were mistaken about 
most other things. But I do not feel it necessary to-day to introduce a resolution that would 
attempt to epitomize the points which I would now venture to present for your consideration. 

First, there is the hint about the flood, the deluge, that we discussed at one of the meetings 
of the New York Branch, early this winter. We know that the Biblical account was derived 
from the Chaldeans, and that in all probability it refers to an actual flood or deluge of water. 
But we know also that water, in universal symbolism, typifies the Astral Light, and it was 
pointed out to us that the Chaldean-Biblical deluge is typical of the psychic deluge which over- 
whelms different parts of the world at different periods of time. So we to-day, both in this 
country and in Europe, are experiencing a flood, a psychic flood, which has submerged the mind 
and the conscience of the large majority of peoples. It was explained to us that The Theosoph- 
ical Society is expected to serve as an ark in the midst of this deluge, to preserve the ancient 
wisdom and the noblest traditions of the past from the destruction which otherwise would be 
inevitable. As members of the Society it is our duty to hold fast to all that is best in civilization 
and in life; to hold fast to the high standards that have distinguished men of honour from men 
without honour; to hold fast, in brief, to the eternal principles of Theosophy. 

We can resist this psychic flood in two ways: by constituting within ourselves a nucleus of 
universal brotherhood in the true meaning of the words, that is, by forming within ourselves a 
nucleus of discipleship, that the tradition of discipleship may be preserved, and that, if possible, 
the living fact of discipleship may be carried forward into the future. The second way of im- 
pressing the world and of resisting this great tide of folly and of psychic sentimentality, is by 
striving in all things for right thought, followed by right action. As members of The Theo- 
sophical Society, reinforced as we are by those behind it and by the accumulated force of the 
Society itself, our thought, if clear cut and based upon sound understanding, will have an im- 
mense influence upon the unstable and cloudy emotionalism which passes for thought in the 
world around us. We have established and must maintain a steady.centre of light. This light, 
which is truth, if only by the shock of truth to which the world is unaccustomed will in 
time reveal facts for what they are, apart from the glamour with which sentimentalism and 
materialism have covered them. 

Right thought and right action, in the midst of wrong thought or of no thought, and of action 
that often is lunatic: this is what we must supply. There is one most important direction to 
which our thought has been turned, and where our thought ought to be clear cut and in accord- 
ance with the principles of Theosophy. Never, at any meeting of this Society or its Branches, 
can politics be discussed, but we ought most carefully to consider the principles which underlie 
policies, and upon which policies ought to be based, principles to which most politicians are 
totally blind. Particularly is this true of international politics. As those who aspire to form 
the nucleus of a universal brotherhood of humanity, we must learn to see international problems 
in the light of theosophic principles. To do this, we must learn to interpret history in the light 
of theosophic principles. 

History, as you know, is interpreted for the most part to-day in terms of economics, as if 
economics and the mere appetites of men controlled the destinies of the world. In the light of 



84 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

Theosophy, what do we see? First of all, a spiritual purpose in evolution, and therefore in the 
evolution of nations. Second, we see that the evolution of nations, as of men, within the limits 
of free will, is guided by the conscious agents of divinity, agents we call Masters. Masters 
work to perfect nations just as they work to perfect individuals, and the goal in both cases is the 
same, is discipleship in ever-ascending degree. 

Even the most enlightened among those who attempt to interpret history, outside the ranks 
of our Society, fail to see any purpose in it. They cannot, because they lack the light which 
Theosophy sheds on the problem. Gustave Le Bon, for instance, has escaped completely from 
the materialistic and economic interpretation. He insists that a nation is controlled above all 
else by its character, not by its intelligence, but by its character. He insists and he is in no 
sense a spiritualist the Japanese would call him a Shintoist he insists that in times of crisis, 
nations are controlled by their dead rather than by the living, because nations act from their 
bones, as it were, or from deep-seated ancestral instinct. He compares nations with those 
among us children and others whose reasons at best are after-thoughts, even when their 
conduct has been right. Instinct governs, he says. It is deep-seated instinct, the product of 
ages of action, incorporated into the very fibre of their being, which accounts for the emotions, 
the excitements, the paroxysms and the decisions of nations in a time of crisis. Seeing truly up 
to that point, he fails none the less to discover any purpose in the life of nations, any goal toward 
which their activities should lead them. Theosophy alone gives the key, because Theosophy 
shows us that a nation is not merely an aggregation of individuals, but an aggregation which 
constitutes in itself a more or less permanent entity, a distinct and separate character. Some 
people would describe this entity as a soul, but that, in my opinion, would be misleading, be- 
cause it does not follow necessarily that a nation has or is a soul, any more than it follows that a 
person has or is a soul. Just as there are elementals masquerading in human form, so also there 
are nations that^re elementals masquerading in national form. You need look no further than 
Russia. Yet, because each nation is an entity, a character, you can set to work to understand 
that character, both higher and lower in many cases, just as you would study the character of an 
individual. 

It follows also that it takes just as long to change the character of a nation as it takes to 
change the character of an individual. An individual can experience conversion when that 
individual, in spite of his many faults, is above all else a soul. And when a nation is developed 
to that point, it also may experience conversion. So far, however, not one of them has reached 
the stage at which conversion would be possible. Consequently, a nation is going to repeat 
itself, with only the smallest modifications, from year to year and from century to century; 
it is going to remain true to type. It may be said without exaggeration, I believe, that it takes 
nearly as long to effect a permanent psychological change in a nation as it does to produce an 
anatomical change in a species. 

What Theosophy reveals, then, is the life, the probation, of nations as entities, each nation 
a character developing under spiritual law for spiritual purposes, and the goal, perfection! 
Not identity of nature and appearance, but just as strongly marked differences as we are told 
exist between Masters, the one supplementing the other, forming between them, the white light, 
the one light of the Logos. 

Now let us see the bearing of these general principles upon immediate problems, or upon 
one of them in any case, that is, upon the international attitude toward France. It should 
not be supposed that members of this Society hold a sort of brief for France, or that we can be 
so foolish as to think of her as sinless. We know too well that France to-day is not only suffering 
for her sins of the past, but has not yet realized their enormity, is inclined at times to be 
proud of them. There is the great outstanding fact of the French Revolution, with its hideous 
crimes, and the Republic which exists to-day as its aftermath. Truly, much to suffer for, much 
to expiate, and no possible escape from the expiation, if only for the reason that a republic 
is limited by its own terms, and can produce only one sort of policy, namely, a policy based upon 
compromise. A republic is incapable, inherently, of acting on principle, because its conduct 
is regulated by a balancing of expediencies. \Ve should know this from our own experience. 
Even supposing that instead of having to obtain the support of a majority in the Senate or of a 



THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY ACTIVITIES 85 

majority in the House of Representatives, it were necessary only to obtain the approval of 
three or four men, is it not evident that if these men had equal votes, it would be out of the 
question to secure unanimity of action based upon principle, unless all four men were detached 
to the point of discipleship? One of them would advocate this, another that, the third a modifi- 
cation, the fourth something else. The result perhaps would be representative of suggestions 
made by each, but it would be a compromise, and if anyone could doubt that the result must 
be a compromise, rather than clear cut action based upon principle, all that needs to be done is 
to look at the facts all over the world, from any of our Tariff laws to the Armistice and the 
Treaty of Versailles. 

Fully aware, then, not only of how France has sinned, but also of how far short of ideal her 
policy is bound to be, it is both right and necessary that members of this Society should see 
things as they are, instead of through the discolouring glasses of selfishness, or of envy, hatred 
and malice. For what do we hear to-day on all sides? We hear that France is ambitious, 
militaristic, imperialistic, while anyone who knows the character of France; who knows what is 
in the bones of France, knows that France desires above all else peace, and that she desires it as 
we in this country do not know desire. We may think that we desire peace. England thinks 
that she desires peace, not only thinks it, but assures Germany almost daily that peace at 
any price is now the desire of her soul. Yet both here and in England, peace is desired as food 
is desired by a man who had a good dinner last night, plenty for breakfast and for lunch, and 
who is certain of this evening's dinner. France, on the other hand, desires peace as food is 
desired by a man who is starving; who has had no breakfast, no lunch, and does not know where 
or how he will get any dinner, worse than that, who cannot remember a day when he had 
really enough to eat. That is the way France desires peace ~she desires it ravenously. And 
that is why France says, I shall not lay down my arms until I have made sure of it! My friends, 
France is right, not wrong, in her attitude. It would be criminal if she were to adopt any 
other. Her statesmen must think, not only of the convenience of to-day, but of the safety of 
the women and children of the future. To accuse her of imperialism, as this country accuses 
her, as England accuses her, is in flat contradiction of the truth, and is grossly unfair: and The 
Theosophical Society stands for the truth, for justice, for fair play. 

Then we are told that France lacks the "international spirit." Well, how about this country? 
Are we in a position to accuse any other nation of lacking the "international spirit " ! We refuse 
to have anything to do with them over there. Not for one moment do I suggest that in this 
we are wrong, but are we in a position to accuse any other nation! And how about England? 
For England also says that France lacks that spirit, England, advocating the League of 
Nations! But if I know anything of England (and I think I do), just wait till Lenine or some 
international committee attempts to dictate to England, against the grain of her interests, how 
England must behave, and then see! I do not blame England for that far from it. I 
should not blame her if she were to tell an international committee that she would protect her 
own interests as she sees fit. But I do deeply regret that England should turn on France and 
accuse France of lacking the international spirit merely because France refuses to accept dicta- 
tion at the hands of England. And speaking for myself only ; I say that England would 
never have done it, if she were not dominated at this moment by a clever but shyster attorney, 
cheap and vulgar, a demagogue who, at his best, was a mere medium for the will of England. 
Tragic indeed, that England should be represented by anything like that, incapable of acting 
on principle, ignorant even of the meaning of the word! And 6nce more, the result is wrong, 
is unfair, and members of The Theosophical Society must set it right so far as lies in their 
power (and their power is great), by right seeing, by right thinking, not by being unfair to 
England because others are unfair to France, but by being just, by seeing things as they are, 
and perhaps, incidentally, by recognizing that England's condition to-day is the inevitable 
result (I am going to be frank, because again I speak for myself only) is the inevitable result 
of her democracy. For if a nation is governed by a mob, what do you get? Mob leadership; 
mob morals; mob lack of responsibility, and sometimes mob crimes! And there are those 
who want to carry it yet further, and who talk delightedly about a democratic United States of 
Europe. Heaven defend us from a United States of Europe! Is there not confusion enough as 



86 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

things are? Just think: what do we know about the United States of America? What does 
everyone know? A great country and a great people, if you choose. But behind our adjec- 
tives, what do we know? We know that in Congress the representative of one State trades his 
vote with the representative of another says quite openly, Vote for my reservoir and I will 
vote for your harbour. There is no concealment about it. Different groups are formed to 
push particular interests: anything for votes! Now transfer that to the international field, 
and imagine the representative from Portugal trading his vote with the representative from the 
Ukraine, and so on round the circle, with the interests of America or England or France at stake! 
Nothing settled on principle, but everything on the basis of commerce, of trading votes, of 
expediency, confusion worse confounded. If such a thing should happen; if the United 
States of Europe, or of the world, should materialize, it would come upon us for our sins, as 
yet one more nightmare through which we have to pass before the world wakes up on the other 
side. And when will it wake up? How long must we wait? How long must those wait for 
whom "the passage of Time is as the stroke of a sledge-hammer"? We do not know; but 
what we do know is that the world will not be saved from itself until it prays to be saved from 
itself. Here are men, some of whom, a few of whom, are supposed to be gentlemen, shaking 
hands and eating with the Bolsheviki with creatures dripping with blood and foul with 
murder murder of innocent women and girls, among hosts of others. Yet those same men, 
the willing associates of murderers, are governing Europe and are convinced they can do so 
satisfactorily; are convinced worse than that, are able to convince others that they are 
entirely equal to the task! As if anyone could be equal to it, who thinks himself equal to it! 
And from this insanity there will be no escape; there will be no salvation for Europe or for the 
world, until man at last throws up his hands and cries aloud, "God, I cannot do it! I do 
not know how!" When he has learned that much, he will at least have made a beginning. 
Then let him pray and labour, labour and pray, that he may fit himself for the coming of the 
King. For when his desire is real and his prayer ardent and his labour has become a prayer, 
then someone from the Lodge itself may answer, who will rule as a King rules. Then, and only 
then, shall we have a government, worthy of men. There was a golden age. There were Adept 
Kings. That was long ago, in the innocence of the world, and man has lost his innocence. 
But he may win all back again with much more added. He may now enter knowingly upon 
that which before he enjoyed unknowingly. He may achieve a golden age; he may obtain the 
government of the wise. All he needs to do is to labour for it and to long for it, as he will, 
when he ceases to be satisfied with himself and learns how great and dire is his need. 

So we see something of the light that Theosophy throws on the evolution of nations nations 
developing, struggling, failing, succeeding, very much as we, individuals, do, evolving toward a 
conscious discipleship, and attaining at last as the reward of their effort and in spite of all their 
failures, government from above, the government of wisdom and of strength. Let us work 
for that attainment! 

THE CHAIRMAN: The matter thus put before us is evidently not one to be formulated in 
resolutions, but rather in our own thoughts. Can it be elucidated in detail by discussion? Is 
there any discussion on the points which have been presented to us? Above all, is there objec- 
tion? Is there question? Is there comment? If not, it would seem to me that a resolution to 
accept the report of the Committee is in order. [So moved and voted.] It may be well not to 
discharge the Committee with thanks as yet. There may be other resolutions to be referred to 
it. Therefore we will accept the report, holding in our minds the matters that have been pre- 
sented to us, for consideration, and pass on to other business. 

MR. WOODBRIDGE: There echoes back from what Mr. Hargrove said, his statement that 
Theosophy involves the spirit of fair play. I think every one of us hesitates to follow up what 
has just been said, yet it seems to me unfair that we should sit silent, merely because we feel 
that we have nothing to offer. From one point of view I have nothing to say, but I asked my- 
self how the law of correspondences could be applied. How is it with the individual? When 
an individual becomes a democracy, he is either insane or diseased. As a concrete example, 
take an infected finger. Each one of us illustrates the principle Mr. Hargrove set forth. When 
we are at our best, we are ruled by an adept king. We have within us a fragment of the Lodge. 



THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY ACTIVITIES 87 

Each man can find proof in his best moments, that he is under the rule of an adept king. At 
his worst he is a Bolshevik. 

THE CHAIRMAN: I am wondering if Mr. Hargrove would quote an ancient Arab saying which 
he quoted recently. [Mr. Hargrove found a pencil copy and handed it to the Chairman.] It 
reads: "According to Avicenna, the great Arabian adept, 'the soul is created for eternity, and 
the object of its union with the body is the formation of a spiritual and independent microcosm.' 
In other words, every human soul is intended to become the God of a universe." 

I too find myself very hesitant to speak on this theme. Yet I do wish to remind the members 
of something which I feel is vitally important, and that is that they should realize the power 
which lies in consciousness, the power which comes from simple understanding. There is 
much that needs doing, much more than we can do. The propaganda which began before the 
war, the propaganda of misrepresentation, of glamour, of evil, the propaganda which seems to 
have led in this country and elsewhere to loving your enemies and hating your friends, has not 
ceased. We find all about us a campaign of misrepresentation of our allies. We take great 
credit to ourselves that we would ask no indemnity from our supposedly beaten enemy. We 
would ask them to pay us not one cent for the expenses of the war. It was a noble gesture of 
forgiveness of an enemy; but there is no such gesture in the case of the debts of our allies who 
fought for three years for a cause supposed to be our own. All through the country there is 
now the same propaganda which held us out of the war; propaganda of misrepresentation, of 
suspicion, jealousy against our allies; the propaganda of subtle excuse for our enemies. And if 
we can do nothing else, we can perform a service in the world by seeing through that, by having 
here a real focus of consciousness; for there is no power greater than the power of consciousness. 

MR. MITCHELL: I do not think I can add to what has been said, but I have got to indulge 
myself in the opportunity to try to follow on. It is such a gorgeous privilege to be here, and 
hear the things that are said, and have the light that is given here, I think every one of us 
wants to stand up and do what he can to follow the lead. The Chairman spoke of the Lodge 
looking down on us, chelas of the Lodge, Masters of the Lodge, watching the Society here. 
I was asking myself what it was they would ask of us. It seems to me the answer has been given 
in what has just been said. What is it that the world needs? We see all around us well-mean- 
ing stupidity. That is as bad as crime, or worse. There are, to be sure, well-meaning efforts 
to help here or there. We do ten thousand things from blindness, and do infinite harm, because, 
as Mr. Johnston said this morning, the world is morally and intellectually blind blind be- 
cause of the Karma of its own sin. That, as we have been told many times, is the worst of the 
penalties of sin. As we remember what has been said of the Masters forming the guardian wall, 
holding back the heavy Karma of the world, they must do that in many ways, but one way 
we can all see is in holding back the blindness that would make still worse the psychic flood of 
which Mr. Hargrove spoke, still greater the darkness of the blindness. And here we have light. 
We hear the moral principles that the world needs above everything else, and it is ours to deter- 
mine whether the light is to stay in the world or whether it will become a tradition and die out. 
Mr. Hargrove spoke of the need for disciples. What does that mean? That those who see the 
light, who are given the opportunity to see it, shall bring it down from the plane in which they 
see it as an ideal, and live it, show it forth on the physical plane. To give life to what we know 
as ideals, that those ideals may be made living things on earth which the Lodge can use, that 
they may spring up in the hearts and minds of other men, till the light may be communicated 
to the world, as many torches may be lighted from a single flame. 

MR. MILLER: It seems to me that when we realize the extent of the psychic flood with which 
we are surrounded, and that we have light by which we can find our way out, then, if we do 
not seize it, woe be upon us! We cannot be surrounded by all this wave without its affecting us 
so unconsciously that we are not aware of it. As Light on the Path says, we live and move and 
have our being in matter; our knowledge of it is instinctive. Therefore we must keep steady 
and be very careful to see to it that the evils which we see so prominently, so glaringly brought 
out to-day, are not reflected in ourselves. It seems to me that just as we all condemn the sitting 
down at table with cut-throats and murderers, so we should look at ourselves and see what the 
criminal in us is, with whom we are fraternizing. 



88 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

MR. ACTON GRISCOM: Mrs. Graves wrote of the need for discipleship. Mr. Hargrove sug- 
gested that image of the tree inverted, with its roots in heaven. The picture that comes up in 
my own mind is of an army or, if you choose, a regiment, a regiment with a magnificent tradi- 
tion with an esprit de corps, of which the esprit de corps of any regiment that we know in his- 
tory is but the pale reflection. And members of that regiment, outposts of that regiment, are 
appealing to us. They want recruits. They are not appealing to all the world, but to you and 
to me. And they want us to understand something of that esprit de corps of theirs, so that we 
can become corporate members of that great fighting unit. As we look back on the history of 
this Theosophical Movement, there Were very few of its members who were soldiers: Madame 
Blavatsky, Mr. Judge, the latter a lawyer, and yet I wish I could quote correctly a sentence 
from the article called the "Elixir of Life." It is to the effect that if you wish to defeat an 
enemy, you must first break his confidence. You must destroy his self-confidence. What was 
it that Madame Blavatsky did? She broke the moulds of the world, the mental, intellectual 
moulds. She did her fighting not on the physical plane with guns, but on the moral, the intel- 
lectual, the spiritual planes. She broke open and threw into confusion the morale of science, the 
morale of theology. She was a splendid fighter, and the world to-day is an evidence of the 
extent to which her fight-ing was successful. Theology to-day, taking it by and large, is a chaos. 
Science is struggling for principles to unite its mass of facts. Men's moral standards which were 
codified, were broken open the weak are now suffering for it, but perchance a higher stand- 
ard, a higher moral code may be given to the world. That, perhaps, is an indication of some of 
the fighting that Madame Blavatsky did. We are not soldiers, but we can look to the example 
of those older members who are waging that fight to-day and are in the front rank. As this 
Movement goes forward, year by year, it seems as if more of the spirit of the ages might be 
garnered into it. 

Egypt, long unknown to the western world, is now giving to us once more its treasures 
treasures of art, of architecture, and let us hope something of its wisdom. The same is true 
of India. All the riches of the past are the common property of the world to-day. In our own 
more recent history, we find renewed interest in the works and doings of the men of the Middle 
Ages, of Dante for example. We find the example of a Roland, of a King Arthur, of the saints, 
all lying before us. It is the opportunity of the members of this Society who have some under- 
standing, some interest in the law of cycles, of Reincarnation, of Karma, to make themselves 
familiar with these great traditions of the past, to give them point, force, life; and by so doing, 
to garner not only their wisdom, but their insight into the problems of to-day, those problems 
and difficulties which Mr. Hargrove and others have so clearly set before us. There have been 
psychic deluges in the past. Mayhap we have taken part in them and lived through them our- 
selves. To-day, we recognize this psychic deluge in some of the glamour which is cast about 
politics, statecraft, religion, art. How can we face these things and see the truth through them? 
When a lie is told us, how can we recognize it as such? We cannot unless we study the records 
of the past, gather the wisdom humanity has accumulated in the course of experience, and so 
learn to face one after another of these problems ourselves, to take our own stand, not to 
have to be told by someone in whom we have confidence, what the problem is, but to be able 
to find the truth ourselves, to see it and know it, and take our stand upon it with confidence. 
It seems to me that is something of the tradition, of the esprit of this corps of the Lodge that we 
are asked to enter. In New York Branch meetings, emphasis has been laid on understanding. 
There is the fight against the cloud in our own minds, the fight against our habits of thought, 
demanding perseverance, every one of the qualities of the soldier. As we listened to such an 
address as that made by Mr. Hargrove, holding before us a glimpse of the magnificence of the 
future, we should find somewhere within ourselves a desire to respond, to enter into that fight, 
and if it be a question of understanding, then we should demand of ourselves the discipline 
that is required to learn and to understand. We can read our poetry, look at pictures, even read 
the daily paper, asking ourselves what, as would-be che"las of this Lodge, we can do to see and 
to understand, to see somewhat in the way chelas see, to understand somewhat in the way 
they may be conceived to understand. The most magnificent of armies, the most splendid 
of services, requiring not the knowledge of a musket, not the range of a physical gun, but the 



THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY ACTIVITIES 89 

knowledge and understanding of all the powers of human nature, and back of those powers, all 
the powers of the divine and the spiritual which centre themselves in us and would make us 
gods in the universe. 

MR. SAXE: I am reminded of Light on the Path: it is impossible to help others until you ob- 
tain some certainty of your own. This is one of the main truths which we learn and keep on 
learning. We get some understanding, and then a new event or occurrence will show us an 
entirely new angle. What we have been hearing brings new light on this particular point, and 
a new incentive for trying to realize it and act on it. And I think we are most grateful for 
having the truth brought to our attention as has been done this afternoon. 

MR. AUCHINCLOSS: Real understanding, more of it, and how to get it. How to take that 
sense of the nearness of the Masters that comes at Convention time, taking it into our lives 
and making it live externally. Because unless we do hold fast to that sense of contact with the 
unseen world, we are going to be left working with a good motive and intention, but lacking 
entirely knowledge of the real meaning and purpose of things. We ask ourselves what differ- 
ence it makes whether we really understand, we have been told that our motive counts; then 
if our motive is right, is not the outcome all right? The answer to that is, the outcome is all 
right as far as it goes, but the degree of Tightness of the outcome depends on the degree of 
effectiveness of our action, and that effectiveness in its turn depends upon the completeness of 
our motive, the degree of understanding that we have back of our motive. Upon the extent, 
then, to which we understand the divine purpose and meaning that lies back of the things we 
are called upon to do, depends the whole outcome of our effort. We are automatons, or we are 
powers in a greater or less degree. We must try to make more and more a thing of everyday 
this sense of the unseen world, so that we may have at last something of the vision without 
which we cannot hope to stand to-day. 

DR. CLARK: It would seem that this is part of the 9ld Lodge tradition which the Christian 
Master was imparting to his disciples in the allegory of the vine and its branches. And his 
disciple, St. John, telling more about that tree of life, spoke of the branches and the leaves for 
the healing of the nations, and all manner of fruit was borne upon it. Certainly it would be 
fortunate for us, if that great opportunity for us of being a branch of the tree of life represented 
the truth about our condition. But we have made it so different. In the tropics there are 
trees that live not only from the parent trunk, but their branches send out roots to earth, and 
form an attachment there. From the branches of that tree, rooted in the spiritual world, from 
us as children of the Master, there have gone out roots of desire, rooted deep in the earth and 
drawing up from the earth that which denies what comes down from above, until there has 
grown up a jungle of the giant weed of self. Our books urge us really to make for ourselves the 
path of discipleship, by destroying these giant weeds that have grown from the roots of desire 
which we have sent down to the earth below. 

MR. LA Dow: Colonel Knoff's letter referred to the clouds of illusion with which we envelop 
the idea of divine life. There is a very ancient story which I apologize for telling, but it illus- 
trates my point. It is of a lady and a little boy who were Christian Scientists. They were 
walking down a country road, and a goat came along the road, showing threatening signs. 
The boy was terrified. The mother reminded him that God is love and would not let the goat 
come after them. "Yes," said the boy, "I know it, and God knows it, but the goat doesn't 
know it ! " I think if we remember that the goat is sometimes the symbol of Satan, we can apply 
the story to the present situation in the world and in ourselves. If the goat, if Satan, comes 
after us and attacks us, after all, it is not fair to blame God. I am sure that God would prefer 
that the goat would not butt us; yet I am convinced that to a certain extent God cannot help 
us, if we follow that particular line of foolishness. It is so certain that merely good intention 
and emotionally high motives can get us nowhere, can not give us strength to stand against the 
foe for an instant, unless we supplement them with wisdom, with ardour. The term wisdom 
there, must be relative. We cannot expect to have the wisdom of the gods now, but we can 
face in the direction of wisdom. We can act out the truths which we know to be the facts of 
the spiritual world. More damage has been done in the world by well-meaning idiots than by 
tyrants, just because of this lack of wisdom, this lack of recognition of facts. The power of 



90 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

action belongs to the enemy, if he puts more force into his particular false concept, than we 
put into our right concept. It will be due to our weakness in this respect, if we succumb to the 
hosts of darkness, who are said to be wiser than the children of light. 

MR. PERKINS: Mr. Hargrove lias made it so much easier for us to understand what Mr. Judge 
meant back in 1893, at the London Convention of the Theosophical Society, when he said 
that a theosophical convention is not a place for bureaucratic discussion and legislation and 
politics, but a great meeting of the Lodge. We have been helped to-day to feel what Mr. 
Judge meant, and if this Convention is in fact a great meeting of the Lodge, then we are meeting 
in the Lodge. And what does that mean? For we must recognize, then, not only our blessing 
and our privilege, but the responsibility that Mr. Hargrove spoke to us of. And what do we 
know of those great souls who have brought us where we are to-day, to whom we owe every 
grain of gratitude, every particle of generosity, that are in us anywhere. Well, there is that 
old Hermetic maxim, Know thyself. And any man who has taken one single step toward 
trying to know himself, has learned one simple fact, that of himself he is not only nothing, but 
worse than nothing. If we have some little glimmering of the truth that in ourselves we are 
at least a little worse than nothing, and that any possible service we may ever be able to render 
to the Theosophical Movement will be on account of the light, the power and the understanding 
of the Lodge, then we shall know something also about those great souls who make up the Lodge 
itself. Surely, they must feel ten thousand times more than we can feel, that they are nothing, 
that they are only servants of those who stand above them and behind them, their own great 
Masters whom they in turn serve. 

To-day our hearts are wakened and kindled, and there is gratitude in them, and we all want 
to have some way of expressing it. We know there is no way but one way, because those whom 
we would thank and serve with everything that there is in us, want no service for themselves 
and no thanks for themselves, except only the thanks and service which can be passed on to 
those above them and those for whom they have laid down life itself, that is, the thanks 
and gratitude of real service. This means, in part at least, that we should not leave this Con- 
vention for I believe one is not supposed to go from a meeting of the Lodge just as he came 
should not go from this Convention without some deep and simple and firm resolution in 
our hearts and our individual wills, to do with steadiness and fire and zeal that which has been 
given to us to do. And each one of us knows what has been given to him to do: the things 
that come every single day in his life, which is the part of the battle front at which he has been 
stationed. We know that we can express our gratitude by the quality of the attack we make 
against the forces of democracy and misrule that come up above the horizon of our consciousness. 
That is one way in which this Convention can manifest itself in the heart and mind and will of 
those who have been present. And so I hope that for every one of us this Convention may 
register something new in the way of resolution, something that we shall hold sacred, as a vow 
is supposed to be held both by uncivilized and civilized men, something from which we shall 
not depart. 

MR. WOODBRIDGE: This interests me in the light of the letters of the Master K. H. It seems 
to me we can go away from the Convention feeling that we can respond to the call of the 
Lodge. Master K. H. tells of someone being sent to multiply rice not to create, but to multi- 
ply. Then there is the Western Master's miracle of the loaves and fishes, and in all the miracles 
it was necessary that the person should do something. So though our abilities are trifling, we 
can reach the goal Mr. Hargrove pointed out, by offering our work, our efforts, as if it were 
rice to be multiplied to feed the famished thousands. 

THE CHAIRMAN: I might add that I hope our resolutions may include some desire and some 
determination to express the moral duty of being intelligent, not only of carrying things out, 
but of understanding things that we purpose to carry out. Unless there is something any 
member would say further along this line, I shall ask that we may hear from all our visiting 
delegates who are willing to speak to us. 

MRS. REGAN: I really cannot say anything more for Hope Branch than I have said in past 
years, except that during the winter we have wakened to the necessity for more knowledge of 
theosophical principles, a knowledge of Theosophy and also of the principles for which the 



THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY ACTIVITIES 91 

Society stands. Of course we have known this theoretically for a great many years. We have 
read it and looked up and said, - that is truth. But many of these things were just theories 
in a way, and a theory is dead and lifeless unless put into practice. So in addition to our 
Branch work we adopted the Syllabus of the New York Branch, getting all our material 
from the QUARTERLY for ten or fifteen minutes at each meeting we tried to understand what 
Theosophy is, and what our duty is as members of the Society. 

Miss RICHMOND having presented greetings from Massachusetts, 

MRS. GITT said: I have been thinking of the turbulence in the world and its low moral stand- 
ard. Judging particularly from the city in which I live, it seems to me the world never was 
as bad as it is now. What is going to reach people? The trials of the war have not done so. 
Their own trials have not done so. There seems to be nothing that will reach some people! 
It has seemed to me that the best way to reach most people is to try to get their view of things, 
try to see things through their vision, and then to have a compassionate heart toward them. 
This might do some good. I am convinced that the path of discipleship is unselfish service, 
and the door is compassion. If we can unite those two in our lives, I believe that we can have 
revealed to our consciousness every great secret in life. I believe it is our own fault if the secrets 
of the inner life are not revealed to us. 

MR. VAIL: I can only express my great pleasure at being here, and my appreciation of the 
opportunity, and at the same time the wish that I had more capacity of availing myself of 
what is offered. 

MR. PERKINS: Those lilies are setting us an example, standing about the pictures of the 
leaders of the Movement, who pointed the way for us, and who made it possible for us to be 
here to-day. They have gone forward, showing us the way. - I wish we might follow the lilies, 
holding themselves up quietly there, and have a chance just to stand in memory of those whom 
we love and look up to and look forward to. [All present stood for a moment in silent tribute.] 

The Chairman, finding that no other delegates would speak, stated that he would entertain a 
motion to adjourn the Convention. Mr. Woodbridge asked the privilege of proposing a vote 
of thanks to the Chairman and the Secretaries of the Convention. This motion was seconded 
and carried. The Chairman asked that with the motion to adjourn be coupled the dismissal, 
with sincere thanks, of the Committee on Resolutions, which had not been discharged. This 
combined motion was made, seconded and carried, and the Chairman announced that the Con- 
vention was adjourned. 

ISABEL E. PERKINS, 
Secretary of Convention. 
JULIA CHICKERING, 
Assistant Secretary of Convention. 

LETTERS OF GREETING 

KRISTIANIA, NORWAY. 

To The Theosophical Society in Convention Assembled: A problem that seems to be most diffi- 
cult to understand, even for those who have studied Theosophy for more than a decennary or 
two, is Love. In truth, they may have been thinking deeply over it, have meditated on it, per- 
haps, and so they feel sure that they have penetrated the mystery of Love; that now they are 
fathoming it entirely. And, so they talk of Love as something quite familiar to them. 

Oh, poor, miserable "little ones." How can you conceive that which is inconceivable? 
Who ventures to say that he comprehends God who is Love? 

So let us speak the truth, and humbly confess that our conception of Love is not Love itself, 
but a mirror only, more or less distorted by emotion and congenial appearances from the psychic 
world. 

But our conception of Love can be altered, and is altering every day when we try to live up 
to our highest conception of it, at the same time trying to keep the Commandments of the 
Master. By so doing we grow into the likeness of the Master who is one with the Father. 
Then, and then only, we shall know the true nature of Love. 



92 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

Friends, though these things are not new they never grow old. They can, therefore, be reit- 
erated ad infinitum. So I suggest to those to whom it might appeal, that we should make it the 
keynote of our future aspirations eagerly to try to raise our conception of Love to the highest 
possible level, trying at the same time to make Love a living power in our lives. 
With cordial greetings from your comrades in Norway, I am 

Fraternally yours, 

T. H. KNOFF. 



ARVIKA, SWEDEN. 

To the Members of the T. S. in Convention Assembled: We members of the T. S. in Sweden send 
all of you our warm fraternal greetings and good wishes. 

Our outer work has been as before, with an open meeting every other week and our lending- 
library open once every week. The result of this work is as small as we ourselves are small and 
our endeavours imperfect. 

The war between nations is ended is it? But the war between classes goes on with the 
consequence of increasing poverty, want and other calamities. Perhaps it has been necessary 
that all this come to the surface, that it may be possible for all to see it as it is; but, seeing it, we 
must also remember the truth "Cave" expresses thus: "All that God created was 'good,' and 
he created all things, in heaven above and in earth beneath. . . . Therefore Nature in all 
her phases is divine . . . and in time niters even his [man's] evil to the sweetness of her own 
eternal purity." Yet, we are not there, and we believe that the further from " home " some seem 
to us to be, the greater is their need of help in the form of love and compassion. 

Fraternally yours, 

HjALMAR JULIN. 



AUSSIG, CZECHOSLOVAKIA. 

To The Theosophical Society in Convention Assembled: The holy time of T. S. Convention is 
here again. We feel the urgent need to examine ourselves very earnestly and unsparingly and 
to give the Master, as it were, a genuine report of what we have done of real work for the Great 
Cause to which we have pledged our lives. So we feel how the Master is stirring up our con- 
science and asking us to answer as frankly and fully as possible questions like this: Have we truly 
developed strenuous efforts to put off something of the paralyzing barriers which are preventing 
us from being agile and forceful instruments in the hands of the Lodge Messenger who is caring 
for this domain? Have we done all we were able to pull off the shroud of lethargy which checks 
our effectiveness and whereunder we still have to suffer? What have we done of special sacri- 
fices to make our branch a more living one, to make it a more dynamic spiritual centre? Were 
we careful to watch the dangerous reactions which we have to await because of the fact that we, 
before our conversion, indulged so very uncritically in typical German feeling and thought? 
Are we careful of the fact, that it does not suffice to look into the future only with hope, but that 
we must likewise develop an intelligent study of our moral and mental attitude and behaviour 
in the past, to have an understanding of the momentum we have created ourselves, and which 
we have to meet and to overcome? 

We will be with you at Convention, in our thoughts and hearts. Our aspirations and prayers 
will ascend with yours, and we hope to share, again, in some degree, the blessings which will be 
the fruit of your common inner and outer efforts. We know we shall feel again your supporting 
help. I have to thank you very much for the sympathy you feel for us as a distant Branch, and 
to send you our heartfelt greetings. 

I remain, faithfully yours, 

OTHMAR KOHLER, 
Secretary, Aussig Branch, T. S. 



NORFOLK, ENGLAND. 

The Norfolk Branch of the T. S. sends greetings to the members assembled in Convention in 
New York. . . . Being so few in number, and living so far apart, we are unable to hold regular 



THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY ACTIVITIES 93 

meetings, but we are working on a plan of study and correspondence which we have found very 
helpful. We are studying Patanjali's Yoga Sutras, Mr. Charles Johnston's translation and com- 
ments, a certain number each month. Each member writes notes on the study, asking any 
questions that may occur; these are sent round to all members, and answers to the questions, 
or notes on some one else's comments are added. The result is good, as new light is thrown on 
the subject by the different points of view of the members, and great interest is shown. In this 
way we feel that we are a united Branch, and with the help of the excellent notes on the T. S. 
meetings in New York, which we receive regularly, we are striving to attain to the Theosophical 
ideal of Unity and true Brotherhood. 

ALICE GRAVES, 
Secretary, Norfolk Branch. 



NEWOASTLE-ON-TYNE, ENGLAND. 

To The Theosophical Society in Convention Assembled: The past year, to a large extent, has 
been one of readjustment, and endeavour to realize, in a fuller degree, our new relationship to 
the T. S. as a whole. Since the last Convention of the British National Branch, when the 
various Lodges comprising that Branch became individual Branches, there has been a continual 
effort made by our members, to rise to a real sense of the importance of that step. Considerable 
progress has been made in that direction both individually and collectively, as is evidenced by 
a keener interest in our fortnightly meetings, and wider participation in their discussions. 

In concluding our report we cannot refrain from expressing our members' heartfelt thanks, to 
the Executive Committee, and to the Secretary's Office for all the efforts put forth for our assist- 
ance during the past year, during a somewhat trying crisis in our lives as a unit of the T. S. 
May our gratitude be manifested in a deeper and fuller expression of that spirit of humility, 
and devotion to the cAuse for which we stand, than has been manifested in the past. 
With earnest hopes for a successful Convention, 

I am yours fraternally, 

M. DOUGLAS, 
Secretary, Newcastle Branch. 



In a letter to the Secretary T. S., Mrs. E. H. Lincoln, of Newcastle-on-Tyne, says: 
Everyone over here seems delighted with the reports of the New York Branch meetings. We 
had the fifth one read at our last T. S. meeting; it awakened a fine talk among the members 
present. . . . You will be very busy preparing for that great event the Convention. We 
have always looked forward to it with hope and interest, and thought of you all, but a stronger 
link has been forged between us since the last one, and I find I cannot express in words all my 
hopes and wishes for this Convention. 



WHITLEY BAY, ENGLAND. 

To the Members of The Theosophical Society in Convention Assembled: The Whitley Bay 
Branch sends fraternal greetings and good will, and takes the opportunity of expressing grati- 
tude for the hand of Brotherhood so freely extended by the Committee, since it became directly 
affiliated with Headquarters. The Branch members consciously feel the cementing of the bond 
of unity, and that we have taken a step along the Path to the Light. . . . 

We have found the reports of the New York Branch meetings of great value, and as they are 
received, they are read to the members at the Study Class, or at the opening of our public meet- 
ing, and have helped greatly in our discussion, especially owing to the fact that the Adyar 
Society held two public lectures in the same room as we use (on a different night). This caused 
a good deal of discussion regarding the actual positions of the two Societies, and I found the 



94 

reports extremely helpful in explaining the difference of the teachings of the two societies to 
inquiring members, and prospective members. 

Yours fraternally, 

FREDK. A. Ross, 
Secretary, Whitley Bay Branch. 



GATESHEAD-ON-TYNE, ENGLAND. 

To The Theosophical Society in Convention Assembled: The members of the Branch at Gates- 
head send their sincere greetings. Our hearts will be with you during the Convention, and you 
have our best wishes for a very successful session, bearing rich fruit. 

Fraternally yours, 

P. W. WARD, 
Secretary, W. Q. Judge Lodge. 



CARACAS, VENEZUELA. 

To the Members of The Theosophical Society in Convention Assembled: During the year which 
is drawing to a close, the activity of the Venezuela Branch has been dynamic and rich in results, 
though these have often been silent and interior, not always visible from without. We 
observe a greater concentration in our Branch, and a corresponding blessing. If, outside, the 
struggle is fierce and violent, it is compensated for by the serenity and peace that of quiet 
interior growth which characterizes our ranks, a splendid proof that the inspiration of our 
Movement is spreading more and more each day. 

In this hour of need, when the world, in the midst of its troubled waters, sends up the cry for 
help, desiring a safe harbour and a sure anchorage, the Venezuela Branch hastens to the shore, 
well aware of the nature of the help needed. There is a sort of mental Hatha Yoga, so to speak, 
which prevails in the thought and tendency of our time, to which the Branch desires to oppose 
the Raja Yoga of applied Theosophy practised in his own life by each member of the Society, 
to replace the lower by the higher. 

If The Theosophical Society is the spiritual organ of humanity as in reality it is all of us 
members are its instruments. In this hour of glamour and of great need in the world, we are 
called to dynamic action, both interiorly and exteriorly, and to spread the contagion of right 
thinking. 

The Law of Correspondences shows us that the persistently maintained vibration of a note 
will lift to the level of its tonic the heaviest and most inert mass. It is the faith which moves 
mountains. And, axiomatically, the present situation demands of us not only that we speak, 
not merely that we act, but mainly that we be. In order to remain a living and active member 
of the Society, it is necessary to-day, at least to desire to become a Theosophist; to exert oneself 
to the utmost to embody Theosophy in one's life. This is the beginning of true Brotherhood 
and Charity. And the Venezuela Branch is doing its best to accomplish, in this direction, the 
work which the Lords of Karma have assigned it. ... 

Toward the end of the past year, a newspaper in this city published an article, copied from 
another in Havana, defaming the revered founder of the Society, Madame Blavatsky. Fortu- 
nately, the same paper accepted from us an article in refutation. This served to re-establish 
the good name of our leader and of The Theosophical Society the shoulders of the devil serve 
always as a means of mounting to Heaven. 

We take this occasion to express to our comrades at Newcastle-on-Tyne, and to their support- 
ers, our sympathy and congratulations on their attitude toward certain principles, which for a 
time seemed obscured and clouded, but which should be, in fact, well known to us all. . . . 

Our own problem is very different in aspect. The work here is laborious. Latin America is 
full of theosophical dogmatism, spread by the Adyar Society. But time is on our side. 

This year, on Convention day, we shall meet both morning and evening, as we did last year, 
at the same time that you do in New York. We shall be present with you in spirit. At that 



THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY ACTIVITIES 95 

memorable reunion, there was the greatest harmony: we felt ourselves actually present at the 
Convention. It was the first time that we had done this, and the experience was so indescrib- 
able that it was our unanimous wish to hold a reunion every year with you. . . . 

JUAN J. BENZO, 
Cor. Secretary, Venezuela Branch. 



OCUMARE DEL FUY, VENEZUELA. 

To The Theosophical Society in Convention Assembled: Dear Comrades: At the Convention, 
you will consider the Theosophical Movement in its relation to the spiritual progress of the 
world, and the steps it must take in the coming year. We take this opportunity to reiterate 
our feelings of adhesion to and deep sympathy with the principles which will evolve from the 
Convention. Please accept the cordial greetings of the companions in Altagracia de Orituco 
and Ocumare del Fuy; and may the Masters' blessing and inspiration descend upon you. 

ACISCLO VALEDON, 
Secretary, Altagracia de Orituco Branch. 



SANFERNANDO DE APURE, VENEZUELA. 

To the Members of the T. S. in Convention Assembled: The members of the Jehoshua Branch 
in Sanfernando de Apure send you all our hearty greetings. Our work goes on, as before, 
slowly and quietly, but the influence of the Theosophical Movement is spread far and wide. 
Those of us who believe in the spiritual basis of the T. S. and in the Masters, are conscious of 
the fact that inner progress is true success. 
With renewed good wishes, 

Yours fraternally, 

D. SALAS BAIZ, 
President, Jehoshua Branch. 



Los ANGELES, CALIFORNIA. 

To the Officers and Members of The Theosophical Society, in Annual Convention Assembled: 
Dear Comrades: At this annual Convention, reports as to the condition and activities of the 
various Branches are made orally and by correspondence, in the same manner that corporate 
fiscal accounting is made annually, to determine the balance of an appreciable gain or an un- 
desired deficit. As every member of The Theosophical Society becomes a collective unit in 
the Theosophical Movement, the gain or loss is dependent on each unit, separately or collectively 
at work or otherwise. Self-examination at this particular time will reveal whether or not you 
and I have given but mild mental assent, while others have been aggressively active, carrying 
us along with them to the benefits that we have not helped to earn. Are you and I workers or 
drones? If the latter, necessarily we have impeded progress to that extent. The way and 
opportunity to work is always at hand, if we are sincerely earnest, and have tried to fit ourselves 
to be helpful to others. There are hosts of people in the world who are spiritually hungry, who 
do not find what they seek in dogmatic religion or psychic counterfeits. We do not have to 
search for such people, as they will come to us if we have within us some of the spiritual fire to 
help. We touch elbows with them every day, and they are ready, but are we? Each of us 
can greatly profit by the saying of the Master Jesus, "Wist ye not that I must be about my 
Father's business?" Do we realize, though our inclination is too often to the contrary, that 
we are workers in the building of the Lower Mysteries? Are you and I sincerely desirous to 
work for those conservators of truth and ceaseless workers in the Divine Universal Plan the 
Masters? The keynote of awakened life is work, in the unfoldment of God's plan, a real pur- 
pose of life; so let us be fair to those others and to ourselves, and stand square to the Theosophi- 
cal Movement, and to the responsibility of the duties of our daily life! 

Faithfully and fraternally, 

ALFRED L. LEONARD, 
Secretary, Pacific Branch. 



96 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

SALAMANCA, N. Y. 

To The Theosophical Society in Convention Assembled: Salutations and greetings to you all. 
This year has been one of marked success, and we feel that the Masters have been truly kind 
to us. We are with you in spirit in all that you do. 

Fraternally yours, 
(Miss) CARRIE HIGGINS, 
Secretary, Sravakas Branch. 



Letters of Greeting were also received from the following members, whose greetings have 
been gratefully acknowledged by the Chairman of the Executive Committee: Mr. and Mrs. 
A. Plisnier; Mr. Hermann Zerndt; Mr. and Mrs. Franz Willkomm; Mr. Oskar Stoll; Mr. 
Alfred Friedewald; Mr. Alexander Weiss. 



NOTICE 

The Quarterly Book Department receives frequent requests for early numbers of the 
QUARTERLY from members who wish to complete their sets of the magazine. Any of the 
following numbers which readers can supply from a possible surplus, will be paid for according 
to their present value, some being more rare than others: 

No. i; July, 1903 No. 15; January, 1907 

No. 3; January, 1904 No. 17; July, 1907 

No. 4; April, 1904 No. 21; July, 1908 

No. 5; July, 1904 No. 22; October, 1908 

No. 7; January, 1905 No. 24; April, 1909 

No. 8; April, 1905 No. 25; July, 1909 

No. 9; July, 1905 No. 27; January, 1910 

No. 10; October, 1905 No. 38; October, 1912 

No. II ; January, 1906 No. 46; October, 1914 

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Post, to the Quarterly Book Department, P. O. Box 64, Station O, New York. It is important 
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official document. 



RUSSIA AND IRELAND: A STUDY IN PSYCHISM 

THE "realism " of the Russian novelists has many times been described as a 
new and characteristic quality in literature. It is worth considering in 
what exactly this realism consists. There is, as a background, a wonder- 
fully vivid and vividly transmitted impression, not so much of nature, as of cer- 
tain emotions evoked by Russian cities, Russian landscapes and above all the 
Russian sky, the vast dome, overwhelming in its immensity, arched above 
endless plains unbroken by even a hillock. The sky, whether cloudless or 
snow-swept, induces a keenly relished sense of loneliness and littleness, of the 
insignificance of man's personality. Turgenieff' s Diary of a Hunter owes 
much of its distinctive character to this mirroring of the vast solitude of the 
sky, and to the beautifully drawn pictures of shadowy pine forests, which 
once again minister to a poignantly enjoyed melancholy. It is nature, not as 
expressing God's beauty, but as engendering a peculiar sadness, a sense of the 
piteousness of human life, a piercing emotion deeply delighted in like some 
penetrating and bitter cordial. 

This is the background, against which move figures vibrant with emotions, 
felt with far more than the keenness of physical sensations; emotions pre- 
dominantly painful, simply because painful feeling cuts deeper and thrills the 
psychic nature more potently than pleasure. What the Russian novelist is 
seeking, and very successfully seeking, is emotion as an excitant and intoxicant, 
emotion for emotion's sake. 

Take for example Tolstoi's description of the passionate jealousy and frenzy 
of Anna Karenina, a bitterness of suffering that should call forth compassion. 
But Tolstoi depicts it not so much with compassion, as with a sheer relish for 
its intensity; it is made objective and local with the solidity of physical sensa- 
tion, and at the same time with the fiery strength of brandy. Or take, in 

97 



98 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

sharp contrast, the motive of so many of Anton Chekhoff's comedies: a steady 
accession of hysteria, working up to an explosion; a psychic paroxysm, de- 
lighted in first because it creates a ludicrous situation, but far more because of 
its quality of broken and jarring vibration, which carries a keen sense of being 
vividly alive to a stolid elemental nature. 

With music, the other art in which the Russians are eminent, it is exactly the 
same. So many of the folk songs of Northern and Central Russia, while they 
have their beauty and a marked national tone, are at the same time obsessed 
with piteousness, a piteousness which is once again not so much genuine 
compassion as poignant emotion, cherished for its penetrating keenness. 
At the opposite pole from these spontaneous and almost unconscious peasant 
songs there is the finished and conscious art of the Pathetic Symphony, with its 
wailing expression of the pitifulness of human life. 

One is inclined to say that, in all this, there is no firmly held sense of the 
human personality, of man as a morally responsible being, but rather a 
succession of waves of emotion, for the most part painful; piteousness, 
poignancy, cherished melancholy, likely at any time to rise to a paroxysm. 
In a word, the kind of stimulant and intoxicant that an undeveloped and 
almost formless elemental nature craves, in order to rise to a climax of thrilled 
sensibility. 

Here we have a clearly defined psychic nature, distinctively Russian. Let 
us see whether we can trace its influence and expression in the Russian revolu- 
tion. To the making of this revolution, two elements appear to have con- 
tributed : the bitter Socialism of the Jew, Karl Marx, and the psychic response 
of the Russian artisans and peasants. 

It has been well pointed out that much in Marxian Socialism may be directly 
explained by the race character of its author. The homeless Jew, who has no 
true sense of nationhood, but takes on, chameleon-like, the surface colouring 
of whatever country he finds himself in, is the almost predestined internation- 
alist. For the most part not in touch with nature or occupied with vigorous 
physical activities, his life is largely on the psychic plane, and has a dominating 
psychic quality which tyrannously overmasters weaker races. He is intensely 
psychic also in the character of his motives and emotions: the sensuality, 
avarice and envy which are so vigorously depicted throughout the Old Tes- 
tament. Internationalism, envy of every superiority, a greedy appetite for 
possessions, a sensual materialism: are not these the very stuff of the Marxian 
doctrine? 

At the partition of Poland, Russia acquired a large territory which already 
had a dense Jewish population; German-speaking Jews who had found refuge 
under the comparatively tolerant laws of Poland. The truth is not so much 
that the Government of the Tsars developed a policy of pressure and persecu- 
tion, but rather that it simply, perhaps with blameworthy indolence, tried 
to maintain the situation as it was, limiting the Jews to the districts in which 
they already were, and to the occupations they already exercised, in the 
ghettos of the Polish towns. A certain percentage were permitted to go to the 



NOTES AND COMMENTS 99 

universities of Moscow and St. Petersburg, based on the proportion which the 
Jewish population held to the whole population of Russia. 

To these same universities, in the years following the Emancipation of the 
Serfs in 1861, by Alexander II, came the children of Russian peasants, with 
their intensely psychic and elemental natures; a class to whom what is called 
education, for .the most part works sheer harm. Russian Revolutionary 
Socialism was engendered by these two elements, with a few of the upper class 
added ; men and women in whom the explosive psychism of the Russian novel- 
ists was dominant. The psychic ferment thus set up in the social and political 
life of Russia culminated in 1881 in the murder of Alexander n, who had made 
all preparations, it is said on good authority, to give Russia a constitutional 
government. 

Reaction came under Alexander in, a strong man, austere, intensely loving 
Russia, many of whose officials were without doubt corrupt and tyrannous, with 
the irresponsibility which has been the tragedy of so many of the ruling class in 
Russia. Nicholas II appears to have inherited the emotional idealism of his 
grandfather. The first Peace Conference at the Hague was of the same stuff 
as the Emancipation of the Serfs. Dominated at first by the policy of his 
father, Alexander in, a man of far stronger will, he in time revived the un- 
fulfilled plan of his grandfather and, in 1906, Russia received a Consti- 
tution. 

But the violent and explosive psychism of the Russian people was unable, 
and the inflamed fanaticism of the Revolutionary Socialists was unwilling to 
work out an ordered constitutional government; this feverish and contagious 
element remained as a pervading danger in Russia, an element of evil and harm 
sympathetically felt and understood by Germany. When the extremists in 
the Russian parliament demanded that Nicholas n should abdicate, and when, 
with a certain weak emotionalism, he acquiesced, the Germans saw their 
opportunity and sent Nicolai Lenin post haste to Russia, to carry to its logical 
conclusion what the doctrinary reformers had begun. For several months 
after the Emperor's abdication on March 15, 1917, Russia was flooded with 
idealistic illusions, against which was set off the arrogant vanity of Alexander 
Kerensky. Lenin and his murderous gang brought Russia back to realism 
and, as Lord Sydenham has shown, the nucleus of his supporters was made 
up of Marxian Jews, masquerading under borrowed Russian names. 

The second element was contributed by the Russian artisans, who were able 
to act together because they were gathered together in the few factories of the 
larger towns. But these artisans were recent arrivals from the villages, and 
were made of the same elemental psychic material as the Russian peasants. 
The peasants had held their land by a communal tenure for ages, and had 
never developed the sense of individual responsibility and individual conscious- 
ness which grows up with the separate ownership of property. Elementals, 
recently evoked from the earth, they were obsessed by an intense land-hunger; 
and it needed only the spurious authority of the Revolutionists, to precipitate 
them in murderous attacks on the landowners, who, it must be said, had too 



ioo THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

often felt no real sense of responsibility toward them. Among the Russian 
nobility, the landowners, there was far too little of noblesse oblige. 

At any rate, they were murdered wholesale by the peasants, often with 
accompaniments of extreme brutality. In the narratives of these atrocious 
murders, there is just the same quality that has been described in Chekhoff's 
comedies: a steadily growing hysteria, rising to a paroxysm. The progression 
of psychic turmoil was exactly the same, though its colouring was that of 
tragedy. 

The central power of the Russian revolution has remained in the hands of the 
Marxian Jews. It is a power of grasping destructiveness, the evil side of the 
psychic nature, and has been able tyrannously to dominate the Russian peas- 
ants, because the peasants, of softer and more pliant material, are at the same 
time intensely psychic. Of constructive ability, nothing appears to be left; 
Russia has knocked out her own brains. The artisans, who are in nature one 
with the peasants, slipped back into the psychic welter of their elemental 
nature as soon as the compulsion of their masters was removed, with the result 
that every constructive activity in Russia has gone to ruin, and practically 
nothing remains but the multitude of elemental peasants, still obsessed with 
land-hunger, under the vast, melancholy Russian sky. It may, perhaps, 
be hoped that the intense misery they are experiencing, as the inevitable result 
of the murderous paroxysms which possessed and devastated them, will bring 
them to a keener consciousness, making it possible for them to take a short cut 
to a more developed and responsible life. 

There is one element in Russia of which we have not yet spoken : the national 
Church. On the one hand, it is true that Russian psychism plays its part here 
also, especially in the punctilious maintenance of an elaborate ritualism prac- 
tically unchanged since Byzantine days, and insensibly mingling, among the 
peasants, with popular ceremonial magic. But it is equally true that the 
Russian Church has a heart of genuine devotion to its Master, with a real 
mysticism coming down from the Saints of the Eastern Church. 

We may hope that the Church, against which the Marxian Jews have fought 
with brutal bitterness, will justify their malignant persecution by forming the 
central point of a reborn Russia, the spiritual triumphing over the psychical, 
the power of Christ conquering the destructive malice of the Marxian Jews 
and enabling the peasants to seek and find forgiveness for the murder of the 
landowners; so that this people, which has many virtues and much pristine 
strength, may be brought into an authentic humanity. 

To turn now to the other country included with Russia in this study of 
psychism. Perhaps the best single sentence with which to describe the 
emotion of Ireland, is the line of a modern poet: 

They went forth to battle, and they always fell . . . 

This is the cult of the hero, the valiant fighting man, but a cult of heroism 
saturated with something of the piteousness, poignantly felt and deeply 
savoured, which we found in Russia. But there is another element, equally 



NOTES AND COMMENTS 101 

psychic, which Russia lacks: the passionately dreaming individual, so enam- 
oured of his own psychic vision that he cannot tolerate that other men should 
cherish a different vision of their own. It is not a spiritual quality, springing 
from the Oneness above, a quality that unites hearts and souls, but a psychic 
passion that sunders, with a fiery self-assertiveness that desires to pursue the 
dream of the other man and to destroy it, if need be, by destroying him. 

It is worth noting that what is called religious intolerance seems never to 
have played a part in the history of Ireland. When Saint Patrick came, 
perhaps following earlier missionaries, he preached openly throughout the five 
kingdoms, having learned Irish in the days of his boyhood captivity. But he 
seems at no point to have been met with persecution or violence. His letters, 
with their mingling of autobiography and theology, in many ways recalling 
the Epistles of Saint Paul, have nothing to correspond with Paul's "stripes 
above measure, prisons more frequent." Nor, when the Christians became 
dominant, do they appear to have pursued the dwindling votaries of the older 
worship. It is the same thing through the Middle Ages and more modern 
times. Where no political question was involved, the bitter drop of odium 
theologicum did not flow in Irish veins. 

Their intolerance was rather of other personalities, other local traditions, 
other fashions of dreams, than of other religious convictions. And only by 
reading the early traditions and Annals of Ireland, can we realize how intense, 
how incessant this intolerance of rival modes of dreaming was, with what 
fiery perpetuity it raged. Here is one year of many, in the earlier Christian 
period : 

"Anno 526: The battle of Eiblinne, by Muirceartac son of Ere; the battle of 
Mag-Ailbe; the battle of Almain; the battle of Ceann-eic; the plundering of 
the Cliacs; and the battle of Eidne. against the men of Connacht." 

This is a representative year from the Gaelic Annals of the Four Masters. 
It is the same thing from the beginning. The first great epic story recounts 
the warring of Ulster with the South, and a splendid and terrible battle was then 
fought close to the line that is still in dispute on the Ulster frontier. Here is 
the martial summons of the King of Ulster, well nigh two thousand years ago : 

"Have you not heard how the four provinces of Erin came against us, 
bringing with them their bards and singers, that their ravages and devasta- 
tions might the better be recorded, and burning and plundering our fortresses 
and dwellings? Therefore I would make an expedition of hostility against 
them, and with your guidance and counsel would I make the expedition." 

What could be more characteristic of Erin: "Bringing with them their 
bards and singers, that their ravages and devastations might the better be 
recorded?" And the dream of the bard ever echoes through the fighting: 

"It is then that Conchobar's shield was battered and it moaned; so that the 
Three Waves of Erin moaned, the Wave of Clidna and the Wave Rudraige 
and the Wave of Tuag Inbir; so that the shields of the men of Ulster all 
moaned at that hour, every one of them that was on their shoulders and in 
their chariots." This is taken from a manuscript copied in the year 1150, but 



102 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

the tale is a thousand years older. And here is another fragment, so old that 
none but antiquarians can render it: 

Earnestness of effort, to succour: 

Forgetfulness of honour: running against madmen; 

Shouting in distress; 

Meeting in disaster. 

The dialect is archaic, but the feeling is of to-day. This was long centuries 
before the coming of the invader, in the golden age. But the invader's 
coming, invoked because of a conflict between the King of Connaught and the 
King of Leinster, did not impose a pale, oppressive peace on the Isle of Saints. 
Here is a passage from the Annals, under the year 1454: 

" Rury and his army burned the great door of the castle, and set the stairs on 
fire; whereupon Donell, thinking that his life would be taken as soon as the 
army should reach the castle, it being his dying request, as he thought, en- 
treated that he might be loosed from his fetters, as he deemed it a disgrace 
to be killed while imprisoned and fettered. His request was granted, and he 
was loosed from his fetters ; after which he ascended to the battlements of the 
castle, to view the motions of the invading army. And he saw Rury beneath, 
with eyes flashing enmity, and waiting until the fire should subside, that he 
might enter and kill him. Donell then, finding a large stone by his side, hurled 
it directly down upon Rury, so that it fell on the crest of his helmet, on the top 
of his head, and crushed it, so that he instantly died. The invading forces 
were afterwards defeated, and by this throw Donell saved his own life and 
acquired the lordship of Tyrconnell." 

So perished Rury's dream. And it should be remembered that this stirring 
and intensely national episode happened nearly three hundred years after the 
invader crushed the life of Ireland, in the mythical history of modern patriot- 
ism. This modern mythology was, however, composed in the true spirit of 
Irish psychism; in the spirit of the verse: 

They went forth to battle, and they always fell . . . 

Plenty of fighting, mingled with self-pity; the particular vintage of psychism 
that appeals to the craving for fiery self-assertiveness together with the passion 
for nursing a grievance. 

During the eighteenth century, the penal laws against Roman Catholics, 
inspired largely by fear of intrigues with hostile nations on the Continent, 
were in force in Ireland. But they were equally in force in England. And 
the contrast between the emotional moods of the proscribed people in the two 
countries is worth noting. In Ireland, heroic tenacity, but heroism always 
saturated with self-conscious pathos, the psychic stimulant that Irishmen love 
to imbibe. In England, endurance, and a certain satirical protest, but no 
floods of self-pity. Waterton the naturalist was an English Roman Catholic 
of the penal days, but almost the only record of it in his books is his ironical 



NOTES AND COMMENTS 103 

description of "the Hanoverian rat" which had invaded England, and in which 
he maliciously found a symbol of the Protestant House of Hanover. 

Throughout the nineteenth century, in the honourable days when England 
enforced peace and respect for human life upon Irishmen, the age-old love of 
fighting, the cult of martyrdom, was forced to find a less deadly outlet. This 
it found in faction-fighting, when any pretext, however fantastic, such as the 
feud between the "two year olds" and the "three year olds" sufficed for a 
rallying cry. 

Here, by way of illustration, is a ballad, touched with the humour that seems 
to have died in these days of militant nationalism, but expressing also the two 
psychic elements that we have traced : the passion of intolerant self-assertion 
and the passion of self-pity so deeply characteristic of the Irish character: 

'Twas September fair day, 

And the Adragole faction 
Wid Dereen for the green 

And the bridge were in action ; 
And from off the bridge road, 

Wid his cudgel so clever, 
Bat was leatherin' a load 

Of Cork men for ever, 
Just as if it was play. 

When up from beneath, 

Still further and further, 
Houldin' tight in his teeth 

A stick that was murther, 
That black tinker stole, 

By the ivy boughs clingin' 
r* On the edge of the bridge 

The knees softly swingin' ; 
And, unknownst at his back, 

From the wall of the river 
Fetched O' Kearney a crack, 

That left him for iver 
Wid a poor, puzzled poll. 

Did he fall? Not at all! 

But he picked off that tinker 
Like a snail from the wall 

And before you could think or 
Repate your own name, 

Cot the stick from the rufn'n, 
Knocked him dead on the head, 

And without shroud or coffin 
Tossed him into the tide. 



104 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

And his black corpse for ever 
From Ireland should glide, 

For her good soil could never 
Cover up such a shame. . . . 

With only the key transposed, this is the story of five hundred years earlier, 
the story of Rury and Donell, "Rury beneath, with eyes flashing enmity." 
And give these same faction fighters rifles and machine guns, as has seemed 
good to the present custodians of England's honour, and you will have exactly 
what is going on to-day. 

It is worth while to present this passion of psychic self-assertiveness in a 
setting of comedy, though the comedy is tempered with pity for the madness of 
the hero, whose "poor, puzzled poll" never recovered its sanity; it is worth 
while to strip off the swathings of self-pitying emotionalism, because we may 
thus come to realize what a potent part this contagious self-pity has played 
in making "the wrongs of Ireland" a factor in international politics; self-pity 
and deep enjoyment of a grievance. 

It is significant that the rallying cry of Ireland in the twentieth century has 
been Sinn Fein, "We ourselves!" And it is even more significant that this 
spirit of flaunted egotism blinded those who were obsessed by it to the exist- 
ence of any issue between the eternal forces of Good and Evil, in the World 
War; so blinded them that in 1916, in the dark days of the war, their national- 
ism inspired them to send an ambassador to Berlin, and to strike in the back 
the cause of the Allies. Most significant of all is it that this malignant treach- 
ery has already gathered about it clouds of mock tragedy, enshrining it in the 
sacred history of the nation. 

We shall be well advised to take to heart the deadly character of psychism, 
whether in Russia or in Ireland; its demoniac power to blind the spirit of man 
to every principle of truth and honour. When it takes the form of violent and 
dreamy self-assertiveness, saturated with strong doses of self-pity, it is 
capable of every cruelty and treachery. 

It is of value to study these factors of human life in the large, manifested by 
whole nations, only if we complete the process by seeking exactly the same 
elements in ourselves. Egotism and self-pity are in the germ, where they are 
not already well grown, in us also; finally to uproot them is a task that only 
divine grace can render possible. 



To be free, means to direct by duly meditated choice , our feelings, our thoughts 
our actions. PAYOT. 



FRAGMENTS 



HUSH. Listen. 
Across my heart ghostly bugles are sounding. 
Hush. Listen again. 

What is that rhythmical beat we are hearing? 

Tramp, tramp, tramp, as if from a far, far distance, but steadily, steadily, 
slowly but surely approaching, approaching the feet of marching men. 

They come, looming up from the mist, with the mist about them ; silent and 
set and steady; in perfect alignment; no quiver, no change. The mist circles 
about them clinging and grey, they are part of its shadows. 

Onward they come, by hundreds, by thousands, by millions a long steady 
stream, unbroken, unbreakable. 

Who are they, O heart this invincible army? 

The question lights up a flame in their eyes, and illumines their faces. 

We are they say those faces who died on the fair fields of France and 
of Flanders. We died for the world, for Right, ,for Truth and for Honour. 
We died that Ideals might live, that men to come after should reap where we 
sowed. We died to repel the barbarian, died to drive back the Horror, died 
to save civilization. We laid down our lives for various symbols and names, 
but now we have knowledge. It was Christ and his kingdom we saved, 
Christ and his kingdom are saving. Some heard the call from the uttermost 
depths of hell and damnation, and, hearing, responded to fight on forever. 

O recruits of St. Michael, reserves of high Heaven, what dangers can live in 
the breath of your valour? Chaos and darkness below, and the din of our 
madness; but there, through it all, is the tramp of your marching, there is the 
flame in your eyes, O warriors superb! there is the power in your hearts, 
born of love and self-giving born, of conflict and triumph. 

These are the hosts who have challenged the demons of Hell ; before whom 
its gates shall be shattered, its prisons be emptied; that angels may plant there 
and build for the souls who are coming. 

******** 

In the gleam of the monuments erected in their honour, in the echo of the 
cheers that have hardly died away, still moistened with the tears which have 
fallen on their graves, they are stern, because they know the cheapness of 
such tributes, from those who trample in the mud the things they pledged 
themselves to save. 

Beware, O you who have forgotten! these men do not forget. With the 
rhythm of their marching they will shake your crude foundations, where your 
temple of dishonour rises mocking God's blue sky. 

CAV. 



105 



STUDENTS' SCRAP BOOK 



KNOWLEDGE 

I AM appalled by the extent to which what I know exceeds what I use. 
It is a truism that knowledge entails responsibility, and represents capital 
upon which interest must be paid. With most of us, the greater part of it 
is borrowed capital ; not something we have earned for ourselves the slow 
savings of experience but something we have received in trust from our 
teachers and predecessors to be invested in our lives. It appears on both 
sides of the balance sheet, and is quite as much a liability as an asset. When 
we let it lie idle the interest charges accumulate with no earnings to offset them, 
so that the net result is loss, not gain. It is the parable of the buried talent, 
over again ; and when I view my life in such business terms I am forced to 
realize that my most pressing problem is not to secure more capital, but to use 
more profitably what I already have increasing the "turnover." 

UNITY, IMMANENCE, AND TRANSCENDENCE 

Essential Unity is the fundamental principle of Theosophy. The universe 
is one, a unit, though it manifest itself through infinite diversity. 

As this is the fundamental principle of Theosophy, it should be the founda- 
tion of my own thinking. Or rather, it should be the seed and root of my 
thinking ; for fundamental principles should not be to thought as inert founda- 
tion stones to a superstructure reared upon them. Thought should emanate 
from principle as the oak from the acorn, as an exfoliation of its content, con- 
trolled and vitalized, in each of its branches, not only by the air and light it 
seeks, but also by the life currents rising from its roots and returning to them. 
It is right, therefore, that my thought should return again and again to this 
fundamental principle, as the sap to the roots of a tree; and each time that it 
does so I find my understanding quickened and I see more deeply into the 
meaning of my own life and of the universal life of which I am a part. 

The definitive characteristic of an infinite totality is that it is self-represent- 
ative, containing within itself an infinite number of infinite parts, each part 
being a perfect picture, in its own particular way, of the whole of which it is a 
part. The mathematical illustration of the whole-number system 

N i, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, ... 

is perhaps as simple as any. Clearly this system is endless; since however 
great a number we conceive, we can always add one to it, and so obtain a still 
greater number. All the whole-numbers taken together, therefore, constitute 
an infinite totality, and so should contain an infinite number of infinite parts, 
all picturing, in their own particular way, the whole of which they are parts. 
The multiples of two, or three, or seven, or of any other number, are examples 
of such parts. 
1 06 



STUDENTS' SCRAP BOOK 107 

Two 2, 4, 6, 8, 10, 12, ... 
Three 3, 6, 9, 12, 15, 18, . . . 
Seven 7, 14, 21, 28, 35, 42, ... 

Each of these sequences is clearly but a part of the whole-number sequence 
N. The whole transcends its part, containing elements which are not manifest 
in the part. For example, the numbers 5, II, 13, do not appear in the se- 
quences of twos or threes or sevens. Yet each of these sequences is a perfect 
picture of the whole, and contains the whole immanent within it. The se- 
quence of twos pictures the whole through its "twoness"; the sequence of 
sevens pictures it through "sevenness." If we divide each element of the se- 
quence of twos by two, the whole reappears. For taking 

2, 4, 6, 8, 10, 12, ... 
and dividing by two, we have the whole, N, 

i, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, ... 

Within the "twoness," the "threeness," or the "sevenness" which charac- 
terize the part, the whole lies concealed. 

This is a true symbol of every living thing of every individuality what- 
soever. It is but a part of the infinite divine life, yet in its own individual and 
unique way it reflects the whole of divine life; and if we look within that in- 
dividuality we find the whole of divine life immanent therein. 

Our individuality is our unique way of mirroring the infinite whole of which 
we are a part. We can never know truly anyone or anything, whether ourself 
or another, whether friend or foe or "inanimate" object, till we see the divine 
immanent within it. 

There can be nothing in the manifested or unmanifested universe, whether 
divine or demoniacal, spiritual or material, force or consciousness, which has 
not its correspondence in man, and which I myself do not in some way picture 
and reflect. 

The whole of divine life is immanent within me the strength of mountains 
and tempest, the fineness of touch of a moth on a flower, the dignity of stars, 
are mine to evoke and to use. "All nature reveals to me my own nature." 

CYCLES AND RHYTHM 

I am never sure what others mean when they use the word God. I am 
never sure what I mean when I use it. Whatever they, or I, mean by it seems 
of necessity beyond verbal definition. But in my own thought it stands, in 
some general way, for the Unity of the Universe, for That from which the 
universe emanates, which transcends the universe and is immanent in it and in 
each part of it ; and to which I seem to look both when my meditation strives to 
follow the ascending hierarchy of divine Life, from where I stand upward 
through the great Lodge of Masters, Dhyan Chohans, and Planetary Spirits to 
That which they embody, reflect, and serve; and also whenever I strive to 
penetrate to the ultimate essence of anything at all. Perhaps for me no other 
word is so nearly synonymous with God as the word Life in the sense of the 



io8 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

Life principle which lives in me, and in all, and in which we "live and move 
and have our being." 

I am recording this because I have been thinking of the cyclic law which 
governs the action of the life principle, but which I should never think of as 
governing God. Whatever I mean by God is above law, above cycles, change- 
less though manifesting in change so that the precession of the cycles appears 
as a rhythm of consciousness successively manifesting different levels, different 
tones and chords of the Divine Being. 

The same notes played in a different sequence, the same words arranged in a 
different order, make the difference between one piece of music and another, 
between harmony and discord, between truth and falsity. As I may view life 
in terms of force or form or consciousness, so I may view it in terms of rhythm 
of cycles and consider the difference between individuals as a difference 
of the underlying and sustaining rhythm as, in the illustration of the number 
system, the sequence of twos and threes and sevens typified distinct individual 
representations of the whole. It would be a very limited way of viewing life 
and individuality, but it might suggest aspects of truth we rarely consider; 
and in the superposition of a minor rhythm upon a fundamental one, we might 
find analogies for sympathy and the process by which meditation attunes the 
consciousness to the subject of our consideration, till we know it by becoming it. 

Thus "Seven" 

7, 14, 21, 28, 35, 42, ... 

might "know" "Three" by superimposing upon its own fundamental rhythm 
of seven, the minor rhythm of three, presenting to consciousness the sequence 

21, 42, 63, 84, ... 

of which each element is seven times the three sequence 

3, 6, 9, 12, ... 

Many similar analogies suggest themselves, and some of them throw a 
new, cold light upon emotional processes that we more often observe only in 
heat. But the symbolism seems too remote and mechanical to do more than 
furnish an outline sketch a working drawing to guide our thought in its 
efforts to lay hold upon the vital realities of experience. 

ALCHEMY THE KEY-NOTE OF A NEW CYCLE 

When Emerson wrote that in each atom the whole universe contrives to 
integrate itself, science regarded the atom as an indivisible unit which 
might thus correspond to the essential unity of the universe, but which certainly 
did not reflect its infinite multiplicity and the variety of its manifestation. 
With the discovery of radio-activity, however, the old theory of the indivisi- 
bility of the atom had to be abandoned, for the atom was breaking down be- 
fore our eyes. To-day science sees it as a solar system of electric particles, 
"electrons" or "ions," a central nucleus around which revolve a multitude 
of oppositely charged particles, as planets around a central sun. The number 
and grouping of these planetary particles which, with the central nucleus, 



STUDENTS' SCRAP BOOK 109 

constitute, in general, a self-contained system in dynamic equilibrium deter- 
mine the chemical nature of the atom, which thus remains the same so long as 
the grouping remains the same. But if a particle for any reason fails to keep 
to its orbit, and shoots off, instead, like a comet (as in the case of radium), then 
the equilibrium of the whole system is destroyed, the orbits alter and the 
grouping changes. The atom is no longer what it was. Instead of an atom 
of radium it becomes an atom of something else, and the transmutation of one 
chemical element into another is an accomplished fact. It is true that science 
has not yet learned to produce this change at will, but physicists and chemists 
are working at the problem all over the world, imitating with "sincerest 
flattery" the alchemists of the Middle Ages whom they so long scouted and 
ridiculed as deluded dreamers. 

There are, however, two significant differences between these modern and 
the ancient alchemists. The first is that the alchemy of the present has so far 
succeeded in demonstrating only the disintegration of the atom, not its integra- 
tion. The transmutations observed are all in a single direction along the 
chemical scale; and if continued would change gold into lead not lead into 
gold. Though atoms have been bombarded by electrons shot off from radio- 
active substances, so far as I know no modern scientist has yet succeeded in 
making of such a flying comet a new planet in another atomic system. The 
bombardment may break down the atom subjected to it, but it does not "step 
it up"; and this "stepping up," this acquisition of new elements and as- 
similating them into a new dynamic equilibrium, is precisely what must take 
place if the present scientific theories be correct, before lead can be turned 
into gold. 

The second significant difference between the modern alchemists and the 
old, lies in their breadth of view, and their concepts of the nature of the 
problem they set themselves. The chemist looks upon the atom as a thing in 
itself, isolated, which he can transmute and disintegrate, and perhaps 
integrate again, without effect upon himself or the rest of nature and of life. 
There is every reason to believe, on the other hand, that the alchemist regarded 
his study of the atom as but a key to a far wider mastery a universal mastery 
of nature, his own nature included. He was imbued with the truth of 
Emerson's dictum. To him the atom was a perfect picture of the whole of na- 
ture. Could he learn to "step it up," to transmute base substance into precious 
metal, the secret of life would be in his hands, and it would be to himself that 
he would first apply the process becoming thereby immortal, eternally 
young and divine. The search for the transmutation of metals and for "the 
philosophers' stone" was one and the same. 

As I, too, believe in Emerson's statement which is but a rephrasing of the 
first principle of Theosophy I am interested in noting how many indica- 
tions there are that this observed breaking-down and transmutation of the 
atom is not an isolated phenomenon, but corresponds with and is only a picture 
of, what is happening all about me, and in such a wide variety of fields that it 
appears to be a turning of a world tide a movement of human consciousness 



no THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

into a deeper level of nature, where what was before seen as one and indivisible 
is now seen as multiple, and not only capable of division but as being divided. 

Following the direct lead of the alchemists, I think first of human nature, 
its instincts, motives, habits, memories, traditions, character. Here the 
correspondence is no sooner suggested than it seems obvious and verified. 
The new school of psycho-analysis is doing for our sub-conscious self precisely 
what physical chemistry is doing for the atom ; and to that extent, at least, is 
following in the foot-steps of Theosophy. It is revealing the sub-conscious not 
as a single, homogeneous and indivisible entity, but as a congeries of different 
nuclei to which have been attracted, and around which revolve, highly charged 
emotional elements, whose groupings and orbits and dynamic equilibrium 
stable or unstable determine character, and health, and action. It has 
disclosed a new world to psychology, and has opened a path whereby it is able 
consciously and purposefully to penetrate into the inner gravitational forces 
of our nature, and to alter the inner equilibrium. Inner stress and strain 
have been lessened; psychic "complexes" resolved into their component parts, 
and the man's outer actions or health thus liberated from their influence. The 
way to this knowledge was opened by the phenomena of neurosis of divided 
will and character and its effects seem to me to have been chiefly along the 
same line of division. Its advocates claim the opposite, and that its aim is the 
reintegration of a divided personality. But where it appears to accomplish 
this, it seems to be because one of two conflicting elements, has been disinte- 
grated, leaving the other free and untrammelled. If it was a hurtful, evil 
element, this may, perhaps, be real gain. But it is none the less disintegra- 
tion the step-down process observed in the transmutation of the atoms. 

Though I believe that this statement is generally true of the results of 
psycho-analysis as invented and practised by Freud and Jung and their 
disciples, I should not wish to apply it to the whole new school of psychology 
which deals with the sub-conscious to the practical applications of the 
work of Bergson, for instance, or to that of Coue and the new Nancy school. 

It amuses me to draw another correspondence here, and to consider each of 
these workers I have named, as typifying, in his own person and work, the 
genius of his race and country. Freud is an Austrian Jew. The Jews know 
no nationality; for when they rejected Christ they rejected the central nucleus 
of the true spirit of their race, and without their nucleus they can no more hold 
together than could the electrons of an atom or a solar system without a 
sun nor can they ever be really assimilated into any other unity. On the 
other hand, as Gustave Le Bon has put it, "The Austrian Empire was based 
upon an equilibrium of hatreds." As one reads Freud's books one is im- 
pressed by the extent to which these characteristics of his birth colour his 
whole view of the inner nature of man. He sees the conflicts, the warring 
desires, the irreconcilable aspirations and instincts, the deadlock of mutual 
hate, existing between the elements of a man's psychic nature as between the 
different racial stocks that entered into the Austrian hegemony. The unity 
into which they should be transformed, the unity of the soul itself, to establish 



STUDENTS' SCRAP BOOK in 

which is the aim of life, he seems largely to ignore as the Jew commonly 
is blind to the unity of spirit which is the basis of patriotism. Scattered 
throughout the world, the Jews' primary interest is in elements that are 
international: in commerce, science, art, music, pleasure, sensuality, money. 
So Freud, despite what would undoubtedly be his genuine disclaimer, appears 
to focus his attention not upon the man, but upon the tendencies and desires 
that enter into all our common nature; and his concern seems to be to give 
these freer play, liberating into what he regards as normal channels of ex- 
pression or sublimation the suppressed impulse of sex or other instinct whose 
pressure is proving troublesome, with little real understanding of the 
nature of the self or what may be the ultimate effect of such liberation upon it. 
He sees only that which comes from below; nothing from above. 

Turning to Jung, we think of the Swiss confederation, whose bond of union 
is largely geographical. His method of association seems based upon a 
similar principle of contiguity. It is not oneness of aim or tradition, of race 
or language, that counts but juxtaposition. 

Bergson is a French Jew. It would take me too far afield to try to deal here 
with the correspondences I believe might be drawn from his philosophic 
theories of intuition and memory and the elan vital. Both the spirit of the 
Jew and the spirit of France seem to me manifest; but the correspondence 
would be with the best, rather than what is worst, in Jewish internationalism. 

Coue is a French nationalist, and he alone of those I have named seems to 
base his method upon the wholeness of the self, and upon trust in its essential 
integrity. His is not a method of analysis, nor of disintegration. It is a 
method of action, formulated first on a clear vision of his immediate goal and 
a just appreciation of where he stands in relation to it; and, second, on faith 
in his ability to attain it. In many ways it seems characteristic of the present 
genius and spirit of France. 

But I must return to my main theme. The movement of science that has 
led us to see the atom as a congeries, the movement of the life principle that is 
showing us, in a certain section of the scale of elements, the atom's disintegra- 
tion, are typical of the movement of consciousness and of life throughout the 
world. We are penetrating more and more deeply into the invisible, the 
intangible, the undivided and the unconscious, and we are finding it be- 
coming visible, tangible, divided and conscious. We are laying our hands 
upon hitherto hidden centripetal forces that have held our unities together. 
We are entering a new level of nature, a new plane of being the sub-atomic 
plane, to use the atom as the symbol both of matter and of individuality and 
unity of every kind. We are at the dawn of a new cycle. What is it to be? 

Thinking of this, I remembered Madame Blavatsky's many statements of the 
ether and the sub-atomic forces of AkSsa, and there came to my mind one which 
I have verified as from a footnote on page 13 of the first volume of The Secret 
Doctrine (1888 Ed.). Speaking of Ak&sa it says, "In its higher aspect it is 
the Soul of the World; in its lower the Destroyer.' 1 

There must be these two aspects: new opportunity, new integration, new 



ii2 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

growth, new life in greater abundance, wherever the soul is dominant and free 
to work its divine alchemy, transmuting base metal into gold ; and where not 
the soul but evil is dominant, where the soul has been rejected and denied, 
there must be destruction, disintegration, a falling away from life, and these 
new levels opened only to become materialized. 

It is easy to see the action of the Destroyer. It is painfully obvious over 
the whole face of the world. We have seen it in the atom. We have seen it 
in the lives of those who have used the Freudian teaching as an excuse for 
license in the thought, to which youth is always tempted but which 
is particularly prevalent to-day, that self-expression means the spontaneous 
indulgence of the diverse animal instincts, rather than the controlled and 
purposed action of a unified self. 

We can see it as well in the world of politics and of nations. Great empires 
are dissolving before our eyes, breaking into their component parts. Russia 
and Austria most spectacularly, but Turkey, China, and even the British 
Empire, seem hastening along the same road, in which to stop and turn becomes 
more difficult as the decline becomes steeper. England! Those who love it 
cannot speak of it without conscious pain. It stood for so much that we 
revered and honoured, that we were proud was in our blood as a source of inspira- 
tion and of strength, for law and order and stability, for the spirit of adven- 
ture and noblesse oblige and heroic stedfastness so splendidly manifest in w r ar, 
for the power of dignity and tradition and freedom realized through self- 
restraint; and now, war weary, her best lives given to the "Army of the 
Dead," her destinies guided by a Welsh psychic to whom principles are but 
counters for bargaining, her aristocracy silent, no longer believing in itself 
now she turns from her own soul and justifies the ancient taunt of the scorner, 
that she is but a nation of shop-keepers. No shop-keeper can hold the British 
Empire together. It has not been her commerce but her younger sons 
who held India loyal to England; and without them India will go the way of 
Egypt and of Ireland. It is painfully easy to see the work of the Destroyer here. 

But we can trace it also within our own country. For a generation we have 
watched and listened to paid agitators preaching class consciousness and 
class antagonism, under a constitution that was supposed to know no classes 
or class distinctions. The arts of the demagogue have been made a science, 
and their influence intensified a thousand times through our system of popular 
education and the press. We have placed it in the power of men of alien race, 
tradition, and ideals, to act directly on the ties that bind the diverse elements 
of our national life into a single unity, and the inevitable result has been to 
loosen these ties or sever them. Instead of a union, "one and indivisible," 
we have warring groups of labour organizations, dictating the laws which 
Congress is to pass, or disrupting by their independent action, exercised for 
their own fancied interest and aggrandizement, the whole dynamic equilib- 
rium of our economic life. Or again, turning from our internal to our inter- 
national relations, we see that strange obverse of idealism which would forgive 
its unrepentant enemies, but would quarrel with its loyal friends which 



STUDENTS' SCRAP BOOK 113 

makes no claim on Germany but which demands the last cent from France. 
Surely here, too, is the action of the Destroyer, severing unities, working 
disintegration. 

When I think of this world-wide disintegration, manifesting thus in physics 
and chemistry, psychology and politics, music and literature and art for 
what else is the modern "Jazz," and "free verse," and ultra impressionism, 
but disintegration? I am tempted to wonder whether the time was ripe for 
the movement which causes it, or whether it was precipitated in advance of 
its time through the deliberate efforts of the powers of evil. Perhaps this 
sudden, rapid penetration of consciousness into deeper levels of life, this burst- 
ing open of the seals of knowledge long kept secret this new gift 
given to mankind at large to affect the most vital and intimate ties of the 
inner life of men and nations and nature perhaps this may be such a gift 
as Germany gave Russia, when Lenin was sent to Petrograd with German 
gold and German backing to "liberate" and "free" the country, to show how 
to sever the bonds of its unity, destroy its equilibrium and regroup its elements. 
I do not know. 

But this I do know. Whether this opening of a new cycle comes at its 
appointed time, or whether it was precipitated prematurely by the action of 
the Black Lodge, it will be used by the White Lodge for its own ends and 
purposes. The Black Lodge can forge no weapon, however potent for evil 
when acting on evil, that, in the hands of the White Lodge, does not become 
yet more potent for good when acting on the good. If, in its lower aspects, 
this new cycle seems to manifest the action of the "Destroyer," in its higher 
aspects it must manifest the action of the "Soul of the World." 

Perhaps to our vision the lower aspect must be the most prominent, because 
nearest to us. Perhaps it must come first in time destruction of the old 
preceding the birth of the new. It is worth remembering that the alchemy 
which sought the soul, which worked by integration and construction, did not 
mark the decline and breaking up of the Roman civilization, but rose into 
sight in those so-called "Dark Ages" when the separated elements of the old 
were being reformed and regrouped to build the new. Here again the atom 
was the picture of the whole. 

But I cannot take this to mean that destruction and disintegration must 
proceed and run their course. It must be precisely when the cycle turns, 
when failure threatens and seems imminent, that the greatest opportunity 
for victory is present. In the unstable equilibrium that leads to disintegra- 
tion, is the opportunity, if we but see and seize it, to integrate upon a higher 
plane to introduce a new "electron" into the atom's planetary system and 
thus "step up" the whole. 

The question of success or failure must thus be answered by another question, 
for the determining factor must lie in whether the new element to be incorpo- 
rated is present and ready when the old order gives way. This is why I should 
expect that the Black Lodge would do all in their power to hasten the crisis, and 
why I am inclined to believe that much of our new knowledge and power to 



H4 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

disintegrate comes from them. But even so, the White Lodge have been 
before them. The new element is here already working in the minds and 
hearts of men and women, however few and insignificant they may appear. 

It was to provide this new element that the Theosophical Society was 
founded. It was for this that Madame Blavatsky, Judge, and the roll of our 
dead gave up their lives and they did not live and die in vain. The Theo- 
sophical Society has succeeded. The Movement has survived the end of the 
old cycle and pours its quickening life into the new. In it is the new in- 
gredient the faith, proved and verified, "that the inner world can be entered 
here and now, that knowledge exists and is obtainable, that chelaship is a 
present day possibility and fact." It may be said that there are as yet but 
few who have this faith. Be it so. Yet the little leaven leaveneth the whole 
lump; and experience has proved, over and over again through the forty-seven 
years of the Society's existence, that the understanding and knowledge 
possessed by its members spread by contagion to the world at large. Its 
action may take time as it took three years to bring this country into the 
war but it is none the less sure. The new element is here. 

Time! In the Theosophical Society as in all warfare it appears as the 
crucial element in every strategy. We have been bidden to take long views, 
but it is only in retrospect that we can glimpse something of the far perspective 
which our generals must use in timing and planning their campaigns. A 
moment ago I wrote the names of Madame Blavatsky and Mr. Judge, the one 
a Russian, the other an Irishman. It cannot be without significance that 
these two messengers of the Lodge were chosen from the two countries most 
bent on self-destruction, and which have now fallen into completest anarchy. 
To us the collapse is a thing of yesterday, unforetold a short decade ago, 
for we could not then read the signs we may now see were present. But to 
the Lodge it must have been foreseen far back of 1 875 ; and in their choice of agents 
they must have looked forward not only to the debdcle but to its consequences 
in centuries yet to come. We know how their magnanimity ever reaches down 
to the lowest levels open to them, and uses the humblest instruments for the 
greatest work. Drawing Judge and Madame Blavatsky from Ireland and 
Russia was like finding and drawing the spark of good from some human 
derelict, condemned before the court of justice, and using it as a plea for mercy 
and a new chance. In the far spaces of time, in some new incarnation of what 
was once Ireland and Russia, it may constitute a Karmic debt that will enable 
the Lodge to aid and save them. Perhaps, too, we can see, in this choice, 
evidence for the support of the thesis that in the unstable equilibrium which 
precedes disintegration, the greatest opportunity is offered for reintegration 
on a new and higher plane. 

But be this as it may, the Lodge gift, brought by its messengers to the 
world, is still here. The cycle opens. Its key-note is alchemy. It is for each 
one of us to determine in what direction that alchemy shall act in him 
for the way in both directions lies wide open. 

H. B. M. 



A VEDIC MASTER 

PRASHNA UPANISHAD 



TRANSLATED FROM THE SANSKRIT WITH AN INTERPRETATION 

II 

And so Gargya, grandson of Surya, asked him: 

Master, in the man here, -which powers sleep, and which wake in him? Which 
is the bright one who beholds dreams? Whose is this happiness? In what are all 
these bright powers set firm? 

To him he said: 

As, Gargya, the rays of the sun going to his setting all become one in his radiant 
circle, and again, when he rises again, they go forth, thus, verily, all this becomes 
one in the higher bright power, Mind. Because of this then the man hears not, sees 
not, smells not, tastes not, speaks not, handles not, enjoys not, puts not forth, walks 
not; he sleeps, they say. 

The life-fires, verily, wake in this dwelling; the household fire, verily, is the 
downward-life; the sacrificial fire is the distributing-life; because it is brought 
forward from the household fire, from being brought forward, the fire of oblation is 
the forward-life. The binding-life is so called because it binds together the up- 
breathing and the down-breathing, the two oblations. Mind, verily, is the sacrificer. 
The fruit of the sacrifice is the upward-life. Day by day it brings the sacrificer to 
the Eternal. Here this bright power in dream experiences greatness; what was seen, 
as seen he beholds again; what was heard, he hears again, verily, as an object heard; 
what has been experienced by the different powers in their regions, he again per- 
ceives according to each power, the seen and unseen, the heard and unheard, the 
experienced and unexperienced, the real and unreal; all he perceives, as the All he 
perceives. 

When he is enveloped by the radiance, the bright power then beholds no dreams; 
and so then in this body that happiness arises. As, dear, the birds come home to 
the tree to rest, so, verily, all this comes to rest in the Higher Self: earth and forms 
of earth, water and forms of water, fire and forms of fire, air and forms of air, 
radiant ether and forms of radiant ether, sight and what is to be seen, hearing and 
what is to be heard, the power of smell and what is to be smelled, taste and what is to 
be tasted, touch and what is to be touched, voice and what is to be spoken, the two 
hands and what is to be handled, the formative power and what is to be formed, the 
power which puts forth and what is to be put forth, the two feet and the power of 
going, the mind and what is to be thought, the intelligence and what is to be under- 
stood, self-reference and what is referred to self, imagination and what can be 
imagined, the radiance and what can be illumined, the life-breath and what can be 
supported. 

For it is he who sees, touches, hears, smells, tastes, thinks, understands, acts, the 

"5 



ii6 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

Self of understanding, the spiritual man; he is set firm in the higher, imperishable 
Self. 

He reaches the higher imperishable, who, verily, knows that shadowless, bodiless, 
colourless, radiant, imperishable; he, dear, knowing all, becomes All. And there is 
this verse: 

The Self of understanding with all the bright powers, 

All lives and beings are set firm in this; 

He, dear, who knows this imperishable, 

He, knowing all, has entered the All. 

THE six questions addressed to the Vedic Master, with their answers, 
form an ordered sequence which outlines the whole of the Mystery 
teaching. The first answer teaches the emanation of the manifested 
universe and all worlds and beings therein through the Logos, "the Lord of 
beings." There is also an outline of the twin doctrines of liberation and 
reincarnation. The second answer sketches what we are accustomed to call the 
Seven Principles, both of the worlds and of man; the inferior principles being 
but aspects and manifestations of the one Divine Principle. In the third answer, 
the teaching of the Principles is further developed through their correspond- 
ence with the life-forces of the body, which are manifestations of the one Life. 

The fourth question and answer, translated above, lead to the considera- 
tion of the planes of consciousness which are treated more fully in the answer 
to the fifth question. 

The disciple asks concerning sleep. The Master answers, going back for his 
guiding thought to the first teaching, the manifestation of the worlds and man 
through the out-breathing of the Logos. As there is an out-breathing, so there 
is also an in-drawing. For the worlds, this in-drawing comes at the end of the 
world-period; for man, it comes at death, as has already been told in the second 
answer. But there is also sleep, the sister of death, in which the same in-draw- 
ing takes place, though it is an in-drawing of consciousness and not of sub- 
stance. The body is not dissolved as in death, but sinks into a torpor, awaiting 
the return of the powers on awaking. The body thus resting, with its powers 
indrawn, is likened to the house with its sacrificial fires; and the process of going 
to sleep is compared to a sacrifice, whose reward is the upward tide of aspiration, 
which carries the consciousness upward toward spiritual life. 

But the mid-world must first be passed through, the realm of dreams. We 
are told that the scenery of the dream-world is made up of the images of things 
seen and heard and diversely perceived in the realm of waking. These images 
are reflected from below. But there are also reflections from above, images of 
things not seen nor heard in the world of waking ; spiritual images which should 
lead the consciousness upward to the living, spiritual world; images of beauty, 
truth and goodness, reflections of immortal Beauty, Truth and Goodness. 
That living, spiritual world is the dwelling of the Higher Self, the Immortal, 
which has put forth Mind and the bright powers into the manifested world as 
its servants, to do its bidding and reap its harvests. 



A VEDIC MASTER 117 

And just as sleep is, in a sense, a rehearsal of death, so this ascension of the 
consciousness in sleep is a foreshadowing of the final ascent of consciousness in 
the great Liberation, which is the true theme of all Mystery teachings. 

And so Satyakama, son of -Shiva, asked him: 

Master, he who among the sons of men should meditate on Om until his life's end, 
which of the worlds does he thereby win? 

To him he said: 

Om, Satyakama, is the higher and lower Eternal. Therefore he who knows, 
resting in this, comes to one of these worlds. 

If he meditate on one measure, thereby illumined he quickly returns to this 
world. The Rig verses lead him to the world of men; there endowed with fervour, 
service of the Eternal, faith, he experiences greatness. 

And so if he be possessed of two measures in his mind, he is led by the Yajur 
verses to the mid-world, the lunar world. Having enjoyed expansion in the lunar 
world he returns again. 

Again, he who meditates on this Om with three measures, and, through this Om, 
on the higher spiritual man, enveloped in the radiance, in the sun, like as a serpent 
is released from its slough, so is he released from the darkness of sin; he is led up by 
the Sama verses to the world of the Eternal; he perceives the Spiritual Man, who is 
above the highest assembly of lives. As to this, there are these verses: 

The three measures, subject to death, are united, joined together, not disunited. 

When the outer, inner and middle are perfectly joined together in acts of medita- 
tion, the knower is not shaken. 

By the Rig to this world, by the Yajur to the mid-world, by the Sama to the world 
the seers know; to that world, resting in Om, goes he who knows, to that which is full 
of peace, ageless, immortal, fearless. 

The syllable Om is made up of three measures: a-u-m. These are taken to 
represent the three states of consciousness, physical, psychical, spiritual; united 
together, as Om, they represent the divine consciousness. As a secondary 
symbolism, the three Vedas, the Rig, Yajur and Sama Vedas, are taken, like- 
wise standing for the three states of consciousness; the Veda, as a unity, stand- 
ing for the divine consciousness. 

Consciousness limited to the physical is represented by the first measure of 
Om; since there is no subjective life in such a case, nothing to build the scenery 
of the paradise between death and rebirth, such a one is reborn forthwith. 

The added subjective,, but not yet spiritual, consciousness, is represented by 
the second measure of Om. At death, such a one goes to the " lunar" paradise, 
so called because it shines by reflected light and, after waxing, will wane again. 

Spiritual consciousness is represented by the third measure of Om. The 
radiance is the Principle called Buddhi; the sun is the Logos. Through the 
illumination of Buddhi, he is united with the Logos, this union being Liberation. 
The Logos, whom Shankaracharya calls "the First-born," is the Spiritual Man, 
above the highest assembly of lives. 

It is the teaching of the Upanishads that man in sleep enters the spiritual 



ii8 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

consciousness, but that, passing downward again through the mid-world, the 
world of dreams, he loses all remembrance of that consciousness; so far as his 
outer knowledge is concerned, spiritual consciousness comes to an end when the 
man returns to waking consciousness. Therefore all three, physical, psychical 
and spiritual consciousness, have their ending for him; they are "subject to 
death." But they are perfectly united through meditation, through spiritual 
illumination; the spiritual man, dwelling in spiritual consciousness, uses 
psychical and physical consciousness for the purposes of his work, while stand- 
ing unshaken in the spiritual world. This is the ageless, immortal, fearless 
world, his everlasting home. 

And so Sukeshan, son of Bharadvaja, asked him: 

Master, Hiranyanabha of the Koshalas, the Rajput, coming to me, asked me 
this question: Son of Bharadvaja, knoivest thou the Man of sixteen parts? ' I said 
to the prince, I know him not; if I knew him, how should I not tell him 
to thee? He dries up, root and all, -who speaks untruth, therefore I deign not to 
speak untruth. Ascending his chariot in silence, he departed. I ask thee this: 
Where is that Man? 

To him he said: 

Here, verily, within the body, dear, is the Man in whom the sixteen parts are 
manifested. 

He, beholding, thought: In what going forth shall I go forth? Or in what set 
firm shall I be set firm? 

He put forth the Life; from the Life, faith, ether, air, fire, the waters, the earth, 
the powers, mind, food, also came forth; from food, valour, fervour, the sacred 
verses, works, the worlds; and name also in the worlds. 

As these rolling rivers, flowing oceanward, reaching the ocean, find there 
their setting; their name and form are lost and they are called ocean; so of this seer, 
the sixteen parts, moving toward the Spiritual Man, on reaching the Spiritual 
Man, find their setting; their name and form are lost and they are called the 
Spiritual Man: so he becomes partless, immortal. As to this, there is this verse: 

In whom the parts are set firm, like the spokes in the wheel's nave, him I know 
as the Spiritual Man to be known, therefore let not death perturb you. 

To them he said: 

Thus far know I this supreme Eternal; there is naught beyond. 

Praising him, they said: 

Thou art our father, who hast caused us to cross over to unwisdom's further 
shore. Obeisance to the supreme Seers! Obeisance to the supreme Seers! 

Fully understood, the Spiritual Man concerning whom the question is put 
appears to be the Logos; the "sixteen parts" include, or represent, the seven 
worlds, the seven principles, and the activities of the principles in the worlds. 

The essence of the answer is the return to the Logos, through the great 
Liberation ; as the rivers which, rising as clouds, have come forth from the ocean , 
return once more to the ocean when their cycle is fulfilled, so, when their time 
is fulfilled, all beings return to the Logos, becoming that from which of old they 
came forth; becoming again the partless Immortal. C. J. 



THE DIRECTION OF HUMAN 
EVOLUTION 



THIS latest book l of a biologist of international reputation has been 
termed in scientific reviews the "religion" of the best science of the day. 
As such, students of Theosophy cannot but examine its conclusions 
and points of view with the greatest attention and hope. It may be stated at 
once that much encouraging progress can be found in its pages. The change 
in the viewpoint of science which has taken place in twenty-five years is great, 
and is certainly in the right direction. The reviewer knows of no other scien- 
tific book, from an equally authoritative source, which grants religion so im- 
portant and necessary a r61e in human affairs. What is even more significant, 
religion is definitely given a dignified status, and is not portrayed as a conces- 
sion to the weakness of the masses, incapable of a better and more rational 
basis for conducting their affairs. In general terms, the "religion" of present 
day science is markedly less materialistic than in a very recent past, which 
may well be a source of satisfaction. 

But if the reader expects to find Professor Conklin's ideas on religion, evolu- 
tion and democracy agreeing with Theosophy, he will be woefully disappointed 
as well as unreasonable. It is not too much to say that in no important particu- 
lar will he agree with him. It can scarcely be expected that science in the 
lapse of one short century could even approximate the Ancient Wisdom. 
But when due allowance for this is made, it is still apparent that lack of reflec- 
tion and study in some of the phases of his problems has led the author into 
absurd paradoxes, which any intelligent person, let alone a student of Theos- 
ophy, could grasp. Chief of these is his attitude towards science itself. In 
the preface he states that "the aim of real science, as well as of true religion, 
is to know the truth, confident that even unwelcome truth is better than cher- 
ished error, that the welfare of the human race depends upon the extension 
and diffusion of knowledge among men, and that truth alone can make us free." 
It would be hard to quarrel with this definition. But his conception of the 
methods and scope of science is so sharply limited that his aim becomes impos- 
sible of realization, as far as matters philosophical or religious are concerned, 
admittedly of fundamental importance to humanity. In fact we may go 
further, and state that if Professor Conklin had strictly eliminated all matters 
incapable of proof by scientific methods or outside the alleged scope of science, 
the book could not possibly have been written. Fortunately, students of 
Theosophy have a much better opinion of the scope of science, and consequently 
of its ultimate possibilities, which transcend the limits of the so-called material 
world. The book itself is, however, a convincing proof of how impossible it is 
for a scientist of any depth of nature to confine his thinking to those things 

1 Professor Edwin Grant Conklin, Sc.D., etc. (Charles Scribner's Sons, New York, 1921.) 

119 



I2O 

within the "scope" of the science of the day. Something will have to give, 
and unquestionably it will be the definition of the "scope." The modern 
science of psychology is driving an ever-deepening wedge into such prejudices, 
and on this count alone would have justified its existence, and entitled it to 
toleration for its many absurdities. 

But this is somewhat of a digression, and we may better return to a more 
detailed analysis of the book, which is divided into three parts, "Paths and 
Possibilities of Human Evolution," "Evolution and Democracy," "Evolution 
and Religion," each with a considerable number of chapters. 

The main viewpoint of the author is that the doctrine of evolution and its 
applications is of fundamental importance in human problems. In Part I, 
consequently, he presents a brief outline of evolution in general, the evolution 
of man, and the biological principles by which evolution is brought about, such 
as mutation, Mendelian inheritance, etc. With most of this, Theosophy is 
heartily in accord, but it must be noted that the modern scientific history of 
human evolution is purely the evolution of man's physical body, which unques- 
tionably evolved from a lower animal type, approximately as indicated by 
scientific evidence. That the divine and spiritual elements of man, which 
Theosophy regards as the real man, ever evolved from an ape-like ancestor, 
utterly devoid of such elements, is a matter which science can never prove. 
It is only fair to say, however, that science has never tried. The divine and 
spiritual elements of man are not easily observable by scientific methods of 
research, and consequently either their existence is denied, or the whole 
question is put aside as not w r ithin the scope of science anyhow. It is, as 
already stated, however, the belief of the writer that this convenient method 
of disposing of embarrassing questions will become increasingly impossible, 
as more and more scientists find it increasingly impossible to be rigidly and con- 
sistently materialistic. Similarly the biological mechanism of" evolution is 
acceptable only on the plane of physical matter. 

Having shown the past history of evolution, and clearly sketched its gran- 
deur, power and all-pervading quality, Professor Conklin examines the future 
in the light of the past. Man has evolved to the present point, he is still un- 
questionably evolving: to what is he evolving? This is very much the same 
question asked in a recent QUARTERLY, in the article "Evolution and Daily 
Living," and the preliminary answers are practically the same. In brief, our 
author shows with considerable clarity and force that physical evolution has 
virtually ceased, that eugenics can only theoretically raise the average level 
of physical excellence, that there is no evidence that a higher type of animal 
than Man can or will be evolved, and that the intellectual evolution of the 
individual has apparently ceased. 

Professor Conklin's final answer is that "if the evolution of the human 
individual has come to an end, certainly the evolution of human society has not. 
In social evolution a new path of progress has been found, the end of which 
no one can foresee." It is pointed out that as one-celled organisms have pro- 
gressed to many-celled, the small and simple to the larger and more complex, 



THE DIRECTION OF HUMAN EVOLUTION 121 

so individuals have combined into families, tribes, nations and governments. 
In the past, he says, human culture has evolved through the stages of 
Savagery and Barbarism to Civilization. This last has been steadily increas- 
ing in complexity and extent, and is due to co-operative effort. Even the 
greatest discoveries were conditioned upon previously acquired knowledge. 
And while human society is full of disharmonies and less perfectly adapted 
to a particular environment than such social insects as ants and bees, the 
possession of intelligence, the capacity of learning by experience, and the steady 
annexation of the illimitable forces of nature, open up a path of progress the 
end of which no one can foresee. 

There is much that is obviously sound in this view, as it is patent that human 
society is evolving and must evolve, just like anything else. That this is the 
ultimate goal of human evolution, however, any religious-minded person will 
doubt. Criticism is hardly fair at this point, as it is obvious that in Part I, 
the author is not going outside the limits of biological deduction. Philosophical 
and religious deductions are reserved for later parts, so we too shall reserve 
our comment at this time. 

In Part II, "Evolution and Democracy," Professor Conklin steps outside 
of the strict field of biology, and attempts to apply the principles of evolution 
to democracy. After pointing out that society is fundamentally based on 
instincts rather than reason, that social progress means greater specialization 
and co-operation, that progress in human history is a long struggle between 
instincts and reason, individual freedom and social obligations, and many 
other obvious pairs of opposites, that "life and all of its activities consist in 
compromise, balance, adjustment between opposing principles," we are asked 
to study the biological bases of democracy. 

Democracy is defined as a system of social organization which, "ideally at 
least, attempts to equalize the opportunities and responsibilities of individuals 
in society." It is important to bear this definition in mind, as the author more 
frequently employs the word in its usual connotation of a system of govern- 
ment, and it is sometimes difficult to determine just which kind of democracy 
he is talking about. At the outset it is quite evident that irrespective of ideal 
democracy, he has a very poor opinion of democracy as a system of government, 
as it is in practice to-day, and is well aware of many of its short-comings and 
defects. In this connection, two important points are made. First, atten- 
tion is called to the extremely low average intelligence of the citizens of this 
republic. The recent army tests showed that nearly one half of the population 
will never develop mental capacity beyond the stage of a normal twelve-year- 
old child. It has always been recognized that the success of democracy depends 
upon the intelligence of the people, but it has always been assumed that edu- 
cation could promote intelligence. Professor Conklin's second point is that 
education is not the magical panacea so fondly supposed by advocates of de- 
mocracy. Just as eugenics cannot possibly produce a higher physical type, so 
education "can only bring to development the qualities which are potentially 
present; it cannot increase these potentialities or capacities; and the attempt to 



122 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

educate a person of D grade (mentally) beyond the fifth year of the elementary 
schools is usually wasted time." Finally, it is observed that mental capacity 
is inherited, that parents of low intelligence generally produce children of low 
intelligence, and more children than persons of high intelligence, that a con- 
stant influx of foreigners of low mental capacity has probably caused a decline 
in average intelligence, and that consequently "we are in a position to appre- 
ciate the very serious situation that confronts us as a nation." 

Again Professor Conklin points out that the foundation principles of democ- 
racy are concisely summarized in the motto of France "Liberty, Equality, 
Fraternity." And yet nothing is more obvious than that nature has made 
men unequal in every respect. "What is the teaching of biology regarding 
these principles of democracy? . . . To put the question in a more 
practical form How can we develop social organization in spite of individual 
liberty, democratic equality in spite of hereditary inequality, universal frater- 
nity in spite of national and class antagonisms? " Three chapters are devoted to 
answering these questions. 

These three chapters and the conclusion to Part II are unquestionably the 
poorest in the book. They are absurdly and patently illogical, they are both 
dogmatic and prejudiced. They can be unfavourably criticized on their 
contents alone, without recourse either to religion or to Theosophy. All the 
apparent defects and disadvantages of democracy (the present system of 
government), which no one brings out more forcefully or more tersely than 
Professor Conklin, are nevertheless dismissed by him as due either to false 
conceptions of democracy (kind not stated), or to faults inherent in human 
nature which democracy has not served to overcome ! Thus he tells us that if 
social evolution is the next step forward in progress, biology shows clearly that 
individual liberty must be sacrificed to social organization. But while the usual 
conception of democratic freedom does involve the idea of maximum personal 
liberty, individualism, he would have us believe, is not a necessary part of de- 
mocracy (presumably here regarded as an ideal system of social organization) . 
This is a relic of " pioneer " idealism, and fortunately " we "are finding these ideals 
incompatible with the requirements of a populous country. "We still preserve 
the ancient formulas, but their content is changing and must continue to change 
as society develops." The present writer fears that this "we" is very wee in 
numbers. The speciousness of this argument, which fairly puts the cart before 
the horse, is evident. If it were fated for society to develop willy-nilly, of 
course personal freedom would have to swing into line, as it were, and allow it- 
self to be subordinated. But we had rather understood Professor Conklin to 
prove quite clearly that this subordination of personal freedom was prerequisite 
to the development of society, that it would have to come first, if social progress 
were to be made. Somehow or other, if humanity should accept social evolu- 
tion as the next step forward, and should sit down to await its arrival with the 
happiest anticipation, we doubt if social progress would ever put in an appear- 
ance. Again, lack of specialization is supposed to be a fatal defect of democ- 
racy. Instead of electing experts to office, we elect inexpert politicians. This 



THE DIRECTION OF HUMAN EVOLUTION 123 

is a serious defect, but "lack of specialization is no essential part of democracy." 
Greatly relieved, we read that democracies develop specialists in all fields, just 
like any other form of government, and if in selecting men for public office, we 
still retain some more "pioneer" ideals, this phase is rapidly passing. So 
everything is all right here too, and it is the accidental omission of the proof 
and the stupidity of the reader which prevents the conquest of his pessimism ! 
To show once more the lack of coherence, let us give the bare succession of the 
author's next statements. Lack of co-operation is even more evident, he says. 
Insistence on personal freedom and rights will wreck any system of social or- 
ganization. Social co-operation is the greatest problem which confronts all 
types of government, and failure in this respect has caused the downfall of 
many civilizations in the past. The implication is that democracy wins over 
other forms of government, because these "very serious defects" are not the 
results of democracy, but of the character, education, and condition of the 
people ! 

The next chapter discusses democratic equality versus hereditary inequality; 
and Professor Conklin reminds us of a socialist soap-box orator. It is admitted 
at the outset that the usual creed of democracy is that all men are created 
equal, and that inequalities are due to environment; education, or opportunity. 
"And yet nothing is more evident than the inequalities of personality, intelli- 
gence, usefulness and influence; and the inequalities of heredity are greater 
even than those of environment." This would apparently support the claims 
of aristocracy. The fallacy of aristocracy, however, is that it confuses social 
and biological inheritance. The oldest son inherits his father's property, but 
he may not inherit his intelligence or character. A discussion of Mendelian 
inheritance follows. Its bearing on the problem is not obvious, but it may be 
accepted here, without justifying Professor Conklin's remarks. Mendel's 
great law unquestionably explains why a son may not inherit his father's intel- 
ligence and character, nor is there the slightest doubt that this happens. 
However, our author himself, in discussing the low average of intelligence, 
observed that parents of low intelligence generally produce offspring of low 
intelligence. It would seem, therefore, that parents of high intelligence would 
generally produce offspring of high intelligence, and this is not contrary to 
Mendelian inheritance. It is obvious, therefore, that Mendel's law is no more 
democratic than aristocratic. The other arguments are pure theory and 
pretty poor theory at that. The statement that most great leaders of mankind 
came from humble parents is historically inaccurate; that many of the greatest 
geniuses had a lowly origin is necessarily true, as the definition of the word in- 
volves such an origin in part. The citation of remarkable cases never proved 
any argument, and there is much to commend in the old saw " the exception 
proves the rule." Part of one statement by Professor Conklin we heartily en- 
dorse. " No social system can afford to ignore the great personages that ap- 
pear in obscure families, or to exalt non-entities to leadership because they 
belong to great families. In short, preferment and distinction should depend 
upon individual worth and not upon family name or position. This is ortho- 



124 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

dox democratic doctrine, but not the faith or practice of aristocracy." The 
last sentence is an astonishing "rider" to an impeccable proposition, as it is 
patently absurd and contrary to history. Society is on an aristocratic basis in 
England, but the king is harmless if incompetent, the numerous lords who 
amount to nothing have no positions of authority or responsibility, and the 
present cabinet is entirely composed of men who had no title of nobility at 
birth, and the Prime Minister was the son of a coal miner. In fact there is no 
existing democratic government which has so consistently rewarded genius 
and ability, as has the aristocratic social system in England, and given it social 
equality as well by the system of creating titles. This may be fairly contrasted 
with the democratic organization of society in America, where a man of scien- 
tific eminence is recognized, but where his social position in New York would 
depend not only on his family connections, but also upon the amount of money 
he had. If it be argued that England is really democratic despite its aristo- 
cratic structure, even Germany could produce a Bismarck, and half the leading 
men of Japan to-day do not belong to the Samurai. 

We can now take up again our author's statement that many of the greatest 
geniuses had a most lowly origin. We heartily agree, and note that of the six 
examples he cites, Shakespeare, Beethoven, Schubert, and Faraday developed 
their genius and obtained an undying reputation in an aristocratic regime. 
The statement, therefore, that it is the faith and practice of aristocracy to 
ignore "great personages that appear in obscure families," is easily shown to 
be a misapprehension of fact. To borrow a pet phrase of Professor Conklin's, 
his argument is based on emotion rather than reason, on sentiment rather than 
science. How absurd to suppose that great men of humble orgin arise in an 
aristocracy in spite of its alleged vicious fallacies, and then to hail the same 
event in a democracy as proof of the alleged blessings of that democracy. 
Until absolute proof of so improbable a proposition is produced, the open- 
minded man who is not biased by prejudice or emotion will suspend judgment, 
as far as the arguments in this chapter are concerned. 

In the next chapter our author attacks the worship of distinguished ances- 
tors as an important element in class antagonism versus universal fraternity. 
He brings out the point that our ancestors double in every generation, and that 
each of us would be descended from more than a billion if we went back a 
thousand years, and that the effort to discover a noble one and ignore the rest 
is often pure snobbery. Moreover it is biologically irrelevant. Inheritance is 
passed from one generation to another in the chromosomes of the germ cells. 
As there are forty-eight chromosomes, it is absolutely impossible for anyone 
to inherit chromosomes (or traits) from more than forty-eight contemporary 
ancestors. Consequently back of this point our ancestors, noble or obscure, 
are of no biological moment. The main point is, however, that due to the vast 
lapse of time, the number of generations, and the steady commingling of races 
and nations, we are all cousins if not brothers. Consequently not only are 
families not separate and individual entities, but nations and races are merely 
minor units in the great organism of mankind." Man is a hopelessly mongrel 



THE DIRECTION OF HUMAN EVOLUTION 125 

species, and the resemblances between all types of men are much greater 
than the differences. 

Professor Conklin very naturally, therefore, deplores the racial, national, 
and class antagonisms, which have prevailed throughout the historical period, 
and which are a serious bar, in his opinion, to social evolution. He regrets 
that the international co-operation of the World War is being replaced by 
bigotry, prejudice and selfishness. The balance of the chapter is devoted more 
especially to class antagonism. It is in much the same vein as the preceding 
chapter, and calls for no special additional notice. 

We are astonished, however, to read that the only possible cure for these sick- 
nesses of society is the education of the people, so that they may "appreciate 
the difference between evidence and emotion, science and sentiment." In an 
earlier chapter Professor Conklin has shown quite clearly that education can 
no longer be regarded as "the magical panacea so fondly supposed." More- 
over, even if the people did learn to appreciate these differences, we fear that 
considerable progress in morality and ethics would be necessary before they 
were lived up to. 

The conclusion in the final chapter of Part II is, naturally enough, that de- 
mocracy can save itself from the serious faults and dangers which threaten it. 
The author does not make this flat statement, but holds that no other system of 
social organization has so much promise of success. He admits that the ra- 
tional processes of the people as a whole cannot be trusted, but "we can trust 
their social instincts and moral judgments," which are so deep-seated and wide- 
spread, as to form a firm foundation for democracy. There is no proof what- 
ever for this incredible optimism, other than an extract from a speech by Mr. 
Woodrow Wilson ! 

We have gone into considerable detail in our exposition of Part II, in an 
effort to show that Professor Conklin's suggested remedies for the many evils 
and defects of democracy (as a present-day system of government) will not bear 
analysis, and that his elimination of other defects, in that they are no essential 
part of democracy (the ideal definition), is illogical and unjustifiable. To step 
outside his own grounds, however, for a word of general comment, we would 
suggest that social evolution must depend entirely upon moral and religious 
improvement, and that if this were the case, almost any social system could 
serve equally well. 

Coming now to Part III, Evolution and Religion, we reach what is in many 
ways the most interesting section of the book. The author's premise is that 
the highest types of religion cultivate faith, hope, and love by appealing to 
the noblest emotions in human nature, the love of truth, beauty, and goodness, 
the mainsprings of human life. "This moral or emotional part of man's 
nature, as contrasted with his mind or intellect, is what is usually called the 
soul." The mysteries of the universe, the existence of evil, and the never ceas- 
ing conflict in every individual between right and wrong, these " fightings within 
and fears without" are relieved for the great mass of mankind only by religion, 
and its hold on the race is due to the fact " that it ministers in the highest sense 



126 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

to human happiness," and consequently we shall never outgrow our need of it. 
There is much here that is pleasant reading coming from a scientist, although 
the definition of the soul is rather amusing, and the calling of religion an emo- 
tion might well annoy many, unless it be recalled that anything other than 
pure reason and intellection is termed an emotion in the scientific jargon of 
the day. 

The remaining chapters, barring the final one, are particularly difficult to 
summarize adequately in a short space. They are a curious jumble of para- 
doxes, inconsistencies, prejudices, and misconceptions, mixed with much that 
is sound, much that is sensible and fair, and above all a latent spirit of rever- 
ence that alone explains the author's good opinion of religion by the time he 
gets through with its defects. Indeed, he seems to us at times to be a very 
Don Quixote tilting at windmills of the past or of his own imagining. Much 
of this is due obviously, to the fact that Professor Conklin has not followed 
the development of religious thought as studiously as biology, and his ideas 
are consequently derived from the more conspicuous and striking examples, 
which, alas we must be fair in our turn are too often deplorable or 
ridiculous. 

Thus a careful distinction is drawn at the outset between theology and reli- 
gion, which Theosophy has been most careful to make. This is the last we hear, 
however, of any such distinction, and most of the time, while berating religion, 
the author is obviously aiming at what an intelligent Episcopalian would 
consider the scattered remnants of a former narrow, dogmatic theology. While 
we must appreciate the restraint and courtesy with which Professor Conklin 
points out much glaring folly, it is positively insulting to any educated person, 
religiously inclined, to have such follies saddled on religion. Here it is, alas, 
true that the intellectual capers of Bryan in the name of religion are far more 
conspicuous than the reverse and quiet side of the picture. The old " Conflict 
between Religion and Science," is taken up about where Draper left off eighty 
years ago, and our author would undoubtedly be glad to discover that much 
theology has disappeared, to be replaced by some semblance of religion in this 
'lapse of time. It is a waste of time to argue about the Creation and the 
authoritativeness of the Bible. The argument is superfluous for intelligent and 
educated people, and the followers of Bryan are probably hopeless and perhaps 
incapable of being convinced. But in this connection, however, we should like 
to quote our author on the province of science. "Science never penetrates 
as far as the ultimate origin and cause of anything, . . . but in the end 
leaves the last cause unexplained. Science maintains that . . . every 
event is due to pre-existing natural causes, and it assumes that this chain of 
cause and effect stretches back ad infinitum, though of course this cannot be 
proven. This chain may end in a first cause, an uncaused cause. But if so, 
we may be sure that science will never be able to discover it, for it lies beyond 
the reach of finite knowledge and experience." 

We have already had occasion to regret the limitations that science has seen 
fit to enforce against itself. But in accepting them, we have the chief weapon 



THE DIRECTION OF HUMAN EVOLUTION 127 

at hand for taxing science with dogmatism and prejudice. No clearer illustra- 
tion of this could be found than in Professor Conklin's chapter on supernatural- 
ism. He denies its existence. So does true religion or Theosophy. If a 
miracle be a temporary abrogation of natural law, we must disbelieve in mir- 
acles. If they be phenomena due to the operation of natural laws not as yet 
generally known, they are at least a theoretical possibility until all natural 
laws are known. Science is the first to admit that our knowledge of natural 
laws is in its infancy, and Professor Conklin very pertinently points out that 
much that is taken for granted to-day would have been deemed miraculous by 
our ancestors. We might add that what is emphatically stated to be impossible 
to-day, may in part at least be commonplace to-morrow. This is not a proph- 
ecy, nor is the argument to be taken as a proof of the genuineness of any 
particular miracle. Science is dogmatic when it says that a certain phenom- 
enon which cannot be explained by known natural laws, is therefore a fake, 
and that people who believe in it are sunk in the mire of superstition. Such a 
position is not permissible until all natural laws are known. As a result, 
science has frequently incurred ridicule by announcing the discovery of some- 
thing declared an absurd superstition by an earlier generation of scientists. 
The old alchemists were ridiculed for their attempts to transmute the baser 
metals into gold, but the transmutation of certain elements is now an estab- 
lished fact, and no chemist to-day would care to say that the changing of any 
particular element into any other was impossible. 

If this position be regarded as a somewhat hypercritical one, there is a further 
aspect of the dogmatism of science which is indefensible, and that is that the 
matters which it chiefly denounces and holds forth against concern phenomena 
which are admittedly entirely outside the field of science as limited by scien- 
tists themselves. Thus Professor Conklin sneers at people who believe in 
ghosts, clairvoyance, spiritism, ouija-boards, reincarnations, etc., and "the 
few intellectual and scientific sponsors, who can always be found for any novel 
or sensational belief" surely a strange collection of superstititions! Such a 
statement is a jumble of dogmatism, prejudice, ignorance and common sense; 
of common sense, in that the advocates of these beliefs or phenomena are 
chiefly responsible for the disrepute in which they are held. When people are 
committed to asylums for referring their life problems to ouija-board wisdom, 
when people cheerfully pay five dollars to a professional medium for a ten- 
minute conversation with their great-grandfather, and when other utterly 
insignificant people freely admit that they are reincarnations of some famous 
historical personage, there is small wonder that sensible people are prejudiced 
against these things, and students of Theosophy would do well to bear this in 
mind, and guide their action and speech accordingly. There is ignorance, 
however, in referring to clairvoyance as a superstition, and to reincarnation 
as a novel and sensational belief. A lifetime spent in a biological laboratory is 
not the procedure to discover a genuine case of clairvoyance. Reincarnation 
is one of the oldest and grandest of philosophical conceptions, has comforted 
countless millions of people, and has enabled "thoughtful and sensitive per- 



128 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

sons to face evil, fears, suffering, and death with hope and courage." Pro- 
fessor Conklin uses these words of praise for religion as a whole, and the true 
conception of reincarnation, not debased by modern folly or metempsychosis, 
is a religious doctrine. 

Finally we would return once more to an earlier criticism. It is the writer's 
belief that there is not a shred of strictly scientific proof for reincarnation, 
using this term as the scientist uses it. Reincarnation cannot be a field for 
present-day scientific experimental research. On Professor Conklin' s own 
definition, it is entirely outside the field of science, and for a scientist to say 
that it is gross superstition is pure dogmatism and prejudice. Why should 
our author give pronouncement on a matter entirely outside his field, to an 
audience part of which at least has given much more attention to the subject? 
How scornful he was, recently, when an unintelligent advocate of religion sneered 
at palaeontology and evolution, making himself ridiculous by discussing mat- 
ters beyond his competence. The intelligent student of religion is entirely 
reasonable in expecting Professor Conklin to set a better example. 

Again he should learn that there are two classes of "superstitious" people, 
and make the proper distinction between them. While he is entirely correct 
in thinking that there are still people who believe that "natural laws may from 
time to time be set aside or abrogated and supernatural phenomena may be 
interposed," and while such people may properly be termed superstitious, there 
is another class which deserves more consideration. There are people, for 
instance, who are themselves clairvoyant, or who have seen a genuine case of 
clairvoyance in a member of their family. They have had no conscious con- 
trol of this faculty, are quite unable to explain how it was done. Nevertheless, 
they are compelled to recognize it as a fact. But they are convinced that no 
natural law was abrogated, that no divine or miraculous agency exercised a 
supernatural power in their behalf, and hold firmly to the belief that the very 
science which so scornfully denies the genuineness of clairvoyance, will some 
day discover the natural law which makes the existence of that faculty possible. 
At least it is a degree of tolerance which might inspire some respect even in 
that scientist who has no reason in his personal experience to believe in any 
such "superstition," forgetting in his egotism that no specialist can know 
everything, or expect to observe a genuine case of every possible natural 
phenomenon, explained or unexplained. 

It is not, however, the purpose of the writer to review so interesting and 
thought-stimulating a book by an opening paragraph of praise and pages of 
critical comment. To do so would be an injustice to author and reader alike. 
It is consequently a pleasure to turn to a brighter side of our picture, and we 
note with satisfaction that Professor Conklin does not believe in a mechanistic 
universe. He cannot accept a fortuitous combination of atoms, nor does he 
deem it possible that cosmic laws were the product of a happy accident. In 
other words, as a scientist, he holds that the available evidence seems to imply 
intelligent design or purpose back of the phenomena of biology, that evolution 
has revealed more clearly than ever before a larger teleology which includes 



THE DIRECTION OF HUMAN EVOLUTION 129 

the lifeless as well as the living world. As Asa Gray, the great botanist, said: 
"Design in the natural world is co-extensive with Providence." The re- 
ligiously minded man has throughout the ages instinctively believed in Pur- 
pose back of all cosmic manifestation. It is gratifying, therefore, to find that 
science offers a definite intellectual background to an intuition which is an 
axiom of every great religion. 

There is only one better chapter in the book, and that is the concluding one 
on the "Religion of Evolution." Here the native reverence of the author 
breaks through. His theme is unfolded, his case is submitted, and his sincere 
desire to harmonize true religion and true science is freed from much of the 
miscomprehension and superficiality of his earlier discussion, to which we felt 
compelled to call attention. To conclude now with a comment which we 
reserved in discussing Part I, we can only marvel that so eloquently expressed 
a belief in religion and its value, so reverent a conception of purpose in evolu- 
tion, and the grandeur of its ultimate destiny, should not have appeared in the 
slightest to modify statements in the earlier Parts. We discover for the first 
time that social evolution is not the crassly economic and wholly material 
conception presented in Part I, where moral and ethical progress are casually 
mentioned as means to a more materialistic goal. We do not see why so much 
stress was laid on the attempt to prove democracy such a blessed medium of 
economic and political progress, when our author apparently glimpses a far 
higher destiny for mankind, more in accord with religion, in which view politi- 
cal economy would be of little importance in establishing the kingdom of God 
on earth. 

But we can do no better in closing than to quote. "The religion of evolu- 
tion deals with this world rather than the next. ... It seeks to build 
here and now the 'City of God.' ... It looks forward to unnumbered 
ages of human progress upon the earth, ... to ages of greater justice 
and peace and altruism. Indeed the religion of evolution is nothing new, but 
is the old religion of the world's greatest leaders and teachers, ... es- 
pecially of Christ, which strives to develop a better and a nobler human race 
and to establish the kingdom of God on the earth." 

"The inspiring visions of prophets and seers concerning a new heaven, a 
new earth, and a new humanity find confirmation and not destruction in human 
evolution viewed in retrospect and in prospect, for the past and present tenden- 
cies of evolution justify the highest hopes for the future and inspire faith in the 
final culmination of this great law in 

one far-off divine event, 
To which the whole creation moves.' " 

BIOLOGIST. 



AKHNATON THE "HERETIC" 
PHARAOH OF EGYPT 



V 

THE NEW KINGDOM (THE EMPIRE) 

IN the last number of the QUARTERLY, mention was made of certain changes 
which had taken place during the xviiith Dynasty in the world of religious 
thought, and we must now run somewhat rapidly over the general position 
of religion just before the time of Akhnaton's coming to power. 

Herodotus says: "The Egyptians were exceedingly God-fearing, more so 
than all other peoples," and this we feel to be entirely true of the earlier Egyp- 
tians, as it was true also of a later period. To the Egyptian, religion was life 
itself; he could not separate his life from some kind of religious activity. But 
there was a time during the Empire when the average Egyptian, led astray by 
the priests, looked to God no longer in the spirit of love and sacrifice, but with 
the hope of recompense, of material reward ; when the popular attitude toward 
religion as an influence on life, was very different from what it had been 
formerly, indeed it was only what we might expect as a result of the growing 
love of material splendour, the growing dependence on the wealth which 
poured in from the tributary provinces. The old-time simple piety was gone ; 
the former earnest endeavour to obey unhesitatingly the will of God was now 
degraded into the equally earnest endeavour to distort God's will to fit the 
altered social conditions. In order more fully to appreciate the importance of 
these changes it will perhaps be wise to recapitulate somewhat, and to remind 
ourselves of a few points in the everyday faith of the Egyptian during the 
earlier periods. 

We have seen how the Egyptian noble of the Old Kingdom to whom piety 
was a natural attitude of heart and mind, performed his religious duties side by 
side with his worldly obligations, and that even in the Middle Kingdom there 
was no very large number of professed priests, religious observances being 
discharged chiefly by laymen. Steindorff says: "The functions of religion 
were not yet the exclusive concern of a special priesthood, but were the com- 
mon property of the whole people, . . . every person of rank, in addition to 
his secular calling, was invested with some religious office. These sacerdotal 
functions were often connected with the civil office of the man who performed 
them; judges, for example, were frequently also priests of Maat, the goddess 
of Justice, and the local princes were often at the same time the High Priests 
of the guardian gods who protected their respective districts." 

Owing to lack of space it has been practically impossible to refer individually 
to any of these "guardian gods," these local deities of Egypt, but we must 
nevertheless realize that they had a most deep-rooted influence on the minds 
130 



AKHNATON THE "HERETIC" PHARAOH OF EGYPT 131 

and hearts of the people; that like the patron saints worshipped in certain 
cities to-day they were to be found from earliest times, thickly strewn over the 
"Two Lands." To the pious early Egyptian the god of his district was his 
father, the guardian of his home, who entered into every detail of his life, and 
who was therefore held in the deepest reverence. To quote again from Stein- 
dorff: "One room in an Egyptian house would contain a small chapel with an 
image or likeness of the god, where the family would offer prayer and sacrifice. 
Outside in the streets there would stand little shrines; in the fields there would 
be altars on which the husbandman would deposit his offerings. Ancient 
Egypt probably presented an aspect like that of a Catholic country in modern 
Europe, in which images of saints and chapels meet us at every step." To men- 
tion a few of the better known of these local gods l we might give the names of 
Ptah of Memphis, one of the most ancient and influential, Amen of Thebes, 
Sebek of the Fayfim, Khnum of the first cataract, Min of Coptos, etc. The 
local deity was very powerful in his own nome (or district), especially when he 
was associated with RA, and we have already drawn attention to a tendency 
which, as we noted at the time, meant the absorption of all minor gods into one 
supreme solar faith. Sayce, in referring to this fusion of the local gods with 
RA, says: "Though in one sense Amen (and other local gods) denoted the 
attributes of RA, in another sense they were distinct personalities with a 
distinct history behind them." This is an important point; the fusion was 
never absolute. It is sometimes very confusing to find a purely local god spo- 
ken of by the particular priesthood devoted to his worship as the. "father of 
the gods," but we must not lose sight of the fact that except in the case of Amen 
he had no really national importance. We have already seen how Amen, 
originally the obscure local god of Thebes, rose to power owing to the growing 
importance of Thebes as a political centre; we have watched his increasing 
magnificence as a result of the splendid endowments which the Pharaohs of the 
xviuth Dynasty bestowed upon his temples, particularly that of Karnak. 
But the crude fact remains that practically nothing is known of Amen before 
the time of the Middle Kingdom when, as already indicated, he first became 
prominent because of the rise of the local princes of his particular city, 
Thebes. In the Pyramid Texts which are so full of allusions to both RA and 
Osiris, there is only one possible reference to Amen, and even this one reference 
is open to dispute. Of Amen's name, which means "hidden," very little is 
said by Egyptologists in general, for they can trace no connection between the 
god as he is known to us and the meaning of the name which he bears, and it 
might be quite reasonably maintained that if Amen is really the "hidden god" 
the absence of his name from the Pyramid Texts would be explained. We 
can only say in answer to this that so far as is yet known there is nothing to 
support the idea that there was anything exceptionally secret or concealed 
about Amen, though in a subject like Egyptology, where one day's "find" may 



1 Strictly speaking we might say that all "gods" had originally been "local," but some of them were of such vast 
antiquity, and represented within themselves such a universal aspect, that they had long since ceased to be confined 
to their original homes, and their worship had of necessity, and because of their universality, spread far and wide. 



132 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

upset a well established theory of many years standing, it is always unsafe to 
be too dogmatic. At the time of which we write, however, Amen was most 
certainly not the "hidden god" either in theory or practice. Originally, so far 
as we can guess, he had probably been a fertility god, more particularly a god 
of the harvest, and therefore of the earth and not celestial, but his evident 
connection with Min, the very ancient and revered ithyphallic god of Koptos, 
whose tall plumes he always wore as insignia, would seem to indicate that he 
had also been a god of generation. 2 After his fusion with RA his old attributes 
partially faded, and he assumed many of the characteristics of the great Sun 
God, and was henceforth known largely, though by no means entirely, in his 
solar aspect. So much for Amen's origin, of which it has been truly said "we 
really know very little." With the march of political events which we have 
tried to outline, Amen's importance grew, and as the original source of his 
power had been political, so his position was assured as long as Thebes retained 
its supremacy, and Theban princes became Kings of Egypt. We have thus 
come to the period of the Empire when politically, and therefore exoterically 
speaking, Amen would seem to have completely eclipsed RA, for the priests of 
Amen had gained such power by their wealth and their authority in the state 
that outwardly at least their god became at this time the supreme god, and 
people in general, blinded by his magnificence, had begun to forget that his 
chief claim to sovereignty had originally been because of his fusion with RA. 
It is certain also that the priesthood of Amen did its utmost to wipe out from 
the memories of the people the obscure origin and very recent prominence of 
their god, Karnak was attempting to dominate Heliopolis. But, it may be 
asked, was there at this period of history, any essential difference between RA 
and Amen, since Amen had so successfully usurped the place of RA, assuming 
many of his characteristics? To this we must in justice first answer that, 
speaking generally, our knowledge of "the gods" is largely the result of the 
light in which their various priesthoods represented them, in other words the 
conception of God is necessarily limited by the consciousness of His inter- 
mediaries, of those responsible for His presentation to the world. Speaking 
more particularly we may say that Amen, despite his position in the state, 
never took on the universal aspect which was so striking in RA, and though 
many of the characteristics of RA were attributed to Amen, these character- 
istics were assumed by the Theban god, and were not really inherent. To 
repeat what has just been quoted from Sayce, the local gods "had a distinct 
history behind them," and this could never be completely obliterated. Amen, 
with all his splendour, when standing alone, never had a cosmic significance, 
and as time went on he more and more distinctly represented temporal power. 
This is shown in the fact that the priesthood of Amen held the highest ad- 
ministrative offices in the land at this time. We have already seen that the 
High Priest of Amen was frequently Grand Vizier as well as being the supreme 



! It is sometimes claimed that Min (and therefore Amen) may have had a distant connection with the Sun, since 
the tall plumes would seem to ally them to Horus, one form of the Sun. This idea is, however, uncertain, and even 
flatly denied by some writers. 



AKHNATON THE "HERETIC' PHARAOH OF EGYPT 133 

sacerdotal head, having been made superior to the much older High Priest of 
RA at Heliopolis. In studying Egyptian history and Egyptian religion, much 
knowledge is gained on many otherwise dark questions by considering the 
various titles belonging to one and the same individual, for the Egyptian loved 
titles, and men before the public eye usually had a long string of explanatory 
titles attached to their names. Thus we are able to draw distinct conclusions 
by comparing the titles belonging to the High Priest of RA at Heliopolis with 
those of the High Priest of Amen at Thebes. We remember that the High 
Priest of RA was reverently spoken of as "Great Seer" and "The Great One of 
Visions." He was also known as "He who sees the Secret of Heaven," and 
"Chief of the Secrets of Heaven." Place beside these some of the titles given 
the High Priest of Amen and we at once have a flood of light on the subject. 
He was known as "Great Superintendent of Works," and as such was re- 
sponsible for all building operations connected with many of the temples; as 
"Prefect of the Treasury" he had control of the finances. He was "Prefect 
of the Prophets of the gods at Thebes" and " Prefect of the Prophets of all gods 
of the South and the North," the supreme sacerdotal head, as already noted. 
As " General of the Troops of God " he wielded great military power and it was 
to Amen that the Pharaohs of the xnth and the xvinth Dynasties returned 
thanks for their military victories, for the help he gave them in building up 
their vast Empire. Amen gave earthly power, RA spiritual strength. Amen 
was the letter, RA the spirit of religion. We see therefore that the fusion of 
RA and Amen was not entirely an accomplished fact ; that for all the theologiz- 
ing of the priests, these two gods stayed more or less separate and distinct. 
Erman says that RA "is mentioned without hesitation in conjunction with 
Amen, as a separate god, and they are represented side by side." A good 
example of a conscious mental separation is to be found in the mighty oath, 
already quoted, taken by Thothmes m on his first great campaign: "Now as 
RA loves me, as my father Amen favours me," and many other instances 
could be given. 

Practically nothing has been said in these pages of Osiris, since it is after 
all the history of the Sun God's influence which we have been trying to trace; 
but in studying, even superficially and from one point of view only (and there 
are so many!), the religion of Egypt, we are met at every turn by Unnefer, 
"The Good Being" (one of the names by which Osiris was known), who seems 
to hold out his hands to us with indescribable sweetness and tenderness, and 
though it is not at present possible even to outline the influence of Osiris on the 
lives of the people, the subject being so wide and far-reaching, we cannot 
ignore him altogether, nor do we wish to do so, for it is largely when we 
compare the religious functions of RA and Osiris that we realize the immensity 
of the Sun God's power. Broadly speaking Egyptian religion is the history of 
but two dominant forces, RA (with Amen later arbitrarily attached), and 
Osiris, many of the local deities being incorporated in one or the other of these 
two cycles. The Osirian faith had been gaining steadily in strength since the 
time of the Middle Kingdom, and though we have seen that there was much 



134 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

interweaving from earliest times of the cults of the two great gods, outwardly 
at least they remained sufficiently different to avoid serious confusion, as 
already stated, RA belonged to the Throne, Osiris more to the people; RA was 
the state religion, Osiris the popular faith. Inwardly their cults ran to a 
certain extent side by side, merging and separating and again merging, and the 
case might be stated roughly thus and then dismissed for the present. Osiris, 
as the Judge of the Dead 3 , inevitably led men's minds to the life after death. 
RA, as the champion of the living, exacted purity and righteousness here and 
now. In the funeral papyrus of Yuaa is a version of one of the chapters of the 
Book of the Dead, and in it we find this sentence: "Yesterday is Osiris, and 
to-morrow is RA." As an interpretation of this we should read, yesterday 
is past, our deeds of yesterday are written down against us, and Osiris must 
judge us by our deeds. But hope is not dead, RA meets us on the threshold 
of to-morrow, helping us to struggle on, showing us how we may blot out the 
wrong deeds of yesterday and fill their places with the right deeds of to-day. 
One would expect that these two points of view would be wholly compatible, 
in fact that one would quite naturally lead to the other, and so indeed it 
largely was during the Middle Kingdom, and probably would have so continued 
during the Empire, had it not been for the infamy of the priests of Amen, who, 
by their treachery, by their deliberate misuse of the power originally given 
them, had now made the very name of Amen an offence. For had the Amen 
priesthood been content with a reasonable amount of temporal and administra- 
tive power, comparatively little harm would have resulted; but when, hoping 
to increase its own worldly influence, it endeavoured to humble the other 
priesthoods (noticeably that of RA) by appointing as their High Priests 
members selected from the collegiate body at Thebes; when, in order to gain 
complete ascendency over the minds of an innately religious people such as the 
Egyptians, it tried to monopolize the spiritual leadership, which had from 
of old belonged to RA; when the priests of Amen began to tamper with the 
oldest and holiest religious traditions of most ancient Egypt, traditions long 
since sacred to the great Sun God, it was then that the Black Forces broke 
loose and flooded the "Two Lands." But behind the dark cloud of corruption 
created by the Amen priesthood, still visible to the few who had the eyes to 
pierce its blackness, flamed the undimmed glory of RA. Thus when the 
Theban god is spoken of as "almighty," it is generally in the capacity of RA 
rather than of Amen. When Thothmes in says: "I have done this for my 
father Amen, because he knoweth heaven, and he knoweth earth, he seeth the 
whole earth hourly," Amen is here referred to in his solar aspect. Hatshepsut, 
in speaking of the Hyksos two generations after they had been expelled, scoffed 
at them as ruling "in ignorance of RA." 

There is a celebrated "legend" told about Thothmes iv, which is found in 
the inscription on the huge red granite tablet standing between the forepaws of 



3 The reader will of course realize that we are referring to one aspect only of Osiris, the purely moral aspect 
There is, however, a vast field of Osirian influence outside his r61e as Judge of the Dead, we mean Osiris as the 
god of Resurrection, of Fertility and therefore of Vegetation; also of the Nile; sometimes of the Moon. 



AKHNATON THE "HERETIC" PHARAOH OF EGYPT 135 

the Great Sphinx. The actual date of the Sphinx stela is in some dispute, and 
it is largely thought to be, as it stands to-day, a late restoration of the original 
monument erected by Thothmes iv to commemorate the wonderful experience 
which came to him there. However this may be, the story on it runs that 
Thothmes, while still a young prince, and probably eager to escape from the 
confining life at court, "did a thing which gave him pleasure, upon the highlands 
of the Memphite nome . . . together with two of his followers, while not a 
soul knew of it." That is, he went on a hunting expedition into the desert, 
and after "hunting lions and wild goats, coursing in his chariot, his horses 
being swifter than the wind," he became very tired, and crept into the deep, 
calm shadow of the Great Sphinx, 4 and fell into a profound slumber, during 
which he had his amazing vision. It was the Sun God, none other, who ap- 
peared to him, telling him to clear away the sand which was drifting in resist- 
less waves over the sacred monument, and promising him that he should 
become the Pharaoh. To quote further from the stela itself: "One of those 
days (one of the days occupied by the hunting expedition), it came to pass that 
the King's son, Thutmose, came coursing at the time of midday, and he rested 
in the shadow of this great god (the Sphinx). A vision of sleep seized him at 
the hour when the sun was in the zenith, and he found the majesty of this 
revered god speaking with his own mouth, as a father speaks to his son, saying: 
'Behold thou me! See thou me! my son Thutmose. I am thy father, 
Harmarkhis-Khepri-Ra-Atum (i.e. RA-Horakhti), who will give thee thy 
kingdom on earth, at the head of the living. Thou shalt wear the white 
crown and the red crown 5 upon the throne of Keb, the hereditary prince. The 
land shall be thine in its length and breadth; that which the eye of the All- 
Lord shines upon. The food of the Two Lands shall be thine, the great 
tribute of all countries, the duration of a long period of years. My face is 
thine, my desire is toward thee. Thou shalt be to me a protector, for my 
manner is as I were ailing in all my limbs. . . . The sand of this desert upon 
which I am, has reached me; turn to me, to have that done which I have 
desired, knowing that thou art my son, my protector; come hither, behold I 
am with thee, I am thy leader.' When he had finished this speech, the King's 
son awoke, hearing this ... he understood the words of this god, and he kept 
silent in his heart. . . . " 6 So we see that RA still had the power to command, 
the power to give. So also was it RA, rather than Amen, to whom men turned 
in this life for ethical guidance; it was always RA who demanded purity of 
action, development of .character. Amen, as a moral influence, never sup- 
planted RA. 

Turning now to the mortuary texts of the Empire, we find in many of the 
tomb inscriptions such a marked increase of that democratic tendency already 
observable in the Middle Kingdom, that we have frequent and clear-cut 



< Traditionally the Sphinx had been in existence since before the time of Khafra, ivth Dynasty, and it wa 
dedicated to RA-Horakhti. 

* The high white crown of the South, and the low red crown of the North, more familiar to us in their united form 
than any other crown worn by the Kings of Egypt. 

' From Ancient Records. 



136 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

glimpses into individual character, conjuring up the most touching and living 
pictures of the personal loss, through death, of the private individual. With 
profound sympathy we are thus able to share the overwhelming grief of the 
wife for her dead husband as the tomb chamber is sealed up, shutting him away 
from her. Turning mournfully away, to take up the burden of her lonely 
life, she cries: " I am verily thy sister, thou great one, do not forsake me. ... 
Why is it that thou art far from me, thou who didst love to jest with me. 
Thou art silent and dost not speak." 

During the Empire we also begin to find the heart playing an important role, 
and it is frequently referred to in tomb inscriptions. When untampered with 
by the priests of Amen, there is great beauty and a deep significance in its use. 
Thus we read : " It was my heart that caused that I should do them (the services 
of the deceased for the King), by its guidance of my affairs. It was . . . 
as an excellent witness. I did not disregard its speech, I feared to transgress 
its guidance." Elsewhere we see the loving wishes of the family of Paheri, a 
recently dead prince of El Kab: " Mayest thou go in and out with a glad heart, 
. . . thou hast thine upright heart in thy possession, and thy earlier heart 7 
belongs to thee. . . . Mayest thou spend eternity in gladness of heart, in the 
favour of the god that is in thee." Also elsewhere we find: "The heart of a 
man is his own god." We see here a clear and vivid consciousness of the 
Higher Self, that Higher Self in each man on whom RA ceaselessly calls. 

Leaving the tomb inscriptions, we turn at last to the Book of the Dead, as 
preserved to us in the mortuary papyri of this period. We have already seen 
that the title, Book of the Dead is a modern one, and that during the Middle 
Kingdom no systematic compilation of mortuary texts had yet begun to be 
made. Even in the Empire there was no such book, and by that we mean no 
fixed, no canonical selection. Up to a comparatively late period this grouping 
of texts was in a purely amorphous state and did not really crystallize into 
definite, unaltered form until Ptolemaic times. The "chapters" used in each 
particular case were purely matters of choice, and though there were distinctly 
favourite chapters, which we notice because of their more frequent use, the 
choice was, in fact, left entirely to preference. As already stated, one is in- 
clined at first to feel that the Book of the Dead is chiefly a vast collection of 
magical formulae, so overlaid with charms are the ancient religious beliefs. 
These beliefs, however, form a solid and indestructible basis, to anyone looking 
below the surface, indestructible because composed of those moral and 
religious ideals which are nearest to the heart of man. The substance of this 
basis is man's moral responsibility for his own acts, the sincerity of his relations 
with God. Such beliefs, as we know, can be traced all the way back to earliest 
times. The great and solemn scene in the Judgment Hall (of which there 
are several versions during the Empire, but all of which resemble each other), 
leaves on us a profound impression of the deeply ingrained moral consciousness 
of the Egyptian. He hears the quiet, but insistent voice of his Higher Self; 



7 This "earlier heart" may refer to the sum-total of those faculties which, after a sojourn in Devachan, we bring 
>back with us into incarnation, as the fruits of the mental and moral experiences in a former life. 



AKHNATON THE "HERETIC" PHARAOH OF EGYPT 137 

he recognizes that obedience to this Self is his sure and only means of attain- 
ment; he must bring a clean conscience into the presence of his awful judges if 
he hopes to be accepted by them and dwell in the happy world of the hereafter. 
All would have been well had not th'e priests of Amen stepped in and poisoned, 
almost at its very source, the clear crystal spring of religious sincerity. We 
have seen that the increasing riches of the temples, owing to the magnificent 
endowments which the Pharaohs of the xvmth Dynasty had made to Amen, 
had resulted in the need of a special sacerdotal organization, and that the 
priesthood had, in consequence, become a definite profession. We now see 
how, in the hands of this priesthood, the old standard of personal account- 
ability was perverted into one of availability, for the Egyptian's mind was 
given over so largely to speculation on and preparation for the life hereafter 
that it gave the priesthood an even better opportunity than it might otherwise 
have had for working on the fears and doubts of the people. This opportunity 
they found in the magical charms which had formed so large a portion of the 
mortuary texts of both the Old and the Middle Kingdoms. While a belief in 
the power of the right word spoken at the right moment had always been firm 
and deep-rooted, the incantation until now had been used chiefly as a protection 
against supernatural dangers, and it was held that even a charm of the greatest 
potency could not save the guilty soul from a just punishment. The priests of 
Amen, however, recognized in the charms an opening for personal gain, and 
they were not slow in seizing it. Toward the middle of the xvmth Dynasty 
we begin to see the charm used no longer as a legitimate safeguard, but, instead, 
as a mask, as a protection against the just results of evil-doing; that is to say, 
magic, with official recognition and approval, had invaded the realm of morals, 
a perversion entirely due to the utterly unprincipled priesthood. If the charm 
were powerful enough it would wrap the deceased in a kind of veil so that when 
he stood before the great Tribunal of Justice his guilt would not be perceived. 
The immense wealth of the xvmth Dynasty had brought with it an almost 
inevitable laxity in social ideals, so that the need of these charms grew in 
proportion, especially as the priests never ceased to fan the embers of ap- 
prehension. Indeed the necessity for mere numbers was so great that there 
was no longer sufficient space for them to be written inside the coffin, as in the 
Middle Kingdom. The priests, therefore, introduced the use of papyri of 
varying lengths and richness, some very sumptuous, some more humble, with 
an eye to suiting the purses of the various classes. All were closely written 
over with magical formulae for every possible need of the deceased, and to fit 
every imaginable situation. These mortuary papyri, most beautifully illus- 
trated with delicately outlined and coloured vignettes, reaching sometimes a 
length of eighty or more feet and containing over one hundred and twenty-five 
chapters, were increasingly felt to be so necessary a part of the funerary 
equipment that the priests had them executed by scribes in enormous quanti- 
ties ready for use, with the place for the name of the deceased left vacant, so 
that it could be filled in at will, and for any person whatever at a moment's 
notice. Anyone rich enough could purchase his own salvation or that of a 



138 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

relative, by paying the price demanded by the priests of Amen, who, in return 
for "cash down," would write the desired name in the blank space, and every- 
body would be satisfied! Naville caustically remarks: "The copying of 
papyri of the Book of the Dead must have been a profitable industry in the time 
of the xvinth Dynasty." As all these rolls not only presupposed but actually 
guaranteed the complete success of the candidate before his judges, owing to the 
potency of the w r ords used (words which had such power to throw dust in the 
eyes of the Lords of the Netherworld as to blind them to the moral standing of 
the deceased), we can see to what a degraded use these magical charms had 
been brought. We have already seen that the heart was used in tomb inscrip- 
tions with great beauty and evident purity of purpose, but unfortunately it was 
also used in the charms of the mortuary papyri, prepared under the supervision 
of the priests of Amen, with dishonest motives which are quite as evident. 
There is a whole section of the Book of the Dead entitled, " Chapter of prevent- 
ing that the Heart of a man oppose him in the Netherworld," and both 
Breasted and Erman lay great stress on the fact that during the Empire this 
chapter was used as a false scent. When the guilty soul, standing before his 
judges, knew that the moment for exposure had come, he spoke entreatingly, 
threateningly, to his own heart thus: "O my heart that came from my mother! 
O my heart belonging to my being! Rise not up against me as witness, 
oppose me not in the council. Be not hostile to me before the master of the 
balances." (The heart of the deceased, as we know, was always weighed in 
the balance against the feather of Maat, or Truth.) The magical force of 
these words was so effective that the soul, no matter what his guilt, was 
allow r ed to pass on as one "without sin." Compare for a moment the use of 
the heart, as shown in this chapter, promiscuously resorted to, with its use in 
the tomb inscriptions, quoted above, and we see only too clearly the different 
motives, the totally different aims. In the tomb inscriptions the heart is the 
best, the safest guide for a man's actions; it leads him always to the fulfilling 
of his duty; obedience to its call brings joy and peace. In the papyri, executed 
by the priests of Amen, the heart can be safely appealed to as a false witness, 
a teller of lies; it is, in short, a sure cloak of iniquity. 

Beside the papyri the priests offered other aids for the success of the deceased. 
Notable among these is the heart scarab, which was usually carved in some 
very hard stone, and which was engraved with the all-powerful words taken 
from the chapter just quoted : " O my heart, rise not up against me as witness." 
This amulet was laid on the breast of the mummy, inside the wrappings, and 
had such power that no matter how deeply immersed in sin a man might have 
been during life, the charm would effectively silence the accusing voice of his own 
conscience, so that his judges would not perceive his guilt. Wiedemann, in 
writing on the subject of these scarabs, shows plainly the reason for this strong 
appeal to the heart, "that it may not give evidence against him in the Hall 
of Judgment, but may take his part at the momentous weighing scene. For 
the heart, as he (the Egyptian) emphatically asserts, is a distinct personality 
within him." Erman says: "The principal intention-, . . was to enable a 



AKHNATON THE "HERETIC' PHARAOH OF EGYPT 139 

man to escape his future destiny. . . . An attempt was made to get rid of that 
inconvenient witness" (the heart); while, according to Breasted: "The 
invention of these devices by the priests was undoubtedly as subversive of 
moral progress and the elevation of the popular religion, as the sale of indul- 
gences in Luther's time." Lastly, we should like to point out what seems to us 
a very significant fact, and one not sufficiently noted, that this amulet, 
being in the form of the scarabaeus, which was not only the emblem of res- 
urrection (hence its choice as a mortuary charm), but which was also, as we 
know, a symbol of the all-powerful Sun God, would seem to fulfil a double 
purpose here, in that when the deceased, wearing this symbol, appeared before 
Osiris, he would give the impression of being actually under the protection of 
RA, and would thus be considered as above suspicion. 

Without going more deeply into the subject, therefore, we can yet see how 
magic had become an agent for immoral ends, deliberately started by the 
priesthood of Amen, with a view to personal gain, and as deliberately en- 
couraged. We see how subtly the priests counteracted the influence for good 
which RA shed abroad in this life, and, making a dupe of Osiris in the life 
hereafter, deprived him of his power to judge impartially. The old ethical 
standard of "Whatsoever a man soweth, that shalLhe also reap," a standard 
which for thousands of years had been the keystone of religion to the Egyptian, 
was now, by the ingenuity of a corrupt and mercenary priesthood, largely 
neutralized and very nearly destroyed altogether. 

HETEP EN NETER. 
(To be continued} 



Is it not true that God Himself, as the creative spirit of the universe, is to be 
thought of in these terms, namely, as an Eternal Renewer of evolution? Is 
not His function the utilization of self-activity for the perpetual re-creating of 
endless spirals leading up to self-conscious beings who have the power to conceive 
the whole scheme, and to make perpetually, in their turn, an ever renewed search 
for higher forms of self-expression? JAMES JACKSON PUTNAM, M.D. 



Said the ant to the ant: Humans are strange. Twenty-five million years 
learning to say 'No' ; five million years congratulating himself on the achievement; 
fifty million years discovering that nothing need ever have been said but ' Yes. 1 

ANON. 



WHY I JOINED THE THEOSOPHICAL 

SOCIETY 



"The inventions of man differ wholly from the dealings of God. In His designs there is no 
haste, no rest, no weariness, no discontinuity; all things are done by Him in the majesty of 
silence, and they are seen under a light that shineth quietly in the darkness, showing all things 
in the slow history of their ripening." (Farrar: The Life of Christ) 

THE story of my joining the Theosophical Society is very simple, almost 
commonplace, viewed from an external standpoint. It was led up to 
by a perfectly natural progression of events. Yet, when one looks at it 
more closely, and has perhaps gained a very little understanding, the marvellous 
guidance of the Master's Hand is discernible throughout. 

It has been my experience, and judging from a very limited standpoint at 
best, I think it has been the experience of others who join the Theosophical 
Society, that because we have allied ourselves with a Society which not only 
approves, but teaches Occultism, we expect miracles to take place, and our lives 
to undergo some mysterious change or transformation. Then as time passes, 
and our duties do not change, but on the contrary become more intricate, 
more burdensome, we are disappointed. We have looked at the matter from 
the wrong standpoint. The fact is that miracles do take place. Many must 
already have taken place to have made it possible for us to become members of 
the Theosophical Society. But these miracles were so real, they went so deep, 
they were truly occult that they wove themselves into the apparently 
natural course of our lives. So real were they, in fact, that the transformation 
of events which they effected was not discernible to a casual observer. 

In the very early days of my membership, when I was contemplating some 
rather drastic decision which would have entailed worry and even pain to 
others, an old and very wise student of Theosophy said to me: "Give the 
Master a chance;" and then went on to explain that the Master, whenever 
possible, works through natural ways and by natural means, and that it was 
quite likely that my problem might solve itself very simply; at least I could 
give the Master a year in which to solve it in His way, before intervening and 
upsetting things generally. Within five months events had so shaped them- 
selves, so simply and quietly, that my problem solved itself, and I was prac- 
tically forced into the step which a few months before would have been so very 
drastic. Was this a miracle? It is because, among other reasons, this fact has 
been brought home to me very forcibly in my own "simple and uneventful 
story," that I should like, if I am able, to write it down, in the hope that some 
other might have his attention arrested, and discover in the natural flow of his 
own life, the marvellous working of that Guiding Hand. 

Perhaps loneliness and depression, on the one hand, and a frantic search for 
excitement, on the other, two ends of the same stick are the key-notes of 
140 



WHY I JOINED THE THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY 141 

my childhood and younger days. It was a search which drove me, a victim of 
self, first into one state and then another, only to find myself in a veritable 
maze. The Law of Correspondences teaches us to look for the same experience 
on all planes. Truly here we can catch a glimmer of the Hall of Learning; 
"in it thy Soul will find the blossom of life, but under every flower a serpent 
coiled." Religion always had an appeal for me, and when I was but twelve 
years old I began to become interested in church work and to teach in Sunday 
School. Those poor little victims whose karma it was to come under my 
tutelage! Was not I myself in the sorest need of being taught "Sunday 
School"? The pity of it, that when young people seriously try to seek comfort 
and help in the present day religious institutions, the real needs of their souls 
are so pathetically neglected, and they finally drift away more hungry than 
when they first made their appeal! It is, perhaps, fortunate that we cannot 
in our present state of evolution remember too much of our early life. And 
then people wonder why, if reincarnation is a fact, we cannot remember our 
past lives! In most cases it might be more than the soul could bear. Again 
it is the Good Law that protects us at this point as at all others. Looking 
back now, it is easy to see the Master's guidance throughout my early life. 
Yes, His guidance, and the protection of His guardian angels. (I am sorry, 
I am afraid I kept them very busy.) The "Hound of Heaven" was chasing 
me, and by means of these experiences, the Master was slowly and carefully 
drawing me to the centre of life where I could in all completeness find Him. 
And what was the outward road which took me there? A few casual remarks 
dropped during an informal lecture. There were perhaps twelve of us in 
attendance. We all heard the same remarks, but it was as if the Master were 
holding the ears of my heart open, so that immediately after the lecture I 
inquired where I could hear more of that teaching. The address was given me, 
and the next service found me there. Immediately I knew what I had been 
seeking the Master and that there He was to be found. We were told 
that even we, as we are, could become His disciples. More, that He had need 
of us; in fact, that His Sacred Heart could never be at peace until we had 
united ourselves to Him. Need of us! It is almost humourous, and yet we 
must remember that "even New York City refuse is picked over and much of 
value is found in it before the balance is burned and buried." That settled it 
for me. Until this day I do not think I have voluntarily missed a service in 
that holy place. 

In time I learned that the leaders there were all members of the Theosophical 
Society, and I was invited to attend one of its meetings. Even then I had 
sense enough to want to go where "they" were. So I went, and then to another. 
It all seemed perfectly natural. The discussions I heard were so explanatory 
of life and its problems. The twin doctrines of karma and reincarnation 
especially appealed to me. They unravelled many inexplicable tangles. Justice 
ruled the Universe, truly, but a justice which springs from a burning Heart. 
Not the justice of a "jealous God," with His stern avenging angel, but "poetic 
justice," in which the alchemy of the Master's love influences the balance 



142 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

sheet more than aught else. After a few months the Theosophical Convention 
took place, and I attended the public lecture on Sunday afternoon. That 
lecture was the actual external cause of my immediately joining the Society. 
We were told that the ideal of womanhood was "the beauty of holiness and the 
loveliness of all lovely things." Of course it was; I seemed to recognize it 
immediately, although it seemed as though I had been spending most of my 
time developing myself in exactly the opposite direction. 

Why did I join the Theosophical Society? Why do any of us join the 
Theosophical Society? Because it is the next step in our evolution; because 
it is written in the Book of Life; because the Master's grace and love for us have 
in some miraculous way enabled us to accumulate sufficient merit to be given 
this marvellous opportunity. In short, because we have to; and I venture to 
suggest that until that time comes we were far wiser not to take the step. 

The dictionary -explains the word "miracle" as "a wonderful thing." Is it 
not conceivable that what to our holden eyes in this physical world would be 
"a wonderful thing," might be the natural law and order of the spiritual world? 
Is not this spiritual world right here, surrounding and enveloping us so wholly 
that we do not even discover it? In joining the Theosophical Society we open, 
as it were, a doorway into the spiritual world. We open ourselves to its 
influences and forces. Naturally we expect miracles to take place. Have we 
not just decided that they are of the very nature of the spiritual world? " O ye 
of little faith! " " Eyes have they, but they see not; they have ears, but they 
hear not." Daily, hourly, with infinite compassion and age-long patience, 
He is directing our life with minutest care, and because we seek Him without, 
we miss the magic encounter within. I wonder how many of us there are who 
can honestly look back over their years of membership and not discover a 
veritable succession of miracles. For myself, I can only say that as they can 
be discovered as the stepping-stones leading me into the Theosophical Society, 
so since my membership they have been multiplied a thousand-fold. In- 
surmountable barriers have fairly dissolved into dust, so that I find myself in 
surroundings the very key-note of which is service of the Masters. In the 
miracle of the loaves and the fishes, a boy gave the Master all he had a pal- 
try few loaves and fishes. How foolish it must have seemed, with five thousand 
hungry people to be fed! Cannot we give Him all we have; only a little faith, 
if no more? He will do the rest. But it must be a living faith; the kind 
Light on the Path speaks of when it says: "The truth is that faith is a great 
engine, an enormous power, which in fact can accomplish all things. For it is 
the covenant or engagement between man's divine part and his lesser self." 
We are told: "We hear that to which we listen; that to which our attention is 
directed we perceive." Exactly, and even more. In giving Him our faith, 
our thought and attention, we untie His Hands; we make it possible for Him 
to do more and more. Gradually the veils begin to fall, and the fog in which 
we have enveloped ourselves begins to lift. Now we are learning occultism. 
We are having real experience. Our consciousness is unfolding, and we are 
gaining knowledge, the only way knowledge is ever gained, through personal 



WHY I JOINED THE THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY 143 

experience. Yes, we must expect miracles to happen; we must seek them in 
our lives with an undaunted faith in the "magic" of the spiritual world. 

Is it not within our power to make it the greatest miracle of all to become a 
member in the Theosophical Society? Through that doorway we can reach up 
to the very Lodge itself that great Lodge of Masters, our Elder Brothers 
those who have gone before. And what is the almost unbelievable message 
they are sending back to us to-day, to you and to me, to each one of us, members 
in their Society, partakers perhaps in some small measure of their light and 
understanding? It has been transcribed for us, and voiced to us by one of 
their household: "In God's name come over and help us. The need is so 
great!" 

M. E. 



Thou who dost blame injustice in mankind, 
'Tis but the image of thine own dark mind; 
In them reflected clear thy nature is 
With all its angles and obliquities. 

JALALUDDIN RUMI. 



The work of man in this world is to polish his soul from the rust of concupis- 
cence and self-love, till, like a clear mirror, it reflects God. . . . 
" If thou takest offence at every rub, 
How wilt thou become a polished mirror?" 

JALALUDDIN RUMI. 



. . . Hearts long years impassive and opaque, 
Whom terror could not crush nor sorrow break, 
Yielding at last to love's refining ray, 
Transforming and transmuting, day by day, 
From dull grown clear, from earthly grown divine, 
Flash back to God the light that made them shine. 

JALALUDDIN RUMI. 



NIRVANA 



NIRVANA is a Sanskrit word, compounded of nis, out, and vdna, blowing; 
therefore "blowing out," as of a light, or "extinction," is the dictionary 
meaning, the literal equivalent in English. The Century further 
defines the term: "In Buddhism, the condition of a Buddha; the state to 
which the Buddhist saint is to aspire as the highest aim and highest good. 
Originally, doubtless, this was extinction of existence, Buddha's attempt being 
to show the way of escape from the miseries inseparably attached to life, and 
especially to life everlastingly renewed by transmigration, as held in India." 
This, only slightly modified by later orientalists, still represents the popular 
conception of Nirvana. Nirvana means extinction, nevertheless it is upheld 
as the goal, that state to the attainment of which all mankind as well as the 
disciple should strive, and for which the latter should long. However un- 
practical to Western minds, the age-old wisdom of the disillusioned Easterner 
sees, it is maintained, only release and liberation in such a surcease from in- 
dividual existence. 

" I take my refuge in Thy Law of Good! 
I take my refuge in Thy Order! OM! 
The dew is on the Lotus ! rise Great Sun ! 
And lift my leaf and mix me with the wave. 
Om mani padme hum, the Sunrise comes! 
The Dewdrop slips into the shining Sea!" 

"The dewdrop slips into the shining sea" and loses its identity as a drop. 
As The Voice of the Silence says: "Where is thy individuality, Lanoo, where the 
Lanoo himself? It is the spark lost in the fire, the drop within the ocean, the 
ever-present ray becomes the All and the eternal radiance." 

Here then is a difficulty familiar to students of Theosophy, and one which 
Edwin Arnold himself faced, for in the preface to his beautiful Light of Asia he 
writes of Nirvana that he has "a firm conviction that a third of mankind would 
never have been brought to believe in blank abstractions, or in Nothingness as 
the issue and crown of Being." He therefore, in the sixth book, thus defines 
Nirvana: 

"Thus 'finishing the Path'; free from Earth's cheats; 

Released from all the skandhas of the flesh ; 

Broken from ties from Upadanas saved 

From whirling on the wheel ; aroused and sane 

As is a man wakened from hateful dreams. 

Until greater than Kings, than Gods more glad ! 

The aching craze to live ends, and life glides 

Lifeless to nameless quiet, nameless joy, 

Blessed NIRVANA, sinless, stirless rest 

That change which never changes!" 
144 



NIRVANA 145 

To the Western mind, reading casually as it usually does, these terms "life- 
less," "nameless quiet," "sinless, stirless rest," suggest, at the most, individual- 
ity of the vaguest and mistiest kind, because supposedly something rests, 
something joys. But who or what it is that, though "lifeless," is aware of 
"rest" is so indefinite as to be practically incomprehensible, and certainly 
unsatisfying. Even when Rhys Davids writes that, "Nirvana is therefore the 
same thing as a sinless, calm state of mind; and, if translated at all, may best, 
perhaps, be rendered holiness holiness, that is, in the Buddhist sense, perfect 
peace, goodness, and wisdom" his terms do not seem to elucidate the con- 
ception. Rather do they becloud the issue. If a "state of mind," why 
"extinction" at all; and are not "perfect peace, goodness, and wisdom" merely 
abstractions, which, though suggesting concepts familiar to the Christian 
reader, yet explain nothing because vague generalizations? 

Further than this, Nirvana is not only in many places in theosophic literature 
held before the disciple as his goal; but, this idea having become familiar, we 
find suddenly that just at the point where Nirvana, so long sought, is about to 
be attained, the exalted Lanoo is exhorted to make "the great Renunciation," 
to forego Nirvana, which in strict justice he has earned, and to seek a path of 
even higher reach. 

A fundamental reconciliation must, in the nature of things, underlie these 
apparent contradictions, if the principle may only be grasped. It will be 
easier to examine each conception separately, taking them in order. 

I 

At certain stages of the path, Nirvana is set before the aspirant as his goal. 
Buddha himself was pre-eminently 

"... the saviour of the world, 
The teacher of Nirvana and the Law." 

If so, extinction of existence must be a false understanding of the word, else 
spiritual reality would itself be a negation. A goal, and a desirable one, it 
certainly must be. The Voice, which towards the close presents Nirvana from 
a totally new view-point, as suggested above, says that: "Not one recruit can 
ever be refused the right to enter on the Path that leads towards the field of 
Battle. For either he shall win, or he shall fall. Yea, if he conquers, Nirvana 
shall be his ... in him will men a great and holy Buddha honour." Nirvana 
is the end in store, with no less attainment than that of Buddhaship. Again 
it says: " But if thou would'st Nirvana reach, ... let not the fruit of action and 
inaction be thy motive, O thou of dauntless heart." In Buddhist writings the 
way to Nirvana is the way of peace. Nirvana is Liberation, the "Treasure/' 
comparable with the true "Sabbath" of the mystical Hebrew scriptures, or the 
Shekinah, and the "Promised Land." That "Treasure," and the Path to it 
of the Voice, have been beautifully set forth by Arnold : 



146 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

"Then the King amazed 

Inquired, 'What treasure?' and the Teacher [Buddha] took 
Meekly the royal palm, and while they paced 
Through worshipping streets ; the Princess and the King 
On either side he told the things which make 
For peace and pureness, those Four noble Truths 
Which hold all wisdom as shores shut the seas, 
Those eight right Rules whereby who will may walk 
Monarch or slave upon the perfect Path 
That hath its Stages Four and Precepts Eight, 
Whereby who so will live mighty or mean, 
Wise or unlearned, man, woman, young or old 
All soon or late break from the wheels of life 
Attaining blest Nirvana." 

Nirvana being, therefore, a prize to be sought (even if not the ultimate prize) 
and the Nirvanic state having been traditionally attained by the Buddha, 
what is it, and how reconcile the manifest paradox? Where lies the misunder- 
standing by Western minds of the Eastern use of such synonyms as "annihila- 
tion" or "extinction," and what is the truth which we are to seek in the various 
teachings about Nirvana? 

Madame Blavatsky has much to say on this subject, indeed, the promi- 
nence which she gives to the misunderstandings of Nirvana, and her repeated 
expositions of its true significance do not seem as yet to have borne sufficient 
fruit, nor to have enlarged the understanding of students generally. 

The primary difficulty resolves itself into a philosophical problem, into a 
choice of terms. If you take your stand with the world of manifestation, then 
absolute, pure spirit, unconscious and unmanifest, becomes virtually no-thing, or 
nothing. On the other hand, philosophically speaking, if you take as your 
reality pure spirit, then all manifestation becomes a maya, an illusion, to be 
escaped, crucified, or risen from. Buddha for the most part was addressing 
men of the world, and therefore used their terms, and entered into their view- 
point. "Whoever is unacquainted with my law," says Buddha, "and dies in 
that state, must return to the earth till he become a perfect Samanean. To 
achieve this object, he must destroy within himself the trinity of Maya. He 
must extinguish his passions, unite and identify himself with the law [the teaching 
of the secret doctrine], and comprehend the religion of annihilation." l An- 
nihilation here refers but to matter, as H. P. B. comments, and she quotes 
further: "Primitive substance is eternal and unchangeable. Its highest 
revelation is the pure, luminous ether, the boundless infinite space, not a void 
resulting from the absence of forms, but, on the contrary, the foundation of all 
forms, and anterior to them. 'But the very presence of forms denotes it 
to be the creation' of Maya, and all her works are as nothing before the un- 
created being, Spirit, in whose profound and sacred repose all motion must 
cease forever.' " 



1 Quoted in I sis. Vol. i, p. 289. 



NIRVANA 147 

Annihilation means, therefore, with the Buddhist philosophy, only a dis- 
persion of matter, "in whatever form or semblance of form it may be." "When 
the spiritual entity breaks loose forever from every particle of matter, then only 
it enters upon the eternal and unchangeable Nirvana. He exists in spirit, in 
nothing; as a form, a shape, a semblance, he is completely annihilated, and thus 
will die no more, for spirit alone is no Maya, but the only REALITY in an 
illusionary universe of ever-passing forms." So the Buddhist asks: "But 
what is that which has no body, no form; which is imponderable, invisible and 
indivisible; that which exists and yet is not?" And the answer, " It is Nirvana," 
clearly shows the effort to express in negative terms a positive truth. The 
positive state is essential being, but no manifestation as such. When the 
"spiritual entity" spoken of above, enters Nirvana, it loses objective existence, 
but enters subjective. To objective minds, this is to become nothing; to 
subjective, on the contrary, no-thing is actually in manifestation. 

Speaking, then, from the point of view of men in, and still more or less of the 
world, the Precepts of the Dhammapada (ix, v. 126) state that: "Some people 
are born again ; evil-doers go to Hell ; righteous people go to Heaven ; those who 
are free from all worldly desires attain Nirvana." And the Laws of Manu 
(Book i, slokas 6 and 7), speaking of the "Lord who exists through Himself, 
and who is not to be divulged to the external senses" is further described as "He 
that can be perceived only by the spirit [or 'internal organ'], that escapes the 
organs of sense, who is without visible parts, eternal, the soul of all beings, that 
none can comprehend, displaying His own splendour" such an one has 
attained the state of Nirvana. 3 "He who thus recognizes the Self 
through the Self in all created beings [H. P. B. has "the Supreme Soul, in 
his soul, as well as in that of all creatures"], becomes equal (-minded) towards 
all, and enters the highest state (or the eternal), Brahman," 4 says Manu 
further, the last phrase being rendered by H. P. B. as, "Finally absorbed in 
the bosom of Brahma." 5 And this, as Madame Blavatsky suggests, is rem- 
iniscent of that hope of every devout Jew, to be "gathered into the bosom 
of A-Braham." "This word, absorbed," she adds, "when it is proved that the 
Hindus and Buddhists believe in the immortality of the spirit, must necessarily 
mean intimate union, not annihilation." 



J Sacred Books of the East, Vol. x, p. 35. 

1 G. Btihler's text in the Sacred Books of the East series, Vol. xxv, pp. 4, 5, and 6, with notes, gives a slightly 
different translation for these slokas; but in the notes, he quotes several Eastern commentators on or translators of 
the original (which presents extraordinary difficulties for the ordinary translator), and one or more of these variants 
invariably agrees with H. P. B.'s translation as rendered in Isis, n, 116. Btthler reads for the sixth sloka: "Then 
the divine Self -existent (Svayambhu, himself) indiscernible . . ." etc., and in the notes shows that his "indiscernible" 
is rendered by Medhatithi "not to be known except by Yogins," and by Govindaraga, Kulluka, and Narada as, 
" not perceptible by the external senses," with which cf . H. P. B. Similarly, he renders the seventh sloka: " He who 
can be perceived by the internal organ (alone), who is subtile, indiscernible, and eternal, who contains all created 
beings and is inconceivable, shone forth of his own (will)." But the notes offer us, phrase by phrase, the following 
choices: "He, who can be perceived by the internal organ (or the mind alone)," or "by Yoga-knowledge alone"; 
for "subtile," -- "who is without limbs or parts"; for "who contains all created beings," who "conceives the 
idea of creating all beings" cf. H. P. B.'s "the soul of all beings," i.e. their manas or human soul; and for "shone 
forth," "was self-luminous." These variants form an interesting commentary on the meaning of the text, and 
appear to justify H. P. B.'s choice in every case where she differs from BUhler. 

4 Manu, Bk. xn, sloka 125 op. cit., p. 513. 

* Isis, n, p. 117. 



148 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

Nirvana is, then, the very opposite of personal annihilation, but, to use 
another of H. P. B.'s striking phrases, "Nirvana means the certitude of 
personal immortality in Spirit 11 (Isis, n, p. 320); it is absolute annihilation "of 
everything connected with matter or the physical world, and this simply be- 
cause the latter (as also all in it) is illusion, mdyd" (Glossary, p. 232). 

Confronted with a metaphysic of such penetration and subtlety, the West- 
ern mind asks, how is that practical? Such a conception is so infinitely remote 
and above our ken that we can hardly glimpse it. What does it mean to be 
" free from all worldly desires"? And in view of the orthodox heaven, in which 
each individual is taught to expect the fulfilment of all his longings (so that 
they are not evil), the extinction of all worldly desires comes as a chill negation. 
The average man counts his love for family and friends, his art, his religious 
practices, his charity in its widest sense, his patriotism, as good in themselves. 
To renounce, to extinguish all these things is to rob him of all that enriches life. 
To hold out as the true goal of mankind a state of consciousness in which these 
things are annihilated, is virtually to offer him nothing and he rejects it. 
The end of existence, the purpose of life cannot be to denude him of all that 
makes life worth living. 

Yet, as students of Theosophy, Nirvana is held out to us as the goal, more 
especially the goal of the disciple "in him shall men a great and holy Buddha 
honour." And the confusion of thought seems to arise in part because 
Nirvana is equated with heaven. Let it be said at once that Christian 
theology as such does not conceive of Nirvana. It may perhaps be true that a 
Christian philosopher such as Ruysbroek, or a Dante in his Empyrean, through 
the depth of their mystical experience reached some comprehension of a state 
of consciousness higher and more refined than that of the ordinary conceptions 
of heaven, but Christian theology, while accepting, does not incorporate 
their revelation into the body of orthodox doctrine. Christian theology is 
directed towards the materialistic minds of the West minds steeped in the 
darkness and grossness of Kali Yuga. It labours under a perpetual handicap in 
this respect; and, true to a higher intimation, has always been very averse to 
permitting itself to become committed to any definite pronouncement about 
after-death states, or to the future evolution of human consciousness. All the 
conceptions associated with the teachings of the Churches about hell, purgatory 
and heaven have arisen from popular movements, and have been forced into 
the body of doctrine by the overwhelming demand of popular opinion. Even 
so, theology as such speaks with great caution and reserve on these subjects. 
The Church has been too wise to rob men of those materialistic conceptions 
which they could alone find suited to their minds. And that the Western mind 
is still incapable of appreciating the spiritual significance of Nirvana, confusing 
it with Devachan ( the Eastern equivalent of the Christian and Mohammedan 
heaven) is manifest from the long-continued misunderstanding of it. 

To a man steeped in the fumes of opium or alcohol, a life without them seems 
a blank, a meaningless and dreary waste. Yet if the drunkard become cured, 
he can emerge into the full richness of normal, disciplined life. The Western 



NIRVANA 149 

mind, steeped in materialism, cannot conceive of a state of consciousness freed, 
not only from the fumes of drugs, not only from the poison of evil desires, but 
freed from all those desires and passions, all those instincts and inclinations 
which are inherent in an existence united with matter. 

The man of to-day lives by means of his psychic nature: he is aware of life 
and of himself through the psychic reflections made objective in material forms. 
Even his mind, his manas, is saturated with the kamic clouds of his own cre- 
ation. And when an Eastern philosophy comes forward teaching "extinction " 
of all worldly desires, he sees in it, and sees truly, the extinction of himself. 
It is impossible to argue with such a man, or to attempt to convince him. The 
doctrine in truth is not for him. Students of Theosophy would do well to 
recognize this fact, and to avoid fruitless controversy by learning to recognize 
the capacity of different individuals. Even in India where the doctrine of 
Nirvana has been taught for millenniums, the Buddha set its true understanding 
before his disciples as necessary: to "comprehend the religion of annihilation" 
was the last of the three steps required to overcome the "trinity of Maya." 

Perhaps the only meeting-ground between the Western mind to-day, and the 
Eastern, on such a subject as Nirvana, is to be found in individuals of genuine 
artistic insight. The true artist is not dependent on his painting, on his 
symphony, for his art. His love for beauty, his appreciation of refinement, 
his passion for creation, abide within him. He brings them to a painting, to 
some artistic creation ; and in his understanding of its artistic qualities, he but 
invokes and nourishes the corresponding reality within, whose consciousness 
vibrates as himself. He brings them to his own act of creation, and he feels 
the contrast between that vibrant consciousness which is himself his love, 
his yearning, his passion and the clay with which he works. Take from him 
those outer forms, and you can never rob him of his art. That finer conscious- 
ness has opened to him a wider range of existence; he knows it to be true, and 
to be independent of material form. In it he finds his greatest reality, in no 
abstract sense more real than any outer thing in life. 

That inner essence, built upon artistic creations and forms, but a distillation 
of consciousness from them, corresponds to the consciousness of the Nirvanee. 
We speak of the "purity" of an artist's creation and by that we mean his 
freedom from the restraints and limitations of the material and sensuous media 
in which he wrought. So, in a corresponding sense, is the achievement of the 
Nirvanee. Ascending the spiral of Che'laship, purifying himself more and 
more from the successive degrees of material existence, he establishes ever 
wider relations with the surrounding Cosmos, till "in Nirvana the most rare- 
fied individuality is merged at last into INFINITE TOTALITY." He has com- 
pletely identified himself with his seventh principle, having annihilated his 
Ahankdra or egotistical and mayavic principle of self-identity, and has suc- 
ceeded, not merely in receiving inspiration as does the artist, but in making all 
his thoughts correspond with the eternal laws of Nature, and becoming a co- 
worker with Nature. So, as the Master K. H. wrote : "The greater the progress 
towards deliverance, the less this will be the case [i.e. to be under the 'influence 



150 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

of our earthly connection'], until, to crown all, human and purely individual 
feelings, blood-ties and friendship, patriotism and race predilection, will all 
give way, to become blended into one universal feeling, the only true and holy, 
the only unselfish and eternal one Love, an Immense Love for humanity as 
a whole" (Occult World, p. 152) what the Voice calls "COMPASSION 
ABSOLUTE." 

II 

Once having discovered that Nirvana is not the empty nothingness that 
early misunderstanding attributed to it, there remains to seek some indication 
of the positive aspects of this, our goal. For it cannot be sufficient to state the 
negative side; one must make the attempt to take one's stand in the spiritual 
order, to regard all that is earthbound as maya or illusion, and to see in 
spiritual consciousness the true reality. In the nature of things such an 
attempt is fraught with difficulties, and without some pioneer effort of the 
imagination, no approach to understanding could ever be achieved. "The 
first thing a Theosophist should do is to form an ideal," says Cave. 

To begin with: why, if Nirvana is our goal, should it be renounced by the 
Bodhisattva? Again, why, if Nirvana is to be renounced, are Enoch, Buddha 
and others denominated Nirvanees, having attained that state in a given 
incarnation? 

The answer would seem to be in the full appreciation of two fundamental 
principles first, that as everything in our Cosmos is a septenate, Nirvana 
must be sevenfold; and second, that the attainment of Nirvana is the attain- 
ment of a certain range or new order of consciousness. To enter this new 
order of consciousness, to awake in it, to acquire full growth in it, must imply 
a previous passage through a critical state to the new one beyond, comparable 
in Nature to the transformations of ice to water, or vapour to gas. Once 
the disciple has passed the Dhyana gate (of the Fourth Path), he enters a new 
state, called in the Voice the "Titiksha state." "O Narjol, thou art safe" 
the critical stage is passed. The Titiksha state is defined as "one of supreme 
indifference; submission, if necessary, to what is called 'pleasures and pains for 
all,' but deriving neither pleasure nor pain from such submission" (Compare 
Light on the Path, note 7, p. 21). At this point "A Master has arisen, a Master 
of the Day," i.e. for a whole Manvantara. "Now he shall surely reach his 
great reward!" exclaims the Voice, but answers "Nay, . . . those gifts and 
powers are not for Self," and there follows that sublime passage about the 
"Guardian Wall" which even the Pragmatist, William James, saw fit to quote 
and to admire. 

Nothing could be clearer than that the law of evolution and progress, here 
on the ascending arc, cannot cease with a successful achievement of a new 
state, however exalted. In any event this whole section in the Voice refers to 
one who is in "the fifth state of Raja Yoga" (p. 68, note i), an Arhan, who 
".though he can see the Past, the Present, and the Future, is not yet the highest 
Initiate. . . . Three higher grades have still to be conquered by the Arhan 



NIRVANA 151 

who would reach the apex of the ladder of Arhatship" (Secret Doctrine, i, 227). 
Therefore, though a new state is reached, a new order of consciousness entered 
upon, the "end" is not yet. The seventh gate (Dhyana) of the Fourth 
Path has been passed, but there remain three further Paths the Fifth, 
Sixth, and Seventh each with its seven gates. The consciousness here 
dealt with, then, would seem to be that of the Fifth Path, with its seven degrees. 

At the very threshold, therefore, of this new state, the one addressed as 
" Narjol," and who in the terrestrial sense is a Bodhisattva or Manushi Buddha 
(cf. Glossary), is confronted with a choice. That choice has its correspond- 
ence whenever critical states are passed: for instance, does the man newly 
initiated on the way of discipleship, choose to acquire knowledge and power for 
himself alone, or is his real desire to serve humanity, acquiring knowledge and 
power merely to lay them at the feet of the Master, as a volunteer in his Cause? 

"OM! I believe it is not all the Arhats that get of the Nirvanic Path 
the sweet fruition. 

"OM! I believe that the Nirvana-Dharma is entered not by all the Bud- 
dhas. . . . 

"Can there be bliss when all that lives must suffer? Shalt thou be saved 
and hear the whole world cry?" There is the appeal "Thou art enlightened 
choose thy way." 

If there is progress possible, there is also regression possible. But, once 
past the critical state, there is no immediate fall into the old types of failure. 
The failure in the new state, while following the principles which underlie the 
evolutionary process of the universe, must be of a new kind. To approximate 
an understanding of what this means, one must form some conception of the 
scale of values in the new state. 

The Voice, taken with other works, gives us a hint as to this scale of values. 
Nirvana is described in terms of detachment from all that is material and 
worldly, that which "can be perceived only by the spirit, that escapes the 
organs of sense, who is without visible parts, eternal, the soul of all beings, that 
none can comprehend, displaying His own splendour." If we use the word 
purification to convey the idea of complete detachment in this sense, then the 
greater the degree of purification, the greater the attainment in the Nirvanic 
state. Thus in the Glossary (sub Dharmakaya) three divisions or vestures 
(Trikaya) of those Buddhakche'tras, or seven forms of Buddha, are given, 
who have attained to Nirvanic consciousness. The other four are not named. 
In order these three are: "(i) Nirmanakaya, (2) Sambhogakaya, (3) and Dhar- 
makaya, the last being the most sublimated of all, as it places the ascetic on 
the threshold of Nirvana." The scale of values here is, strictly speaking, in 
degrees of purification, as defined above. But in the Voice the order is reversed, 
and those who "don the Dharmakaya robe and cross to the other shore" 
are called Pratyeka Buddhas, "those Bodhisattvas who . . . caring nothing 
for the woes of mankind or to help it, but only for their own bliss, (they) enter 
Nirvana and disappear from the sight and the hearts of men. In Northern 
Buddhism a 'Pratyeka Buddha' is a synonym for spiritual Selfishness." Still, 



152 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

in the scale of purification originally used, a Dharmakaya Buddha, who chooses 
Nirvana, outranks a Nirmanakaya, though "the innate and right popular 
perception," owing to the self-sacrifice and renunciation of the Nirmanakaya 
the "Buddha of Compassion" holds the latter in higher reverence. So 
we are told that to-day, in the Lodge, there are Masters far down in the lower 
ranks, before whom, when they occasionally rise to speak, the whole Lodge 
stands to listen. Rank is rank, attainment is attainment, the sacrifice is a real 
sacrifice. The Nirmanakaya, because he keeps in touch with humanity, 
assuming form after form as best suits his purposes, does by that very fact set 
himself below the higher stages, where the purification or detachment from 
outer existence is complete. We are told that Buddha has now "gone on," and 
having become a Nirmanakaya, and achieved his immediate purpose, has 
taken a higher step as such, thereby lifting the whole level of those who follow, 
with him. Some,' apparently, make their sacrifice, become Nirmanakayas, 
remain for a while in the lower ranks in touch with humanity, and are then 
able to rise higher, perhaps because their Chelas attain such stature as to make 
this possible (cf. the Letters That Have Helped Me, Vol. I, pp. 14 and 68, on the 
Guruparampara chain). 

Above Dharmakaya are, therefore, the only absolute Nirvanic states. The 
Nirmanakayas and Sambhogakayas are Nirvanees, however, because they 
have attained that state of consciousness. Nothing is told us of the latter that 
I can find, except that they add to the attainments of a Nirmanakaya (not one 
descended from the higher degree) "a great and complete knowledge," and 
"the additional lustre of 'three perfections,' one of which is entire obliteration 
of all earthly concerns." From what we are told, it might appear to be a 
fair inference that the Dharmakaya, who takes his bliss now, and therefore 
becomes a Pratye~ka Buddha will, after the balance of the Manvantara, plus 
a Pralaya of reward is past, have to start all over again at that point where 
he first consciously made the selfish choice which led to the final failure, and, 
his previous capital expended, win once more the opportunity to choose the 
higher way. To enter absolute Nirvana is to enter immediately individual 
Pralaya, with no rebirth possible till after the Maha Pralaya (Secret Doctrine, 
I, 398; cf. II, 242). 

Of the Nirmanakayas much has been written. We are told that among 
that third of the Dhyanis (Dhyan Chohans or Planetary Archangels) who 
incarnated on earth, "Some of these were Nirmanakayas from other Manvan- 
taras. Thus we see them, in all the Ptiranas, reappearing on this Globe . . . 
as Kings, Rishis, and Heroes" (Secret Doctrine, n, 98, cf. I, 287). St. John 
appears to refer to these in the Apocalypse, when he writes about "the great 
red dragon, having seven heads and ten horns, and seven crowns upon his 
heads," whose "tail drew the third part of the stars of heaven and did cast 
them to the earth" (xn, 3, 4). Note that a Dhyani Buddha is known as an 
"Angel of the Star," or a Planetary Spirit (Secret Doctrine, I, 626-7). H. P. B. 
also says that the Dhyan Chohans "are all in Nirvana" (i, 142). Buddha 
was a Nirmanakaya (and is that now and more?), "higher than whom, on 



NIRVANA 153 

account of the great renunciation and sacrifice for mankind, there is none 
known." Enoch is another so designated, "and some monks;" so we see that 
the state of consciousness of a Nirvanee of this degree can be carried over from 
a past Manvantara and also attained in the present cycle of evolution on earth. 
Thus there are apparently two classes of Nirmanakayas, those who have 
"either voluntarily renounced Nirvana [the 'absolute' Nirvana] for the good 
of mankind, or who not yet having reached it, remain invisible on Earth" 
(Secret Doctrine, u, 650-651) that is, those who reached the Dharmakaya 
degree and reverted to the lower, in order to keep in touch with, and thus be 
enabled more immediately to help mankind; and those who, though Nirmana- 
kayas, were nothing more, not yet having ascended through the Sambhoga- 
kaya state to the Dharmakaya, thus facing "absolute" Nirvana. "They 
prefer to remain invisibly (in Spirit, so to speak) in the world, and contribute 
towards men's salvation by influencing them to follow the Good Law, i.e., 
lead them on the Path of Righteousness." H. P. B. says Jacob Boehme was 
"watched over and guided " by Nirmanakayas (i, 536) ; and that Nirmanakayas 
are the only spiritual entities that can interfere so far as to take possession of, 
and use, mediums who are usually controlled by "Elementaries" (i, 254). 
The Catechism of the Inner Schools, quoted by H. P. B. says: "The Inner Man 
of the First . . . [name not disclosed] only changes his body from time to time; 
he is ever the same, knowing neither rest nor Nirvana [the 'absolute' Nirvana 
again], spurning Devachan and remaining constantly on Earth for the salvation 
of mankind. Out of the seven Virgin-men [Kumaras, or Nirmanakayas from 
a preceding Manvantara] four sacrificed themselves for the sins of the world 
and the instruction of the ignorant, to remain till the end of the present Man- 
vantara. Though unseen, they are ever present. When people say of one of 
them, 'He is dead,' behold, he is alive and under another form. These are 
the Head, the Heart, the Soul, and the Seed of undying Knowledge [Jnana]. 
Thou shalt never speak, O Lanoo, of these great ones [Maha . . . ] before 
a multitude, mentioning them by their names. The wise alone will understand" 
(Secret Doctrine, n, 294-5). Thus a Nirmanakaya is "verily one, who whether 
... an adept or a yogi during life, has since become a member of that in- 
visible Host which ever protects and watches over Humanity within Karmic 
limits. Mistaken for a 'Spirit,' a Deva, God himself, etc., a Nirmanakaya is 
ever a protecting, compassionate, verily a guardian angel, to him who becomes 
worthy of his help. Whatever objection may be brought forward against 
this doctrine; however much it is denied, because forsooth, it has never been 
hitherto made public in Europe and therefore since it is unknown to Orien- 
talists, it must needs be 'a myth of modern invention' no one will be bold 
enough to say that this idea of helping suffering mankind at the price of one's 
own almost interminable self-sacrifice, is not one of the grandest and noblest 
that was ever evolved from the human brain" (Glossary, p. 231). 

A. G. 



THE RELIGIOUS ORDERS 



XII 

ST. IGNATIUS LOYOLA 

GREAT as are other saints and founders of the Christian Orders, it seems 
to the writer that Ignatius towers as a colossus, above them all. This 
opinion is not based merely upon his possession of gifts and faculties 
that the world prizes, or merely upon achievements that the world would call 
great though in neither of these respects is he found wanting. His greatness, 
the true greatness of any religious person, is the degree of his approach to his 
Master, the measure of light that shines through him from the Master. Too 
often the saints approach their Master by a mere thread of a path ; they have but 
a single slit open to him in the fast closed fortress of their natures. 'Ignatius 
differs from them. He is more like a circle than a single line. He had many 
avenues of approach running from his circumference toward the constant centre, 
Christ. In consequence, he passes on to others more of the Master's infinity of 
nature. Fundamentally, this amounts to saying that Ignatius loved more 
deeply and passionately a conclusion that must stand, even though it seem 
ungracious in its reflection upon Francis, Bernard, Benedict and others. 

Why then is he so unpopular among Protestants, while Francis of Assisi and 
others so irresistibly charm? But did not his Master himself rouse many 
prejudices and hatreds? Is not much of the present popularity of Christ in 
the Western world based upon a misconception of his character as "a good 
God" who indulges humanity and requires little effort from mankind? With 
Ignatius, as with his Master, there is no half-way position possible. It is 
adherence or dislike. In Ignatius's face there is reflected something of the 
Master's otherworldly commission from the Father. That otherworldly 
origin is not explained to the merely curious. Only those who share it, and 
loyally support it, can have any understanding of it. Others, finding their 
curiosity unanswered or rebuffed, turn away with irritable dislike. From a 
worldly point of view, "inscrutable" is, perhaps, the best word to describe the 
portrait of Ignatius that is reproduced in most biographies. People are in- 
clined to associate something sinister with the inscrutable. But Ignatius's face 
is what it is, because he had thrown open to the Master every avenue of his 
nature, and had closed them to all others, save through the Master. 

The story of his conversion is fairly well known. He was a Spanish military 
officer, a nobleman. During a siege, the bone of his leg was shattered. The 
French (who were the hostile force) permitted his withdrawal to his brother's 
home, for the treatment of the injury. Twice it was clumsily set, causing a 
protrusion of the bone when the bandages were withdrawn. Twice he had the 
fracture reset, though with prolonged torture, inasmuch as mechanical devices 
were needed to stretch the shrunken leg. The days were long, the hours tedious. 



THE RELIGIOUS ORDERS 155 

He had always found pleasure in the romances of chivalry, and asked for such 
stories now to divert his attention. None was at hand. He was offered as 
substitute, it might seem in mockery, some lives of the saints. Those narra- 
tives caught his interest. He began to contrast his own efforts, successes and 
failures with the heroic fortitude of the saints. Before he was aware of it, the 
goal of the saints loomed as a new beacon for his own ambition, hitherto of this 
world; and his purpose became set. His brother's household noted the change 
taking place in him and tried to dissuade him from his undeclared resolution. 
But when his leg was completely healed, Ignatius turned his back on his friends 
and journeyed alone to a religious shrine high in the mountains. There he offered 
his life to religion, placing his weapons on the altar and watching as a knight in 
vigil. The next day he exchanged his knight's attire for a beggar's and went 
afoot to a town, Manresa, where, for a time, he lodged in a Dominican monastery, 
tending the sick and poor. After some months, he left the Dominicans and 
withdrew to a solitary cave outside the town. 

All our information about Ignatius comes from orthodox Catholic sources, 
where it is interpreted in a conventional manner. His own Autobiography 
gives some aid for a re-interpretation of incidents, both by its reticence, and by 
creating an impression that more could be told if it were advisable. It gives 
the impression of much being held back, of only so much spoken of, and in such 
a way as would be understood. It may be fanciful to build much upon that 
reticence, yet it seems a possible hint and clue. The period in the cave is 
usually represented as one of fasting and prayer, during which Ignatius's ex- 
perience deepened, and he became aware of a mission. May not the cave 
experience have enabled him to draw into his brain some consciousness of his 
Lodge connection? 

Let us assume theoretically that he was a servant of the Lodge, incarnated in 
a noble, Spanish, Catholic personality, to work for the Lodge. Let us assume, 
further, that the Lodge, with its long views, foresaw the need to counter- 
balance the "Reformation," by emphasizing the value of self-abnegation, dis- 
cipline, and obedience to properly constituted authority. Let us assume that 
the fabric of Christian theology needed stretching, and think of Luther pulling 
mightily upon one corner of it, but, because the strain was all in one direction, 
threatening to pull it askew. It is easy then to imagine Ignatius as sent to 
exemplify, in his own effort toward discipleship, the importance of the prin- 
ciples which Luther was endangering, and, by throwing his weight against 
that of Luther, to restqre the balance and equalize the strain. When he 
began to be conscious of otherworldly things, the next step might be to burn 
upon his devout Catholic brain some glimpse of the realm of truth beyond 
Catholic confines, to bring him face to face with other Lodge servants, incarnate 
or discarnate. After he had won his birthright for his new personality, namely, 
consciousness of his true country, of the vast realms of truth beyond the narrow 
limits of Catholicism, he could then turn back into the ordinary world, and 
battle valiantly for the measure of truth contained within the Catholic field. 
But the very nature of his mission, on this hypothesis, would have tended to 
limit his consciousness and to have kept him in the attitude of a partizan. 



156 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

Let us think of his situation in the light of our own experience. How con- 
fused some of us became about our natural duties, when Theosophy first opened 
its long vista before us! Ignatius was human. Would it be surprising if, when 
the wonders of the spiritual world were brought back to his consciousness, in 
the cave of Manresa, as we have supposed, there should have been misinterpre- 
tations by the Catholic personality? Some of those misinterpretations took the 
form of excessive austerities. Such excesses were idolized by devout Catholics, 
but Ignatius himself, afterwards, called them ill-judged. Guided still further 
by our own experience, may we not think of him as coming gradually to a truer 
understanding of the work that lay ahead? 

A journey to the Holy Land, to worship at the shrines, and to assist other 
pilgrims that, for some time to come, was the way his outer task presented 
itself to him. Francis of Assisi and St. Teresa also had at first thought of the 
Holy Land as their field of activity. Ignatius was to find that the Holy Land 
was immediately about him, and the Cross of the Passion forever at hand. But 
he actually made a journey to Palestine, starting in February, 1523, his travel 
thither and back to Spain taking just thirteen months, till March, 1524. His 
passage and sustenance on the way, had to be begged. Charitable people gave 
him money for his journey from time to time. But money he would not keep; 
he distributed it in his turn. He reached Jerusalem, after accumulated difficulty 
and pain. Some Franciscan monks were stationed in Jerusalem, a modus mvendi 
having been arranged with the Turks. They were kind and cordial to the new 
comer at first, but his fervour alarmed the Prior, who feared it might breed 
trouble with the Moslems, as the modus mvendi must not be disturbed. So Ig- 
natius was bidden to go home. 1 He travelled back to Spain as he had come, 
begging his way and suffering extreme hardship. 

The next eleven years, 1524-1535, were spent in gaining an education, and in 
gathering companions. At first his studies were in Spanish schools; but, in 
1528, he went to Paris, and he remained there till 1535, receiving the degree of 
Master of Arts. As he had journeyed back from the Holy Land, in disap- 
pointment over the failure of his mission, by a sudden interior perception (they 
were frequent in his life), he understood that the work for which he was being 
prepared could not succeed unless he had a thorough education. At this time 
he was thirty-three years old. He had filled an honourable position in the 
world as a trusted soldier of his King. To put himself to school with boys 
and young men, was a humiliation requiring fortitude and courage. He had 
both. With the whole-heartedness that marks his character, he resolved to 
start at the beginning and master Latin, at the same time begging his bread. 
He calculated that two years would be necessary for this elementary work. 
He faced it, and prepared for it with characteristic prudence. It is narrated 
that he made little progress in Latin, because he found it difficult to withdraw 
his attention from religion to lessons. Finally, he requested the school master 
to whip him for inattention, just as he would any boy. After that request the 
studies advanced. 



1 The Franciscans had received from the Pope authority to receive or dismiss pilgrims. 



THE RELIGIOUS ORDERS 157 

A foundation for learning was thus secured. But the one purpose of Igna- 
tius's life was always uppermost, to win people to the knowledge and love of 
Christ. However closely he might give himself to such necessary work as 
study, he never lost his perspective or forgot his chief object. He is a splendid 
example of attention rightly centred. His outer work was carried on as a duty 
auxiliary to the real purpose of his life. While he studied Latin at Barcelona, 
with boys, he would speak of life and of the soul to whoever would listen, 
speaking directly from his heart and experience. He made some friends among 
people of good life. They recognized his sincerity and consecration. He also 
made enemies. He usually had someone within the Church hot on his track 
someone who resented the fact that an obscure layman should show more 
devotion and speak with more conviction than the established dignitaries. Of 
the people to whom he spoke, three, young men, told him they were ready to 
devote their lives to the service of Christ. They were sincere enough to ac- 
company him, when the two years of Latin at Barcelona were finished, to the 
town of Alcala (near Madrid) where Ignatius planned to continue his education 
in the university. This was in 1526. 

At Alcala he encountered the Inquisition and experienced his first imprison- 
ment. His only crime was his piety and zeal. Here was a layman speaking 
fervently of Christ, serving in humble ministrations to the sick and poor, and 
living austerely. He must be a survivor, it was thought, of the Albigenses 
or other heretical sects that had made trouble in France and Spain. But 
examination could detect no heresy in his belief. He was therefore acquitted 
(the imprisonment had been brief), but he was told that he and his companions 
must abandon their beggar's garb, which set them apart from other students, 
and that there must be no further teaching or preaching until a regular course 
in theology should have been completed. To complete such a course would 
require four years. Ignatius was unwilling to accept the terms, to suppress for 
so long the chief interest of his life. He left Alcala and went to the university 
of Salamanca. He had been at Alcala a little more than a year. His three 
young friends went with him. 

At Salamanca, suspicion and imprisonment began at once. Ignatius and one 
of his friends were chained together by the foot in the public prison. The two 
other companions were imprisoned later. The charge made by the Inquisition, 
as Ignatius gives it in the Autobiography, was very simple. "You are teaching," 
they said, "about sins and virtues. To do that one must have studied theology 
or be led by the Holy Ghost. You have not studied. Therefore it must be the 
Holy Ghost who instructs you." But the examiners were not able to lead their 
humble victim to entrap himself in presumption. The result was the same as 
at Alcala; no heresy could be found in his beliefs. On the other hand, the 
behaviour of the little group of friends in prison was exemplary and won much 
sympathy. The convicts in the prison broke loose and escaped. Ignatius and 
his friends refused to join them. The examiners, convinced of his innocence, 
set him free, but again with unbearable stipulations as to what he should speak 
and should not speak. Ignatius, accordingly, left Salamanca. Returning to 



158 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

Barcelona to the first friends he had made, he told them of the continual inter- 
ference with his plans by the Spanish Church authorities, accepted from those 
friends a gift of money, and set out for Paris, for the university. 2 This was 
at the end of 1528. 

In Paris, while still subject to suspicion and a certain amount of persecution, 
he was not hindered from continuing his religious work. He remained there 
till the completion of his studies in 1535. 

The gift of money, on which he had counted for maintenance while studying, 
was stolen from him, and he had to take up his former practice of begging 
bread. But the summer months proved amply long for the asking of alms, 
as he received enough at that time to carry him through the winters. He spent 
one summer thus in England, the others in the Low Countries. He preached 
and taught less, and gave more time to study. But quietly he was trying to 
win associates. Those at Salamanca had not kept their promise to join him. 
After a while, three students of good birth and good minds told him they wished 
to devote themselves, with him, to a religious life; they left their domiciles 
and joined him in his devotions. The university professors were enraged at 
this influence, gained by an impecunious student over three promising scholars, 
and they persuaded the Rector that Ignatius deserved a public whipping. 
Ignatius heard what awaited him. He quietly asked for an opportunity to 
speak briefly with the Rector. To the amazement of the professors and stu- 
dents who had assembled to witness the whipping (Ignatius was now nearly 
forty years old), the Rector, instead of leading in an abject victim, kneeled 
down before Ignatius, in the presence of all, and with tears asked pardon of 
Ignatius and of God for the intended outrage. 

The three students at Paris proved as unstable as the three at Salamanca, 
and did not long continue their devotions. Six others, however, were touched 
by his quiet sincerity; five were Spaniards, one a Savoyard. This third group 
of friends continued faithful. The best known of them is the Spaniard, Francis 
Xavier. Ignatius drew them by the fervour of his love for the Master, drew 
them to strive for a communion of love and service. He spoke to them from 
his own experience and conviction, and won them to share his effort for dis- 
cipleship, as well as any outer work that might arise out of that effort. To 
what extent he may have spoken to them of the real inner experience which we 
assume for him, the face to face experience with realms beyond the ken of 
orthodox Catholicism, must remain uncertain. The reticence in Ignatius's 
Autobiography, the hidden meaning sometimes discernible in his words, 3 the 
caution with which his inner experiences are mentioned, the absence of psychic 
colouring from his mention of inner experience, and the actual fruits of his 
labours these warrant, we believe, the hypothesis that Ignatius had direct 
intercourse with living citizens of the spiritual world, with Lodge members. 
A similar hypothesis is not possible for his associates. Francis Xavier, the 

2 The young men who were his companions at Alcala and Salamanca promised that they would follow him to 
Paris. 

1 For example, what he said about the name of his group, the " Battalion of Jesus", "that it had a deeper root 
than the world knew of, and it could not be altered" (Life by Stewart Rose, p. 267). 



THE RELIGIOUS ORDERS 159 

best known of them, is a heroic saint, splendid in courage, fortitude and per- 
severance. But when that is said (and it is a tribute any one might crave), all is 
said. Xavier was in no sense an Occultist. 

The outer plan that Ignatius unfolded to his group of friends was still one of 
missionary effort in Palestine. In 1534, he felt that these men whom he had 
been training individually, might be ready to make a vow. They all met 
together, and Lefevre, the Savoyard (he is called Faber in most English books), 
the one priest of the group, celebrated Holy Communion. Ignatius spoke. 
All made a vow of poverty, chastity, and labour in the Holy Land. All agreed 
to meet at Venice in January, 1537 (by that time, all would have completed their 
studies at the university), as the first stage of their journey toward Palestine. 
Ignatius, ever prudent, introduced a clause, that, if they should be delayed in 
their journey to Palestine for more than a year after the specified date, 1537, 
they should all go to Rome, and place themselves at the Pope's disposal for any 
work the Pope might have in hand. 

In 1535, at the age of 44, Ignatius completed the long course of academic 
studies he had imposed upon himself. He had felt that academic training was 
necessary for the unknown work ahead of him. As that work appeared, as yet, 
to be nothing more than a kind of hermit's life in the Holy Land, a life of self- 
discipline in imitation of Christ, his perseverance and fortitude in hardship and 
persecution are all the more remarkable. He might so easily have excused 
himself, when discouraged, asserting that a long preparation of that particular 
kind was unreasonable, and unsuitable for what he believed his life work was to 
be. But he continued steadfastly, and succeeded through all difficulty. He 
received the degree of Master of Arts from the university in 1535. Then, the 
biographies relate, he went back to Spain for three months. 

We may doubt if the whole truth is contained in the two reasons named by 
the biographers for this visit. They say, first, that Ignatius was ill, and friends 
and physicians felt he must have a change from the Paris air; and, secondly, 
that there were certain matters of business to arrange with his brothers before 
he left Europe, as he thought, forever. This business concerned the disposition 
of property, and seemed necessary in view of his life of poverty. It is also 
stated that several of his companions in Paris requested him to be their am- 
bassador, and to arrange similar matters for them with their families, in view 
of the vow of poverty they had made. Ignatius carried these business matters 
through successfully. 

With the various family matters in Spain settled, Ignatius set out for Venice, 
there to await his friends, who, with the priest Lefevre as a guide in place of 
Ignatius, were completing their university studies at Paris. At the time named, 
January, 1537, all met at Venice. But they never reached the Holy Land. 
War with the Turks hindered travel. A new epoch in the history of Ignatius 
then opened the recognition in Rome, by the authorities, of the sincerity of 
his effort, and of the possible value of his services. As in the case of other 
founders, Benedict, Bernard and Francis, that recognition by the ecclesiastical 
authorities gave new life to the diseased Church, with a consequent purifying 
of society. 



1 6o THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

While Ignatius became a force for the preservation in Catholicism of vital 
principles threatened by the excesses of "reform," we may see this as but one 
consequence of his aspiration to discipleship. His opposition to Luther's errors 
was a logical by-product of the main purpose of his life. "His example, in 
that critical sixteenth century, is one to be followed profitably to-day, when the 
world again, even more than in the sixteenth century, perhaps, is full of evils 
that need reforming. Compare Luther's dates with those of Ignatius; Ignatius's 
effort will then appear truly as a thing that by spiritual guidance gradually grew 
from a spiritual germ. Luther was born in 1483 and was eight years older than 
Ignatius. Luther became an Augustinian monk in 1505, was ordained priest in 
1507, and in 1517 protested openly and defiantly against evils in the Church. 
In 1520, Luther was excommunicated. In 1524, Luther renounced his mo- 
nastic vows and, in 1525, completed the renunciation by marrying a renegade 
nun. Luther was thus fully committed to his course in 1520, when Ignatius 
was born a babe into the spiritual life by that fortunate wound to his leg in 1521 . 

The brief sketch of Ignatius's career given in this article seeks to show him as 
a candidate for discipleship, a man fired with love for his Master, and 
endeavouring to conform his life to the Master's. His successful self-discipline 
drew around him other religious natures. His steadfastness in discipline, for 
love of his Master, gradually and naturally resulted, in 1534, in the vindication 
of those monastic vows which ten years earlier Luther had repudiated. 

Here is seen, with a clearness not to be evaded, the world-wide influence that 
may radiate from the smallest duty faithfully performed for the Master. Dur- 
ing the Great War of 1914, many groaned at the restricted sphere of their 
action; they could not go to the front, and, except through gifts of money, they 
seemed able to take no part in the conflict where all their interest was centred. 
They found it hard to believe that they could make decisive contributions to 
the fight, by whole-heartedly doing their routine tasks with prayer, sacrifice, 
and love. What else did Ignatius do? Did he, at thirty-five, enjoy learning 
Latin with lazy school boys? Did he gain wonderful illuminations as to the 
bearing of Latin and learning upon a disciple's life? But he persevered through 
all difficulties in what he had accepted as duty. W 7 hile he thus persevered 
quietly, and with no attention diverted to outside issues, certain fundamental 
principles of the religious life were being attacked in the world. Laxity, and 
even profligacy, had discredited the old religious Orders, discredited them 
even among staunch supporters. Most decidedly a reform was needed, a 
thorough-going reform; needed, as in the age of Benedict, as in the age of 
Bernard, as in the age of Francis. Luther took one method of reform the 
method of attack, of destruction. Without doubt, his efforts exposed and 
ended some of the evils in the Church. But what did Luther become? In 
his forty-second year, a monk and a priest, he married a nun. Ignatius took 
another method of reform to make himself over as Christ would wish him to 
be. The energy and attention required for self-discipline left Ignatius no time 
or desire to attack abuses in the Church. In his forty-fifth year, Ignatius's 
unobtrusive efforts had brought together a little band of friends, a mere hand- 



THE RELIGIOUS ORDERS 161 

ful. But, like the Apostolic Twelve, they were to demonstrate again the 
magical power of the evangelical virtues, poverty, chastity and obedience. 
Fired with self-giving, they went to the savage and the degenerate, to the 
natives of America, India and China. They renovated and extended Christian- 
ity. 

To present religious, social and political conditions at the time of the Ref- 
ormation would make too long an article, for that period is also the time of the 
Renaissance; and it would require volumes to treat it adequately. But it may 
be possible very briefly to indicate some of the conditions that Ignatius was to 
influence. Dominic died in 1221, Francis of Assisi in 1226. Ignatius was born 
in 1491. The intervening period of nearly three centuries had given ample 
time for the stirring influence of the preaching friars to die away. Savonarola, 
a Dominican, became Prior in Florence, in 1491, and started a religious revival 
by his zealous preaching. Before the end of the decade Savonarola was in 
defiance and revolt, and his execution stayed further reform. 

The constant need of the Church for reform had been ministered to through 
the centuries by Religious Orders. That ever-present need had been greatly 
increased by the spread of information about classical civilization. There were 
a few, but only a few, like Mirandola, who had sufficient philosophical breadth, 
and morality sufficiently austere, to persevere in their Christian faith and 
practice, while they welcomed the relics of a past age as evidence of the unity of 
all life. Too many welcomed that outgrown civilization because they thought 
it gave them dispensation from effort that was burdensome to the flesh; they 
threw overboard their half-hearted pretence of religion. In Greece and in the 
Roman Empire, they saw nations that had attained a splendid height of civil- 
ization, without any aid, it seemed to them, from Christianity. To achieve, 
as Greece and Rome had achieved, a splendid civilization, rich glory in this 
world, beauty of art, and truth of science, all this now seemed possible to the 
new nations that had sprung out of the wreck of the Roman Empire. These 
new nations were very young, and were marked by the ignorance and conceit of 
youth. They knew nothing of supramundane (Lodge) politics. The danger 
was imminent that, in achieving their worldly ambition, they might seriously 
impair the advance of the new religion, Christianity, through which alone they 
had been brought into being from the ruins of Rome. While Ignatius was 
regaining strength, both physical and spiritual, in that memorable year 1521, 
the great Italian Titans were coming to full power; Michelangelo, born in 1477, 
Titian, born in 1477, and Raphael, born in 1483 and dying prematurely in 1520. 
The danger was grave. 

If it be truly understood, the splendour of that Italian civilization was the 
first flower produced by the tender Christian plant. It looked as if the Master's 
gifts might be turned against him, as they have so often been turned; as if the 
discovery of the art and science and rich civilisations of antiquity, which had all 
risen to their height through the observance of self-restraint and moral law, were 
to be made an excuse for a wild riot of self-indulgence. 

By his living example Ignatius checked the tendency to deform what the 

5 



162 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

Master had inspired. He went to work, not negatively, with a Savonarola 
bonfire of vanities, but constructively. He is the greatest of the many artists 
and geniuses of that period. He worked, not differently from the other artists, 
but more thoroughly, and he was wiser than they in his choice of material. 
They chose pigment and bronze and verse. He worked upon animate human 
nature. He cut away in his own nature all that was excessive, he straightened 
all that was crooked, he brought light to all that was shadowed, he laboured to 
make all glow with beauty. 4 On the altar of his heart, he offered to his 
Divine Master the smiles, tears, hopes, and fears of all his life. The offer was 
accepted. So, in that Europe of wild confusion, of aspiration and revolt, 
Christ's Kingdom came in that one heart. There, on earth, was kindled a 
flame of love like the Seraph's adoration in Heaven! 

.Soul of Christ, sanctify me. 

Body of Christ, save me. 

Blood of Christ, inebriate me. 

Water from the side of Christ, wash me. 

Passion of Christ, strengthen me. 

O good Jesu, hear me; 

Within Thy wounds hide me; 

Suffer me not to be separated from Thee ; 

From the malignant enemy defend me; 

At the hour of my death call me, 

And bid me come unto Thee; 

That with Thy Saints I may praise Thee, 

For ever and ever. Amen. 5 

C. C. CLARK. 
(To be continued) 



4 " Withdraw into yourself and look. And if you do not find yourself beautiful as yet, do as does the creator of a 
statue that is to be made beautiful; he cuts away here, he smoothes there, he makes this line lighter, this other purer 
until he has shown a beautiful face upon his statue. So do you also; cut away all that is excessive, straighten all 
that is crooked, bring light to all that is shadowed, labour to make all glow with beauty, and do not cease chiselling 
your statue until there shall shine out on you the God-like splendour of virtue, until you shall see the final goodness 
.surely established in the stainless shrine." Plolinus. 

* St. Ignatius's prayer. 



TAO=TEH=KING 



AN INTERPRETATION OF LAO TSE'S BOOK OF THE WAY AND OF 

RIGHTEOUSNESS 

VII 

60. To govern a great kingdom, one should imitate him who cooks a little fish. 
When the ruler governs the kingdom according to the Way, the spirits do not show 

their power. 

It is not that the demons lack power, but that the demons do not injure men. 

It is not that the spirits cannot injure men, but that the Saint himself does not 
injure men. 

Neither the Saint nor the spirits injure them; this is why their power is blended. 

THE simile in the first sentence, concerning the great kingdom and the 
little fish, has the same rather startling quaintness as a former simile 
for the impartiality of Heaven and Earth, which "regard all creatures 
as men regard the straw dogs" used in sacrifices. If we accept the text as 
being what Lao Tse actually wrote, we may imagine him watching some peas- 
ant woman cooking little fish, handling them somewhat daintily, careful that 
they shall be cooked enough, but not too much; and saying to himself, or per- 
haps even to her: "That is exactly how a kingdom should be governed, with 
tact and discretion!" 

There may be much more than our sceptical day and generation would will- 
ingly believe, in Lao Tse's thought that spirits are subject to the Saint; natural 
forces which we think of as merely mechanical, may have something of con- 
sciousness, and a consciousness responsive to the divine powers in man, so that 
"even the winds and the sea obey him." 

6 1 . The great kingdom shall be as the rivers and the seas, in which all the waters 
under heaven are united. 

In the world, this is the part of the feminine: through quietude it constantly 
triumphs over the masculine. This quietude is a kind of abasement. 

This is why, if the great kingdom abase itself before the little kingdoms, it will win 
the little kingdoms. 

If the little kingdoms abase themselves before the great kingdom, they will win the 
great kingdom. 

This is why some abase themselves in order to receive, while others abase them- 
selves in order to be received. 

The great kingdom desires only to unite and guide mankind. 

The little kingdom desires only to be permitted to serve mankind. 

Therefore both obtain what they desire. 

But the great must abase themselves. 

163 



164 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

If the teaching of Lao Tse in many ways approaches the spirit of Christianity, 
this is, perhaps, the most distinctively Christian section in the whole work. 
We have not only the often repeated saying of the Master Christ, "He that 
shall humble himself shall be exalted," but the example of the Master, "who, 
being in the form of God, counted it not a thing to be grasped to be on an 
equality with God, but emptied himself, taking the form of a bond-servant, 
being made in the likeness of men; and being found in fashion as a man, he 
humbled himself, becoming obedient even unto death, yea, the death of the 
Cross. Wherefore also God highly exalted him." 

We may believe that the Master Christ made himself pitiful, because pity is 
the final appeal to hard and self-centred human hearts, and that self-abase- 
ment in order to make this appeal is of the essence of his sacrifice. And we 
may also believe that what the Master Christ did visibly, all Masters do in the 
invisible world, making themselves bond-servants of mankind. 

We have often found reason to believe that, when Lao Tse speaks of "the 
great kingdom," he means the spiritual kingdom, the Lodge of Masters. And 
it would seem that "the little kingdom" here means mankind, and also the 
individual disciple. We can thus see a very real meaning in the saying that, 
"if the great kingdom abase itself before the little kingdom, it will win the 
little kingdom"; and, if "the little kingdom" means the disciple, then it is 
profoundly true that "the little kingdom desires only to be permitted to serve." 

62. The Way is the refuge of all beings; it is the treasure of the righteous man 
and the support of the wicked. 

Excellent words can bring us riches, honourable acts can lift us above others. 

If a man be not righteous, should he be driven away with contempt? 

For his sake the Emperor was established and the three ministers were appointed. 

It is good to hold up a tablet of jade, or to mount a chariot with four horses; but 
it is better to remain still, in order to advance in the Way. 

Why did the ancients esteem the Way? 

Is it not because the Way is found daily without seeking? Is it not because the 
guilty gain through It liberty and life? 

This is why the Way is the noblest thing in the world. 

Here again we have ideas in entire harmony with the teaching of Christ: 
"But go ye and learn what this meaneth, I desire mercy, and not sacrifice: for 
I came not to call the righteous, but sinners." That this is the meaning at- 
tributed to the words of Lao Tse by his followers is shown by the commentary : 
" If a man has faults, it is enough for him to amend in order to become righteous. 
This is why he should not be driven away because of his faults. If, in antiquity, 
the Emperor and three ministers were established, it was precisely in order to 
instruct and reform the vicious." The tradition is, that the minister held a 
tablet of jade before his face when he entered the Emperor's presence; to hold 
up a tablet of jade thus means to enter the presence of the Emperor. 

Regarding the closing sentences, the commentators say: "The wise men of 



TAO-TEH-KING 165 

L 

old did not make long journeys in search of the Way; they returned to their 
pristine purity and found It within themselves." 

63. The wise man works without working, he is employed without being em- 
ployed, he savours that which is without savour. 

Great things or small things, many or few, are equal in his eyes. 

He repays injuries with kindness. 

He begins with easy things when considering hard things; with little things when 
planning great things. 

The hardest things in the world began of necessity by being easy. 

The greatest things in the world began of necessity by being small. 

Therefore the Saint seeks not at all to do great things; this is why he can ac- 
complish great things. 

He who promises lightly, rarely keeps his word. 

He who finds many things easy, of necessity meets many difficulties. 

Therefore the Saint finds all things difficult; this is why, to his life's end, he meets 
with no difficulties. 

The principle of detachment has already been considered. Of the later sen- 
tences, a commentator says: "Among the men of the world, there is not one 
who does not fear great things and disdain little things. It is only when things 
have become difficult that he plans them, and when they have become great 
that he undertakes them, and he continually fails. The Saint puts on the 
same level things great and small, many and few; he fears all equally; he finds 
them all equally difficult. How could he fail to succeed?" 

Another commentator says: "A difficult thing did not become difficult all at 
once; it is born of easy things, and, through the insensible accumulation of 
these, it becomes difficult. This is why he who plans difficult things, must 
begin with what is easy in them. Great things did not become great all at 
once. They began by being little, and, by gradual progression and growth, 
they became great. This is why he who desires to accomplish a great thing, 
must begin with what is little in it. The Saint never seeks to accomplish great 
things all at once; he is content to accumulate little things; this is why he comes 
to accomplish great things." 

64. What is at rest is easy to maintain; what has not yet appeared is easy to 
guard against; what is weak is easy to break; what is small is easy to scatter. 

Stop the evil before it exists; quiet the disorder before it arises. 

A tree of mighty trunk springs from a root as thin as a hair; a lower nine stories 
high began in a handful of clay; a journey of a thousand miles began with one step. 

He who is absorbed in action fails; he who attaches himself to anything loses it. 

Therefore the Saint is not absorbed in action, and does not fail. 

He attaches himself to nothing, and loses nothing. 

When the men of the world undertake anything, it always fails at the moment of 
success. 



166 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

Pay heed to the end as well as to the beginning, and you will never fail. 

Therefore the Saint makes his desire consist in the absence of all desire. He 
does not long for possessions that are difficult to gain. 

He is zealous to be free from zeal, and escapes the faults of other men. 

He guards himself against becoming absorbed in work, in order that he may 
help all beings to follow out their law. 

The words "what is at rest," says a commentator, indicate the time when 
no thought has yet been born in the heart, when joy or wrath have not yet 
shown themselves on the countenance, when the soul is perfectly serene and 
free from all emotion. 

Regarding the simile of the tree, a commentator says: "This comparison 
shows that little things are the origin of great. If you wish to remove a tree, 
you must begin by tearing up the roots, otherwise it will grow again. If you 
wish to stop the flow of water, you must control the spring, otherwise it will 
flow anew. If you wish to end an evil, you must stop its source, otherwise it 
will burst forth once more." 

Regarding a later sentence a commentator says: "When common men see 
that an undertaking is on the point of succeeding, they yield to negligence and 
levity; then the undertaking changes its face, and they fail completely. Be 
on the watch, therefore, at the end of your undertakings, as men are at the 
beginning ; then you will be able to bring them to perfect accomplishment and 
will never fail." 

Of the last sentence of the text a commentator says: "All beings have their 
proper nature. The men of the multitude do not follow the purity of their 
nature; they change themselves by giving themselves up to a disordered activity. 
They abandon candour and simplicity, to follow after cunning and astuteness; 
they give up what is easy and simple, to run after things arduous and com- 
plicated. In this they sin. The Saint sets himself to do the opposite." 

65. In antiquity, those who excelled in following the Way did not use it to 
enlighten the people; they used it to keep the people simple and ignorant. 

The people is hard to govern because it has too much astuteness. 

He who makes use of astuteness to govern the kingdom, is the scourge of the 
kingdom. 

He who does not use astuteness to govern the kingdom, brings happiness to the 
kingdom. 

When a man knows these two things, he is the model. 

To know how to be the model, is to be endowed with heavenly virtue. 

This heavenly virtue is deep, measureless, opposed to creatures. 

By it he succeeds in gaining wide-extended peace. 

"When the people," says a commentator, "has not lost its simple and candid 
nature, it is easy to instruct and convert it; when the sincerity of its feelings has 
not been changed, it is easy to make it obey the laws. But as soon as it 



TAO-TEH-KING 167 

has gained much astuteness, its purity and simplicity vanish, while craft and 
hypocrisy grow in it from day to day. If one should wish to teach the people 
the Way, and to make it adopt upright and orderly conduct, he will meet with 
immense difficulties. This is the reason why the wise men of antiquity sought 
to keep the people simple and ignorant, instead of enlightening it." 

To put the matter in another way, the men of old thought that moral training 
should come before mental instruction. 

66. Why are the rivers and the seas able to be the lords of all waters? 
Because they know how to put themselves below them. 

Because of this, they are able to become the lords of all waters. 

So when the Saint wishes to rule the people, he must, by his words, put himself 
below the people. 

When he desires to be placed in front of the people, he must put himself after the 
people. 

So it comes that the Saint is set above the people, yet does not become a burden to 
the people; he is placed before all and the people suffers no hurt. 

Thus all under heaven loves to serve him and does not weary of him. 

As he does not claim precedence, there is none under heaven who can go before 
him. 

"All the streams of the world," says the commentator, "enter the rivers and 
the seas, giving themselves up to them ; this is why the rivers and the seas are 
the lords of all streams. How do they bring the streams to them? Only 
because they are below them." 

One wonders whether, in those distant days, the people did in any general 
sense honour and obey the lowly and meek. It would seem to be the supreme 
sacrifice of the Masters, that, to help mankind, they must put themselves at the 
mercy of mankind; and mankind has as yet so little mercy. 

67. All the world says my path is lofty, yet I am as one of low degree. 
It is only because my path is mighty that I am as one of low degree. 
As for the intelligent, their littleness has long been recognised. 

I am the possessor of three precious things: I hold them and guard them as a 
treasure. 

The first is called love; the second is called economy; the third is called humility, 
which forbids me to wish, to be first under heaven. 

I have love, and therefore I can be courageous. 

I have economy, and therefore I can spend largely. 

I dare not wish to be the first under heaven, therefore I can become the leader of 
all men. 

But to-day they neglect love, to follow rashness; they neglect economy and spend 
largely; they neglect the lower place, to seek the higher place. 

This path leads to death. 



168 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

He who engages in warfare with a heart full of love gains the victory; if the city 
be guarded, it cannot be taken. 

Whom Heaven would save, to him It gives love as a protection. 

Perhaps the essence of this section may be summed up in the words: "He 
that hateth his life in this world shall keep it unto life eternal." The Greek 
word means the psychical life. He who hates the psychical, self-assertive 
principle in himself, guards his true life in the Eternal. This is a lofty path, 
yet he must be lowly who would tread it. 

The three treasures are the reward of treading this path. Love is the life- 
breath of the Eternal, which breathes through the spiritual man, inspiring him 
with supreme courage to work for the purposes of the Eternal, and therefore to 
work courageously against the forces of self-assertion and self-seeking which 
seek to rob the Eternal. Economy is the wise use of all powers and resources, 
including the powers of the spiritual man; the right use of small efforts and 
small spaces of time. He who uses the moments for the Eternal, has time for 
much. He can spend and be spent for the purposes of the Eternal. Humility 
is to see oneself as being a part of the Eternal, having life only through the 
Eternal, seeking no purposes but the purposes of the Eternal. It is to burn up 
once for all the poisonous desire "to be the first under heaven," which is, whether 
avowed or not, the impulse of the lower self in every one; to surrender the 
heart utterly to the Eternal, in the spirit of reverent worship; and, in every 
thought and effort, to seek not self but the Eternal. 

68. The excellent leader of armies is free from the spirit of contention. 
The excellent warrior does not yield to wrath. 

The excellent conqueror strives not. 

The excellent leader of men puts himself below them. 

This is called the possession of righteousness without contention. 

This is called the wisdom to guide the powers of men 

This is called union with Heaven. 

Such was the sublime wisdom of the ancients. 

It is once more a question of the spiritual man inspired by the life-breath of 
the Eternal. He works valiantly and unwearyingly for the purposes of the 
Eternal, yet he is free from the spirit of contention and wrath. He neither 
strives nor cries. 

But, since the powers of the Eternal which inspire him dwell also in the 
hearts of other men, giving them all the life that they possess, he who under- 
stands and serves these forces can guide others into the way of righteousness. 

69. A warrior of the ancients has said: 

I dare not give the signal, as does the host; I had rather receive it, as does the 
guest. 

I dare not advance an inch, I had rather withdraw a foot. 



TAO-TEH-KING 169 

This is to have no rank to follow, no arm to stretch out, no enemy to pursue, no 
weapon to seize. 

There is no greater error than to make light of the enemy. 

To make light of the enemy is almost to lose our treasure. 

Therefore, when two equally equipped armies meet, he who has the most love wins 
the victory. 

According to one of the Chinese commentaries, this section is to be under- 
stood figuratively. It is intended to describe the humility and reserve of those 
who follow the Way. 

Perhaps we shall be right, if we think of it as covering the same ground as 
certain sentences in Light on the Path: "Stand aside in the coming battle, and 
though thou fightest be not thou the warrior"; "seek the way by retreating 
within." The disciple is bidden to fasten the energies of the soul upon the 
task, the attitude opposite to making light of the determined and pitiless 
enemy. Carrying on the same thought, we may say that, in the conflict 
between the higher and lower nature, which is really a fight to the death, the 
higher nature wins because it has the greater love, love of the Eternal, as against 
self-love. 

70. My words are easy to understand, easy to carry out. 

In the world, none can understand them, none can carry them out. 

My words have a source, my acts have a rule. 

Men understand them not, and. therefore know me not. 

Those who understand me are few, yet am I the more honoured. 

Therefore the Saint is plainly clad, and carries his jewels in his bosom. 

The commentator says that the source of the Sage's words is the Way, that 
the rule of his acts is Righteousness, the practical following of the Way. 
Through the Way and Righteousness the Saint directs all the business of the 
kingdom, through them he clearly discerns success and failure, what is worthy 
of praise and what is worthy of blame; through them he distinguishes the por- 
tents of ill fortune and good fortune, of victory and defeat. Thus the Way is 
the source of his words, and Righteousness is the rule of his acts. 

The last phrase in the text seems fairly paraphrased by the words: "That 
power which the disciple shall covet is that which shall make him appear as 
nothing in the eyes of men." 

One of the Chinese commentators has this to say of it: "Inwardly, the 
Saint possesses sublime beauty; but, in his outward mien, he seems common 
and dull. He is like the oyster that hides a pearl under its rough shell; like the 
rude matrix that conceals a precious diamond. Therefore the herd cannot 
perceive his inner beauty or his hidden virtues." 

C. J. 
(To be concluded) 



ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 



THE Engineer had been criticizing the weather. He often does. He is 
particular about the weather. And it had been hideously hot. Then 
he remarked that in other respects also it had been a beastly day, full of 
chores devoid of interest and with nothing to show for them. 

The Philosopher looked at the ceiling, "There are people," he said, "who in- 
sist that life is hell. All it means is that they have a hell of an attitude toward 
life!" 

The Engineer was delighted. "I plead guilty," he declared. "And I am 
prepared to defend my thesis. We are meant to have a hell of an attitude to- 
ward life, if you insist upon using such language. The one thing that the high 
gods made sure of, when they first imagined the universe, was that it should 
be so ordered as to make contentment impossible. They foresaw that the only 
real danger confronting man was satisfaction with himself and his environment. 
That would have made progress impossible. So they invented duality as a 
condition of manifestation, and duality means hell and is intended to mean hell. 
The gods want men to be as miserable as possible, because it is the only way by 
which man can be induced to get up and try another spot. Bairnsfather did 
not only picture the war; he pictured what men call peace. His Bert and Old 
Alf shell-hole 'Well, if you knows of a better 'ole, go to it' -was excru- 
ciatingly funny because it was so typical of life in general." 

"Shut up! Talk sense!" the Student suddenly exclaimed. " I know that the 
Historian has something on his mind to say to us." 

"And he shall, bless him," the Engineer countered. "But I must put you 
right first. You're at sea. ' Talk sense ! ' Let me ask you a question. Under 
the law of duality, a man must have the defects of his qualities. So must a 
woman. Now imagine two women. In appearance they are exactly alike. 
But one is an idealist who disapproves of you, and the other is in no sense an 
idealist who approves of you. Which of the two would you rather marry?" 

"Theoretically," the Student answered, " I should prefer a woman who is an 
idealist and who approves of me!" 

"Then you'll wait for ever, dear man, for reasons which I claim are obvious, 
and without any reflection upon you! The manifested universe is dual. You 
can't take it both going and coming. You may have your bitter sugar-coated, 
or you may have your bitter on the outside with the sugar in the centre to take 
the taste away. But there is no such thing in this world as a pill that is all 
sugar." 

" I see," said the Student. "We may assume, therefore, that when you build 
a bridge you proceed on the theory that half the steel in it will be sound, and the 
other half full of blow holes and flaws. Consequently, half the bridge will 
stand and half will collapse. . . . I'd like a list of the bridges you have 
built." 
170 



ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 171 

"Children," said the Historian, "do you see that little bird on the tree over 
there? Come along with me and catch it! . . . But first, I should like 
to suggest certain propositions, by no means new in fact, Emerson, Paracel- 
sus, and most of the ancients, would have fathered all of them but which 
seem to me to be worth reconsidering. Incidentally, they may throw some light 
on your discussion, if the absence of the ad hominem element will not distress 
you! 

"These, then, are my propositions: (i) we are as we wish to be; (2) we do as 
we wish to do; (3) we get what we want; (4) we admire our faults. 

" I want to determine the extent to which those propositions can be carried, 
how far they hold true." 

' ' We are as we wish to be ' : then I am fat because I want to be! Is that your 
idea?" This from the Lawyer, with something between a' groan and a jeer. 

"You may want to be, in spite of what you think you want," replied the His- 
torian. "You may be fat, or what you call fat, because you are so deeply in- 
dolent and comfort-loving that you desire an excuse for slow movement and 
also a protection against nerve shock! I do not know. But my propositions 
should have included fear as well as desire, as possible cause, for the reason that 
fear is a form of emotional attention, and attracts, therefore, just as surely as 
desire. In other words, you may be fat because for years you have been so 
mortally afraid of growing fat!" 

"So far," said the Objector, "you have made me slightly dizzy, which is 
probably my fault. But on general principles I do like to have some idea of 
what a man is talking about. You are assuming that a man's body is made of 
ectoplasm?" 

"No," the Historian rejoined. "I am assuming that a man's body is made 
of good, solid substance. Could anyone doubt that in the case of the Lawyer? 
But I was not thinking primarily of the physical body. It was the Lawyer 
himself who obtruded his. I was speaking of all the bodies, inner and outer, 
and of the personality as a whole, of mind, emotional nature and all the rest of 
it. You know, among other things, what St. Paul had to say about the spirit- 
ual body. 

"As to my assumptions, they are: (i) that the Word, the Logos, the Idea, 
was made flesh, and always is and always will be made flesh; (2) that the ideas 
of which we are conscious are only a small fraction of the ideas which are per- 
petually at work in us, and that in many cases the motives which actuate us are 
entirely different from those which we choose, or are able, to recognize ; (3) that 
the psychic activities of the mind, which govern the special level of the nervous 
system, govern therefore all the biochemical processes of the body, as well as 
the involuntary muscles, regulating the blood supply to any part of the body, 
controlling the output of the now popular ductless glands, and thus the chemi- 
cal composition and the structural arrangement of the blood ; (4) that most if 
not all organic diseases originate in functional disturbances or perversions, 
which in their turn are due to wrong nervous excitations or relaxations, which 
in their turn again are due invariably to psychic causes; (5) that while the 



172 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

physical condition reacts upon the psychic condition feeding its parent, as it 
were the cause of the physical condition must always be sought in some 
moral or emotional irregularity of which the individual in most cases knows 
nothing, although he can and should know everything. 

"Do you object to my assumptions?" 

"I accept your first," the Objector answered. "That is easy, because I 
know nothing about the Logos and never expect to; and I have quantities of 
faith when I know nothing to discredit it ! But your second : I take that to refer 
to the subconscious or unconscious mind. Am I right?" 

"In part," said the Historian. "But the term, subconscious, is used almost 
exclusively to cover the motives and impulses which well up from below, 
from the elemental world, and the world of inherent, ' bred-in-the-bone ' in- 
stinct. As one writer puts it : ' The subconscious is a storehouse of the memories 
that have lapsed from the ordinary consciousness, of the wishes and senti- 
ments that have been repressed, of the impressions of a distant past. But it is 
far from being inert, for it contains in addition the subsoil waters which are un- 
ceasingly at work; it contains the suggestions which will well up into the open 
after their hidden passage.' 

" I accept all of that so far as it goes; but my second assumption includes also 
the great stream of spiritual suggestion and stimulation which reaches us per- 
petually from above, the spray from which occasionally penetrates our con- 
sciousness. Our present-day psychologists, being for the most part rank 
materialists, look for nothing and therefore can see nothing except that which 
wells up from below. Worse than that, they have transferred their idea of 
reality from the crude, objective 'matter' of the days of Buchner, to the in- 
stincts which embody 'the choices and decisions of the [lower] organisms whose 
lives prepared the way through eons of time for ours.' All our motives are 
supposed to spring from these instincts. As one of these ultra-modern writers 
says: 'The story of the life of man and the story of the mind of man must begin 
with the instincts.'" 

"I suspect that is true of most men," interjected the Student. 

" Doubtless it is. But what was the origin of the instincts? When and how 
did the first something develop the first appetite? They do not attempt to 
answer that question; they do not appear even to recognize it as a problem. 
Like 'that blessed word Mesopotamia', the word 'evolution' is supposed to 
explain everything and to produce everything. How or from what, does not 
concern them." 

' ' But why should it concern them ? ' ' asked our Visitor suddenly. ' ' Granting, 
as you seem to grant, that primitive instincts exist in all of us, what earthly 
difference does it make, where they came from?" 

"This much of difference," the Historian replied; "a very earthly and a very 
practical difference: if you were to read chapter after chapter about the tre- 
mendous power of your animal instincts, described as the one great reality in 
life, and were told repeatedly that they account for all your motives, you 
might be excused for wondering how anyone can hope to escape from such thral- 



ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 173 

dom. If, next, you were told that there is a way of escape, but only one way, 
and that is to 'sublimate' these subterranean fires and threatening volcanoes 
by cultivating an interest in orphan asylums and other 'social' outlets, you 
would be a phenomenon, in my opinion, if you felt equal to the task ! ' Give me 
heaven or give me death,' has appealed only to the few, I admit; but 'give me 
my social outlet or give me death' well, if you want it, you may have it!" 

Our Visitor laughed. "Still," he said, "the instincts are there, and no one 
can deny their power. What do you suggest ought to be done with them?" 

"Recognize them for what they are, in the first place; recognize their origin, 
their primal and present essence. Then, like Dante escaping from Hell, turn 
round and use them." 

"How would you account for their origin?" 

"How would you account for the origin of music?" 

"That depends upon what you call music," said our Visitor. "The descent 
of much of our modern music could probably be traced back to the squeak of 
one primordial atom as it scraped against the edges of another." 

"I am glad you saw my point," the Historian answered. "Can anyone 
seriously suppose that music, real music, has evolved from the chattering of 
apes! When will our psychologists and philosophers realize that 'every good 
gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of 
lights'!" 

"Do you mean that the instincts came down from above?" 

" I mean that the essence of that which manifests, in the animal kingdom, as 
an instinct, comes down from above." 

"For instance?" 

"The essence of each of the instincts, no matter how we may subdivide 
them, clearly is desire. Where does desire come from? My answer would be 
in the words of the Rig Veda: ' Desire first arose in It which was the primal germ 
of mind,' that is, in the Logos. This means that the essence or prime substance 
of each of the instincts, is spiritual and divine." 

"For instance?" 

"The three great instincts, which are referred to by most modern psycholo- 
gists as paramount and as ultimate reality, are the self-preservation instinct, 
the reproductive or sex instinct, the social or herd instinct. You are aware, 
doubtless, that of these three, the herd instinct is supposed to rank as highest, 
so that the sermons of the future may be thought of as exhortations to be a 
good herder, to be a sociable animal. 

"However, my point is that each of these instincts is a form of desire, and 
that if we would understand the nature of desire in itself, instead of as reflected 
in the lower kingdoms, we should study it, not in animals, still less in the per- 
verted psychic nature of man, but in its manifestations on the plane of the 
spirit." 

"How can we possibly do that?" 

"Take the life and character of a great Master, such as Christ or Buddha. 
Can you not see in Christ a desire for infinite life, and a passionate desire to 



174 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

give life to others, immortal life, immortal consciousness? ' I am come that 
they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly'. Can 
you not see in him a passion of self -giving, even to 'the folly of the Cross'? 
Can you not see the divine shepherd of souls, ' how often would I have gath- 
ered thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her 
wings, and ye would not!' In the soul of each one of us, these divine desires 
still exist, uncontaminated. They are ours for the asking and using. That 
we are in physical bodies, and that these have inherited, from an infinitely dis- 
tant past, the animal expression, or mode of manifestation, of divine attributes, 
can no more affect the philosophical issue than can the psychic perversions 
given by man to animal instincts which, on their own plane, are natural and 
proper and 'pure'." 

" I find it immensely difficult," said the Lawyer, " to believe in the intellectual 
honesty of materialists. Truth for its own sake, seems to be as far from their 
desire as it is from that of Irish Catholics and Christian Scientists. Even ma- 
terialists must know, in theory at least, that 

'Tears from the depth of some divine despair 
'Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, 
'In looking on the happy autumn fields.' 

"Yet, rather than see in such an experience the nostalgia of the soul, which 
would not fit in with their theories, they will explain it as some animal yearning 
for animal ends!" 

"I have never understood, either," added the Student, "why they omit 
from their calculations, at the other pole their own pole the enormous 
power of inertia, of Tamas." 

"Conceit," commented the Historian. "They like to think of themselves as 
discoverers. It would never occur to them that they could learn from the 
ancients; still less, that their 'discoveries' are the distorted re-statement of 
truths which the psychologists of antiquity had inherited from the Mystery 
teaching." 

Our Visitor, at this point, harked back. "If the essence of instinct be de- 
sire," he said, "by what is desire controlled?" 

"As I see it," said the Historian, "in order to answer that question, it is 
necessary to turn to first principles, and to think of desire or will, and of imagi- 
nation, as inseparable aspects of Buddhi active, of the spirit of man. It is 
said in the Puranas that Brahma was 'moved by the desire to create,' or to 
spend, to give himself. This supposes the imagination of something on which 
to spend himself; it supposes also the will to do so, because, on that plane, desire 
and will would be synonymous. 

"Approaching the same problem from below, if we consider the formation 
of a physical habit, such as constantly putting the hand to the face, we may 
suppose that, in the first place, some insect annoyed us, and we moved our 
hand there with the desire to drive the insect away. Next, a speck of dust, or 
some impurity in the blood, causes a similar sensation, with the imagination 
based upon association of ideas of a fly or other insect as cause. The desire 



ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 175 

to remove the supposed cause, produces the same action as before. Little by 
little, in this way, a habit is established in the organism itself, and the hand, 
apparently without immediate cause, is continually raised to the face. The 
habit is the outcome of a desire, originally legitimate, and of an imagination or 
fancy, both many times repeated. 

"Suppose, however, that a friend calls our attention to this bad habit, and 
that we resolve to cure ourselves of it. Only then, it seems to me, does the will 
become operative, for the will strives to impose its decision from above. On 
the spiritual plane, will and desire are one. On the lower planes, will and desire 
are frequently in conflict, as the gods of antiquity, one in essence and origin, 
are often described as being at war." 

"Now for a real question," said the Student. "Can we best overcome our 
bad habit by right will or by right, imagination?" 

" I defy you to use one without the other," the Historian answered. "Fancy 
can run riot, but the creative imagination, such as would be required, for in- 
stance, in the cure of a bad habit, can be evoked and maintained only by 
means of the will. On the other hand, it is impossible to will effectively without 
imagining the result to be produced." 

"How do you reconcile what you have just said, with the well-known fact, 
so often cited by the advocates of auto-suggestion, that a man who is learning 
to ride a bicycle is almost certain to hit the stone which he desperately wills to 
avoid? The inference seems to be that in many cases the will defeats its own 
ends." 

" Naturally," replied the Historian, "if you imagine defeat and fix your atten- 
tion on defeat, you will not only head in that direction, but your will to avoid it 
must increase the fixity of your attention. It is like the oft-quoted case of the 
young monk who wills never to think about women, and who keeps on saying to 
himself, ' I will not think about women.' The result is that he thinks of nothing 
else! He is using his will negatively and not creatively. My own statement 
was that it is impossible to will effectively without imagining the result to be 
produced. The majority of people, and I suspect even most students of 
Theosophy, lay far too much emphasis on the will, and not nearly enough on 
the imagination. Yet Madame Blavatsky could not have been more explicit 
on this subject. It was in the first book she wrote, if I am not mistaken, that 
she declared: ' Every magical operation is based upon the right use of the imagi- 
nation and the will.' It was in I sis Unveiled also that she quoted Paracelsus to 
the effect that 'faith must confirm the imagination, for faith establishes the 
will. . . . Determined will is a beginning of all magical operations. 
Because men do not perfectly imagine and believe the result, is why 
the arts [of magic] are uncertain, while they might be perfectly certain.' Later, 
in The Secret Doctrine, she quoted the Vishnu Purana as follows: 'Brahma 
thought of himself as the father of the world.' Commenting on this, she called 
it the power of Kriya-shakti, adding in a foot-note: 'This thinking of oneself 
as this, that, or the other, is the chief factor in the production of every kind of 
psychic or even physical phenomenon.' 



176 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

"Clearly, this 'thinking of oneself as this, that, or the other', can work for 
our undoing, just as easily as for our upbuilding. If it can create, it can also 
paralyse or destroy. It is a power so immense if it created the world 
that it would be folly not to study it." 

" I agree with you there," said the Student. " I doubt if any of us begins to 
realize the importance of the imagination or the part it ought to play in spiritual 
progress. I believe literally that imagination makes the man. Our own ex- 
perience ought to give us sufficient indication of its power, because, though we 
know little enough, I fear, of the kind of imagination which creates, we are 
victimized constantly by its psychic perversion, by fancy, and by the kind 
of imagination which paralyses or destroys. The new Nancy School, as it is 
called, which bases everything upon auto-suggestion, has seen the value of, 
and constantly uses in support of its own theses, an illustration which I know 
was given by St. Thomas Aquinas, and probably by many others before him, to 
show the way in which our physical responses are controlled by our imagination. 
Place a board, two feet wide and thirty feet long, on a grass lawn, and anyone 
can walk along it ; but place the same board between two spires of a cathedral, 
at a great height from the ground, and you know well, as they truly say, just 
how you would feel and just what would happen if you were to try to walk 
from one end of it to the other. In spite of your best endeavours, that is to 
say, in spite of your will, your imagination would run away with you, literally; 
and because you would so clearly imagine yourself falling, and because your 
clear imagination of this would arouse in you an overwhelming fear of falling, 
your whole attention would be concentrated on the act of falling, and fall you 
would, inevitably." 

"Quite so," the Historian replied, "but it seems evident to me that the new 
Nancy School goes too far when it infers from such an experience that the will 
is necessarily inferior to the imagination as a motive power. The imagination 
ought to be the servant of the will. It very rarely is. The majority of people 
are the slaves of their imagination." 

"Strange," the Student commented, "that if a man loses control over his 
hands or feet, so that they shake or flap around in spite of him, he is likely to 
feel mortified, while he is not in the least ashamed if his imagination remains 
constantly beyond his control." 

"Stranger still," added the Philosopher, "that so common an experience as a 
shaky hand does not suggest the right relation between will and imagination, 
for while I agree with the Historian that the imagination ought to be obedient 
to the will, I also agree with what he said earlier, namely, that both will and 
imagination are aspects of Buddhi active of one and the same spiritual force 
positive and negative the one to the other." 

"Yes, and as always happens, when the force that ought to be negative is not 
controlled by the force that ought to be positive, so that the polarity becomes 
reversed, the force which ought to be positive, and creative at that pole, is 
turned into a destroyer by the ' introversion ' of its own polarity. A feeble will, 
for that reason, is likely to increase the destructiveness of an mncontrolled 
imagination." 



ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 177 

"But the shaky hand?" asked our Visitor. 

"I meant that our own experience ought to show us that we can control it 
only by imagining steadiness, by imagining perfect control, using will, first 
to evoke the imagination, and secondly to impose the resulting image upon the 
hand. If, instead of this, we rush at the hand, as it were, with a merely nega- 
tive command not to shake, the probability is that the hand will shake more 
and not less. Our attention will be fixed on shaking, and not on steadiness." 

We were intensely interested. Every one of us recognized the practical value 
of the discussion. Each one, probably, was thinking of his own problem, his 
own fight. So there was a pause. Then the Historian continued : 

"The philosophy of modern investigators is not only based on premises that 
are fundamentally materialistic, but it is coloured throughout by the character 
of their research, which is confined almost entirely to abnormal and diseased 
conditions. It has been said of modern pathology that it knows nothing about 
health, and therefore very little about the recovery of health; for it works, 
mentally, not from health to disease and back from disease to health, but from 
disease to a condition, a goal, which is ill-determined at best, and which mens 
sana in corpore sano in no way makes definite. The same thing is true, I think, 
of most modern psychologists, many of whom, particularly the psycho-analysts, 
are little better than sex maniacs, seeing sex everywhere, and interpreting all 
things in terms of sex, or, to be more accurate, in terms of sex perversion. 
Those of them who escape that, none the less are inclined to see the universe in 
terms of some 'neurosis.'" 

"All the same I think there is much to learn from some of the 'cases' they 
cite," the Lawyer urged. "Take, for instance, the case of the able-bodied man 
who woke one morning to find his arm behind his back, twisted there in some 
impossible position, from which neither he nor doctors could move it. There 
was nothing the matter with the arm itself. There was nothing the matter 
with the nerves as such. The condition was purely hysterical, by which I do 
not mean unreal, but due to subconscious association of ideas, connecting a re- 
cent experience with the deeply impressed image of an experience in youth. 
As soon as the psychic cause was discovered, by probing in the man's memory, 
and as soon as he recognized it as the cause, he became able immediately to 
move his arm as usual." 

"But what do you infer from that?" asked our Visitor. 

" I infer that a power which uses a fool for his own undoing a power great 
enough to twist and then paralyse a man's strong arm should be used by 
those who are not fools for their own upbuilding, physically, mentally, morally. 
To read about such a case makes me feel ashamed that I cannot control the 
lightning!" 

"You say there was nothing the matter with his nerves" -this from the 
Student. " I doubt if there ever is anything the matter with our nerves when 
the only symptom of the trouble is that we are 'nervous.' Diseases of the 
nerves are diseases, of course. But when I look into the state of my nerves 
and my nerves spend most of the time screaming I am forced to admit that 



178 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

a morbid or uncontrolled imagination of some sort, can nearly always be found 
at the root of it. A man reports something to me, very slowly, with much de- 
tail, when I want to hear his story in ten words. At the end of ten minutes or 
sooner, my nerves are screaming so, that I am afraid he will hear them! Look- 
ing at it afterwards I find in many cases that the chief trouble was my own 
egotism, because I had wanted to talk instead of listening to him; but in other 
cases, when I had no desire to talk but only to attend to affairs which I con- 
sidered more urgent than the subject which engrossed him, I find that my nerves 
would not have been affected in the least except for my having permitted my- 
self to imagine, while he was talking, just how I should like him to make that 
report with a celerity and precision of which I, of course, am incapable! 
and to imagine, also, just what I should be doing if it were not for this intoler- 
able interruption!" 

All of us laughed. The experience was too painfully familiar. But the 
Student continued : 

" I believe, however, that the most prolific cause of ' nerves' which in time 
may become a nerve habit- is our imagination of evils that never arrive: I 
mean our dreads, our unpleasant anticipations. It is our duty to meet and 
talk with someone. We look forward to the interview. We imagine what the 
other person may do or say. In many cases we do this almost unconsciously. 
We imagine ourselves unequal to the situation. Our imagination arouses the 
emotion of dread, of fear. By violent effort of will we manage to control our 
nerves. But the imagination has the start and grinds on beneath the surface. 
Our effort of will exhausts us, as the trembling nerves resent and resist our pres- 
sure. The mischief is done. The whole trouble lies in the fact that, instead of 
having cultivated an automatic response which is based upon the benignancy 
of Life and its processes, we have allowed to grow up in us the habit of antici- 
pating the painful and the disagreeable; our imaginations are ceaselessly at 
work destructively instead of constructively. Have you ever tried to imagine 
the nature and trend of a Master's imagination?" 

"But it is the unknown that provides the element of dread," interjected the 
Philosopher, ignoring the Student's question. "If we force ourselves to face 
the thing or the situation we are afraid of, and to define exactly what it is that 
we fear, we shall find in most cases that the fear vanishes. It is because we so 
rarely do this, partly through false shame and partly through laziness, that 
fears of all kinds inarticulate dreads and nervous anticipations play so 
preponderant a r61e in our lives. Sometimes I think that fear is an unpardon- 
able sin, like the sin against the Holy Ghost, because it amounts to a denial of 
the divine Spirit in ourselves and in life; and it undoubtedly cuts us off from 
consciousness of the Masters, so long as it lasts, very much as sin or as self-will 
cuts us off from them. The Historian quoted Madame Blavatsky on the sub- 
ject of will and the imagination. Pages could be filled with quotations from 
her writings, and from such books as Five Years of Theosophy, about the paraly- 
sis caused by fear. Most of you have read The Conquest of Fear, by Basil King, 
.a review of which, I understand, is to appear in the October issue of the 



ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 179 

QUARTERLY. I enjoyed it immensely, and profited from it I hope. Yet every- 
thing he says and much more was given us over thirty years ago, in Through 
the Gates of Gold, a book which still impresses me as one of the greatest ever 
written. 'Then the soul of man laughs in its strength and fearlessness, and 
goes forth into the world in which its actions are needed, and causes these 
actions to take place, without apprehension, alarm, fear, regret, or joy. . . . 
As a great artist paints his picture fearlessly and never committing any error 
which causes him regret, so the man who has formed his inner self deals with 
his life.' And again: 'Not only is man more than an animal because there is 
the god in him, but he is more than a god because there is the animal in him. 
. The god in man, degraded, is a thing unspeakable in its infamous 
power of production. The animal in man, elevated, is a thing unimaginable 
in its great powers of service and of strength.' Light on the Path epitomizes 
the same doctrine: 'Only he who is untamable, who cannot be dominated, 
who knows he has to play the lord over men, over facts, over all things save his 
own divinity, can arouse this faculty [of intuitive knowledge].' Above all, we 
were told, we must have the courage to search the recesses of our own nature 
'without fear and without shame.'" 

"When I was a small boy, I was afraid of the dark," our Visitor interjected, 
meditatively. " I remember, dimly, having overcome that fear by asking my- 
self, when I was afraid to go into a dark room, whether it was burglars, or 
ghosts, or both! I then made myself go into the room for the specific purpose 
of locating the burglar, or the ghost, as the case might be. It worked. Per- 
haps, following the Philosopher's suggestion, this was because I got rid of the 
unknown, of the undefined, and made myself think only of the definite object 
which experience soon proved was never there! I think my mother put the 
idea in my head." 

" It is time to adjourn," the Recorder announced. 

"But we've only just begun," protested the Student. "What about the 
Historian's propositions? Are we to leave them up in the air?" 

"And his assumptions?" added the Objector. 

The Historian, instead of expressing disappointment, seemed rather pleased. 
"As a red herring," he said, "they served their purpose nobly: and think what 
I am saved! I have announced my propositions; I do not have to defend them. 
The Objector can boil over for three months. There may be others who will 
condescend, with me, to think abo'ut them!" 

"Exactly so," the Objector retorted. "Many will think about them; very 
few will boil. Pots are plentiful; lids are scarce." 

"To be continued in our next," the Recorder exclaimed hurriedly; and we 
adjourned. 

T. 



LETTERS TO STUDENTS 

June yth, 1908. 



DEAR 



May I suggest one thought for you. Our organization has now been in 
active existence for nearly twenty years. No one in all that time has ever 
reached its limit. Indeed, those who have gone farthest are most insistent 
that there are no limits. The limit of possible development lies always with 
each individual. No matter how far you advance, you will find that it will 
still be able to hold out vistas of unsealed heights beyond. 

Furthermore, I should like to suggest to you that this is a very real thing. 
Occultism, dealing as it does with fundamental principles, sometimes seems to 
a superficial observer as though it were too simple to amount to much. It 
insists upon the strict observance of ordinary moral and ethical laws, and at 
first we are a little inclined to say, "Why any Church teaches this. I did not 
suppose occultism was only this." But the laws of the spiritual world are 
exceedingly simple, so simple that most people pass them by entirely. There- 
fore I want to caution you against this frame of mind, and to say that success 
in occultism comes, not from obeying strange and recondite rules and laws, 
but by yielding implicit obedience to the few simple directions we are given. 
This latter course is very much the more difficult. The hard things in life are 
the little things of our daily existence; never to lose our tempers, never to be 
cross, never to be impatient, never to be rude or discourteous, in a word, never 
for a moment to forget that we are the soul, and to act every second of the day 
as we know the soul would act. This is real occultism. The manipulation of 
forces of nature and the acquirement of powers come as the result of this kind 
of training, and will not come until we show by our perfect obedience to this 
kind of training that we are fit to wield such powers. 

It is, therefore, of the utmost importance that you should obey implicitly 
the few simple directions given you, the most important of which is the 
injunction about daily meditation. This should be strictly observed. You 
will not find it easy, but if you cannot do this little thing without fail, it is 
needless to say that you prove yourself unfit for harder rules and wider re- 
sponsibilities. ... I also suggest that you make a practice of reading some- 
thing from a devotional book, such as Light on the Path, once or twice each day. 

I shall be glad to hear from you at all times, and to answer to the best of my 
ability any questions you may have to ask. Fraternally, 

C. A. GRISCOM. 



August 2nd, 1908. 
DEAR - 

I was much interested in your letter of July i6th, for it raises a point which 
almost every new member raises sooner or later, and that is the idea that it is 
1 80 



LETTERS TO STUDENTS 181 

only possible to meditate when we are quiet and alone. It is perfectly true 
that it is easier to do so when alone, but it not only is possible to do so under all 
circumstances, but it is necessary that we shall learn how to do it under any 
circumstances. I think it will help if you will consider a mother who must 
be about her household work all day long, but who never for a moment forgets 
her child who is perhaps playing on the floor. She remembers the feeding 
hours, when to bathe it, and when to do the other things which every infant 
needs. Her thought of the child is a sort of brooding care which hovers over 
it every second of the day and night, for even when she sleeps she always 
remembers it, and is awake in a second at any unusual movement or cry. 

Meditation is much more like this undercurrent of feeling, this constant 
unremitting consciousness, than it is like any definite thought; so you will see 
that it is perfectly possible to have it always, no matter what the hands and 
brain may be busy with. We must try to learn to keep the Master and the 
ideals which we have, always in the background of our minds, just as the 
mother keeps her child; we must try to learn to act always, in every detail of 
our lives, with this consciousness and these ideals forming the basis of each 
action; we should try to learn to do everything as if the Master himself were 
watching us every second of the day, as indeed he is, for no act or thought of 
ours escapes his observation. 

You see that in the higher sense solitude and quiet are not at all necessary 
for meditation, although they are both very desirable, and both help to make 
the learning of this difficult practice much easier. 

You speak of the difficulty of restraining your temper. Do not you see 
how this practice of continuous meditation would help you there? You 
would not dare give way to a hasty temper, or make a cutting or rude remark, 
if you felt at the moment, as you should feel, that a member of the Lodge was 
watching you and saw everything you did. Cannot you see how a very little 
of this practice would work a revolution in our characters? We simply could 
not help but become gentler and kinder and more serene and patient, not to 
speak of the more active and more striking virtues. It is, in fact, this sort of 
subtile undercurrent of thought and prayer and meditation, which can work 
the necessary revolution in our characters. 

I shall be glad to hear from you at any time. 

Fraternally, 

C. A. GRISCOM. 



October 25th, 1908. 
DEAR - 

I was very glad to have had the pleasure of meeting you last night and lam 
sorry that we had no opportunity to talk, but it would have been impossible 
to have referred to personal matters at such a meeting. 

I think you would be wise to stop thinking of your faults. We can never 
cure a fault by thinking about it and dwelling upon it. Our minds become 
full of it, and consequently we commit the fault almost automatically whenever 



182 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

there is an opportunity to do so. Think of the opposite virtue and dwell upon 
that. If you are troubled with impatience do not say, "Now I must conquer 
my impatience, I must not let my impatience express itself," etc. But, on 
the contrary, say to yourself, "I must be patient, I must cultivate patience." 
Dwell upon the virtue of patience and insist that your mind shall be full of the 
idea and the ideal of patience. So with all your other faults. There is always a 
virtue which is the opposite of each fault, and if you will cultivate the virtue you 
will find the fault disappearing without your having to fight it at all. It 
will simply shrivel up. 

How can we fear darkness, or anything else, if we believe that we are in the 
care of the Masters, that we are proteges of the great Lodge? It is said that 
some member of the Lodge is watching us all every second of the day and night, 
that we are never for a single instant without protection and guidance, and if this 
be so, then fear of any kind is a lack of faith and a weakness which we must get 
rid of, and we should use the same means to get rid of it as I have already 
described. Do not try to fight your fear. Ignore it, and force yourself to 
think of faith, of your reliance upon the Masters, upon your certainty that 
they are watching and helping you, and that it would be inconceivable for 
them to let anything harmful happen to you. Think of the universe as a sea 
of Light, an ocean of spiritual force, upon which you rest at all times, the 
darkness being but a Maya, a film between your eyes and this sea of Light, 
which can disappear at any time. 

In other words, be positive towards all these things, not negative. Look 
always upon the positive side of life, upon the virtues, the force, the life, the 
light, the faith; not upon the negative aspect of these things which are all of 
them but the temporary creations of our lower personalities, and which will 
all of them disappear. 

I shall be glad to hear from you again, and hope you will write soon. 

Sincerely, 

C. A. GRISCOM. 



December 5th, 1908. 
DEAR 

I have your two letters, and I am sorry that press of work has prevented my 
replying to them sooner. 

The six glorious virtues spoken of in the Voice are the Buddhic Paramitas, 
the transcendental Virtues. There are six for the people and ten for the priests. 
I cannot find the names of the six, but the ten for priests are as follows: 

1. Generosity. 6. Patience. 

2. Kindness. 7. Love of Truth. 

3. Renunciation. 8. Energy. 

4. Wisdom. 9. Goodwill. 

5. Resolution. 10. Equanimity. 

They are a pretty fine set of qualities and I do not think we should make 
any mistake in trying to follow them. 



LETTERS TO STUDENTS 183 

I was interested in your comments upon the suggestions in my letters. Of 
course you understand they are not my ideas, but are the ideas of those who 
have been teaching for millenniums. 

You should try to do things for other people, even if all you can do is to be 
kind, and to say encouraging and sympathetic things. You can do something 
for everyone you meet if you keep this in mind. Doing things for people does 
not necessarily mean doing some kind of physical work, or intellectual work. 
More people are hungering for spiritual alms than for physical bread. Try 
to cultivate the spirit of service, the desire to help others, and you will find 
abundant opportunities. 

I am always glad to receive your letters. 

Fraternally, 

C. A. GRISCOM. 



November 29th, 1909. 
DEAR 

Have you read and studied Mr. Mitchell's pamphlet on Meditation? He 
shows more clearly than any other writer just wha,t meditation really is, and 
what we should try to make it. I think if you were to read it you would find 
an answer to your query in the last letter you wrote me. 

Meditation is not thought. We can sit quietly thinking of some point in 
the teaching, and this is worth while, but meditation is more than this; it is 
the activity of the inner mind which takes place when ordinary thought has 
ceased. The higher mind cannot function while the lower mind (our usual 
mind) is active, and meditation is the name given to the process whereby we 
still the lower mind and give the higher mind a chance to work. It is very 
difficult and requires a long training and effort, constantly repeated effort, 
because it is a process which goes contrary to the ordinary heredity and habit 
of our brains. But it can be done. Many have succeeded, so no matter how 
long it takes or how hard it is, you must not be discouraged. 

The sentence you quote, about offering up our acts daily, has, I suppose, a 
different meaning for each person. It means, perhaps, that we should always 
act as if we were the agent of the Master on whose ray we are, and as if we did 
whatever we did because we were his servant, doing his work. If we have this 
thought in our mind we are not likely to do wrong. 

With kindest regards, 

I am sincerely, 

C. A. GRISCOM. 



April I7th, 1910. 

DEAR 

******** 

Is there nothing I can do to help you? Is everything in connection with 
your studies and your life going along so smoothly that you have no questions, 



184 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

no doubts, no misunderstandings? Surely there must be somewhere and 
somehow that I could help you. 

I do not wish to be importunate, but I do want you to be sure that I am 
always at your service. 

Fraternally, 

C. A. GRISCOM. 



May 29th, 1910. 
DEAR - 

I was pleased to have your letter. I am afraid that the trouble about our 
correspondence is that I have been unable to do or say anything of interest to 
you. There must be many problems which confront you as you go onward 
through life. Life is not so simple and easy that we can live it from day to day, 
always knowing our duty, always understanding what is required of us, 
always equal to the demands made upon us, and whenever we get into one 
of these situations where we feel ourselves unequal to our task, we should turn 
to the Lodge and our associates in the Movement for help; in your case you 
have at least the right to ask questions of me. I am a very weak reed to lean 
upon, I grant you, but fortunately I have back of me all the power and know- 
ledge of our Movement, so that you do not really depend upon me, but use me 
simply as an instrument to tap the real reservoir which lies back of me. 

The Test ... is a test which meets us every day of our lives and many times 
a day. It is whether we live consistently from the point of view of the Soul, 
or whether we guide our actions according to worldly standards. It is only a 
version of the old saying that we cannot serve both God and Mammon. We 
must throw our weight upon the side of what is divine in us, or on the side of the 
personality. This test goes on endlessly until the spiritual side becomes so 
much our second nature, as the phrase has it, that it ceases to be a test and we 
become divine, because we always act as divine beings act. The whole purpose 
of our training is to aid this struggle between our higher and our lower selves. 

I do not feel that you lack any understanding of these things, or I would 
have tried harder than I have to keep up a more frequent correspondence 

with you. 

******** 

With kindest regards and best wishes, 

I am sincerely, 

C. A. GRISCOM. 



July loth, 1910. 

DEAR 

You must not think I was blaming myself for your short-comings. I have 
no right to assume or even to suppose that you have any. I was blaming myself 
because I had been able to do so little for you. This is absolutely my fault, 
*iot yours. You are yourself and it is my duty to help you just as you are. 



LETTERS TO STUDENTS 185 

It is good of you to say that I have helped you, but I am afraid I have done 

very little. I certainly have not done what I should have liked to have do/ie. 

******** 

With kindest regards and best wishes, 

I am sincerely, 

C. A. GRISCOM. 



September lyth, 1910. 
DEAR - 

I have had to delay reply to your last letter owing to the press of work which 
has kept me in town all summer. 

The confusion about Mars and Mercury and the point you mention dates 
back a long time, and raised a controversy in the early days of the Society 
which is quite famous. If you will look up the old numbers of The Path you 
will find a series of articles by Mr. Judge and Mr. Sinnett on the subject. 
Briefly, Mr. Sinnett was wrong and he wrote from a misunderstanding. 
Any planet which we can see is on the same plane as our own Earth and belongs 
to some other chain. It would be the fourth globe of that other chain. The 
Moon is the remnant of a fourth plane globe which belonged to a previous era. 
There is an intimate connection between it and the Earth because the Earth 
became heir to the power and force which once made the Moon an active globe. 
I hope this is clear. I also hope you had a pleasant summer and a good rest. 

With kindest regards, I am 

Sincerely, 

C. A. GRISCOM. 



May 5th, 1911. 

DEAR 

Your letter of April 3Oth pleased me very much indeed, for the greatest 
compensation we can have is the consciousness that we have been of help to 

another. It was kind of you to think of writing about it. 

******** 

It is always possible to do more than we are doing. For one thing, we can 
formulate a deliberate and conscious ideal in our minds, instead of having 
just a vague hope and desire that we may advance spiritually. You say that 
you would like to attain the power of receiving the teaching of the Master face 
to face. All right: that is a wonderful thing to strive for. It is entirely 
possible for you to do it if you will make it the purpose of your life. It is not 
possible if it is only one of several contradictory things which you are trying 
to do. 

The sentence that the Kingdom of Heaven must be taken by violence means 
that it takes more than a general vague desire to enter the spiritual world. 
It takes all the energy and power and will of a determined nature, roused to 
its fullest expression by love of the Master, to force a way into the inner world. 

Remember too, that we must give to others what we have in turn received 



1 86 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

for ourselves. The inner nature soon becomes stagnant if the current only 
runs in. It must also run out. 

With kindest regards and best wishes, 

I am sincerely, 

C. A. GRISCOM. 



September 2jth, 1914. 
DEAR 

You ask a question as old as the hills, "Why don't we want to be good?" 
A part of us does want to be, and knows we ought to be, and knows, moreover, 
that it pays to be good. But there is another part of us, the side of self-indul- 
gence and self-will, which does not want to surrender its life, for it knows that 
surrender means death. So the eternal contest goes on in each one of us until 
the side of the angels wins and the other side is thrust away and "downed" 
once and for all. It must be done many many times in an incomplete manner 
before we learn how to do it completely. That means a long course of self- 
repression, of self-conquest, of self-denial, of discipline. We know this, and 
start bravely enough on such a course, but before long we get slack and relax 
and our efforts become fruitless. That is the reason why a Rule of Life is so- 
necessary. We must have the aid of a mechanical habit in order to continue 
to behave properly when we no longer want to, and no longer are willing to try. 
A Rule of Life carries us over these dry periods. But it must be a Rule that 
covers the details of our lives, not the vague general direction. It must regu- 
late when we get up, when we meditate and for how long; when and what we 
eat; when and how we work; when we can take an hour for recreation and 
rest; when we pray and when we go to bed. 

Such a Rule of Life should be made by each one, for himself, according to his 
individual circumstances, and should not be too rigid or too hard; for once 
adopted it must be kept perfectly, unless for adequate reason, or harm will 
result. 

The effort to keep such a Rule tends to keep us constantly inspired, constantly 
up to our best, and the habit of keeping it when formed, helps us over the 
arid and desolate and depressing places we all live through. In due time, if we 
are faithful, our hearts will catch fire and we shall go forward on wings instead 
of on our hands and knees. 

With kind regards, 

I am sincerely, 

C. A. GRISCOM. 




21i Spirit: The Relation of God and Man, Considered from the Standpoint of Recent Philosophy 
and Science; edited by Canon B. H. Streeter, M.A. (Macmillan, 1921, $2.25). 

This notable collection of essays is one of a series under the same able editor, the earlier 
volumes of which were entitled Foundations, Concerning Prayer, and Immortality. The effort 
has been to obtain specially equipped writers who should concentrate each on one phase of some 
question of moment in the religious thought of to-day, recasting, as it were, old religious 
dogmas and traditions in the light, and in the terms of, modern science including psychology 
and psycho-therapy. The ten essays on The Spirit here under review, are an index of the 
modern mind the modern religious mind and are a hopeful sign of the times. It is not 
only that they are ably written (those by Mr. Clutton-Brock brilliantly so), and that they are 
all stimulating and provocative ("The Psychology of Power" by Captain Hadfield, an expert 
neurologist with " advanced " views, is almost irritating), but that there is throughout so genuine 
a quest for truth, combined with such unusual and comprehensive tolerance, that members of 
the Society will recognize a kindred spirit, and must inevitably seek to encourage and to co- 
operate. "The Church's attitude towards truth," writes the editor truly, "has been a moral, 
not an intellectual, failure. . . . Nothing is nobler than the impulse which moves man to offer 
up his best and dearest to his God, nothing more pathetic than the delusion that he must first 
slay the thing he offers whether it be his first-born in the flames of Moloch or his reason at 
the altar of Christ" (p. 358). 

Two of the writers, Miss Lily Dougal and Mr. A. Clutton-Brock, who contribute each two 
papers, have already received notice among the reviews of the QUARTERLY. Miss Dougal 
is an earnest advocate of fearless and unbiased as well as clear thinking. Believing that 
common sense is the basis of any religious tenet, she surveys and defines such terms as the 
"supernatural," and offers a tentative and not wholly satisfactory discussion of "religious 
experience in the light thrown upon it by psychology." Religious experience as presented by 
her, is limited to its crudest and most elementary forms, and she seems to distrust the whole 
range of higher experience. Her paper on "The Language of the Soul," with analysis of the 
sacraments, seems philosophically sound, and as between Protestant and Catholic, attempts to 
be impartial; but we regret a total misapprehension of the needs of ignorant people ("hasty 
genuflexions are ignoble and absurd" [p. 269]), and of the traditional secrecy of the genuine 
rituals of the ancient schools "The paraphernalia of a mystery-religion may be a necessary 
relief from a hideous world, but at the best it can only be a temporary expedient, suffered until 
Christianity is vital enough to transform the work-a-day world" (p. 268). 

Mr. Glutton-Brock's article on "Spiritual Experience" is the most brilliantly written and 
artistic essay by this gifted writer, yet read by the reviewer. It is artistic, because of what 
is conveyed and suggested, where exposition, however lucid, would be inadequate. He pleads 
that aesthetic experience, which is man's first introduction to spiritual experience, is the 
complement of the scientific in that "we are aware of something personal." "Those who do 
not believe that personality is real, do not believe that life is real" (p. 340). His emphasis 
on the absolute need for a recognition of the personal in the spiritual world is distinctly 
refreshing, when myths are considered absurd by science, "artistic activity . . . mere 
trifling however pretty its products," and when modern students of the mystics, such as 

187 



1 88 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

Evelyn Underbill, attempt to discredit or explain away the personal experience testified to by 
all mystics. He pleads for the "fairy angel" in all nature and all life, and he insists that 
God is supremely alluring, not only the devil and his minions: " If He exists at all, 
the uttermost beauty, the most extreme enchantment, must be His; He cannot have left it to 
a dangerous fairy or to obviously sinful artists" (p. 285). "We think we are more religious 
than the pagans, but most of us are less, because out of fear we deny this personal quality 
in nature and impoverish our own concept of God." One is tempted to quote repeatedly from 
this one essay: "It is the aim of religion to free us from loneliness, to make us aware of a 
universe in which there are not merely things and processes and functions, but everywhere 
person answering to ourselves; and our religion [id est "churchianity"] fails to do that more 
and more because the fairy angel is left out of it, left to the poets, who therefore are not religious" 
(p. 286). "St. Francis tried to bring that music into our religion; but we think him quaint, 
odd, even a little mad" (p. 292). "Spiritual experience is of such a nature that it is not 
consummated until it is shared" (p. 296, cf. p. 341). "All art is the presentment in some form 
or other of that which, in reality, has produced religious experience" (p. 298). A second 
essay, "Spirit and Matter," provides an excellent critique of the materialistic view so predom- 
inant in scientific writers of the last fifty years. 

In the space of one review it is impossible even to summarize the several remaining essays, 
all of which without exception are worth reading. "The Psychology of Grace" by the Rev. 
C. W. Emmet, contains an excellent exposition of the modern opinions about grace, which will 
perhaps be novel to most orthodox readers. Members of the Society cannot fail to find in 
this book not merely an illustration of the theosophic method applied with notable success, 
but information which will parallel much of the teaching we know as specifically theosophical. 

A. G. 

The Conquest of Fear, by Basil King (Doubleday, Page and Company, 1922; $2.00). 

This is one of the most valuable and inspiring books we have read for some time. We 
advise all students of Theosophy to read it and to re-read it. Every one of us needs to be 
saturated with its philosophy. We do not mean that it should be accepted without dis- 
criminating reflection. Use discrimination always, as Mr. Judge said. Up to a certain 
point, a student of Theosophy will find himself not only in accord, but in enthusiastic accord, 
with the author's thesis. Later in the book, it becomes evident that, for lack of Theosophy, 
the author has failed to solve, even to his own satisfaction, some of the problems with 
which he finds himself confronted. Unusually logical up to that point, he seems to stagger, 
intellectually, when he reaches it. His attitude toward death is unsatisfactory, for this 
reason. An understanding of reincarnation would provide him with one of the elements 
which his thinking omits. But Theosophy the real Theosophy would provide him with 
more than that. 

In form, the book is autobiographical. Not much reading between the lines is necessary 
to see in it the record of an heroic struggle and a great achievement, which adds consider- 
ably to the interest and appeal of its teaching. Nothing would be gained, but much lost, by 
attempting to give a precis of its contents. The best we can do is to indicate the character of 
the book by quoting at random from its pages: 

"To me it seems basic to the getting rid of fear to know that our trials, of whatever nature, 
are not motiveless. In our present stage of development we could hardly do without them. 
So often looking like mere ugly excrescences on life they are in reality the branches by which we 
catch on and climb. They are not obstacles to happiness for the reason that the only satisfying 
happiness we are equal to as yet is that of wrestling with the difficult and overcoming it. 
Every call of duty has its place in this ideal, every irksome job, every wearisome responsibility. 
The fact that we are not always aware of it in no way annuls the other fact that it is so. Bore- 
dom, monotony, drudgery, bereavement, loneliness, all the clamour of unsatisfied ambitions 
and aching sensibilities, have their share in this divine yearning of the spirit to grasp what as 
yet is beyond its reach. All of that hacking of the man to fit the job rather than the shaping 
of the job to fit the man, which is, I imagine, the source of most of the discontent on earth, has 



REVIEWS 189 

its place here, as well as the hundreds of things we shouldn't do if we were not compelled to. 
Whatever summons us to conflict summons us to life, and life, as we learn from a glance at 
the past, never shirks the challenge." 

" It is an axiom in all progress that the more we conquer the more easily we conquer. We 
form a habit of conquering as insistent as any other habit. Victory becomes, to some degree, 
a state of mind. Knowing ourselves superior to the anxieties, troubles, and worries which 
obsess us, we are superior. It is a question of attitude in confronting them. It is more mental 
than it is material. To be in harmony with the life-principle and the conquest-principle is 
to be in harmony with power; and to be in harmony with power is to be strong as a matter 
of course." 

"God has never, as far as we can see, dealt in special and temporary gifts. He helps us to 
see those we possess already. What our Lord seems anxious to make clear is the power over 
evil with which the human being is always endowed. It is probably to be one of our great 
future discoveries that in no case shall anything do us harm. As yet we scarcely believe it. 
Only an individual here and there sees that freedom and domination must belong to us. But, 
if I read the signs of the times aright, the rest of us are slowly coming to the same conclusion. 
We are less scornful of spiritual power than we were even a few years ago. The cocksure 
scientific which in its time was not a whit less arrogant than the cocksure ecclesiastical is 
giving place to a consciousness that man is the master of many things of which he was once 
supposed to be the slave. In proportion as the wiser among us are able to corroborate that 
which we simpler ones feel by a sixth or seventh sense, a long step will be taken toward the 
immunity from suffering which our Lord knew to be ideally our inheritance." 

"To expect less is to get less, since it is to dwarf my own power of receiving. If I close the 
opening through which abundance flows it cannot be strange if I shut abundance out." 

And then, in conclusion: 

"That mystic resistless force [the 'life-principle'], which has fashioned already so many 
forms, is forever at work fashioning a higher type of man. Each one of us is that higher type 
of man potentially. Though we can forge but little ahead of our time and generation, it is 
much to know that the Holy Ghost of Life is our animating breath, pushing us on to the over- 
coming of all obstacles. For me as an individual it is a support to feel that the principle which 
was never yet defeated is my principle, and that whatever the task of to-day or to-morrow I 
have the ability to perform it well. The hesitation that may seize me, or the questioning which 
for an instant may shake my faith, is but a reminder that the life-principle is not only with me, 
but more abundantly with me in proportion to my need. My need is its call. The spasm of 
fear which crosses my heart summons it to my aid. It not only never deserts me, but it never 
delays, and is never at a loss for some new ingenuity to meet new requirements. ' From strength 
to strength' is its law, carrying me on with the impetus of its own mounting toward God." 

E. T. H. 




QUESTIONS 



ANSWERS 




QUESTION No. 271. How can I take the first step in persuading myself of the existence of Cod? 
I wish I could gain some measure of faith, drifting about is so unsatisfactory. 

ANSWER. Some people hypnotize themselves into scepticism. They make up their minds 
that they cannot believe. Automatically, therefore, they lose the power. But if they were to 
lose the use of one of their arms, they certainly would not brag about it. Why brag, as a fewr 
do, about loss of faith? Faith is at least as important among the faculties as will or intellect, 
and much more valuable than an arm. Further, the very people who say they have none, use 
it all the time. It requires enormous faith either to leave one's house, or to stay in it, in a city 
like New York! To go to sleep, to travel in a subway, to accept a friendship, to cross a street, 
all these and innumerable other commonplace acts, involve terrific faith. And, closely 
analysed, all of them are based upon a belief in God. People do not recognize faith when they 
use it. (For that matter, they rarely recognize imagination, when they use that.) So the 
answer is, Watch yourself, and think! If you have any good impulses, where do they come 
from? You will never find God outside of yourself, until you have found God within yourself. 

H. 

ANSWER. The questioner has mistaken the difficulty. The difficulty does not lie in be- 
lieving in God : it lies in believing in anything besides God. Y. 

QUESTION No. 272. What is the true function of Science, and what is its proper relation to 
Religion? 

ANSWER. Science means to me knowledge and understanding of the working of the Cosmos 
and its parts. It might be said that Science broadens the view and scope of Religion ; never- 
theless the two are mutually dependent. Religion separated from Science is small and nar- 
row. Science separated from Religion is a force without a goal. 

C. 

ANSWER. The function of Science is to observe and collect the facts of natural processes. 
These observed facts can be compared, and repeated occurrences permit us to say that nature 
works according to certain invariable methods. Each such method may then be called a law 
of nature in its manifestation. The observation and record of such laws may be called the body 
of Science, and this body is subject to gradual changes which have to be further observed, just 
as the body of man undergoes changes, even though the main principles of action remain un- 
changed and unchanging. But men who have devoted themselves to scientific observation, 
have in many cases claimed for Science that there is nothing to be observed beyond the be- 
haviour of particles of matter in relation to each other, and that the laws of matter are the sole 
laws of nature. With such instruments of observation as they have had, they have narrowed 
the sphere of their observation. But the discovery of X-rays and of radium, with the increased 
knowledge of matter and the relation of atoms and electrons, has widened the sphere of ob- 
servation so that material science has entered the domain of the immaterial, perforce. Now 
it is in the domain of the immaterial that Religion has its place, so to say. Religion essentially 
means the laws of the soul, the laws of a something which is akin to, but of a higher order than, 
the body and its laws, just as the mind of the artist who creates a picture is of a higher order 
than the hand which paints it. True Science and true Religion are really one in essence, whil e 

190 



QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS 191 

the working out of their effects in manifested life as ordinarily observed, varies according to the 
observer and the form which either takes. A. K. 

ANSWER. Probably every one of us who has been helped by Light on the Path will turn at 
once to its First Comment, in seeking our own answer to this interesting question. There we 
find: "Knowledge is man's greatest inheritance; why, then, should he not attempt to reach it 
by every possible road? The laboratory is not the only ground for experiment. Science, we 
must remember, is derived from sciens, present participle of scire, 'to know,' its origin is 
similar to that of the word 'discern,' 'to ken'." 

So far the most materialistic of scientists will agree with us, but there is a challenge in 
what follows: "Science does not therefore deal only with matter, no, not even its subtlest and 
obscurest forms. Such an idea is born merely of the idle spirit of the age. Science is a word 
which covers all forms of knowledge. It is exceedingly interesting to hear what chemists dis- 
cover, and to see them finding their way through the densities of matter to its finer forms; 
but there are other kinds of knowledge than this, and it is not everyone who restricts his 
[strictly scientific] desire for knowledge to experiments which are capable of being tested by the 
physical senses." 

Science, therefore, might be considered as a witness to the truth. Unfortunately, too often 
modern Science has refused to take the complete oath of the witness "to tell the truth, the 
whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me God." Perhaps it is because many scientists 
are inclined to disregard the possibility of God|s helping us that they have found it difficult to 
push forward to a point where their testimony as to the truth would mean the telling of the 
whole truth. If Science really be a means of acquiring knowledge, in this sense Religion might 
be considered as the application of the knowledge acquired through scientific investigation. 
The true function of Science in regard to Religion might be considered as the means of establish- 
ing the facts of one's relations with others, and with the universe, so as to enable one to live 
helpfully toward others, and in harmony with the universe. 

G. W. 

ANSWER. Science is the knowledge of Nature. Only there are seven aspects of Nature, 
even "Prakritis" in the ancient metaphysics, and no science is true to its purpose if it confine 
its observations and inductions to the lowest and most material of these aspects. Religion is 
literally that which "binds together." It is the expression of the ideal of human brotherhood, 
when all souls will have become one in the Over-Soul. Science and Religion would be related, 
then, as means and end, as knowledge and action. Without a religious or philanthropic purpose, 
Science becomes a mere monotonous tabulating of facts, interspersed with hypotheses about 
things of no significance. Without a basis of Science or sure knowledge, Religion become* 
sentimentality or fanaticism, which has been well defined as "the redoubling of one's effort; 
when one has forgotten one's aim." 

S L. 

ANSWER. Science, which in essence means simply "knowledge" or "to take knowledge," 
must be the inevitable handmaid of Religion: Religion here used in a sense akin to "theology" 
which in its original signification was "the word of God," the unfolding of the whole of God's 
universe. No amount of sheer knowledge, no mere accumulation of information, of facts, will 
ever produce wisdom. Religion, in the widest sense, seeks to combine an accurate record and 
ordering of the facts of the universe, together with a discipline of the individual life, in such a 
way as to expand the individual capacity to a degree of instinctive sagacity which (relatively 
speaking) maybe denominated wisdom. (Ultimate wisdom is beyond our powers of conception, 
and is illimitable.) The accumulation of facts apart from the discipline of life leads either to 
endless ratiocination, or to knowledge and power on merely the lower planes of life, with a 
dangerous divorce from all those laws of spiritual development and growth which depend upon 
moral hygiene and trained spiritual perception, and which are alone potent to control and 
direct the "power" of knowledge. In contrast with wisdom, the acquirement of knowledge 
has definite limits. It is, however, because Science does seek real facts, does seek the truth, 



192 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

that it has power and deals with realities and real forces. It accomplishes results. But 
because the Science of our generation has limited its field of vision and of research, because it 
concerns itself not at all with the moral life and spiritual growth of the individual student, the 
vast body of scientific attainments of the day have as a net result jeopardized the welfare of 
humanity, corrupting it with luxuries and indulgences, and have placed at the command 
of absolutely untried and undisciplined men a degree of knowledge which is highly dangerous. 
Science as it is to-day, and the power which Science has generated and put into the hands and 
minds of men, must be redeemed, or it will destroy itself. It can only be redeemed by a more 
consistent and faithful adherence to its primary principle of a genuine quest of truth. If 
Science to-day can be brought to a realization of its narrowness and dogmatism if it can be 
persuaded to see what Religion has already learned, that knowledge cannot be divorced from 
life, and that each man must live the life to know the doctrine then Science can and may 
indeed serve humanity well, in making easy for it an understanding of the laws of the universe, 
and of the grandeur of life itself. Without Science (in its largest sense), Religion would tend 
towards unnatural asceticism; without Religion, Science is either sterile, or a dangerous derelict. 
At best, Science must subserve Religion, which is the larger term, for true Science is an activity 
of the religious life. 

M. H. 

ANSWER. The fundamental aim of true Science as well as of true Religion is to know the 
truth. In the Golden Age, therefore, any distinction between them would be maintained only 
as a matter of convenience. The so-called "conflict" between Religion and Science is possible 
only where one or both fall short of being ideal. Knowledge of truth may be regarded as 
dependent upon the accumulation of facts. It is obvious, however, that the mere accumulation 
of facts is fruitless, unless the knowledge gained be applied to the advantage of humanity. 
This is one of the ways in which present-day Science is at fault. It has not concerned itself 
with the application of knowledge to the spiritual well-being of humanity, whereas present- 
day Religion does most emphatically attempt to make such an application. This distinction 
is of far-reaching importance, as knowledge can be used just as readily by the Black Lodge as 
the White. From this point of view, present-day Religion is perhaps at fault in paying too 
little attention to facts. Religion, at any given stage, tends to become dogmatic, to develop a 
theology, becoming formal and sterile, in which case any real desire to know the truth disappears. 
At this point it ceases to appeal, at least to intelligent people; and the knowledge meanwhile 
acquired by Science, given to the world without any sense of spiritual responsibility, inevitably 
leads to an era of materialism, of luxury, and finally to the ruin of a civilization. This sequence 
fairly enough epitomizes the history of all the great civilizations. It should be stated here that 
it is an idle boast to regard Science as a peculiar product of our own civilization. Its equivalent 
has always existed, and has contributed liberally to the ruin of every past civilization. 

It will be seen, therefore, that the "materialism" of Science is really at the root of the evil, 
as dogmatism and its consequences certainly cannot be regarded as an evil peculiarly inherent 
in Religion. The materialism of present-day Science is due to two causes. First, it was 
forced to combat in its infancy a strongly intrenched dogmatic theology, masquerading as 
Religion, and it thus acquired an initial prejudice against Religion, now only partially out- 
grown. Its only available weapon in this conflict was the accumulation of facts, which plainly 
proved the folly of some of the theology. Scientific research, consequently, early crystallised 
around such phenomena as could be readily observed, studied or experimented with, obviously 
physical or material phenomena. It is patent that with such methods of research, which have 
become traditional, it will take a long time before Science perfects instruments sufficiently 
sensitive to discover the spiritual world ! Only with this discovery can a sense of the spiritual 
responsibility of those possessing knowledge be quickened into life. 

When Science has ceased to be materialistic, when the truths it discovers can properly be- 
come the theology of a Religion which applies that knowledge for the spiritual welfare of human- 
ity, then and then only will it be possible to define the true functions of the former and it* 
proper relation to the latter. 

BIOLOGIST. 




JANUARY, 1923 



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



THE LOGOS DOCTRINE , 

CP us begin by trying to translate as literally as possible the opening 
passage of Saint John's Gospel, retaining the more important Greek 
words: 

" In Arkhe\ in Primal Being, was the Logos, and the Logos was together with 
the Theos, and Theos was the Logos. That was in Primal Being, together 
with the Theos. 

"Through This, the All came to birth, and without This came to birth not 
one thing which has come to birth. 

" In This, Life was, and the Life was the Light of men; and the Light shineth 
in the Darkness, and the Darkness comprehended It not. 

"This was the Light, the true, which lighteth every man coming into the 
World. In the World, This was, and the World through This came to birth, 
and the World knew not This. 

"And the Logos became flesh, and tabernacled among (or, in) us, and we 
beheld His Radiance, the Radiance as of the only-begotten Son of the Father, 
full of Grace and Truth. . . . " 

This is the central expression of the Logos doctrine, with millenniums of 
development behind it, and centuries of application after it. Let us see whether 
we can lead up to an understanding of it, beginning with the simplest things in 
the consciousness of each one of us. 

Before me is a sheet of white paper. I see it, I am conscious of it. If I 
reflect, I am conscious of seeing it. If I reflect still further, I am conscious of 
myself as perceiver. These two added perceptions, of the seeing and the seer, 
are the consequence of the rebound from the first perception, the thing seen, 
the sheet of white paper. 

The three, the thing perceived, the perceiving, and the perceiver, are of 

i93 



194 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

necessity linked together. Yet it is a curious fact, though none the less true, 
that the strict materialist rests in the thing perceived, pays little attention to 
the perceiving, and practically ignores the perceiver ; never seeking to discover 
the true character and nature of the perceiving consciousness, never looking 
steadily at it. 

We are first conscious of the thing perceived. Consciousness of perceiving 
and of the perceiver comes later, as the result of a rebound from the thing 
perceived. This is, perhaps, the justification of the objective world, the whole 
process of manifestation. It is the starting point, the source and cause of all 
our present conscious perception. The world is a means for waking up our 
consciousness. 

We have taken seeing as the type of perception. But there is hearing also. 
For example, as I write, I hear the clock ticking; I hear the wind outside, 
among the branches. And the I who hears is the same as the I who sees. So 
with the other modes of perceiving. 

There are, if we so number them, five phases of things perceived; five modes 
of perceiving; five attitudes of the perceiver, who is, nevertheless, consciously 
one. All modes of perceiving come to a focus in the same consciousness and 
are there harmonized and unified. The perceiving I is one. 

Meanwhile the sheet of paper has been covered with writing, the type of a 
different kind of activity, this time not perceptive but active. Once more we 
have a group of three: what is written, the act of writing, and the impelling 
consciousness, the writer. 

As before, we may let this represent all forms of action, such as speech and 
voluntary muscular activity. There are always the three: the thing done, the 
doing, the doer. And the purposing and impelling doer is the same in all 
actions. The I who speaks is the same as the I who writes; the same also as 
the I who perceives. 

We come now to our first application of these very simple and familiar facts. 
If we consider the matter, we shall find that the world of each one of us, be- 
ginning with our intimate thoughts, including our sense of bodily existence, 
and going out to the room in which we may be, the landscape in the midst of 
which we find ourselves, even to the rim of the sky, to the sun and the stars 
and the Galaxy, is made up of the sum of the perceiving and of the impulses to 
action which hold the field of our consciousness. In this sense, the world of 
each one of us grows out of our consciousness. 

From the perceiving powers we gain the sense of the colouring of our world, 
the rooms in which we live, the splendid pageantry of dawn and noonday and 
sunset and the stars, of green fields and trees and the white hills of winter, of 
the multitudinous turmoil of the streets. 

Through the acting powers we gain the sense of space, of form, of consistence. 
Pressing a hand upon the table, we get the sense of solidity. Walking across 
the room, we measure it by our effort, so many steps to be taken, and gain a 
realization of space. Both space and solidity come to us as modes of our 
consciousness. 



NOTES AND COMMENTS 195 

This is true also, as we have suggested, of our sense of bodily existence. It 
is built up from phases of our consciousness. 

It may be interesting to quote, for comparison, a recent expression of the 
same thought. It forms the conclusion of a review, in The Spectator, of the 
address of the President of the British Association: 

"Might we not say, regarding the hierarchy of pure mind, subconscious 
mind, reflex action of nerves, nervous tissue and body tissue, that the body is 
in some sort an emanation of the mind? We have, perhaps, in the past laid 
too much stress upon the importance of the quality of tangibility." 

True, for the quality of tangibility itself is simply the expression of one of 
our modes of perceiving, the sense of touch. It is, therefore, an outcome of 
our consciousness, an "emanation of mind." 

We see, then, that in the strictest sense the world of each one of us is built 
up of the sum of our perceiving and acting. Our world has come to birth 
through the activity of our consciousness, and there is in it not one thing 
which has not come to birth through the activity of our consciousness; through 
that conscious mind which unifies our perceiving and impels our acting. 

Have we not here a clue to an understanding of at least a part of the Logos 
doctrine? If the world of each one of us comes to birth through the activity 
of our consciousness, may not the whole manifest universe have come to birth 
through the activity of that greater consciousness, the Logos? If the body be 
in some sort an emanation of the mind, may not the body of the universe be 
equally an emanation of the Logos, the Mind of God? And in this thought 
of the body as an emanation of the mind, have we not a clue to the way in 
which the Logos becomes flesh? 

We have thus been able, perhaps, to gain some little understanding of the 
Logos as the principle of manifestation, through considering our own conscious 
minds as manifesting the world in which each one of us dwells. 

There are two other sides of the Logos doctrine which we shall now try to 
approach: first, the moral depth of the Logos, of which we have so far taken 
only a pictorial view; and, second, the threefold division of the Logos, with 
Primal Being beyond. 

Perhaps we may come to the element of moral depth by way of certain 
thoughts from one of the ancient Indian presentations of the Logos doctrine, 
the Sankhya philosophy of the sage Kapila. 

In both our perceiving and our acting, we have found a set of three. These 
correspond to one aspect of the Three Gunas, as set forth in the Sankhya 
Sutras. 

The self which receives perceptions and impels actions, the conscious mind, 
corresponds to the first of the Three Gunas, Sattva, which means both Good- 
ness and Substance; for in Sanskrit, both Sattva, goodness, and Satya, truth, 
are derived from Sat, being, reality. Goodness and truth both draw their 
essence from reality. The conscious and impelling mind, therefore, corre- 
sponds to Sattva. The activity of perceiving and the impulse of acting, the 
middle terms of our sets of three, correspond to Rajas, Passion, or impelling 



196 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

Force, the word meaning originally the middle zone of the air between earth 
and the clear sky, the region of cloud and storm. The thing perceived, from 
which the perceiving consciousness rebounds, or the thing acted on, like the 
top of the table when we press it, corresponds to Tamas, which means Dark- 
ness, and has the quality of resistance, of inertia. 

It is worth noting, at this point, that the middle term in either set of three 
has the character of conscious Force, of Desire in the widest sense. It is quite 
easy to see this in the case of the impulse to act; this has of necessity the quality 
of force, the desire that something shall be accomplished. But it would seem 
to be equally true of perceiving; that in a large and deep sense we see what we 
desire to see. 

For example, if, while reading the printed words of this page, the reader's 
mind has been following a more interesting train of thought, he will find, at 
the end of the page, that there has been no true reading. The eyes may have 
seen the words, but the conscious mind has not apprehended them. It has 
been fixed instead on the mind-images of its own train of thought. The con- 
scious mind has seen only what it has desired to see. 

Numberless illustrations of this may be found. A geologist who travels 
through mountainous country by railroad will note the rocks unrolled before 
him, granite, limestone, red sandstone, with the direction of the strata, and 
the relation of the rocks to each other, and to the features of the country. A 
fellow traveller, looking through the same window, will see only the landscape, 
perhaps not even that. A botanist who is something of an artist will rejoice 
in the colours and forms and manifold beauty of the flowers. A hillside covered 
with wild roses, a spired lily in the woods, a field of scarlet poppies, an over- 
hanging rock veiled in bluebells, become permanent riches. In these days of 
crowded city life, it is likely that millions never look up at the stars. But 
those who study the stars watch their succession with delight and awe, adding 
them to their thought of the wider world in which they dwell. 

So we see what we desire to see, just as we do what we desire to do. Not 
only does each of us make his world; he makes it exactly according to his 
desire. 

Perhaps it is in this sense that one of the great Upanishads says: 

"Man verily is formed of desire; as his desire is, so is his will; as his will is, 
so he works; and whatever work he does, in the likeness of it he grows." 

So the middle term of our two sets of three, whether it be the activity of 
perceiving or of acting, corresponds in this real sense with Rajas, Passion, the 
principle of Desire and impelling Force. We have built up our world. The 
quality of that world is derived from the quality of our desire. 

To the conscious mind, the unifying power which perceives and impels, the 
Sankhya Sutras give two names: Manas, and Antahkarana, the second name 
meaning literally the Inner Working. But the conscious mind itself, according 
to this philosophy, is derived from a power or being above it, to which is given 
the name of Buddhi, the root meaning of \vhich is Awakeness, just as Buddha 
means the Awakened, somewhat in Shelley's sense: "He hath awakened from 



NOTES AND COMMENTS 197 

the dream of life." Of this power, it is said that "Buddhi is pure Sattwa, that 
is, pure Substance, or pure Goodness; it is the source of Righteousness, Wisdom, 
Purity, Divine Power." 

Once again, let us try to discover the meaning of this by considering quite 
simple things. In the conscious mind, besides the power of perception, we 
find the power of recognition. Memory is its simplest form. We recognize 
what we have seen before. We bring the present image and the earlier image 
together in our minds, and we see that they are the same. 

But this power of recognition pronounces not only on appearances, but also 
on qualities. It recognizes Truth, the relation between what is perceived and 
our inherent standard of Reality. It also recognizes Beauty, that divine 
essence which calls forth a certain pure joy, whether it be joy in the beauty 
of a violet, or in the clear force of some expression of truth, or in the beauty of 
holiness. It recognizes Holiness, that compelling power which awakens rever- 
ence, inspiring us to subject the lower to the higher, the worse to the better, 
to bring the wills of self into obedience to the Divine Will, the Will of the 
Master. This power to recognize Truth and Beauty and Holiness touches the 
conscious mind from above. The conscious mind lays its questions before it, 
as before an incorruptible judge. 

But this divine power is the source of something more, in addition to a 
judgment that what we are considering is true, or beautiful, or good. It is 
also a potent creative energy. Phidias and Leonardo da Vinci perceived beauty; 
but they did more, they created permanent forms of beauty. Buddha and 
Christ not only discerned the laws of truth and holiness, they embodied these 
divine inspirations in their lives and inspired them in the lives of their dis- 
ciples. 

The mind is so placed within the rays of these divine and creative energies, 
that it may and should draw them into its perceiving and acting, building up 
its world of true perception, and holy aspiration, and realization wrought with 
beauty, a world that shall make manifest the spiritual realities which are above 
it. And it appears that, when some real effort to do this has been made, there 
arises a sense of kinship with these divine powers, as something in no sense 
alien but in a deep and half-understood way really belonging to us and at one 
with us, the promise of a more profound, more real self, drawing nearer to 
which we have the sense of coming home. And that home-coming brings with 
it the realization of immortality. This deeper and more real self, compounded 
of Truth and Beauty and Holiness, perceiving these divine essences and crea- 
tively manifesting them, bears the imprint of the immortal. So Buddhi, as 
the Sankhya Sutras say, is the source of Righteousness, Wisdom, Purity, 
Divine Power. 

But why is our common experience so different from this? The Sankhya 
Sutras suggest the reason: "But when Buddhi is reversed, through being 
tinged with Rajas and Tamas, it becomes vile, with the character of Unright- 
eousness, Unwisdom, Impurity, lack of Divine Power." The word translated 
"tinged" means "stained red"; so we have the thought, well known to stu- 



198 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

dents of Theosophy, of Buddhi inverted and manifested as Kama, the principle 
of passional Desire. 

In what way is Buddhi tinged with Rajas and Tamas? Perhaps we can 
make this intelligible by going back to our groups of three. The conscious 
mind may become so absorbed and immersed in things perceived, that it grows 
altogether oblivious of the divine powers which should stream into it contin- 
ually from above, and may even lose the sense of its own consciousness, like a 
gross feeder absorbed in eating. It is drugged and infatuated by the power of 
Tamas, and is literally inverted, resting on what is below, instead of what is 
above. Or it may be so entangled in the thrill of perceiving and impelling to 
action, saturated with the sense of its feelings and inebriated with them, that 
it once more becomes oblivious of reality, and falls completely under the 
thraldom of Rajas. Losing the freely flowing inspiration from above, it is full 
of Unrighteousness, Unwisdom, Impurity, and devoid of Divine Power. 

We saw how the rebound of our consciousness from things perceived wakes 
us up to the consciousness of perception, and of ourselves as perceivers. This 
rebound seems to carry with it into our consciousness the image and feeling 
of our bodily existence; and this image becomes the basis of our sense of 
personality. 

It would seem that the divine plan was that the consciousness, thus made 
concrete, should immediately draw on the powers which irradiate it from above, 
the divine, creative powers of Truth and Beauty and Holiness; that the man 
should become the servant of the God, as set forth with such convincing truth 
and beauty in that wonderful book, Through the Gates of Gold. But it too 
often happens that, instead of looking upward for continuous inspiration, the 
consciousness, under the sway of Tamas and Rajas, falls to worshipping the 
image of the body in the mind and offering sacrifices to it. 

This is Bondage in the meaning of the Sankhya Sutras, and the declared 
purpose of that teaching is, to enable the man to see his bonds and to break 
them, to set him free, that he may realize and make manifest the divine powers 
of his immortality. For immortality is inherent in that deeper consciousness, 
and man doubts it only when he has become so immersed in things perceived, 
that he has thought himself into identity with their transitoriness. 

So, calling to our aid the divine powers that touch our consciousness from 
above, we are once more to reverse the inversion of Buddhi; to invoke our 
inherent sense of Truth, that we may see things as they really are, and may 
then break the fascination of things perceived and the thrill of feeling ; that we 
may also discern the true character of the usurping and tyrannous personal 
self and invoke the power of the God within us, and all co-operating divine 
powers, to break the tyrant's domination, so that the man may rightly worship 
and render obedience to the God. We are to invoke the divine powers of 
Beauty and Holiness, perpetually shining on our consciousness from above, in 
order tftat we may be so enkindled with the beauty of holiness, that we may 
be not only willing, but ardently eager, progressively to subject the lower in 
us to the higher, the worse to the better. 



NOTES AND COMMENTS 199 

We are so enthralled and fascinated that we cannot perceive the need of 
doing this, or gain the power to set about it, without the active intervention of 
Divine Powers. But the Divine Powers ceaselessly seek the opportunity to do 
this, if we only show ourselves willing to respond. Again and again in our 
human history, the Divine Powers have made themselves objectively mani- 
fest, incarnate Truth and Beauty and Holiness, in order to inspire and help us; 
such are Buddha and Christ, in whom "the Logos becomes flesh" in the literal 
sense of Saint John's phrase. And all that, in our highest moments of inspira- 
tion, we dimly divine of the better self above our conscious minds, and a 
thousandfold more, is made clearly visible in these Divine Incarnations, these 
visible embodiments of the Logos. 

Let us now try to apply to the doctrine of the threefold Logos resting in 
Primal Being, what we have gathered from our survey of things familiar and 
near at hand. 

We have, first, the marvellous centre of manifold perceptions and actions, 
the conscious mind which builds the world in which each one of us dwells. 
Our very familiarity with it blinds us to the continual wonder and miracle of 
its powers. But this much we see: that through the continuous activity of 
these powers, the world in which we dwell, the world built up of our perceptions 
and actions, is made manifest. It may be that we have here a correspondence 
with the Third Logos of The Secret Doctrine, the basis of the universe in 
manifestation. 

Then we have that power which touches our conscious minds from above, 
ready to impart to us both inspiration and creative energy, as soon as we have 
firmly resolved to dethrone the usurping personality and enthrone the God; a 
resolution we are hardly likely to make, or even to conceive, without the 
active interposition of those Divine Powers on which we are so continuously 
dependent, but which can effectively aid us only in the measure of our sincere 
co-operation. Perhaps this region of manifested Divine Power immediately 
above us corresponds to the Second Logos. 

But by abstraction we can conceive of the bare essence and potentiality of 
Divine Powers, not revealed, not made manifest. And this abstraction, neces- 
sarily very vague and tenuous, may be as much as we can at present conceive 
of the First, the Unmanifested Logos, which is, perhaps the Theos of Saint 
John's verses. 

Finally, by a second abstraction, we arrive at the thought of Being itself, 
the Primal Reality through which all exists. While we can postulate this 
absolute Be-ness as an abstraction, it is necessarily inconceivable and un- 
knowable. For to know this, would mean that we know why there is Being, 
why there is a universe; and it is clearly impossible that anything within the 
universe and a part of it, could ever answer that question. Yet this very 
Unknowable, this inscrutable Being, is the very essence of us, now and for 
ever. We can never conceivably know That; but we are That, and that fun- 
damental oneness is inescapable. So we may, perhaps, gain some faint and 
shadowy understanding of the Logos doctrine, the teaching of the threefold 



200 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

Logos, resting on Primal Being; confident that, as our light grows stronger 
through loyal obedience and service of the light, we may come to discern more 
clearly what is now so vague an outline. 

So far we have for the most part considered life as though it were single, the 
adventure of one personality only. But there are three directions in which the 
very nature of our being perpetually impels us to break down our individual 
limits and go beyond them. There is, first, the natural impulse of exploration 
in the outer world. We have not only feet to carry us, we have also the im- 
pulse to use them which every child puts into action. The child views its 
immediate surroundings, but it feels instinctively, through the driving force of 
its inherent powers, that what it knows is not all the world, and it sets forth 
eagerly to make discoveries. Later on, this same power, this inherent con- 
viction that there is more beyond, will impel it to explore new lands and con- 
tinents, even to try to find the verge of the solar system, to send its thought 
forth to search the vast, mysterious spaces among the stars. 

There is a second direction in which we are impelled by the inherent con- 
viction that there is more beyond; the direction of our other selves, which 
rests on our intuitive certainty of the genuine being and consciousness of those 
about us. We are acquainted primarily with the consciousness of our own 
minds. But we know that there is also consciousness beyond the verge of 
our own minds, stretching away without limit. Whatever a man's formulated 
creed may be, this intuitive certainty is what he invariably acts on. 

We are destined to do far more than act almost blindly and unconsciously 
on this intuition of "more consciousness" outside our own minds, extending, 
indeed, like space itself, beyond the horizon. This too we shall one day set 
forth to explore, under the same impulse to go beyond known limits which 
sends the child out to seek new worlds. Perhaps Sophocles and Shakespeare 
have their uses at this very point ; they portray many types of our other selves 
which we can read ourselves into imaginatively, and thus gain practice for real 
life, exercising ourselves in the broadening of our consciousness, so that we 
may the more easily gain a genuine understanding of others. 

But we shall not make much real headway in this direction until we have in 
some measure recognized and followed the third roadway which leads us out 
of ourselves, the direction upward, toward the Divine Power which touches 
the conscious mind from above. We must gain some entry there, we must 
catch something of that celestial light, before we can have any true under- 
standing of the consciousness of our other selves. Without some gleam of the 
celestial light, we may go out toward the consciousness of others only to be 
submerged among other lives as dark as our own. We may be swamped by 
some form of mob-consciousness, deeply tinged with Rajas and Tamas, like 
the earth-hungry consciousness of the Russian peasants. 

But if lit by some glimmer of the heavenly light we seek beyond ourselves 
in the consciousness of others, we may be rewarded by finding souls far more 
receptive of that light, far more obedient to it, than are our own souls. We 
may thus gain divine help on pur onward journey. 



NOTES AND COMMENTS 201 

The impulse to open the gate of the child's garden, to open the gate of the 
constricted heart, to open the gate of the burdened soul to the light and life 
from above, is a threefold admonition to us of vast reaches of being beyond 
ourselves; vast expanses of natural life, of human life, of spiritual and divine 
life. And this perception carries us from the diminutive representation of the 
Logos in our own consciousness, outward and upward toward the immensity 
and depth and splendour of the heavenly Logos. 

If we are able thus to approach a philosophical understanding of the Logos 
doctrine, we shall be wise straightway to turn it to practical ends, for only 
thus can divine powers really come into action. We must invoke the spirit of 
Truth which illumines our minds from above, to the end that we may perceive 
the truth concerning the personal self that we have built up within our con- 
sciousness, a bedecked image of the body in the mind, which fascinates us and 
usurps our service. Here, it is not ill luck, but supreme good fortune, to break 
the mirror and so dispel the image of self; for only as the personality is dis- 
solved, can we again become receptive of the creative light and power from 
above. The false personality, the hugely admired image of the body in the 
mind, is at first a source of intense enjoyment, as a youthful natural body with 
all its untried powers may be. But in old age the natural body, limp and 
torpid and flaccid, laden down with infirmity and the wear and tear of time, 
may become nothing but a source of weariness. So through the painful expe- 
riences of human life the false personality may come to be an intolerable 
burden, in spite of the residue of vanity that decks it. When that revulsion 
comes, there is hope that, inspired by the Divine Powers above and the suc- 
couring Divine Powers about us, we may dethrone our tyrant, and begin 
through painful, courageous effort, to live from above, struggling upward 
toward the light. This is that "new birth," or "birth from above," which 
Saint John records, through which we are born into the "kingdom of Heaven", 
the region of Divine Powers above us. 

We should remember that all the powers, both perceptive and active, which 
have built up our life, are in origin powers of the Logos. Even when deflected 
to evil ends, as in the building and feeding of the false personality, they are 
divine powers warped. For this very reason the false personality is strong and 
intensely resistant; the combat to dethrone it can never be easy, can never be 
less than a fight to the death. It is the more imperative to wage it courageously. 

It is philosophically interesting to notice how much of divine power mis- 
directed has gone into the building of the false personality. Both its perceiving 
and acting are creative, because these powers are derived from the Logos. And 
it has caught a reflection even of the Absolute, in virtue of which the person- 
ality instinctively regards itself as absolute, the real centre of the universe, for 
whose uses everything else exists. To see through the usurper's pretences and 
to dethrone him, is our practical problem. It is possible only because divine 
forces acting rightly and truly are stronger than divine forces warped and 
turned aside. 



FRAGMENTS 



FROM the deep wells of dream comes this vision of the Christmas time. 
Haru told it recently, as the cold, silent wind moved in from the desert. 
There were disciples of a Great Lodge watching that night, as well as 
Shepherds, for they, like the Wise Men, knew that the Hour of Sacrifice had 
come, and that the Great Deliverer should go forth to the men of My alba. 
They watched in the desert in cold and silence, and the only sound they heard 
was the distant cry of the jackals. The heavens were silent, the stars were 
silent, no clouds of angels drifted across them; the Voice of the Silence itself 
was hushed in reverent awe and expectation. 

Then the Star blazed forth, and in its radiance shone a wonderful Face, 
exalted with Compassion; and a chant was heard, Lo, I come to do Thy 
Will! 

Far off, on the hills of Palestine, other angelic choirs responded, Peace on 
Earth to men of good will; peace t6 storm-tossed hearts in the haven of God's 
will! Behold, a hope! Behold, a bridge, from the lowest depths to heaven! 
Then the Face vanished, and in its place a giant Cross, black against the golden 
glory. 

"I was one of those who watched," said Haru, ending, "and we fell flat on 
our faces in the desert sands, for we knew that the Lord had gone forth, that 
the Sacrifice was laid upon the Altar." 

CAVE. 



TAO=TEH=KING 



AN INTERPRETATION OF LAO TSE'S BOOK OF THE WAY AND OF 

RIGHTEOUSNESS 

VIII 

71. To know, and to think that we know not, is the crown. 
Not to know, and to think we know, is the affliction. 

If you are afflicted by this affliction, then you will not experience it. 
The Saint does not experience this affliction, because he is afflicted by it. 
This is why he does not experience it. 

THE Chinese commentators thus explain this paradox: To know the Way, 
and to say we know It not, is the crown of righteousness. To be dazzled 
by the knowledge which is born of contact with things sensible, and not 
to possess the non-knowledge which constitutes true knowledge, is the general 
defect of the men of this world. He who knows not the Way is attached to 
false knowledge, which he mistakes for real knowledge. When false knowledge 
occupies his soul, it becomes an afflicting sickness. False knowledge is the 
afflicting sickness of our nature. When a man knows that false knowledge is 
an afflicting sickness, and is afflicted by this, then he no longer experiences the 
afflicting sickness of false knowledge. To know the Way, and to know that 
he knows It not, is the condition of the Saint. The Saint is free from the 
afflicting sickness of false knowledge. This is why the afflicting sickness of 
false knowledge departs from him. 

Perhaps we might put the same thought in another way: Real wisdom must 
always include a recognition of the great Mystery, the Unknowable. The 
Saint may know God; he cannot know why God is, or why He is Love. But 
he who is subject to the world-glamour of Maya, and is, therefore, continu- 
ously deceived, believes that he is facing realities. That very belief is the root 
of his delusion. But to recognize glamour, and to resent the tyranny of glam- 
our, is to begin to free oneself from glamour. The Saint fights against the 
tyranny of glamour; therefore he is not the thrall of glamour. 

72. When the people fear not what should be feared, then what is most to be 
feared descends upon them. 

Beware of thinking your dwelling too narrow; beware of resentment over your lot. 
I resent not my lot, therefore I find no cause for resentment in it. 
Hence the Saint knows himself and does not make himself conspicuous; he 
exercises restraint and does not glorify himself. 

This is why he shuns the one and follows the other. 

In the course of life, say the commentators, the people have not the sense 
to fear what should be feared; they yield to their inclinations and indulge their 
passions, thinking there is no harm in this. Soon vices grow until they cannot 

203 



204 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

be hidden, and crimes increase so that they cannot free themselves from them; 
then comes death, the thing most to be feared. 

Your house may be low, or it may be lofty; in either, you can find content. 
Beware of thinking your house too small and narrow, as though it could not 
contain you. Your means may be abundant or restricted. In either case they 
will meet your needs. Beware of thinking them less than your deserts. Com- 
mon people do not understand their destiny, and therefore they resent their 
lot. The Saint alone knows himself and his state, and gladly accepts the lot 
which Heaven sends him; he boasts not nor seeks outward things, and there- 
fore he has enough. Common people are dissatisfied with their dwellings and 
think them narrow. But the Saint loves his home, and is everywhere content. 
He is not great in his own eyes, and seeks not to shine in the eyes of others. 

Here again we may suggest a deeper meaning: Maya, glamour, personal 
delusion, is the root evil; he who is led by glamour is subject to death. The 
Saint, who has found his home in spiritual reality, understands and accepts 
his life as a part of spiritual reality. He resents nothing and is full of humility, 
knowing that he exists only through the grace of Divine Law. 

73. He who dares to disobey, finds death. 
He who dares to obey, finds life. 

Of these two, one is helpful, one is hurtful. 

When Heaven is offended, who can know the cause? 

Therefore the Saint acts circumspectly. 

This is the Way of Heaven: 

It strives not, yet wins the victory. 

It speaks not, yet wins obedience. 

It calls not, yet men hasten thither. 

It seems to delay, yet Its plans are wise. 

The net of Heaven is spread out, its meshes are wide, yet none escapes it. 

He who follows the headstrong lower self rashly disobeys the divine law, 
and takes the path of death. He who dares to control the lower self, thereby 
obeys divine law, and takes the path of life. He who follows the headstrong 
leading of the lower self, and thereby violates divine law, feels the penalty 
but does not recognize the reason why he is punished. But the Saint diligently 
seeks to understand divine law, and to obey it. 

The Way, the Logos, works silently, guiding all life, and winning always; 
divine law is always triumphant. The powers of the Logos work slowly through 
immense periods of time, yet always toward the defined goal, the redemption 
of mankind and all life. None evades the meshes of divine law. 

74. // the people fear not death, they will not be frightened by the threat of death . 
If the people constantly fear death, and one of them does evil, then I can seize 

him and put him to death, so that none will dare to imitate him. 
There is always a supreme authority to inflict death. 
If anyone wish to usurp the place of this supreme authority, and himself inflict 

eath, he is like one who wishes to cut wood in the place of the carpenter. 
a 



TAO-TEH-KING 205 

When one wishes to cut wood in the place of the carpenter, it is rarely that he 
wounds not his own hands. 

The Chinese commentators take this literally, as a criticism of their criminal 
law: when death is the punishment for every fault, people no longer fear death. 
But we may find a deeper meaning, by following out the thought of the preced- 
ing section: the Logos in action, as the law of Karma, rules all life and adjusts 
all violation of law by what appears as punishment, but is really spiritual 
education. Those who do not realize the action of Karma, because they are 
blinded by the lower self, do not abstain from evil. They are not restrained 
by the fear of violating the law, because they do not realize the existence of 
the law. But those who realize the law are deterred from evil through fear of 
violating that law. On the other hand, those who try to "take the law into 
their own hands" and to influence others while ignorant of their Karma, which 
means their real needs, are certain to "cut their own fingers." 

75. The people hunger because the prince consumes the produce of the land. 
This is why the people hunger. 

The people are hard to govern because the prince is too active. 

This is why they are hard to govern. 

The people despise death, because they seek the means of life too eagerly. 

This is why they despise death. 

But he who is not over busy with life is wiser than he who esteems life. 

Once again the commentators take Lao Tse's meaning to be a criticism of 
political conditions. But it seems equally possible that his meaning is sym- 
bolical: the powers of the whole nature starve because the lower self usurps 
the field and appropriates the life forces. The powers are hard to control 
because the lower self is too active. The powers despise death and rush head- 
long into danger, because of the lower self's thirst for sensations and emotions. 
But he who is detached from life and does not seek sensations or emotions, is 
wiser than he who is immersed in life. 

76. When a man is born, he is stipple and weak; when he dies, he is strong 
and rigid. 

When trees and plants first spring up, they are pliable and tender; when they 
die, they are dry and hard. 

Hardness and force are the attendants of death; suppleness and weakness are 
the attendants of life. 

This is why, when the army is strong, it does not win the victory. 

When a tree has grown strong, it is cut down. 

He who is strong and great occupies the lower rank; he who is pliable and weak 
occupies the higher rank. 

A wise Chinese commentator says that this whole section has a symbolical 
meaning. Lao Tse wishes to say that he who draws near to the Way through 
yielding and obedience, is assured of life, and he who departs from the Way, 



206 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

seeking force and power, and striving against obstacles instead of yielding to 
them, will perish without fail. 

This seems to be another version of the saying that he who will save his life 
shall lose it, but he who will lose his life shall save it, keeping it unto life eternal. 

77. The Way of Heaven is like the maker of a bow, who lowers what is high 
and raises what is low; who removes excess and supplies what is lacking. 

Heaven takes the excess of those who have it, in order to help those who are lacking. 

It is not so with men, who take from those who lack, to give to those who have in 
excess. 

Who can give from his abundance to all who are under Heaven? He alone, who 
possesses the Way. 

Therefore the Saint does good without glorying in it. 

He accomplishes great things, but is detached from them. 

He does not wish his wisdom to be seen. 

Heaven, says a commentator, seeks to bring about a balance in all things, 
taking the excess of some, and supplying the lack of others. Man is in opposi- 
tion to Heaven, and does not follow the law of balance. He alone who possesses 
the Way understands the way of Heaven. The wise men of old who surpassed 
others, used their powers for the good of others. 

Again, we may perhaps find a deeper meaning: the lower self, which is in 
excess, is to be diminished; the better self, which at present is deprived of its 
part in life, is to be made strong. This victory will mean humility, detach- 
ment, and a blessing to others. 

78. Nothing under Heaven is softer and weaker than water, yet nothing can 
better break what is hard and strong. 

In this, nothing can take the place of water. 

The weak triumphs over the strong; the soft triumphs over the hard. No one in 
the world but knows this, yet no one can put it into practice. 

This is why the Saint says: He who bears the reproach of the kingdom becomes 
the ruler of the kingdom. 

He who bears the calamities of the kingdom becomes the king of the whole realm. 

The words of truth seem contrary to reason. 

Water is like the Way, says a commentator, because it can enter into all 
forms, and move in all directions. It bends or rises; it will fill a square vase as 
well as a round vase. If an obstacle blocks its way, it stops; if you open a 
passage for it, it will go wherever you desire. Yet it carries great ships, tears 
down rocks, hollows out valleys, pierces mountains, and upholds Heaven and 
earth. 

Another commentator declares that the men of the world think that only 
the base will endure reproaches. But the Saint holds that they should be 
endured without complaint. If his words seem foolish and contrary to reason, 
this is only because they are judged from the point of view of the multitude. 



TAO-TEH-KING 207 

79. Though you appease the great hostilities of men, they will still retain a 
residue of hatred. 

How could they become virtuous? 

Therefore the Saint keeps the left half of the contract and expects nothing from 
others. 

This is why the virtuous man thinks of giving, and he who is without virtue 
thinks of asking. 

Heaven is without predilection, and gives constantly to the virtuous. 

The thoughtful Chinese commentators may be summed up thus: It is better 
to remain indifferent, and to forget equally the good which we have imparted 
and the injuries which we have received. Hostilities are born of illusion, and 
illusion springs from our nature. He who knows his nature, and keeps it pure, 
has no illusions; how should he feel hostility? But those who cannot tear up 
the root of hostility are able only to cut off the branches; therefore, though 
outwardly calm, they nurse hatred in their hearts. He who is perfectly sin- 
cere, has no conflicts with others. He lets them follow their natures and does 
not arouse their hostility; he gives to each what he desires, and asks nothing 
from anyone. 

The contract is a tablet of wood which can be split in two. On this the 
agreement to pay or deliver a certain thing is written. He who is to pay or 
deliver the thing agreed on, keeps the left half of the tablet, and he who is to 
receive it keeps the right half. When the receiver presents himself, holding in 
his hand the right half of the tablet, and it is found that the two halves fit 
accurately together, the giver delivers the object of the contract without rais- 
ing the smallest question as to the rights or the sincerity of the receiver. When 
Lao Tse says that the Saint keeps the left half of the contract, he means that 
he asks nothing from anyone, and that he expects others to ask of him what- 
ever they desire. 

The Saint gives to others, and asks nothing in return. But Heaven gives 
to him constantly, loading him with gifts and blessings. 

So far, the Eastern commentaries. A Western commentator would be in- 
clined to point out the close resemblance between the thoughts of this most 
Christian of Orientals, born six centuries before Christ, and the words of the 
Master Christ; for example, the sentence quoted by Saint Paul: "Remember 
the words of the Lord Jesus how he himself said, It is more blessed to give than 
to receive." It is the spirit of the Sermon on the Mount: "I say unto you, 
Love your enemies, and pray for them that persecute you ; that ye may be the 
sons of your Father which is in Heaven : for he maketh his sun to rise on the 
evil and the good, and sendeth rain on the just and the unjust. ... Ye 
therefore shall be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect." 

80. Had I a little kingdom with few inhabitants, if they had weapons for ten 
or for a hundred, they should not use them. 

I should teach them to fear death and to remain at home. 
If they had boats and chariots, they should not enter them. 



208 

// they had breastplates and spears, they should not equip themselves with them. 

I should bring them back to the use of knotted cords for records. 

They should eat their food with satisfaction, they should find their clothing pleas- 
ing, they should be satisfied with their dwellings, they should love simple customs. 

Were there another kingdom so close to mine that the crowing of cocks and the 
barking of dogs could be heard from one to the other, my people should grow old 
and die without visiting the neighbouring people. 

The Chinese commentators understand this eloquent little sermon in the 
sense of the simple life and the age of gold. But it is more likely that Lao Tse 
has in mind the life of the disciple, which is indeed simplicity, a return to the 
golden age. Perhaps the most illuminating parallel is this, from Light on the 
Path: "When the disciple has fully recognized that the very thought of indi- 
vidual rights is only the outcome of the venomous quality in himself, that it is 
the hiss of the snake of self which poisons with its sting his own life and the 
lives of those about him, then he is ready to take part in a yearly ceremony 
which is open to all neophytes who are prepared for it. All weapons of defence 
and offence are given up; all weapons of mind and heart, and brain, and spirit. 
Never again can another man be regarded as a person who can be criticized 
or condemned ; never again can the neophyte raise his voice in self-defence or 
excuse. From that ceremony he returns into the world as helpless, as unpro- 
tected, as a new-born child. That, indeed, is what he is. He has begun to be 
born again on to the higher plane of life, that breezy and well-lit plateau from 
whence the eyes see intelligently and regard the world with a new insight." 

This is the site of Lao Tse's "little kingdom," and this is the reason why 
those who dwell there will not arm themselves with spear or breastplate, nor 
seek again to return to "the other kingdom." 

81. Honest words are not ornate; ornate words are not honest. 

The man of worth is not glib of speech; the glib of speech is not a man of worth. 

He who knows the Way is not erudite; he who is erudite knows not the Way. 

The Saint lays not up treasure. 

The more he spends himself for men, the greater grows his power. 

The more he gives to men, the richer he becomes. 

Such is the Way of Heaven, which lavishes blessings on all beings and harms none. 

Such is the Way of the Saint, who toils, yet without contention. 

True words, say the commentators, need no adornment. Who acts rightly 
needs no eloquence. Who possesses the heart of the matter need not be learned 
in many things. The Saint uses the Way for mankind, he gives all his treasures 
to men. Though he lavish his treasure on all the men of the kingdom and on 
ages to come, the Way grows ever greater for him, and is inexhaustible; his 
treasure ever increases and knows no diminution. 

Heaven nourishes all beings, helping all and harming none. The Saint 
furthers the kingdom through the Way; when his works are fulfilled, he is 

detached from them. He seeks neither reward nor glory. 

*> J 

THE END 



TALKING OF REINCARNATION 



YOU ask me with great earnestness to give you, who are alone in the 
desert, some account of the topics that your fellows are talking over, 
as they meet, incidentally, during the summer. You will understand 
that I really wish to respond to your request, when I tell you that the only 
information I have about such talks has come to me second-hand and yet 
I am attempting to pass something of it on to you. But I must ask you to 
recognize that you are not getting "teaching"; you must at every turn beware 
of misconceptions and partial truths. Those who were talking saw and ex- 
pressed only part of the many-sided truth of the realities they discussed ; then 
those of them who so kindly shared the fruit of that talk with me, were op- 
pressed with the sense that their account was so incomplete and inaccurate; 
and, in my turn, I know that I am able to give you only very imperfectly 
what they passed on to me. So, again, I ask you to brood over any phases of 
the talk that may interest you, and to get the inner light on it which can come 
only in that way. 

As usual, the talk was started by someone who had a burning desire to 
discover how he could use every possible means of preparing to meet in another 
life the friends whom he so highly prized in this. He said, quite simply, that 
he regarded such friends as one of the greatest gifts life could bestow; and 
having them now, he found himself looking, with an apprehension that he 
knew to be unworthy, upon the time when they would no longer be with him. 
Some day death would ferry him to the other shore, and he would go alone. 
How was he then to find and to claim kinship with those who had gone before 
him and with those others who would follow? Most of them were far beyond 
him in their contact with reality, their conscious life in the spiritual world. 
It would be silly to imagine that in those vast mansions prepared for those who 
love and serve, there are not clearer lines of demarcation than we ever know 
here; each soul must have its fit dwelling. Those cannot be like Soviet cara- 
vansaries, marble palaces flung wide open to the unclean and the unfit, in 
whose natures nothing has yet awakened that would enable them to enjoy the 
exquisite beauty of the surroundings. He felt confident, indeed he fully 
trusted, that in the place prepared for him he would be given the best possible 
chance to see the mistakes of this present life and to assimilate its teachings 
but he confessed that he wanted even more than that. He wanted to feel 
assured that, if the Good Law could find it possible to grant, he might have his 
T. S. friends again "next time," if not during the in-between state. Does 
Theosophy, he asked, give any such assurance, and what steps must one 
take to claim it? His earnestness barred the conventional remarks on that 
subject. There was silence during which others searched their own desires. 
Finally someone asked: 

"How many of us, I wonder, believe in reincarnation? The T. S. requires 
2 209 



210 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

no such belief. Why should we hesitate here to be frank with one another? 
Why should we hesitate to express our feelings?" 

"But," interposed another, "what possible use is there in exchanging feelings 
about a fact? Either rebirth is a law of life or it is not. I have often heard 
outsiders say that they did not believe in reincarnation because they did not 
like the idea of having to come back to earth again and get into a different 
family, or be someone they would dislike to be. In them, not having studied 
Theosophy, that attitude is perhaps natural, but not for those of us who have 
had so many chances to understand its teachings. For myself, I am convinced 
that reincarnation is the law, but there are many phases of it that I have never 
thought out, and there are some that fill me with a desire to be up and doing. 
I share the outsider's dislike and dread of possibly coming back to a strange 
world, in which I cannot pick up any of those connections and friendships 
that have made my life rich and happy since I was found by the T. S. and 
persuaded, bit by bit, to return home. What difference, however, can my 
feelings make about the working of the law?" 

"Immense difference," commented his neighbour. "You can, to put it 
crudely, favour the law by working with it. It seems to me that if we really 
believe in the law of rebirth we must inevitably plan accordingly. There was, 
I suppose, a time when mankind did not know the law of periodicity as dis- 
played in the changing seasons of the year. Now man is convinced of that; 
while it is yet summer, he makes provision for the coming cold of winter, and 
in the frosts he knows he must be ready for the summer's heat; neither is his 
enemy. Is it not equally obvious that if we really believed in rebirth we should 
use all means to prepare in one life for the needs of the next, so far as we can 
recognize them? I will admit that for me, too, it demands all the faith and 
courage I can summon when I face the possibility of again being 'lost in the 
universe,' as someone has expressed it. Left to myself, what chance would I 
have of finding or serving the Movement?" 

"Perhaps we could work our way out to more light," said another, "if we 
were to start back a bit, with the average family in the world to-day. Let us 
suppose that the eldest son of such a family returns home from an absence that 
has taken him to a centre where he heard, in brief outline, a presentation of 
the laws of Karma and Reincarnation ; he shares that new theory with the 
family. We will make it a well-meaning and well-behaved family; yet the 
chances are that no one in that family circle really knows any other one. 
Each could, perhaps, make a fairly accurate catalogue of the likes, dislikes, and 
traits of all the others. Such things do, of course, have to be considered and 
given due respect in every happy family, but, surely, in those manifestations 
a man is ephemeral ; they could not survive the body. Yet those very things 
are about all that most people know of their close friends, it seems to me. To 
lose a friend is indeed a heart-rending loss under any circumstances. But 
when one is looking far forward, to other lives beyond the gates of death, 
what explanation is there for the instinctive longing we see in so many hearts 
to perpetuate the intimate relations of the present life? Since most people do 



211 

not make their connections with the real man inside the friend, but rather with 
that man's wardrobe, so to speak, why should it seem to them so important to 
have access to that wardrobe in another life? In the family we are imagining 
it is probably the mother who instantly rejects the theory of rebirth because 
she could not tolerate the idea that any other woman might be the wife of her 
husband or the mother of her sons; they are hers, inalienably. Why should 
this new theory try to take them away from her? Clearly, the fact is that, if 
she could once grasp the significance of it all, these troublesome but treasured 
possessions of hers would, for the first time, come before her vision as they 
really are ; she would know them and reverence them for all the reality there is 
in them for the first time she would actually have some connection with 
them. 

"Wardrobe," rejoined another, "is just the term I was seeking to describe 
my observations about the basis of friendship as it is commonly known. Mr. 
A meets a stranger, Mr. B, about whom he knows nothing, and he is obliged 
for business reasons to form a quick decision as to whether or not Mr. B is 
trustworthy. There is at least an even chance that his first impression may 
be right. Suppose he decides against Mr. B, who is, in fact, a model of all 
that is dependable, this does not indicate that Mr. A's decision was wrong as a 
guide for his own conduct. Mr. A may instinctively know that if he himself 
were placed as he sees Mr. B placed, he himself would need watching. In 
that case he will always be suspecting the motives and actions of Mr. B, and 
as men cannot make a satisfactory connection under such circumstances, it is 
quite as well that he should decide against having anything to do with Mr. B. 
On the other hand, suppose that Mr. B passes the first, instinctive test and is 
accepted as a good associate ; does Mr. A come to know him more and more 
intimately for the man he really is? Seldom. What Mr. A probably does, 
instead, is to turn the spot-light of his attention on externals, that is, to use 
the term that was given us, on Mr. B's wardrobe by which I mean his 
manner of speaking (and how it happens to affect Mr. A) ; upon his readiness to 
be amusing or patient (at the point where Mr. A specially demands such 
consideration); upon his willingness to give in money, time, sympathy (espe- 
cially on Mr. A's demand). From such impressions Mr. A makes his picture of 
his new friend. It is, we can see, nine-tenths illusion. Indeed, what are those 
impressions but perceptions of how he himself feels toward the object which 
he has created and labelled Mr. B? What basis for lasting, eternal friendship 
can there be in such a relation?" 

" None," quickly answered another man, with just a shade of heat in his tone. 
"It seems to me that your Mr. A is a man of straw. Do you claim that a group 
of men like ourselves really know one another so slightly?" 

"Shall we give five minutes to a silent test of that?" asked the previous 
speaker. "Do you all agree that it shall be silent?" All assented. The test 
was outlined thus, each man to select some other one there present; to ask 
himself in all sincerity what there is in that other which sometimes chills, or 
repels, or "gets on his nerves"; to insist on pulling out before his own eyes the 



212 

feelings of which he is conscious; then to search honestly for their origin. How 
many can be traced to some time when he saw that man talking confidentially 
and overheard a laugh or an exclamation of contempt which he fancied might 
refer to him? Or to the time when, without giving his reasons (which may 
have been of the best), that man spoke of an unknown person in a manner 
which was most displeasing. Might he not presume to look at me in that way? 
To speak of or to me in that way, some day? Let each sift, silently, the ground 
for his studied withholding of confidence from his friend. At the end of five 
minutes the clock will be striking the hour, that ends the test. We agreed to 
say nothing, but let us also agree that each man who finds in himself no trace 
of these subterranean feelings shall stand while the clock chimes. All threw 
themselves into the test ; there was a tense silence which grew deeper with each 
passing moment. The chiming of the clock came as a relief to many; each man 
looked at the clock-face, none at his neighbour; nobody rose. 

A hearty, honest voice broke the silence: "That was the kind of test I like, 
and conclusive as far as it went, but it appears to me to be only half of the 
truth, and the negative half, too. There must be a way to get to know, and so 
to trust, the reality within one's friends; and I doubt whether it is either 
difficult or recondite. My dog does it at one spot, and does it very well. I 
should like to develop the counterpart of the very faculty he has. He knows 
all my friends by smell, and by something more, I believe. That additional 
something appeals to me as a faculty which man doubtless had, and has lost 
through his material development. If so, being latent it can be awakened and 
brought into use. Was it not H. P. B. who frequently told of making her way 
about, on occult errands, by the use of what she termed her 'occult nose?' As 
I remember it, she would have the feeling that she was wanted to go to a 
certain person and give help, or to a certain place, but often she had no in- 
formation as to where that place was, outwardly, or where that person dwelt; 
she would start, and 'follow the currents' until she reached her destination. 
That seems to me the use of the faculty I want to cultivate ; the fact that she 
had gained it helps me to believe that I, too, might. I suspect that after I have 
worked at the problem as hard as I can, with the aid I can get from the dog's 
end of it, I shall find the next clues I need, ready to hand. They may already 
be awaiting me in the article on 'Odorigen and Jiva' in Five Years of Theosophy 
which I never really tried to master. It was from there, probably, that I got 
my notion of the dog's consciousness as susceptible to differences in auras. 
It seems to me unquestionably true that a man's consciousness is very limited, 
when compared with that of the higher orders of animals. He admits that 
different breeds of dogs far surpass him in acuteness of smell, hearing, sight 
a natural inference is that this greater acuteness has its counterpart in extension 
of consciousness. On the spiritual plane, I suspect that man, though now 
lacking even the notion of anything to be perceived there, has an avenue of 
entrance that is peculiarly his own, when he is ready to claim it. Perhaps his 
limitations on the physical and psychic planes of consciousness are intended to 
narrow his outlook on those planes, so that the rising tide of life, whenever he 



TALKING OF REINCARNATION 213 

contacts it, may wash him, even resisting, to that further shore where there is 
an entirely new field of conquest and exploration opening up for him, at the 
very time when the physical world has few more to offer him." 

" Do you mean that mankind is too busy in its various pursuits to adventure 
on those higher fields, where leisure must be essential to any continuous 
endeavour?" asked a man who is chained to a desk for long hours, and goes 
home to equally engrossing and taxing family cares. 

"No, my friend. It seems to me that what man needs most in order to 
start on the real adventure, the' quest of spiritual life, is not leisure from work 
but leisure from himself. The dog has so much more of that than the average 
man has. Man is so much in the toils of what the psychologists call the 
reverie, an incessant churning of the mind, in which, as they put it, thought 
will almost irresistibly 'circle about the beloved Ego,' except a man hold 
it firmly and continuously in check by the will. There come breaks in this 
reverie, caused by some practical decision that must be made and acted upon, 
but following that, interest and attention fly back to this unproductive and yet 
.engrossing churning of feelings, fears, and hopes all centring in that self 
which is the rival of the man's true centre, and most of the time the successful 
rival. Now if a man were to make himself at leisure from all this interior 
conversation with self and those imaginary colloquies with others which use 
up so much nerve-force and mental-time, who knows what higher planes 
of consciousness he might not be able to reach, and what acquaintances he 
might not be able to make there?" 

" It is a veritable Niagara of self- reference that some of us have to encounter," 
said the man in the corner. "That makes the task big enough to be worth 
doing. It ought to be really easier to galvanize the will for this than for 
insisting on having one's own way, about some petty plan or other. One 
method of accomplishing it might be the determined effort to become proficient 
in the recognition of different 'atmospheres' the way the souls of our 
friends pierce through the veils of- illusion which surround us. When I had 
once learned to do that to some extent, I might also make it a means of real 
self-knowledge. I am sure that I am not the creature around whose moods and 
prejudices and fears that hateful daily reverie centres. I, myself, am quite 
another individual one who has often been on earth before, in many dif- 
ferent settings; and hampered, perhaps, in all my recent lives by an equally 
insistent and useless reverie (one that would not in the slightest interest me 
this time), centring around some equally unrepresentative personality. It 
certainly is not sensible in me to consent to having this stranger monopolize 
my earth-time and interfere with the work that I originally came into incarna- 
tion to do." 

"Hold up, right there, please," begged the father of the large family. "Are 
you preparing to throw down all your taxing duties and to start life anew, for 
the soul? Do you think that would be right?" 

"No," replied the other, "I should not regard such a plan as either right or 
sensible. When it comes to a question of dropping duties, I think we can 



214 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

always be sure that this is not the soul's way or wish. None of my duties 
requires that I should maintain this exclusive chatter about myself. At the 
moment I cannot think of a single duty I have which would not be better 
performed if I could stop that silly reverie-movie. How could I have any 
duties except those of my real self which, to give it a generic name, I might call 
the reincarnating ego? If that real individual inside me had full control of the 
whole mechanism, I suspect that for the first time my duties would be properly 
done. The problem for me has been how to bring that about atmospheres 
may be my clue. The starting point that occurs to me is this: decide what to 
disregard in the friend I seek to know; what to rate, on first trial, as unim- 
portant and what may go deep. I suspect that my friend's real motive would 
be the deepest thing in him that I could hope to recognize. In the search for 
that, I could call upon my mind, often such a hindrance, to help intuition in 
locating my friend's real goal that for which he so longs in his heart of 
hearts that he is sick, at times, because so little of it is reflected in his daily life. 
There I ought to find my clue to the real man, the one I want to know this time 
and next time. That method could, I suppose, be extended to myself, also, but 
with myself I should have to go further. I know that I am responsible for 
what goes on in my everyday working consciousness. To what extent do I 
keep it at the level where the will and desire of my real self can control outer 
acts and thoughts? Am I doing my daily duties as mine (the joy or burden of 
my everyday self), or as those given to the real man, through which something 
of the inner world might come into embodiment here? I wonder whether I 
have been talking only to myself; does this appeal to any one?" 

" It means a great deal to me," said a boyish voice. " It reminds me of my 
dear mother's frequent saying, All the lessons of the spiritual life may be 
learned in the nursery and the garden. What you, Sir, have been saying 
meant to me a garden-lesson, that we had to distinguish between the an- 
nuals and the perennials and treat each accordingly. Surely the annuals are 
not to be despised ; they have their place in every garden, just as the personality 
has in every man's nature. Since we cannot function without it on the material 
plane, it must have due care, but to treat its will and its notions as those of an 
independent and persisting entity would be poor management, from a gar- 
dener's point of view." 

"Now, please," urged another youngster, "make this talk practical before 
it is time to close. I am not asking to have everything worked out in detail, 
like a topographical chart, but I greatly want to get the points of compass, 
as it were, on this matter, so that I can go over the ground in my own thinking, 
and make applications." 

"Suppose we start at that with an experience well known among literary 
men and artists" said a quiet voice that was seldom heard in these dis- 
cussions until they reached the point of proposing "to do something about it." 
"Take the unsigned paintings of one of the old masters; there are art critics 
who can say, positively, 'This is a piece of work by Leonardo, done at about 
such and such a date.' There is no mystery about it; this man has so steeped 



TALKING OF REINCARNATION 215 

himself in the work of some few artists that he knows the intimate characteris- 
tics of those men knows them fully as much in their outlook on life as in all 
their fine shades of technique. He knows clearly, unhesitatingly, the manner 
in which the great stream of life-force that played through them, moulding 
them where it could to its will, was expressed, coloured, and refracted by each 
artist's inner nature and his outer personality. By long study and much 
loving brooding, he knows how the artist saw life and how he depicted what 
he saw. Picking up again a good term that has just been used, we might say 
that he knows the artist's atmosphere. Were it worth while to study the few 
remaining literary puzzles, in that way, I am convinced that there would be no 
difficulty about solving the authorship of every one of them provided, of 
course, that their real author had left enough signed work to mark his type of 
genius. 

"But there is something else to be done that appeals to me as so much more 
worth the while of those who have the great advantage of the light which 
Theosophy sheds on this whole matter. Why should not those of us who 
believe in Masters learn how to recognise their individual work and expressions, 
by this very study of 'atmospheres'? That would give us another avenue to 
them. We have many letters by Master K. H. (in The Occult World}; several 
that are ascribed to Master M ; there are the New Testament sayings of the 
Master Christ. Where else do we find writings with the characteristic feel of 
any one of these Masters? It was by Masters, H. P. B. stated, that she was 
helped to write The Secret Doctrine. Do we ever ask ourselves, by which; and 
where it is that their work appears? Then we have Light on the Path and 
Through the Gates of Gold: the original editions of these indicated that they 
were 'written down by M. C.'; but through what member of the Lodge were 
those truths put into the world? Surely the atmosphere of the one who in- 
spired those books must be in them; we could get to know that. 

"Please let me say with much emphasis that what I am wishing to propose 
is not that we should start a guessing match, and try to attach some names 
to the real authorship of those books. The name, were it ever given, could 
have value for us only as confirmation of conclusions reached through our 
atmosphere-studies. It is the heart that must be used in such study; to try 
it with the mind would be as useless as to climb up a ladder that only reached 
part way. The mind at its best cannot reach to the world in which the Masters 
live; the heart at its best can learn the way there. We must train the heart to 
go, for the only way in which we can know anything truly, whether beast or 
bird or some being of a realm higher than this earth, is to know it where it lives. 
_"For that reason there are advantages in starting such research at a point 
closer to our own life and experience than Masters are. We might do better 
to begin with the writings or sayings of someone like Mr. Judge. There is 
abundant material for us. Take the magazine he founded and conducted, 
The Path; it contains articles signed by him, from which one may learn to 
sense his distinctive but in some respects elusive atmosphere then he 
contributed many others which he did not sign. Which are they? Or if that 



216 

out-of-print magazine is not accessible to the student, he might be able to use 
the QUARTERLY for a similar purpose. There are many unsigned articles; 
who writes them? No one would be really helped in the least if one of the 
editors of the magazine could be persuaded to violate the confidence of those 
authors and to name each of them in turn. Names are not the point. Be- 
sides, names change, life after life; those of to-day give no hint of what the 
yesterday names were, nor of those we may know to-morrow. Atmospheres 
do not change with the changing names. Really to know the characteristic 
expressions of the reincarnating ego might be our bridge over to the clues that 
we want next time, when we return to earth-life with no brain-memory of the 
very things we want most to know. The arctic explorer makes a cache of 
supplies as near to his goal as practicable, so that he may risk the longest 
possible absence from his base. Looking forward to next time, this study 
might so serve." 

"That is just it," said one of the newer members. "So much knowledge is 
now available; if one could only record it in a letter addressed to the man whom 
he is next to be, and find a trusty postman who would faithfully deliver 
the letter, in due time!" 

" In this case," replied the older man, "the granting of your wish appears to 
have been provided for. Are not the Skandhas both letter and postman? 
Everyday we determine what to record with them for next time. The letter 
you propose might never get the ear of the man for whom you would write it 
he might not be able to read at all; or he might find your present method of 
expression too clumsy to contain any truth that he cared to dig out of it. The 
Skandhas are sure to have a very active part in that new life; we might say 
that they will put directly into the new life current anything to which we give 
that quality of force and attention which builds their structure. There is 
another side of this that one often prefers to forget. If you could post the 
letter you propose, you would scan very carefully every word you put into it, 
but many untruths and false desires are heedlessly allowed to go into the 
making of those skandha-records, I fear. This would seem to lend support to 
the theory already advanced that the trouble with many of us is that we do not 
really believe in reincarnation because we plan far better when we are 
dealing with temporal things which we know will recur and should be provided 
for." 

"Could we, for that very reason, go back to the matter of atmospheres? 
I have been wondering whether a sensible starting point might not be one 
close at home, say in my business. There are always personal problems 
there, whether one looks down, up, or alongside. Perhaps a study of at- 
mospheres would help to solve them." 

"Doubtless it will," replied the former speaker, "when the art has been 
mastered. As a starting point, it would introduce some needless difficulties 
that are hard to deal with. Most of us are so lacking in faith and flexibility 
that we need to begin such a practice with conditions as favourable to success 
as can be devised. For that reason it is better to start our experiment with 



TALKING OF REINCARNATION 217 

those who are sufficiently developed, spiritually, to have a clearly defined 
individual atmosphere. In learning a new language, one needs to have become 
really at home in it before he can fully understand incomplete bits of conversa- 
tion, such as those that float to him, from all sides, at a crowded street-crossing. 
So with studying atmospheres, the distinct, clearly denned ones are best 
adapted to our purposes, at the start, and also much more remunerative 
to the student." 

"It gives me an uneasy feeling to hear atmospheres discussed," admitted a 
visiting member; "at home I am surrounded by artists with much tempera- 
ment, who continually talk to me about what they call 'atmosphere' in a 
picture. There seems to be nothing vague and illusive about the identification 
marks to which you are here applying the term." 

"Thank you," rejoined the previous speaker. "I intended to cover that 
point. I am glad of the chance to explain that I did not mean to imply that 
most people lack atmosphere, there are many who fairly exude it as one 
approaches them. The distinction I was trying to make is that they have none 
of their own. Perhaps that is why they use common property so freely! I 
should say that they were, all their lives, and quite .unconsciously to themselves, 
drawing from a general store; it may be the atmosphere of the city in which 
they live, or of their church, or of their social set. Like a sponge, they are full 
of the particular liquid in which they are immersed; they drip with it. But 
squeeze that out, and there remains nothing but the sponge. At present 
there would appear to be a prevalent world-atmosphere which few have been 
so fortunate as to escape, an atmosphere of psychic churning which gives 
the unpleasant suggestion that somewhere there must be forming a kind of 
redolent psychic cheese. That, however, would appear to have been an- 
ticipated as one of the results of the termination of several great cycles which 
came just before the beginning of this century. I take it that H. P. B. had 
this very condition in mind when she said: 'In a few years . . . psychologists 
will have some extra work to do, and the psychic idiosyncrasies of humanity 
will enter on a great change.' x To get real atmosphere there must be a 
cohered individuality which reacts consistently to the demands made upon 
it on all the different planes of being. So Mr. Judge is a good starting point." 

"His own account of his first contact with H. P. B. would be to the point 
here," said another. "I wish I could quote his words, but the idea was that 
he said to himself, So this is where the lines are laid for the work to be done 
this time. We might imagine that he had quickly recognised a, to him, famil- 
iar atmosphere." 

"Forgive me," begged the man with the dog, "if I bring my dog forward 
again. He seems to me to illustrate that very type of perception. When 
Mr. Judge got the clue to his life-work, he knew it for what it was; he had 
brought over the 'scent,' if I may so express it, for Lodge force. I do not 
imagine for a moment that his personality thereupon obligingly saw things in 
those terms, and helped him in his quest. There must have been a never- 

i Lucifer, November, 1887. 



2i8 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

ending battle at that point: but when his heart knew the goal, I suspect that 
there was really only one question, how to get there. That is far, far 
beyond my divided nature; sometimes my goal is clear, and then, another part 
of me being uppermost, it looks like a bleak summit which it were folly to at- 
tempt to climb. I very much want to cut out that oscillation of desires, 
and there my dog gives me confidence. He will sit up beside me when my 
friend with the shiny high-powered car invites us both to take a spin, - 
looking as proud as though all those smart trappings were merely an expression 
of his fine dog-breeding. I always thought that he delighted in the size and 
power of the car until I read a plea against the folly of imputing human inter- 
ests to animals. That led me to watch more closely. I found that he would 
wear the same expression in my uncle's old buggy which is washed only once a 
season and has no .springs left. So I concluded that, far from considering 
appearances in vehicles, his classification would be 'a discriminating distinction 
between the odour of gasoline and that of the stable.' That species of freedom 
from the tyranny of appearances, that concentration of interest, is something 
that I want to acquire and to apply to the things of the real life, regarding 
outer trappings only because the real man has to use them and so must give 
them their due, but with no interest in them." 

"A freedom we could all join you in wishing to reach," added a friend. 
"But it would seem that every year the way back to such simplicity and 
directness becomes more blocked. The psychologists seem never to tire of 
presenting new selves that must be reckoned with. The Seven Principles 
seemed a bit complicated, once; but when the psychologist sets to work at one 
of them, the mind, for instance, and presents you with a constantly functioning 
and mutually hostile set of minds which he labels 'the animal mind, the child 
mind, the savage mind, and the traditional civilized mind' the outlook is not 
encouraging. After delving into a few books on the new psychology, I was 
thankful to turn back to Theosophy, and to its warrant for declaring that I 
myself am something quite different from the sum total of all that evolutionary 
heritage. It has spurred me on to devote more attention to my other strain of 
heredity, that from above the source of all in me which endures, the only 
one of me which it is in the least worth while to please." 

"Time to close," said the faithful time-keeper, firmly. 

"One second, please," begged the irrepressible one; "one thing more must be 
said. We have all been thinking it, but I want to say it out in words. I want 
to call for three cheers for the kind fate that gave us to know about reincarna- 
tion. There are difficulties to be faced, and new lessons to be learned; the 
prospect of being an orphan from T. S. teaching next time appalls me too, as 
the possible result of failure to make the best use of it now. But, again, I want 
to say, Three cheers! We are alive; we know; we can build for the future with 
the bricks that have been put into our hands." 

A. B. C. 



BERGSONISM AND MORALITY 



IF this study corresponded faithfully to the inspiration from which it 
proceeds, it would express at once a great admiration and a great in- 
quietude: admiration for the thinker of genius the word is not too 
strong who has renewed the terms of the philosophical problem ; inquietude be- 
fore the solutions, expressly formulated or implicitly supposed, which he brings 
to this same problem." 

Such is the introductory paragraph of a recent French book, 1 devoted to the 
discussion of M. Bergson's doctrines in their relation to ethics, a subject 
which M. Bergson himself has been careful to avoid. Admitting the audacity 
of his enterprise, the author, M. Rodrigues, represents himself as having, in his 
analysis, "satisfied too deep a need for anyone to be reproached for having 
undertaken it." The inquietude of which he speaks is the direct result of his 
conclusion that Bergsonism is immoral or rather unmoral in its implications. 

Obviously, such is also the conclusion of the Roman hierarchy, which has 
placed M. Bergson's works on the Index. It is the conclusion presumably of 
the French Syndicalists, who preach the violent overthrow of the social order 
and honour M . Bergson as one of their prophets ! It is the conclusion apparently 
of those Pragmatists who praise M. Bergson for doing the very thing which 
fills M. Rodrigues with inquietude, namely, for reducing the mind to the level 
of a mere instrument of action, for refusing to admit that the mind can have 
any intuition of reality. One recalls in this connection the generous praise 
lavished by William James upon M. Bergson. Here at last was a meta- 
physician after his own heart, a philosopher who located reality, where it 
belonged, in consciousness, and classed mind and matter together as limitations 
of consciousness, which yields to illusion in admitting itself to be thus limited. 

But, asks M. Rodrigues, how are we going to discover any guide to conduct 
in a universe where nothing is fixed, nothing is stable, where, in the words of the 
old Heraclitus, "everything flows, nothing abides"? If anything seems to 
abide, like a mountain or a concept, be sure that it is an illusion, a dangerous 
and brutal illusion, since it is a snare for life. Life is forever falling into such 
snares, forever yielding to the temptation to imitate matter, to wall itself up in 
solid encasements like the oyster, to retire into" a back-eddy instead of moving 
with the flood. Matter is the limitation of life, and mind is the reflection in 
consciousness of that limitation. How, then, are we to expect the mind to 
frame an ideal course of action for consciousness, when mind is, by its very 
definition, the reflection of the inhibition of consciousness? Yet where else, if 
not to the intellect, are we to look for a moral guide, for an ethical standard? 

M. Rodrigues frankly confesses that he does not know where else to look. 
He seeks in vain for some recognition of the authority of the intellect in the 
published works of M. Bergson. Ergo, he concludes that Bergsonism is a 

1 Bergsonisme el Moralitl, by Gustave Rodrigues, Paris, 1922. 

219 



220 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

philosophy of anarchy on the moral plane, that "it translates, more faithfully 
than any other system, the aspirations or at least some of the aspirations of our 
epoch," the confused desires of men everywhere for liberation from all trammels 
and restraints, scientific and social. 

There is, indeed, an ethics, a morale, which can be deduced from the Berg- 
sonian doctrines, but, he insists, what a morale it is! Considered exoterically 
(to use his distinction) , success in outwitting matter is the great criterion ; and 
in this respect, it seems that M. Bergson concedes to the mind a certain value. 
For, by providing consciousness with a clear perception of matter, the mind 
enables consciousness to act upon matter with increasing effectiveness. There 
is no question here of sympathy or of disinterestedness, which we are accus- 
tomed to think of as typically moral qualities. There is question only of craft 
and sharpness. 

But that is the exoteric ethics, what of the esoteric (again M. Rodrigues' 
term)? M. Rodrigues finds the esoteric even more dangerous. Consciousness 
in Bergsonism is absolute freedom. We know it for the most part only through 
its contact with matter, which in its pure state is absolute necessity. If con- 
sciousness can be conceived as having any ideal end at all, it must be to regain 
its lost heritage, its primordial liberty; it must disentangle itself from mind and 
matter; it must exist, withdrawn into its true nature, without object and with- 
out form. This is not a new theory even in western metaphysics. For ex- 
ample, Plotinus develops it in other language in his doctrine of union with the 
One as the end of all souls. But it is new to the schools of the modern West, 
and it expresses a state so remote from the ordinary mental moulds, that 
M. Rodrigues may be pardoned for thinking of it as an aberration. For, setting 
aside the difficulty of comprehending such a state at all, he asks, what could be 
the only possible concern of such a consciousness? Itself the sole concern 
of such a consciousness would be itself! The Ego would expand in " pure time " 
to embrace the whole of itself in an ever-present and immediate intuition. 
What is more, there could be only one Ego, or, at least, every Ego would be 
absolutely self-sufficient. If the exoteric ethics of Bergsonism be nothing but 
craft and cunning, M. Rodrigues thinks that the esoteric is the acme of self- 
absorption and egotism. 

All this is most interesting to the student of Theosophy, first, because 
M. Bergson has so often expressed ideas in harmony with Theosophy, and 
secondly, because, in the present instance, M. Rodrigues is in so many respects 
obviously right. 

M. Bergson's supreme contribution to modern thought has been to draw the 
attention of men away from the periphery of the universe towards its centre, 
away from the forms, mental and material, in which consciousness has been 
incorporated, back to consciousness itself as the reality transcending all forms. 
For, if M. Bergson will pardon an analogy drawn from geometry, the infinite 
whole is greater than any of its finite parts. Life is greater than any one or 
any sum of its incarnations, and in this earth-bound age, anyone who can ex- 
plain this to us performs a real service. 



BERGSONISM AND MORALITY 221 

Again, in his re-assertion of the intrinsic freedom of life, M. Bergson has 
given man a vision of his immemorial birthright. In truth, man in his real 
being is mightier than the whole of objective nature, with all its necessity and 
all its "laws." Man is not bound like the swarms of molecules, to do perpet- 
ually the same thing over and over again. In like manner, man is greater than 
any of his "vehicles," greater than his physical body, greater than his "body" 
of passions and emotions, yes, greater even than his mind, with which so often 
he identifies himself. No ideal of the mind, however glorified it may seem, 
can possibly represent for man the limit of his attainments. Man is free and 
his powers are infinite. It is, indeed, well to tell him this. 

But like many things which are "well," it is also dangerous. And M. Berg- 
son's method of presenting his doctrines does not lessen the danger. Man is 
free and infinite in potentiality, but not yet in action. Freedom and immortal 
growth are divine things, and they must be earned by an age-long probation 
through contact with matter. M. Bergson does not hide his contempt for 
matter. For him it is inhibition and necessity and mechanism, a snare and 
a delusion. But in that ancient metaphysics, which according to tradition was 
born of the Mysteries, matter is represented as something other than such an 
absolute evil. It is the Nature of the manifested world ; it is limitation certainly, 
but also it is the principle of discipline evolved by the Self for Its own in- 
struction; it is the Hall of Learning. "In the Sankhya philosophy, Purusha, 
Spirit, is spoken of as something impotent, unless he mounts on the shoulders 
of Prakriti, Matter." 2 And in the Secret Doctrine, Prakriti is spoken of as 
coeternal with Purusha in essence, as being the negative pole of a process, the 
positive pole of which is Purusha, so that the two are graduated degrees of the 
same substance. 

M. Bergson comes dangerously close to emulating Mrs. Eddy by denying 
matter altogether. For this denial is not as harmless as it would seem, and M. 
Rodrigues has made quite clear some of the consequences, which a logical 
intelligence can draw from it. 

The first consequence, from which proceed in turn all the others, is the denial 
of the power of the intellect to conceive Truth. For, if matter be nothing but 
illusion, and the mind be an instrument fashioned in the likeness of matter, it 
must follow that the mind can conceive nothing but illusion. But, in the 
ancient metaphysics, it is said that Cosmic Mind or " Mahat is the first product 
of Pradhana or Akasa," the "noumenon of the sevenfold, differentiated Pra- 
kriti." 3 It is from Mahat, the Logos, that the lower states of objective matter 
are derived. And it is a direct emanation of Mahat, we are told, which informs 
the animal man and makes him in turn a presiding genius of his planet. It is 
the presence within him of a ray of Mahat, which makes man a self-conscious 
being capable of choosing his acts. In short, pure mind is not the reflection of 
gross matter. It is gross matter, which is the reflection, more or less distorted, 
of pure mind, and mind in its essence is the reflection of the Eternal. 

1 Secret Doctrine, Vol. I, p. 247. 
*Ibid, Vol. I, p. 256. 



222 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

It is a reflection, therefore tinctured with illusion. But, if it cannot contain 
the true representation of reality which would be a contradiction of terms 
it can symbolize reality. By perceiving the correspondences between the 
higher and the lower, it can bring light and meaning to the darkest crannies of 
the material world. 

Of course, the brain-mind of our daily experience is not interested in corre- 
spondences. It tends to harden by contact with gross images, to take on the 
colour of what it perceives. And M. Bergson properly directs his scorn against 
the pretentions of the brain-mind to any knowledge of the real. But intuition 
of the real cannot possibly be wholly devoid of the higher intellectual elements. 
In the^most exalted states of intuition, the intellect must, indeed, be absorbed 
into that Will, into that Life which is the One Reality; but absorption is a 
transmutation of form: can we imagine intellection, in its essence, being absent 
altogether? The Kabalistic axiom indicates that the animal becomes a man 
before it becomes a god. 

It appears that M. Rodrigues, the Roman hierarchy, the Syndicalists, and 
the Pragmatists have some justification for regarding Bergsonism as unmoral. 
Without the higher mind, without the faculty of choosing in accordance with a 
standard, liberty can become nothing but license and life can become nothing 
but death. 

After all, why should we always think of the mind as such a fixed and im- 
movable thing ? Cannot standards retain their value and still change their forms 
with the changing needs of the race? What else is evolution, creative evolution? 
From a certain point of view, is it not Nature which evolves the matrix of 
life, rather than life itself? 

M. Rodrigues has much to say that is penetrating in regard to the exoteric 
ethics of Bergsonism. But his treatment of the esoteric ethics is by no means so 
just. Here he seems to reveal that very type of intellectual limitation which 
has stimulated M. Bergson to describe all intellectual activity as constrictive. 
M. Rodrigues cannot conceive how an intense contemplation of the self can 
lead to anything but egotism and the most complete disregard of all other 
entities in the universe. 

But the sages and mystics of all races and epochs, all who have really prac- 
tised this contemplation, give just the opposite testimony. By demanding of 
the self that it unlock the mystery of its being, by following the way of a self- 
consciousness ever more intense, the sage finds at last that the mystery of his 
being is one with the mystery of all being. "I am That." On the planes of 
real being the whole is not greater than its part. Without losing individuality, 
each part partakes of the full nature of the whole to which it belongs. As 
Plotinus said : " In Heaven the sun is all the stars, and again each and all are the 
sun. One thing in each is prominent above the rest; but it also shows forth 
all." 

The brain-mind, being coloured by gross, differentiated matter, with which it 
works, cannot of itself conceive that celestial union, and by a queer distortion 
names it self-absorption and egotism. Yet, there is no reason why the mind 



BERGSONISM AND MORALITY 223 

should be unable to conceive it. As a matter of fact has it not already been 
conceived by certain purified and spiritual intellects? And these have borne 
witness that here, in the depths of the Self, in "the flight of the alone to the 
Alone," is the basis of all sympathy and disinterested love, of all brotherhood. 
This is the union of souls, not in theory, but in life and in truth. So much the 
better, if the intellect can symbolize that union in theory, to aid the vision of 
those souls struggling far away on the periphery of the world. 

What conclusion, then, is one to draw? Is Bergsonism moral or unmoral? 
Perhaps it is both, moral " esoterically " if rightly understood, and unmoral 
"exoterically." M. Bergson has entered that super-intellectual domain where 
true sympathy of souls is alone possible through their union in the One Self ; and 
without such sympathy the science of ethics is but a sham. But morality only 
becomes possible when this sympathetic, unitive life becomes an ideal and ac- 
tual standard of action upon the planes of gross matter. It becomes such a 
standard through reflection in the higher intellect of man. Spirit becomes 
self-conscious by incarnating in the forms of matter. 

Now M. Bergson denies that the mind can reflect anything but matter, 
mechanism, " separateness " : there is no higher mind, all is brain-mind. There- 
fore there can be no connection between spirit and matter, since these are two 
substances eternally separated from each other, if, indeed, matter, which is 
absolute illusion, can be called a substance. There can be no vehicle through 
which spirituality can be manifested in matter; spirituality must remain for- 
ever unmanifested as a state of pure consciousness. On -the other hand, the 
life of material entities, being illusory, can give birth only to an endless series 
of illusions. In such a pseudo-existence, what other "morality" could be 
possible than that of the brain-mind striving without let to outwit matter, one 
illusion trying to outpoint another! 

How much wiser were the old Veda"ntins of India! For them, the Great 
Illusion of the material world is relative, not absolute. 

But M. Bergson is singularly reticent upon many parts of his system. He 
has not told us himself what his ethical views are. Let us hope that in the 
present connection he has been misjudged. 

STANLEY V. LADow. 



// alchemy can change dust into gold, thou marvellest; 
But asceticism is an alchemy which changes dust into God. 

MULLAH SHAH. 



Only when knowledge frees thee from thyself, 
Is such knowledge better than ignorance. 

HAKIM SANAI. 



AKHNATON THE "HERETIC" 
PHARAOH OF EGYPT 



VI 

THE NEW KINGDOM (THE EMPIRE) 

A last we come to the great "heretic" himself. Weigall says that with 
the name of Akhnaton "there comes the singing of birds, the laughter 
of children, and the scent of many flowers"; but that is one side only, 
for we hear a sterner note as well. the sound of a battle to the death, of a 
terrific combat against the Dark Forces. Akhnaton, the gentle lover of all 
that was beautiful, all that was simple and true, yet had the courage to face 
almost single handed the servants of the Black Lodge, the priests of Amen. 
Fearlessly, superbly, knowing but too well the personal danger that he ran, 
he threw into the balance all that he had and was. His own life was the price 
he paid, but he gave back to Egypt, glorified and transfigured, what was 
in reality her ancient faith, though dimmed by the mists of the passing 
ages, though long since hidden behind the thick veil of barren cult observances. 
His heart, aching for his country's jarring discords, uncovered his eyes to a 
larger vision, and from the ashes of her outworn rituals he redeemed what was 
still living, what was "eternal in the heavens" ; from the varied worship of her 
many gods he drew whatever he found of pure gold, welding it, fusing it in the 
fire of his heart, into one comprehensive Whole. Seeing only the Unity of 
Being underlying the multiform manifestations of life, his aspiration carried 
him to a loftier point in the hierarchy of existence than had been attained 
since the time of the Old Kingdom. He reached above and beyond all inhar- 
monies, all warring and separating interests, to the consciousness of One 
Supreme and Loving Father of all men, a Great Being presiding alike over the 
destinies of Egypt and of the nations of the earth; Who was not only the 
Spirit of radiant, up-springing Life, but Who was above all else the Love 
which moves and sustains the World ; W 7 hose tender solicitude for great and 
small, for man and beast and all "flying and fluttering things" throbbed and 
beat ceaselessly under the veil of simple, daily life. This splendid, unifying 
vision of a Beneficent God and Compassionate Friend, loving with an intense 
and intimate love each and every one of his creatures, such was the great 
gift which this young Pharaoh made to the world. 

***** 

It is interesting to compare the views of two different writers in regard to 
the "monotheism" taught by Akhnaton. Breasted maintains that the mono- 
theistic tendency displayed at this time was the logical result, in the realm of 
ideas, of Egypt's acquisition of world power. As there is a world-ruler so must 
224 



AKHNATON THE "HERETIC" PHARAOH OF EGYPT 225 

there be a world-god. To quote: "From of old the Pharaoh was the heir of 
the gods, and ruled the two kingdoms of the upper and lower river which they 
had once ruled. Thus they had not in the myths extended their dominion 
beyond the river valley. But under the Empire all this was changed, the god 
goes where the Pharaoh's sword carries him; the advance of the Pharaoh's 
boundary- tablets in Nubia and Syria is the extension of the god's domain. 
Thus, for king and priest alike, the world was becoming only a great domain 
of the god. ... It can be no accident that the notion of a practically 
universal god arose in Egypt at the moment when he [the Pharaoh] was 
receiving universal tribute from the world of that day." There is undoubtedly 
a great amount of truth in this so far as it goes, and outer events, such as the 
building up of the Empire, must certainly have coloured the mental concepts 
of Egypt and prepared the ground for what was to follow. But the initial 
impulse which resulted in the recognition of the fundamental unity of the 
Egyptian Pantheon sprang from a far deeper source and was incalculably more 
ancient than the passage just quoted would have us think. To give to the 
Empire, even with its universal aspect, the full credit of inspiring the idea of 
the One Indivisible Life is not only to confuse outer with inner events, but 
actually to reverse the order of these events. K. de G. Davies, going more 
directly to the heart of the matter, in that he finds himself unable to explain, 
by mere historical phases, the origin of Akhnaton's wisdom, says that we have 
no testimony, outside of a few scattered facts gathered together from the ruins 
of Tell el-Amarna, which "has been of any but secondary importance as a clue 
to the mystery of this monotheistic movement in Egypt, its sources, its per- 
sonal inspiration, its significance, its fruits." 

Petrie, referring not to Akhnaton specially but to monotheism generally,, 
throws a broader ray of light on the matter. In his little book The Religion 
of Ancient Egypt, he speaks of the different classes of gods, warning us against 
the mistake of confusing those gods which are the result of animistic tendencies 
with the really great gods who "stand on an entirely different footing." Con- 
tinuing, he says: "Were the conception of a god only an evolution from such 
spirit worship we should find the worship of many gods preceding the worship 
of one god, polytheism would precede monotheism in each tribe and race. 
What we actually find is the contrary of this, monotheism is the first stage 
traceable in theology. . . . W 7 herever we can trace back polytheism to 
its earliest stages we find that it results from combinations of monotheism." 
We shall have more to say on this particular point later on, as it has a very 
important connection with our subject, and is interesting because contrary to 
the usually accepted sequence in the evolution of religions. 

To Akhnaton, the great "monotheist," the truest and loftiest representative 
of the One God, the Divine Unity of Life, could be no other than RA, the 
"Father of Egypt," "the Limitless." Far back across the ages he looked to 
the very "morning of the world," and it was the Sun God whom he saw, whom 
he loved and to whom he gave his unswerving allegiance. He set himself the 
gigantic task of purging the land of all that was false, of all that was evil, 

3 



226 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

calling on Egypt to look back to the pure days of old, to listen to the wise 
teaching of the past. Whether he succeeded or not we shall see. 

There is a decided tendency nowadays to consider that the early Egyptolo- 
gists, who were on the whole so eulogistic, greatly overrated Akhnaton's per- 
sonal qualities as well as the importance of his religious revolution, and on the 
whole Akhnaton to-day would seem by many to be relegated to a rather 
second-rate position. Those who love him, however, are quite content to 
await his complete justification, his final coming into his own. Like most 
great reformers, Akhnaton has been called many different names by many 
different people. By his detractors he has been called a "prig," "a conscien- 
tious objector to warfare," "busied only with the saving of his own soul," "a 
narrow and dangerous fanatic," also branded as "definitely insane." His sup- 
porters call him "the first individual in history," "the world's first idealist," 
"the most remarkable of all the Pharaohs," "the most original thinker that 
ever lived in Egypt," surely a list of epithets which should give ample scope 
for choice to anyone seeking a description of Akhnaton. To students of 
Theosophy he bears the stamp of a messenger of The Lodge. Inheriting the 
throne of Egypt in 1375 B. C. he began his great work in the world at the end 
of his century, as we are told a Lodge messenger always does. But more than 
this, he came at a time of Egypt's most cruel need, when the Lodge of Com- 
passionate Ones, always tenderly mindful of humanity's distress, would most 
certainly have sent a faithful servant. We do not know definitely at what 
point Akhnaton first became aware of his mission; it is largely conjecture, but 
that he had, from the very beginning, a distinct consciousness of being in some 
way dedicated to a chosen work, there cannot be the least doubt. 

We know very little of Akhnaton's early life, but what we do know points 
to a maturity of character far beyond his years. For a long time there had 
been no male heir born to Amenhotep III and his Great Queen Tiy, though 
there had been several daughters, and no doubt much anxiety was felt as to 
the succession, so that when the little prince came at last, there must have 
been glad rejoicing in the Two Lands. He was called Amenhotep after his 
father, for it was not till much later that he took the name by which we best 
know him. From the first he was a delicate, serious child, and as he grew in 
years he loved much better to listen to the religious and philosophic discus- 
sions which went on about him, than to give himself up to pleasure, to the 
excitements of the chase, and the enjoyments of festivities as his father had 
done. For a great religious quest was firing the hearts of certain inmates of 
the Palace at this time, and it is evident that there was a select, if small, circle 
of friends to whom the discussion of religious subjects was more satisfying than 
all the seductions of the Court. Queen Tiy, her father Yuaa and a Heliopolitan 
priest named Ay were among the leading spirits also, and little by little, a few 
of the greatest nobles in the land were drawn within the radius of the new 
movement. One writer, emphasizing Yuaa's Syrian origin, sees in this move- 
ment "the Asiatic tendency to speculate in religious questions," but it would 
seem to us to derive from much nearer home, and to have arisen, in one sense 



AKHNATON THE "HERETIC" PHARAOH OF EGYPT 227 

at least, from nothing more remote than an intense and growing aversion for 
the unholy aims and practices of the Amen priesthood. According to Weigall : 
"It is possible that those more thoughtful members of the court who were 
trying to undermine the influence of the priesthood of Amen, and who were 
beginning to carry into execution the schemes of emancipation, . . . now 
endeavoured to strip Amen of his associations with the Sun ; for that identity 
was really his simple claim to acceptance by any but Thebans. The priest- 
hood on their part, it may be supposed, drew as much attention as possible to 
the connection of their deity with RA ; for they knew that none but the Heli- 
opolitan god could be advanced with success as a rival of Amen, by those who 
desired to overthrow the Theban god." 

This distrust of the priesthood of Amen had already been evident in the 
reign of Thothmes IV, though perhaps more for political than for religious 
reasons; and Amenhotep III, while contributing so much towards the worldly 
glories of this priesthood, would also seem to have had at least political mis- 
givings, for on one occasion when the High Priest of Amen, who also held the 
office of Vizier, suddenly died, Amenhotep, instead of letting the combined 
offices pass on to the succeeding High Priest, deliberately separated them by 
appointing as his Prime Minister one of his nobles, Rames, who had no con- 
nection whatever with the priesthood. This appears to have been a well 
calculated, if abortive attempt, to divide once for all religious from civil power. 
Despite these rather vague precautions however, nothing really definite was 
accomplished towards diminishing the power of Amen, for Thothmes IV was 
too cautious and Amenhotep III too indolent to deal with the growing menace 
as drastically as it deserved. 

During these two reigns, in fact even earlier, there had been still another 
tendency inimical to Amen, though perhaps unwittingly so, to those respon- 
sible for it. This was the revival of the worship of the ancient god RA- 
Horakhti blended with the as yet little recognized god ATON. We re- 
member that RA-Horakhti, or Horus of the Two Horizons, was really another 
aspect of RA himself, and his outward semblance was the Rising and the 
Setting Sun. Thus, as indicated in the "legend" of Thothmes IV and the 
Great Sphinx, RA-Horakhti had the combined attributes of RA, " Horakhti- 
Khepri-RA-Atum . ' ' 

Now once more Horakhti began to take a prominent part in the state 
religion, reinforced by the mysterious, and until recently almost unknown god. 
As a matter of fact, however, we know that ATON worship was not new in 
Egypt, and that there had long been "a special secret doctrine," an ATON 
cult at Heliopolis, though apparently unsuspected by the world at large. It 
is sometimes claimed that this secret cult had been originally nothing more 
than the adoration of the simple material sun, the physical solar disc; hence 
the ATON worshippers are often spoken of, by writers on the subject, as "the 
disc worshippers"; and though this limited view seems to us entirely mistaken, 
it is none the less somewhat uncertain how early there came to be realized, by 
the general public at least, the deeper meaning which later was unalterably 



228 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

attached. All we do know is that, historically speaking, we first become con- 
scious of this profound significance because of Akhnaton. To him ATON was 
distinctly and definitely a more transcendent manifestation of RA himself, a 
Being higher in the Scale of Life. There could be no danger of rivalry between 
their cults, no question in the minds of men of one god supplanting the other, 
since in essence they were One and the Same; RA was merged in the upper 
reaches of his own Ray. It was not a capricious fusing of two gods; their 
identity in principle had been established "before the foundation of the world." 
Akhnaton merely brought the world to a consciousness of that identity. 

Though we come across occasional references to ATON in inscriptions, they 
are not given any special prominence before the reign of Amenhotep III. In 
this reign we meet them in unexpected places. One of the Pharaoh's regi- 
ments of soldiers was named after ATON, and the royal barge which figures 
in the great water pageant already mentioned, was given the name "ATON 
Gleams." 

As to the actual name ATON, it seems to be uncertain whence it came, and 
those writers who wish to make Akhnaton's "new faith" entirely un-Egyptian, 
contend that the word ATON has a Syrian derivation and that the worship 
of ATON must therefore also be Syrian, maintaining that Yuaa, probably a 
priest of ATON, was instrumental in bringing the name of his god into promi- 
nence. They find the origin of ATON in the Syrian word Adon or Lord, 
later Adonis in Greece. These same writers will also have it that Atum, the 
Sun in the West, the Aged Sun, springs from the same source. On the other 
hand Wiedemann, laying less stress on questionable philological evidence, 
protests against the Syrianization of ATON and declares that "many things 
in this royal reformation indicate a deep seated working of Lybian influences." 
Maspero, however, sees nothing whatever un-Egyptian in the "new religion" 
which he says is "indigenous in its formulas and ceremonies. . . . The 
prayers that accompany the figure of the god, the ceremonies celebrated 
in his name, are all Egyptian. They present a character of seriousness. 
." in short he feels that the whole trend of thought is entirely in 
sympathy with Egyptian thought as we know it. We must leave this part of 
the question unanswered as being purely speculative, for up to the present 
there has been no material proof definite enough to fix beyond dispute the 
original national source of the ATON worship. 

We can imagine that the early supporters of the movement saw a great 
advantage in uniting a little known and therefore uncontaminated god with 
Horakhti, of introducing an actual name till now not generally known, for 
it was thus more difficult of association with Amen. This was the more 
necessary as the priests of Amen were endeavouring to diminish the majesty 
of RA-Horakhti by maintaining that he was simply an aspect of Amen, ignor- 
ing Amen's original obscurity as a local god. With ATON, however, there 
could be little danger of identification, and this was one of the chief desires of 
these crusaders against the priesthood of Amen. 

It is not to be wondered at if the best elements of the educated classes felt 



AKHNATON THE "HERETIC" PHARAOH OF EGYPT 229 

the strong need of a fundamental change, for there was nothing left in the 
worship of Amen which in any way filled a religious need ; indeed there was 
everything to repel religious aspiration, for the Amen ritual alone had become 
so forced and formal that the strict ceremonial cramped and froze all inter- 
course with the god. It is said that "there were no fewer than sixty rites 
which the priests of the Theban Ammon were required to perform." Further- 
more, their immense wealth had made them intolerably overbearing. We 
know that from earliest times successive Pharaohs had endowed the sanctu- 
aries with gifts of lands and property of all sorts, but that in the Empire the 
magnitude of these gifts vastly exceeded all former endowments. Frequently 
these gifts were the fulfilling of a vow, this vow being that if a campaign were 
successful the spoil would be given to the god by whose aid the victory had 
been won. Amen, whose High Priest at Karnak was "General of the Troops 
of God," naturally fell heir to the greatest share. Steindorff writes graphically 
about the every day offerings to the god, clothing and lodging were not his 
only need; he must be fed, and this apparently occupied the most important 
place in the ritual: "Originally [i.e., in earlier times] it was no doubt solved by 
the pious gifts of private persons, who brought to the god the first fruits of 
their fields and gardens, together with what was best in the products of their 
houses. But later these private gifts were thrown into the shade by the rich 
offerings which came from the state, that is from the King, to the temples 
throughout the land. Vast quantities of incense, of flowers for the adornment 
of the altar, of honey, loaves, cakes, cattle, poultry, beer, wine. ... Of 
all this the smallest portion was employed for the benefit of the god himself. 
[Italics ours.] . . . The slaughtered animals were no doubt laid upon 
the altar, in the temple court, but they were not there consumed by fire as 
burnt offerings. . . . The greater part of the food and drink that came 
to the temples was used rather for sustenance of the priests and the lower 
temple officials. Besides, out of the mass of offerings which were received on 
the great festivals of the year, a large part was employed in the entertainment 
of visitors to the temple. . . . There were processions in which one god 
solemnly visited another in his temple, and there as a matter of course was 
entertained, along with his escort, with meat and cakes." We see from this 
how luxurious the priestly life had become, and this was the more to be re- 
gretted when we remember the earnest exhortations (already quoted) of 
Thothmes III, who unquestionably foresaw a great danger and hoped to 
guard against it: "B,e ye vigilant concerning your duty, be ye not careless 
concerning any of your rules, be ye pure, be ye clean concerning divine things, 
take heed concerning matters of transgression," etc. Now, forgetful of his wise 
counsel and no longer regulated by simplicity of living, by discipline, by 
obedience to rule, by a sense of obligation to their community because of 
responsibilities imposed on them as guardians of the mysteries of the Inner 
World, they had begun to feel themselves strong enough to demand blind 
obedience from others, refusing to recognize the ever-growing tendency toward 
independent thinking. Their overthrow was thus, as we have said, openly 



230 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

and ardently sought by the best elements at court; but one thing that made 
overthrow specially difficult was the fact, to which we have already alluded, 
that not infrequently the office of High Priest of RA at Heliopolis (other 
priesthoods suffered also in like manner), was despotically and insolently given 
to a chosen favourite, a minion, of the High Priest of Amen at Thebes, who in 
thus ruthlessly enforcing his authority as supreme religious head, offended 
against all the most time-honoured traditions. For the resulting loss, how- 
ever, of a certain prestige, which the priests of Amen felt they had suffered, 
a loss evidenced in the rising tide of indignation against their tyranny, they 
considered themselves fully compensated because of the increased power 
gained by their unchecked influence at Heliopolis; that is to say that not 
only did the rich revenues of the older temple flow into the already bursting 
coffers of Amen, but an almost unlimited power was concentrated in the hands 
of the one priesthood. Small wonder, therefore, if deep public distrust and 
anxiety broke out. It is said that the Amen priesthood at this time "owned, 
roughly speaking, one tenth of the Egyptian soil, and no less than one hundredth 
part of the population (i.e., men belonging to the sanctuaries), and so dominant 
had they, as a mere institution, become, so domineering as individuals, that 
revolt against their arrogance alone, quite apart from their evil practices, was 
entirely natural. But these evil practices must have been of a nature to make 
even the bravest hesitate. We cannot suppose that the priests of Amen were 
content with what to their debased standards must have seemed the com- 
paratively innocuous pastime of perverting for their own benefit the ancient 
mortuary charms of the Book of the Dead. We know that black magic of the 
most powerful and terrible kind was an open book to them, and that it was 
unscrupulously practised; and it is hard to conceive of any country in more 
dire need of purification from the foulness of deliberate sin than was Egypt 
at this moment. 

Taking, therefore, all these things into consideration, we see in this deter- 
mined and organized crusade against the evils of the day, a direct intervention 
of the Lodge, and it is, perhaps, not too much to suppose that the little band 
of resolute men and women who stood firm and undaunted against the terrific 
onrush of evil at this time, were not only the servants, conscious or uncon- 
scious, of the Lodge, but were actors in one of the countless outer manifesta- 
tions of the great Theosophical Movement, the traces of which we are told to 
look for all through history. 

We already know the splendour of the court in the time of the " Magnificent 
One," and we can picture the young prince Amenhotep (Akhnaton that was 
to be), surrounded by luxury and laxity save for the little circle of earnest 
seekers, all of whom were people who felt with growing apprehension and dis- 
trust the arrogance, deceit and wickedness of the priests of Amen. From the 
first he was serious and thoughtful, and as he was especially loved by his 
mother who had prayed and waited for him so long, he must have been her 
almost constant companion, the sharer of her thoughts and hopes. It is certain 
also, that the priests of Heliopolis, true to their ancient traditions despite the 



AKHNATON THE "HERETIC" PHARAOH OF EGYPT 231 

burdens laid upon them, had a direct influence on the growing boy, and it 
was no doubt through them that he first learned to look back to those bygone 
days when Egypt was young and RA lived warm in the hearts of men. 

We know from portrait heads that the young prince had a beautiful, dreamy 
face; a long neck tilted rather wistfully forward, as though the owner were 
habitually deep in thought; a rather pointed chin; a sensitive mouth with a 
little droop at the corners, but a mouth which we can see would be quick 
to flash into a humorous smile; a delicate, straight nose, and a broad, low 
brow. One has to know the face well to see in it also the fearless man of action 
so familiar to us. 

Looking as we do into this really beautiful face, 1 we are sure that, as a boy, 
the young Amenhotep loved solitude, and early realized the great gifts to the 
spirit which solitude brings. He loved nature with an intense understanding 
which distinguishes him from all other Pharaohs. We feel that he must have 
spent much time wandering in the wide, luxuriant gardens which surrounded 
the royal palace, loving the flowers and the trees and the birds, and knowing 
them all by name. We feel too that he must sometimes have escaped almost 
alone and unattended, out beyond the green cultivated land which borders the 
Sacred River, out into the great, silent spaces of the desert. We can picture 
him lying quietly, hour after hour, watching the changing lights, listening with 
tense, silent sympathy to the soft patter and rush of the infinitely tiny sand 
grains, scudding past him, driven before the wind, the "still small voice" 
of the desert. Or perhaps in the cool of the evening, carried across the river 
in the royal barge, he would go to pray in the great, open, colonnaded temple 
of Luxor, so recently built by his father. Night comes swiftly in the " Beloved 
Land," and the young Amenhotep, standing in that vast, roofless, lotus- 
columned court, must often have thrilled in hushed adoration as we of to-day- 
standing there still do, at the silent approach of night. With quickened pulses 
he must have watched the rapid fading of the twilight; have seen the deep 
masses of the gathering shadows ranging themselves like unwearied sentinels 
along the great walls and in the far spaces; he must have counted the first, 
faint silvery stars as one by one he saw them swim into sight, and then sud- 
denly, silently, the purple mystery of the Egyptian night would have come. 
But we fancy that more than all else he loved the dawn. Whoever has watched 
the night fade and the early dawn creep over the wide Theban plain, touching 
with tender, shimmering lights the rough, scarred faces of the Lybian hills; 
whoever has listened to the whispered song of the palm groves as they waken 
and stir at the first approach of day; whoever in those early, unsoiled hours, 
before the full glory of the morning light, has heard the strange, untamed cry 
of the Hawk, the Royal Bird of Egypt, a cry which magically wakens old, 
old memories put to sleep long ages ago, and which, once heard, echoes forever 
after, hauntingly, whoever has wandered in the unforgettable loveliness of a 
Theban dawn, can guess a little of what was revealed to the heart of the young 

1 We speak especially of the head discovered at Tell el-Amarna by Borchardt, for the countless caricatures of 
Akhnaton can in no way represent him as he really was. 



232 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

mystic who so passionately loved all created things. We believe that at a very 
early age he dedicated himself to the work to which he gave his life, and it is 
easy to imagine that it was with the first splendour of the Rising Sun that this 
conscious dedication was made. For the boy was not of a nature to drift into 
any decision; most certainly his was the nature which sees and hears suddenly, 
violently, turning away with unalterable resolution and for all time, from 
every other call. 

So his youth, of which we really know so little, passed, but not the memory 
of the heavenly voices he had heard. He never forgot his early visions, and 
the "dreams" which he dreamed as a boy he carried forward with him when 
he became a man. Those golden secrets which were whispered to him when 
a child, he gave with a full heart to his people when he became their King. 
Listening to "the song of life" the first divine chords of which had reached 
him almost in his infancy, he stored in his memory the melody he heard, and 
he learnt from it the "lesson of harmony." 

HETEP EN NETER. 
(To be ^continued) 



In many ways this is the burden of the more ancient Scriptures the protection 
which surrounds those who know that protection is God. It was a gospel that had 
to be preached with tears and beseechings from one generation to another. No 
generation accepted it. The belief in material power was always too dense. It is 
still too dense. In the Ark of the Great Understanding the Caucasian has prac- 
tically never seen more than a symbol that has gone out of date. Lost materially 
in the Tiber mud it was, for him, lost forever. But not so. Its significance 
remains as vital to mankind as when, veiled and venerated, it stood between the 
cherubim. "THE CONQUEST OF FEAR," BY BASIL KING. 



Let also the stamp of discipline be manifest in every movement of the body; so that 
every member may keep to its own office, and in its acts not usurp that of another. 
Wherefore let not the hand speak, nor the mouth hear, nor the eye take unto itself 
the office of the tongue; but let every member so becomingly fulfil its own duty as 
not to offend the sight of onlookers. But the human countenance, since it is the 
mirror of discipline, must be so much the more carefully guarded; for any fault 
that there may be in it can so much the less be hidden or concealed. HUMBERT 

DE ROMANIS. 



THE COMING OF THE KINGDOM 

MASTER AND PUPIL 



TRANSLATED FROM. Christosophia; oder Der Weg zu Christo, 

BY JACOB BOEHME 1 

1 . Said the Pupil to the Master 2 : How may I be enabled to come to the super- 
sensible life, in order that I may see God and hear His voice? 

Said the Master: If thou art able for the twinkling of an eye to soar whither 
no created thing dwelleth, then thou shalt hear what God speaks. 

2. Said the Pupil: Is that near or far? 

Said the Master: It is within thyself; if thou but for one hour art able to still 
all thy desires and thoughts, then thou shalt hear the ineffable words of God. 

3. Said the Pupil: How will it be possible for me to hear if I remain unmoved 
by my thoughts and desires? 

Said the Master: If thou standest unmoved by the thoughts and desires of 
thy personality, then the eternal hearing, thinking- and speaking will manifest 
themselves in thee, and God heareth and seeth through thee. Thine own hear- 
ing, wishing and seeing impede thee so that thou dost not see or hear God. 

4. Said the Pupil: Wherewith shall I hear and see God, inasmuch as He is 
beyond this world and created things? 

Said the Master: If thou stillest thyself, then thou art that which God was 
before this world and created things, out of which He called into existence thy 
nature and created things; thus thou hearest and seest with that with which 
God saw and heard within thee, ere thine own wishing, seeing and hearing began. 

5. Said the Pupil: What is it then that withholds me, that I cannot thither 
proceed? 

Said the Master: Thine own willing, seeing and hearing, and that thou striv- 
est against that out of which thou art come ; with thine own willing thou sever- 
est thyself from God's willing, and with thine own seeing thou seest only ac- 
cording to" thine own desire; and thy desire obstructeth thy hearing with thine 
own inclination towards earthly, created things, and plungeth thee into the 
depths and overshadoweth thee with that which thou desirest, so that thou art 
not able to come nigh unto the supernatural and the supersensible. 

6. Said the Pupil: Whilst I remain in the world, how may I then by way of 
the natural world arrive at the supersensible state, without shattering the natu- 
ral man? 



1 Jacob Boehme (1575-1624) was a shoemaker by trade. It has been suggested that Jacob Boehme stands for 
Jacob, the Bohemian, and that although born in Silesia, he was a Bohemian by descent. His blameless life, zeal in 
religious exercises, and his great humility, were noteworthy. His writings drew upon him the persecution of the 
Lutheran Church. Madame Blavatsky, in the Theosophical Glossary, speaks of him as a born mystic, although not 
an occultist. Among the many who have acknowledged their great debt to him are St. Martin in France, and 
William Law in England. 

* The word meister signifies a teacher, a person proficient in any branch of science, or a master of an art, with much 
the same meaning as the French word maitre. 

233 



234 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

Said the Master: Thereto three things are needful. The first is, that thou 
surrenderest thy will unto God, and sinkest thyself into the depths of His com- 
passion. The second is, that thou hatest thine own will, and dost not do that 
whereto thine own will impelleth thee. The third is, that thou subjectest thyself 
in patience to the Cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, and that thou art able to 
endure the temptation of the world and created things. And if thou so doest, 
then will God speak within thee, and will lead thy surrendered will to Himself, 
into the supernatural state, and thou wilt hear what the Lord sayeth within 
thee. 

7. Said the Pupil: So I must needs abandon the world and my life, if I would 
do that? 

Said the Master: If thou abandonest the world, then thou arrivest at that 
whereof the world is made. And if thou losest thy life, and comest in the weak- 
ness of thy strength, then thy life is set in Him for whose sake thou abandonest 
it, God, out of whom it was incarnated. 

8. Said the Pupil: God hath created man for the natural life, to the end that 
he should have dominion over all created things upon earth, and that he be lord 
over all living things in this world; therefore he must indeed possess it as his 
very own. 

Said the Master: If so be that thou rulest outwardly only over created things, 
then art thou with thy willing and thy dominion like unto the animal species, 
and thou art only in illusory, transitory dominion : then thou also leadest thy 
desires toward the essence of the animal, whereby thou art infected and capti- 
vated, and likewise obtainest the nature of an animal. But if so be that thou 
hast forsaken the illusory state, then art thou in the state above illusion, and 
hast dominion over all created things on that plane out of which they are cre- 
ated ; and nothing on earth is able to harm thee, because thou art one with all 
things, and all things are alike unto thee. 

9. Said the Pupil : O dear Master, teach me how I may be able soonest to 
arrive there that I may be like unto all things ! 

Said the Master: Willingly! Think upon the words of our Lord Jesus Christ 
when He said: "Verily I say unto you, except ye be converted, and becorr.e as 
little children, ye shall not enter into the Kingdom of Heaven." (Matthew 
xvm : 3.) Now if it be that thou desirest to become like unto all things, 
then thou must abandon all things and turn thy desire away from them; and 
not desire, nor take unto thyself to possess as thine own, anything that is; 
for as soon as thou takest into thy desire anything that is, and takest it and 
unitest it with thyself as thine own, then that something is one with thee and 
weaveth itself within thee in thy will; thou art then bound to protect the 
same, and to take it unto thyself as thine own being. But if thou takest 
nothing into thy desire, then art thou free from all things, and forthwith rulest 
over all things at one time; for thou hast nothing for thine own pleasure, and 
art nothing to all things, and likewise all things are as nothing to thee; thou art 
as a child that comprehendeth not what one single thing is; and even if thou 
dost comprehend it, then thou comprehendest it without contact with thy 



THE COMING OF THE KINGDOM 235 

perception, in the manner in which God hath dominion over and seeth all 
things, and yet not one thing apprehendeth Him. 

But that thou sayest: I should teach thee how thou mayest be able thereto 
to come; consider, then, the words of Christ, when He said: "Without Me ye 
can do nothing" (John xv: 5). In thine own power thou canst not attain to 
such tranquility that no created thing can disturb thee, unless thou surrenderest 
thyself wholly unto the life of our Lord Jesus Christ, and givest over wholly 
unto Him thy will and desire, and wishest for nothing without Him: then art 
thou in the world of nature with thy physical body, with thy reason under the 
Cross of our Lord Christ, but with thy will thou wanderest in Heaven and 
standest at the end whence all created things originated, and whither they must 
again return. Then art thou able with thy reason outwardly to behold all 
things, and with thy soul inwardly: and with Christ, unto whom all power is 
given in Heaven and in earth (Matt, xxvui: 18), thou rulest in and over all 
things. 

10. Said the Pupil: O Master, the created things which live within me with- 
hold me, so that I cannot completely surrender myself, much as I may desire to 
do so! 

Said the Master: If thy will departeth from created things, then are the 
created things within thee forsaken and are in the world, and only thy physical 
body is with the created things, but thou walkest in thy spiritual body with 
God : and if thy will forsaketh the created things, then the created things in it 
have died, and live only in the physical body in the world : and if the will doth 
not introduce itself into them, then they may not touch the soul. For St. Paul 
said: " Our conversation is in Heaven" (Phil, in: 20); further, "Your body is 
the temple of the Holy Ghost which is in you" (I Cor. vi: 19); thus only the 
Holy Ghost dwelleth in the will, and the created things in the physical body. 

1 1 . Said the Pupil : If the Holy Ghost dwelleth in the spiritual will, how may 
I safeguard myself that He doth not retreat from me? 

Said the Master: Hear the words of our Lord Jesus Christ, who said: "If 
ye abide in my word, then will my words abide in you. " If so be that thou with 
thy will abidest in the words of Christ, then His word and spirit abide in thee; 
but if so be that thy will tendeth toward created things, then thou hast sepa- 
rated thyself from Him ; then thou mayst not in any other way secure thyself, 
except thou abidest then continually in tranquil humility, and betakest thyself 
into a continuous, everlasting penance, so that thou art in daily dying to cre- 
ated things, and in daily ascension heavenwards in the spiritual will. 

12. Said the Pupil: O beloved Master, do teach me how I may be enabled 
to come to such an everlasting penance! 

Said the Master: If thou forsakest that which loveth thee, and lovest that 
which hateth thee, then thou mayest forever stand therein. 

13. Said the Pupil: What is that? 

Said the Master: Thy created things in flesh and blood, as well as all those 
who love thee [and] who love thee as long as thy will indulgeth them ; these must 
thy will forsake, and consider them as enemies; and the~j~ of our Lord Jesus 



236 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

Christ, with the world's scorn which thou hatest, these thou must learn to love 
and undertake as daily exercise of thy penance; then thou w r ilt always have 
cause to hate thyself with the created thing, and to seek for the everlasting 
peace in which thy will may rest, as Christ said: In Me ye shall have peace, 
but in the world ye shall have tribulation. 

14. Said the Pupil: How may I be enabled to come to myself again in such a 
temptation? 

Said the Master: If thou liftest thyself once every hour out of all created 
things, above all sensible understanding, into the all-pure compassion of God, 
into the suffering of our Lord Jesus Christ, and immolatest thyself therein, 
then thou wilt receive strength to master sin, death, the devil, hell, and the 
world. Then thou mayest endure in all temptation. 

15. Said the Pupil: How might it indeed befall me, poor human being, if I 
might with my spiritual^ will thither attain where no created thing is? 

Said the Master, most benignly, to him: O dear Pupil, were it that thy will 
might for one hour separate itself from all created things, and thither soar 
where no created thing is, it would be clothed upon with the utmost splendour 
of the glory of God, and would in itself taste of the all-sweet love of our Lord 
Jesus Christ, which no tongue can express, and would in itself be sensible of the 
inexpressible words of our Lord Jesus Christ, from His great compassion; he 
w r ould in himself feel that for him the Cross of our Lord Christ was trans- 
formed into a tender benefaction, and would rather gain that same Cross than 
the honour and riches o the world. 

16. Said the Pupil: But what would befall the natural man, since he must 
live in the created thing? 

Said the Master: The natural man would be placed in the imitation of our 
Lord Christ, who said: His kingdom was not of this wx)rld. He would begin 
to die from without and within; from without, to the vanity and evil deeds of 
the world, and would become averse and hostile to all wantonness; from within, 
to all evil passions and envy, and would obtain a mind wholly new, which would 
ever be directed to God. 

17. Said the Pupil: But therefore the world would hate and despise him, 
because he must needs oppose it, and live otherwise and act otherwise than it. 

Said the Master: He w r ould not take that to himself as if harm befell him, 
but he would rejoice that he had become worthy to become like unto the image 
of our Lord Christ, and desire even gladly to carry that Cross of our Lord after 
Him, only that He therefor might imbue him with His most sweet love. 

1 8. Said the Pupil : But what would befall him if God's wrath were to attack 
him from within, and the wicked world from without, as befell our Lord Christ? 

Said the Master: It w r ould befall him as it did our Lord Christ. When He 
was derided and crucified by the w r orld and the priests, then He commended 
His spirit into the hands of His Father, and departed from the anguish of this 
world into the everlasting joy. Likewise would he himself penetrate into the 
abounding love of God, and through the all-sweet name of Jesus be revived and 
supported; and in himself see and experience a new world, w r hich would pen- 



THE COMING OF THE KINGDOM 237 

etrate through God's wrath. Therein would he enwrap his soul, and deem all 
things alike; his natural man might be even in hell or on earth, still his spirit 
would be in the abounding love of God. 

19. Said the Pupil: But how would his natural man in the world be nour- 
ished, and how would he nourish his own, if all the world's disfavour fell upon 
him? 

Said the Master: He receiveth a greater favour such as the world cannot 
bestow, for he hath as friends God and all His Angels, who shield him in every 
need. So also is God his blessing in all things; and if it should seem as though 
He would not, then is it but a test and Love's constraining, to the end that he 
should all the more pray to God, and commend to Him all his ways. 

20. Said the Pupil : But he loseth all his good friends, and no one is with him 
who will succour him in need. 

Said the Master: He receiveth as his own the heart of all good friends, and 
he loseth only his enemies, those who formerly loved his vanity and wickedness. 

21. Said the Pupil: How doth it come to pass that he receiveth as his own 
his good friends? 

Said the Master: He receiveth as brothers and. members of his own life, all 
the souls of those who belong to our Lord Jesus. For God's children are but 
one in Christ, who is Christ in all. Therefore he receiveth them all as bodily 
members in Christ, because they have all heavenly possessions in common and 
live as one in God's love, as branches of the tree from one sap. He will also not 
lack outer, natural friends, as with our Lord Christ. Even if the high-priests 
and rulers of the world did not desire to love Him, those who did not belong 
to Him and who were not His members and brothers, yet those loved Him 
who were capable of His words. Also would those love him and join them- 
selves unto him, even as Nicodemus did to Jesus by night, who for the sake of 
the truth loved Jesus in his heart, and outwardly was timid of the world. He 
will also have many good friends who are not known unto him. 

22. Said the Pupil: But it is indeed difficult to be despised by all the world. 
Said the Master: What now seemeth to thee to be difficult, that hereafter 

thou wilt love the most. 

23. Said the Pupil: How may it be or come to pass, that I should love that 
which despiseth me? 

Said the Master: Thou lovest now earthly wisdom, but when thou art 
clothed upon with the heavenly, then thou shalt see that all the wisdom of the 
world is but foolishness, and that the world hateth only thine enemy, which is 
the mortal life, which thou thyself also hatest in thy spiritual will; then thou 
elevatest thyself also to love such a despising of the mortal life. 

24. Said the Pupil: But how can these stand together, that a man should 
both love and hate himself? 

Said the Master: That which thou lovest in thyself, that thou lovest not in 
thyself as thine own personal self, but as a God-given love of God ; thou lovest 
the Divine principle in thyself, through which thou lovest God's wisdom and 
wondrous works, together with thy brothers. But that which thou hatest in 



238 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

thyself, that is thy personal self in which evil clings to thee; that thou doest 
because thou wouldst most gladly break up thy personality, and it would be- 
come for thee a wholly divine principle. Love hateth the personality for the 
reason that the personality is a mortal thing, and these two cannot well stand 
together, for Love possesseth Heaven and dwelleth in itself, but the personality 
possesseth the world together with its nature, and dwelleth also in itself. Even 
as Heaven ruleth the world, and Eternity, time; so also Love ruleth over the 
natural life. 

25. Said the Pupil: Loving Master, tell me, I pray, why must love and woe, 
friend and foe, stand together? Would not love alone be better? 

Said the Master: If love did not stand in woe, then it would have nothing 
that it could love, but because its own being which it loveth, which is the poor 
soul, stands in pain and woe, therefore it hath cause to love its own being and to 
save it from pain, so that it may again be loved. Also it might not be appre- 
hended what love is, if it had not that which it could love. 

26. Said the Pupil: What is love, in its power and virtue, and in its height 
and greatness? 

Said the Master: Its virtue is nothingness, its power pervadeth everything: 
its height is as high as God, and its greatness is greater than God; who findeth 
it, he findeth nothing and all things. 

27. Said the Pupil: O beloved Master, do tell me how I can understand this! 
Said the Master: That I said, "its virtue is nothingness," that thou under- 

standest when thou detachest thyself from all created things and becomest a 
nothingness to all nature and created things, then thou art one in the Eternal, 
which is God Himself; then thou perceivest Love's highest virtue. But that I 
said: "Its power pervadeth everything," that thou perceivest in thy soul and 
body when the great love is kindled in thee, for it burneth as no fire can. Also, 
thou seest this in the works of God, as Love hath poured itself out in all things, 
and is in all things the innermost and outermost cause. Inwardly, according 
to its power, and outwardly, according to its form. And that I further said: 
" Its height is as high as God, " this thou understandest in thyself, for it beareth 
thee in thyself as high as God Himself is, as thou canst see in our dear Lord 
Christ according to our humanity, who has carried Love even to the highest 
throne, unto the might of Deity. But that I also said: "Its greatness is 
greater than God"; this is also true. For where God dwelleth not, there Love 
entereth in. For as our dear Lord Christ took His stand in hell, then was hell 
not God, but Love was there and shattered death. Also, when there is anguish, 
then God is not in the anguish, but His Love is there and beareth thee out of 
the anguish unto God ; when God hideth Himself in thee, then Love is there and 
manifesteth Him in thee. And that I further said: "Who findeth it, findeth 
nothing and all things," that is also true; for he findeth a supernatural, super- 
sensible abyss, where there is no place for its dwelling, and he findeth nothing 
that is like unto it ; therefore one can compare it with nothing, for it is deeper 
than anything, and therefore it is as nothing to all things, for it is not com- 
prehensible, and because it is nothing therefore it is unfettered from all things, 



THE COMING OF THE KINGDOM 239 

and is the one good which man cannot express. But that I finally said : " He 
shall find all things who findeth it, " that is also true. It was the beginning of 
all things, and it ruleth all things. If thou findest it, then thou comest into the 
Cause wherefrom all things were derived, and wherein they exist, and art there- 
in a king over all the works of God. 

28. Said the Pupil: Beloved Master, pray tell me, where dwelleth it in man- 
kind? 

Said the Master: Where man dwelleth not, there hath it its seat in mankind. 

29. Said the Pupil: Where is it, where man dwelleth not in himself? 

Said the Master: It is the soul tranquil to its depths, when the soul dieth to 
its own will, and nothing more desireth for itself save what God wills, there it 
dwelleth. Then in so much as self-will is dead to itself, so much hath it taken 
up its abode; where formerly self-will had its seat, there is now nothing, and 
where nothing is, there God's Love alone is working. 

30. Said the Pupil: But how may I lay hold upon it without death to my 
own will? 

Said the Master: If so be that thou wouldst lay hold upon it, then it fleeth 
from thee; but if thou surrenderest thyself utterly to it, then art thou dead to 
thy lower self in thy will, and it then becometh the life of thy nature; it maketh 
thee alive according to its own life. Then thou livest, not in thine, but in its 
will, because thy will becometh its will; thou art thus dead to thyself, but livest 
to God. 

31. Said the Pupil : How is it that so few of mankind find it, when all would 
so gladly possess it? 

Said the Master: All seek it in something, as in illusory imagery, in their own 
desire, and thereto have almost all a singular natural inclination; and even 
though it proffer itself to them, still it findeth no resting place in them, because 
the illusion of their own will hath set itself in its stead, for the illusion of their 
own desire would have it in itself, but love fleeth therefrom, for it dwelleth only 
in nothingness; therefore they find it not. 

32. Said the Pupil: What is its function in nothingness? 

Said the Master: This is its function, that it penetrate without intermission 
into anything, and if it can find a place in anything which standeth still, that it 
taketh possession of, and rejoiceth itself with its fire-flaming love more therein 
than the sun in the world. Its function is, that without intermission it kin- 
dleth a fire in something, and consumeth that something, and therewith itself 
re-inflameth. 

33. Said the Pupil: O dear Master, how am I to understand that? 

Said the Master: If so be that it can kindle a fire in thee, then thou wilt feel 
how it consumeth thy personality, and because of thy fire it will be so overjoyed 
that thou wouldst rather suffer thyself to be killed than to re-enter once more 
into thy something. Moreover, its flame is so intense that it nevermore 
leaveth thee; even if it may cost thee thy present life, then with its fire it goeth 
with thee through death; and if thou didst lead it into hell, it would shatter 
hell for thy sake. 

Ml-KAI-Ml. 
(To be concluded] 



MIKE, THEOSOPHIST 



MANY years ago, in another world, it was my privilege for several 
winters to teach in a night class connected with a big and busy 
church. Like night. schools in general, this one was a queer mixture 
of many elements big unwilling boys propelled by determined parents, am- 
bitious youngsters struggling for that which their days denied them, youths 
seeking special help for their chosen careers, and finally to grip one's heart 
grown men, old or elderly slow, patient, tired trying, with pocketed 
pride and gentle gratitude, to take a trembling ineffectual step or two over 
the threshold of ignorance, into that mysterious world where people had, oh, 
word of magic! an "eddication." Half a dozen or so of these were my special 
task, and to this day I adore them collectively and individually. Most of 
them were hopelessly past all help as far as the three R's went, but their 
patience, their gentleness, and their chivalrous courtesy, are part of the per- 
manent furnishings of happy memory. Mike I remember in particular and for 
a particular reason. He was a huge pink Irish bricklayer with hands like legs 
of mutton, who broke out into cold perspirations before " It is a cat", but who 
never missed a lesson, for he had conceived the idea Heaven only knows 
where or how, and certainly without the connivance of his Rector that we 
come back to this world again and again until we have "larned it arl", and 
that therefore it might be well to get "a bit forrader loike" this time. We had 
neither of us heard of such a thing as reincarnation by that name, but the 
idea, born perhaps of Mike's Celtic prescience, struck me as agreeable and, 
moreover, as a useful long view for crystallized illiteracy to take, and it thus 
became the basic note of our humorous-friendly relation. "It's arl wrrong 
entoirely" Mike would announce, staring at his fearsome copy. "Hev oi the 
makins' of a scholard-I-dunno." But the consolations of the reincarnation 
theory never failed to cheer him up. "Never mind Mike, it all helps; we'll 
get you cut out and basted for next time anyhow." (His wife was a semp- 
stress, and this analogy appealed.) " If you can't make pothooks yet, you can 
make patience, and it will be just as useful. These idle boys who laugh at us 
tonight will have you for schoolmaster next time." "Sure and oi'll bash their 
silly heads for 'urn," Mike would threaten placidly, and bend his great shoulders 
once more to his grotesque copy. 

It was not so much Mike's faithfulness, his perseverance, or even his beau- 
tiful gratitude that endeared him : it was his extraordinary fearlessness. Night 
after night he faced his contemporaries, his lady, and, worst of all, the in- 
credibly cruel young of his species. So sure he was that God had some use 
for him in the future, that he was fain to attack the impossible in the present, 
practising detachment from immediate failures and mortifications. The atti- 
tude of this big loyal ignoramus was entirely theosophical in its freedom from 
competitive alloy, its intuition of cosmic possibilities. Who so pleased as Mike 
240 



MIKE, THEOSOPHIST 241 

when someone else did well? Who so sure that some day he too would do well? 
He had never heard of advanced courses; to "read off of a book" was a feat 
that exceeded his wildest dreams; just a pothook was all he aspired to; to "get 
the hang of this 'ere little oddment" he came night after night, week after 
week, inspired and driven by his unexplainable intuition that "work begun 
shall never pause for death." Never, never, so far as I know, did he achieve 
one decent pothook, but he opened vistas that .time could never close, and I 
send after him his prayer for others may blessings rest upon his head ! 

Mike is not the only potential Theosophist I have met, striving with ageing, 
clumsy fingers to break forged bonds, looking with prophetic vision into a land 
we call "next time"; and for them all, the Lodge has its night schools. But 
some of us are less wise than my bricklayer; we are too much occupied with 
our disabilities and not enough with our pothooks; forgetting that, though 
long views are for starting, short ones are for climbing, we lack his calm. 
Sometimes when I find myself "all balled up", I send my soul back into the 
past to recall how Mike did it. Mike never talked about "wasted opportu- 
nities"; he had too much to do. He never stood up and harangued the room 
on the elusive nature of the pothook, but with stertorous breathings and 
writhing contortions he laboured with it. He never bothered about what came 
next. He seemed to know that as an artist ignores his picture while he works 
on his background, or a musician forgets his symphony while he toils with a 
phrase, so his immediate preoccupation must be just a pothook. As the years 
pass he becomes to me an object lesson in "practical occultism," that por- 
tentous phrase with which we beginners bemuse ourselves, forgetting that our 
immediate concern is with india-rubber and bread-crumbs; that before we can 
be ready for long words like "occultism", we must practise with short ones 
like "duty," and that day by day we must work cheerfully with Siva for our 
own undoing. If we get impatient and take as Mike sometimes did a 
thumb to wipe out our copy when we find it too harrowing, we accomplish only 
a smudge. If we shed as Mike never did sentimental psychic tears over 
ourselves gardons-nous let our eyes be incapable of them! that Niobe 
has an onion up her sleeve. 

We have been told that justice to oneself is also a spiritual obligation, let 
us then be just. Here we are and here great Karma brought us. We must 
have turned some careful pothooks somewhere sometime and Vishnu 
kept them safe. By virtue of them we find ourselves once more at the foot of 
the ladder of ascent. If we think of this night school of the Lodge in the terms 
of a ladder, we need 'not be surprised that our own particular rurg is not 
always a comfortable one, or that others seem to perch with more aplomb, - 
we may suspect that gracefulness grows with each succeeding rung. 

What! blame the Master Workman's hand 
Because my mortal ills increase? 
Nay, for there yet remains one chance 
That / am not His masterpiece. 

Some day I think Mike will turn up again. With Siva's work accomplished 
and Brahma's work begun, who shall dare to say what songs may be singing, 
what pictures may be glowing, what word of God may be made manifest, when 
Mike "gits larnin'"? S. 



THE RELIGIOUS ORDERS 



XII 

ST. IGNATIUS LOYOLA 
(Part 2) 

THE efforts of Ignatius and his friends have been followed as far as their 
meeting in Venice in 1537. They were never to start for Palestine. 
After waiting the specified twelvemonth, they proceeded, as previously 
arranged, to Rome. They made so favourable an impression in Rome, by 
the sincerity of their lives and teaching, that, three years later, they were 
recognized as a new Religious Order (1540). 

The Order, thus formed, presents a type of monk different from those hereto- 
fore studied. Perhaps, to the average reader, a monk is a monk, and it is 
tedious to him to have differences pointed out that seem of no consequence. 
But, by analogy, while a bird is a bird, the man who can tell a wren from a 
robin receives real pleasure in using his eyes for that purpose. Therefore, it 
may not be an entire waste of time very briefly to re-state the distinguishing 
traits of the several kinds of monks as they were noted in an article in the 
THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY for January, 1913. 

Monasticism developed from the hermit dwellers of the Egyptian deserts. 
The name indicates this origin, as the word, "monk," comes from the Greek 
word, monachos, which means "solitary." In the west, St. Benedict, sometime 
after 500 A.D., established the first great community of monks. It is to be 
noted (i) that these monks belonged to their monastic centre; (2) that centre 
was self-contained, maintaining itself by agriculture, and various auxiliary 
trades carried on within its boundary walls; (3) the monks spent their time 
chiefly, (a) in the services known as the "Hours," which came at intervals of 
about three hours, from dawn to midnight, and, (b) in study, and, (c) in the 
manual labours of agriculture and the other work of the monastery. Strictly 
speaking, Orders patterned upon the Benedictine model are the only Orders of 
monks. But it is the custom to use the word, "monk," for any man who has 
taken a vow to live by a religious rule. 

According to that general usage, a canon would be a monk of another kind. 
Canons are the clergy connected with a church like a cathedral, where they do 
not fulfil the duties of ordinary parish clergy. Their rule imposed on them 
the services of the "Hours," and other duties, but there was no highly organ- 
ized industrial life, as in a Benedictine monastery. 

Friars (followers of St. Francis and St. Dominic) are monks of a third kind. 
They do not maintain themselves by labour, but depend upon charity. Hence 
they have no great establishments, but, generally, houses for common abode 
in cities. Individual friars go from place to place, preaching. The friars 
combine the services of the "Hours" with their labours among the poor. 
242 



THE RELIGIOUS ORDERS 243 

Neither a monk nor a friar need be a priest. But among the Jesuits, who 
are monks of a fourth kind, the professed members are all priests, educated 
priests. While the Jesuits depend upon charity, they differ from the friars in 
this matter of a thorough education, which fits them for intercourse with cul- 
tivated people of the world. The Jesuits do not observe the "Hours"; their 
labour is not in a cloister, but in the world. They have community houses of 
abode, but no fixed residence; their duty is to go where their superiors may 
send them. They wear no distinguishing garb, except the priest's habit. 

The Pope gave official approval to the Society of Jesus in 1540. A few 
months later, Ignatius, though most unwilling, was made General for life. 
It was his burning desire to form a group, every member of which should have 
direct interior connection with the true General, Christ. From 1540 until his 
death, in 1556, Ignatius laboured in every way to safeguard the Society. He 
submitted to his associates the rules and provisions he drafted, and offered 
them on the altar also, for revision. We shall examine briefly two of his writ- 
ings, the Spiritual Exercises, and the Constitutions of the Society. 

The Spiritual Exercises will probably never circulate among all classes and 
sects as has Thomas a Kempis' Imitation of Christ. It is not derogatory to the 
genuine value of the Imitation to say that it can be read and admired by those 
who have slight intention of putting it into practice. On the other hand, the 
Spiritual Exercises are just what their name indicates, a system of exercises 
for the spiritual man. Like Patanjali's Sutras, they are not a book to be read, 
but are practical directions to be carried out in their own sequence. They 
have no interest for the mere mind. Yet they form one of the greatest books 
in the world. While the phrasing of the book is that of sixteenth century Ca- 
tholicism, the principles underlying that phrasing are universal. They are 
the same principles which found expression in other epochs: in the Tao-Teh- 
King, for example, and in the Bhagavad Gita. Thus take Ignatius's introductory 
paragraph on Detachment: 

"Man was created to praise, to reverence and to serve God our Lord, and 
thereby to save his soul. And the other things on the face of the earth were 
created for man's sake, and to help him in the following out of the end for which 
he was created. Hence it follows that man should make use of creatures so 
far as they do help him towards his end, and should withdraw from them so far 
as they are a hindrance to him in regard of that end. Wherefore it is necessary 
to make ourselves detached in regard of all created things, in all that is left to 
the liberty of our free-will, and is not forbidden it; so that we on our part 
should not wish for health rather than sickness, for riches rather than poverty, 
for honour rather than ignominy, for a long life rather than a short life, and 
so in all other matters, solely desiring and choosing those things which may 
better lead us to the end for which we were created." 

The old Chinese sage, Lao-Tze, likewise, had something to say about De- 
tachment. Lao-Tze's manner of saying it is entirely different from that of 
Ignatius. But we can see, beneath that difference, the same fundamental 
idea. Lao-Tze writes: "Neither Heaven nor Earth has any predilections; 



244 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

they regard all persons and things as sacrificial images. The wise man knows 
no distinctions; he beholds all men as things made for holy uses." What are 
the "holy uses" to which Lao-Tze refers? Are they not, in the words of 
Ignatius, "the following out of the end for which he- [man] was created"? 

In the Bhagavad Gita, still another race has set down its comment upon the 
way in which man shall attain his goal. The language once more is different; 
but the truth expressed is the same: that Detachment from all things and 
events of life must be the disciple's attitude. "Thy right is to the work, but 
never to its fruits; let not the fruit of thy work be thy motive, nor take refuge 
in abstinence from works. . . . Whose heart is untroubled in sorrows, 
who in pleasures is unallured, from whom lust and fear and wrath have gone, 
that silent one is declared to be firm in soul. He who is free from over-fond- 
ness, meeting glory and gloom alike, who exults not nor hates, his perception is 
set firm." 

There are many editions, arrangements and adaptations of the Spiritual 
Exercises. All are alike in their general structure. In this article, quotations 
are made from the edition of the original Spanish, with parallel English trans- 
lation, prepared by a scholar of the Jesuit Society, the Reverend Joseph Rick- 
aby. Yet even Father Rickaby, an authority of high repute, states that he 
does not follow the exact sequence of Ignatius. He does not give his reason 
for whatever variation he has made. The Spiritual Exercises, in this original 
Spanish form, seem prepared more as a guide for the spiritual director than for 
people in general; they seem like a teacher's manual, from which the teacher 
may give out to his pupils, with caution and discretion, to this one, more, to 
that one, less. Ignatius presents a number of varied cases, different types of 
individuals, like so many problems of arithmetic. He wishes spiritual directors 
to understand the principles involved in those cases, so that they may apply 
the principles correctly to the individuals whose progress they have to guide. 
He takes minute precautions to have his principles understood. But he him- 
self understands quite clearly that the application must, in the end, be left to 
the discretion of the director. 

The Spiritual Exercises are built upon the fundamental truth that man is 
the creature of God, and, therefore, owes everything to his Creator. From 
that fundamental truth there follows a second : man should esteem all things 
and events as they help or hinder him in rendering to God the homage that is 
His due. If that sixteenth century language offend, it is quite simple to put 
the meaning of Ignatius into other terms. Thus one might say that man, 
an emanation from the Absolute for Its own purpose, is entirely dependent upon 
the volition of the Absolute. All that is emanated seems to be working back 
toward union with the Absolute; man, therefore, should prize or reject what- 
ever hastens or retards that hoped for union. 

The book is in four main divisions, to each of which he who follows the 
Exercises is to give a week. Or, if the individual has not so much leisure, all 
four divisions may be compressed into one week. In the first division, the 
aim is to bring realization of sin, and its consequence, hell. This is accom- 



THE RELIGIOUS ORDERS 245 

plished by meditations upon general and special sins, for an hour at a time, 
five times a day. The second division offers a vital choice, to remain in hell 
with Lucifer, or to escape hell through transferring one's allegiance from Lucifer 
to Christ. Here is the celebrated meditation upon the "Two Standards," 
the standard of Lucifer and the standard of the Master; or one might express it 
as the choice between the lower nature and the higher. In the third division, 
the meditations centre upon the Agony and Passion of Christ. The purpose 
of the third division is, to fire the individual's heart, and to lead him (beyond 
the mere saving of himself from hell) to enter upon the path of discipleship. 
The fourth division, under the title, "The Resurrection of Christ," leads the 
disciple to conscious union with the Master. 

The foregoing is a mere outline. Two brief quotations may give a little of 
the real flavour. The first shows the intimate and fervid communion which 
Ignatius pointed out as the disciple's goal. "The colloquy [the prayer with 
which a meditation ends] is made just as one friend speaks to another, or a 
servant to his master, now asking for some favour, now reproaching oneself 
for some evil done, now telling out one's affairs and seeking counsel in them." 
The second quotation illustrates Ignatius's plain common sense. He is giving 
directions about the posture of the body for meditation. Practically, he bids 
each to take the position that suits him best. "Enter upon the meditation, 
now kneeling, now prostrate on the ground, now lying back with uplifted face, 
now sitting, now standing, aiming ever at seeking what I want. We will 
observe two things: the first is, if I find what I want, kneeling, I will not pro- 
ceed to any further posture; and if when prostrate, in like manner; the second 
is, in the point in which I find what I want, there I will rest, without anxiety 
to advance further till I am satisfied." 

The Spiritual Exercises bear witness to his deep wisdom. In the Constitu- 
tions of the Society, Ignatius applies the same wisdom to the external affairs 
of the Order, and to the conduct of its members. The Constitutions are a 
wonderful combination of wisdom, caution, though tfulness and compassion. 
They are wonderful, also, in the completeness of their detail. St. Ignatius 
tried to provide for things that many people would take for granted, and to 
foresee possible emergencies that some would consider of no consequence. 
Take cleanliness, for example. One of the reproaches often brought against 
Religious Orders is that they encourage laziness and careless habits. The 
Jesuit Constitutions mention specifically that extreme cleanliness of person, 
and of all other things,' must be observed. The cook is enjoined to use knife 
and fork, when he prepares food in the kitchen; he is not to handle things with 
his fingers. The kitchen utensils are to be kept exceedingly clean; the knives 
are to be sharpened often. Rooms are to be swept at least every third day. 
In case of illness, the patient is to be segregated to avoid contagion. There 
are directions for guarding details of conduct which sometimes tend to become 
casual, when a number of people live together in other than a family environ- 
ment. It is stated that no one should enter another's room without knocking, 
that no one should leave his room unless decently clothed, that all clothing in 



246 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

the common wardrobe should be marked with the name of the individual 
wearer. Other small details of behaviour are mentioned: in conversation, 
members should avoid wrinkling the brow or nose they should preserve 
outward and inward serenity. Those who must confer with people of the world 
should have a companion with them; the companion is to stand a little aside, 
where all that takes place can be seen, but where confidential conversation 
will not be overheard. 

As an example of prudence and compassion in the Constitutions, consider the 
following directions to a Superior when he has to dismiss from the Order an 
unsuitable candidate. Note the completeness of the suggestions. Ignatius 
is both cautious and sympathetic. He wished to suggest some provision for 
the spiritual need of the unsuitable candidate ; he wished also to meet reactions 
that might arise in the minds of other people, whether friendly or hostile to the 
rejected man. The passage is as follows: "Three things also should be ob- 
served with regard to him who is dismissed. The first, of an external nature; 
that he retire from the House with the least possible disgrace or ignominy, 
and carry with him all that belongs to him. The second, of an internal nature; 
that the Superior take care, as far as possible, that he be sent away with mutual 
kindness and a feeling of good-will towards the House, with all possible con- 
solation in the Lord. The third; that he study to direct him with regard to 
his condition of life, so that he may enter upon some fitting way of serving 
God, either in a Religious Order, or not, as shall seem more agreeable to the 
Divine Will. In short, that he study to assist him with advice and prayer, and 
whatever else his charity shall suggest. Let three things be observed to satisfy 
the rest, whether within or without. The first is, that great care be taken, 
that no irritation be allowed to remain in anyone's mind on account of the dis- 
missal, a sufficient reason being given where it is necessary, and silence being 
observed, as far as possible, concerning all defects not of a public nature, even 
though several be discovered in the person who is dismissed. The second is, 
that attention be given lest any animosity be felt against the dismissed person ; 
and, as far as possible, that they may think no ill of him, but rather regret 
him and love him in Christ and commend him to the divine Majesty in their 
prayers that He may vouchsafe to direct him, and shed His mercy upon him." 
The blending of kindness and prudence in the foregoing passage wins hearty 
admiration. And that passage is only one example from many. Why then 
do they not win general esteem and affection for Ignatius? Why is suspicion 
of him widespread? 

This seems to be the answer to those questions. The book of the Spiritual 
Exercises is practically unknown to the world. But the world does know some- 
thing, though in curious distortion, of the Jesuit teaching about Obedience. 
And the w T orld hates the rigorous thoroughgoing interpretation of Obedience 
made by the Jesuits. Their interpretation strikes at the very foundation of 
the world's principle of action. A vow of Obedience was usually included 
among the vows of the other Orders. But it remained for Ignatius, who was 
forming a battalion of soldiers to fight under Christ, to give precision and com- 



THE RELIGIOUS ORDERS 247 

pieteness to the meaning of that vow. While other Orders also took the vow 
as to Christ, their goal was less consciously that of personal service with the 
Master. Ignatius was forming a battalion of disciples. Too much was at 
stake to risk incomplete understanding. A pledged soldier must know that 
the field of Obedience is infinite. Ignatius, therefore, with great wisdom, 
used the word "corpse" to suggest what a disciple should make of his self- 
will. He knew that in the universe there is only the creative Divine Will, 
and the devilish distortion of it, self-will. Self-will, in antagonism against 
Divine Will, is a destructive force. Through Obedience, man swings his 
effort from acts of demolition to acts of creation. Each act of Obedience, to 
one who is recognized as a superior, introduces into the moral character, as it 
were, a brick of that Divine Will. An equivalent amount of self-will is driven 
out, and is replaced by that brick of Divine Will. Gradually, self-will is 
undermined, and a new edifice is built up, strong with Divine strength. The 
world has no consciousness of Divine Will, which, in truth, is of a higher plane. 
Hence, the world can see only one half of the process that takes place in an 
act of Obedience. It can see only the lower half, the surrender of self-will. 
To the world, that lower half of the process seems a passive and negative thing 
the surrender of what one has and is until (as the world thinks) one goes out 
in extinction. 

An example of the world's attitude toward "passive obedience" (so-called) 
may be found in the Encyclopedia Britannica in the article on the Jesuits. The 
author of that article speaks of "the destructive process of scooping out the 
will of the Jesuit novice, to replace it with that of his superior (as a watchmaker 
might fit a new movement into a case)." This quotation does not express a 
wilful perversion of truth so much as a blind misunderstanding; it is misunder- 
standing of a process too high for the world's apprehension. For we can inter- 
pret in a literal sense the words of Ignatius's title, Spiritual Exercises. Taking 
the title in that literal sense, we should expect the Spiritual Exercises to accom- 
plish something that corresponds to the result of athletic exercises. Now 
athletic exercises reveal latent muscular weaknesses and potentialities; they 
teach us to eliminate weakness by developing potentiality. On their own 
interior plane, the Spiritual Exercises bring about a similar change; for they 
do nothing less than replace soft baby tissue with the enduring sinews of the 
adult man whose goal is the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ. 

Every one is acquainted with the working of self-will in very young children 
who have been neglected by their parents. But what is not generally recog- 
nized is, that while all people grow in body, only a few become mature in any 
moral sense. Few outgrow the infantile limitations of self-will. Hence it is 
possible to say that true moral maturity is the goal of Ignatius in the Spiritual 
Exercises. He planned deliberately to scoop out of a novice, babyish motives 
of action, namely, self-will. He knew that, through Obedience, self-will would 
be replaced, not by something extraneous, as a case is to the movement of a 
watch, but by a new, immortal and divine source of action springing up within 
the novice, nothing less than the very mind and will and life of the Master. 



248 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

Ignatius directs the would-be disciple at first "to act as if," to obey his Su- 
perior as if he were Christ. In course of time the "as if" will disappear, and 
the novice will have become the disciple. Thus the Constitutions declare: 
"They [who receive training] must accustom themselves to behold in all, not 
who he is whom they obey, but rather who He is for whose sake, and whom they 
obey in all, that is Christ our Lord." 

A word at least should be said to repudiate the political intriguing that has 
made the Society of Jesus malodorous. Politics was no part of the field chosen 
by Ignatius. He expressly put it on one side. But his successors were not 
true to his injunction, and the Vatican has found their infidelity serviceable to 
its own ends. 

Mention should be made too, of the mellow humanity and rich humour 
which were characteristic of Ignatius. His gentleness with the youth Riba- 
daneira was extraordinary. Ribadaneira was a wild, noisy boy, almost incor- 
rigible; but he loved Ignatius, and Ignatius, in return, put up with his pranks 
and escapades. One day Ignatius asked him if he knew what a secretary was. 
"One who can keep secrets," the boy replied. Ignatius made him his own 
secretary. Even more admirable is the wise handling of a delicate situation 
caused by an elderly Austrian gentleman named Ortiz. Ortiz had business to 
present to the Pope, on behalf of the Emperor. He met Ignatius in Rome, in 
the critical year, 1538. He was favourably impressed by Ignatius, and asked 
Ignatius to put him through the Spiritual Exercises. He asked for a complete 
retreat. Accordingly, Ignatius went with him to a secluded abbey, and began 
the meditations. The old man's intention was good; but the seclusion, the 
silence, and the thought of Heaven and Hell so near, were too much for his 
mental balance. He became deranged. One can see in what jeopardy the 
future of Ignatius's work was placed by this unforeseen turn. He handled the 
situation with discretion like that of the scavenger in the Eastern tale. The 
tale relates that a fellow-scavenger had strayed into a perfume bazaar; over- 
come by the refined aromas, he fell to the ground in a faint. The wise scav- 
enger ran for a handful of offal, and thrust it under his brother's nose. The 
familiar smell of putrefaction, more powerful than the perfumes, restored the 
fainting man. Similarly, Ignatius had to drive lofty, terrifying thoughts 
from the deranged man's mind, and to bring him back comfortably to the fa- 
miliar surroundings of Mother Earth. It is narrated that Ignatius tried the 
effect of one of the Spanish folk dances, and that the old man at once recovered. 

C. C. CLARK. 




TRANSLATED FROM THE SANSKRIT WITH AN INTERPRETATION 

I 

Brahmd the Evolver, first of the Bright Powers came to birth, Maker of all, 
Preserver of the world. He declared the Wisdom of the Eternal, the root and 
foundation of all wisdom, to Atharvan, his eldest son. The Wisdom of the Eternal 
which Brahmd imparted to Atharvan, that of old Atharvan declared to Angir. 
Angir declared it to Satyavaha of the line of Bharadvaja. The descendant of 
Bharadvaja declared it to Angiras, both the higher and the lower wisdom. 

BRAHMA is the manifest Logos, the Logos as Creator, or, more truly, as 
Evolver, since the Substance of Being is beginningless. The "coming 
to birth" of Brahmi is the manifestation of the Creative Logos from 
the first, the unmanifest Logos. BrahmS. is, therefore, Avalokita-Ishvara, the 
Lord made manifest, the Host of the Divine Powers regarded as a unity. 

The thought here is that Divine Wisdom was revealed, at the beginning of 
this world-period, to a chosen nucleus of humanity, and that it has ever since 
been handed down from Master to disciple, in unbroken succession. 

In the Vedas it is said that Atharvan was a kinsman and companion of the 
Divine Powers, the first to bring down fire from Heaven and to impart to 
mankind the draught of Soma, which brings illumination. We may, therefore, 
see in him the incarnate Planetary Spirit who imparted Divine Wisdom to 
primitive mankind. Angir does not appear to be mentioned except in the 
passage translated above. Satyavaha means Bearer of Truth. Angiras is 
connected by some philologists with the Greek Angelos, a Messenger between 
Gods and men; the Angirases, taken collectively, are Sons of the Gods and 
Fathers of mankind. They are compared by philologists with the Sons of God 
in the sixth chapter of Genesis. They were the first to ascend into Heaven 
and win immortality. 

This introductory passage, therefore, would seem to point to the origin and 
indicate the powers of the Lodge of Masters, as Sons of the Divine Powers 
and spiritual Fathers of mankind. 

Shaunaka, verily, lord of a great dwelling, coming according to rule to Angiras, 
asked him: Master through the knowledge of what does all this become known? 

To him he said: Two wisdoms are to be known, as the knowers of the Eternal 
declare, the higher and the lower wisdom. 

The lower wisdom is, the Rig Veda, Yajur Veda, Sama Veda, Atharva Veda, 

249 



250 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

Pronunciation, Ritual, Grammar, Definition, Metres and Knowledge of the stars. 

So the higher wisdom is that whereby the Everlasting is attained. 

That which is invisible, intangible, without family or colour, without sight or 
hearing, without hands or feet; eternal, all-pervading, omnipresent, most subtile* 
that imperishable which the wise behold as the source of beings. 

As the spider puts forth and draws in the thread; as plants come to birth upon 
the earth; as hair and down grow on a living man; so from that Everlasting the 
whole world comes to birth. 

Through fervour and penance the Eternal is gained. From the Eternal, food 
comes to birth. From food, the life-breath, mind, truth, the worlds, and the im- 
mortal in works. 

He who is all-knowing, all-wise, whose fen>our and penance consist in wisdom r 
through him this Eternal, and name and form, and food come to birth. 

As is so often the case in the Upanishads, the teaching is introduced in the 
form of communion between a Master and his pupil, as though to remind us 
that only in this way is real wisdom gained. Shaunaka, we are told, came to 
Angiras as a pupil, according to rule: that is, with the heart and will of a dis- 
ciple. The Master replies that there are two kinds of wisdom, the lower and 
the higher. 

The lower includes the whole range of knowledge possessed by ancient 
India: The four Vedas, and the six subsidiary studies which lead to the full 
understanding of the Vedas. It should be understood that the Vedas are not 
thought of as so many poems, or even as so many hymns. They are really 
magical instruments, the means whereby the student of the Vedas hopes to 
command supernatural powers. Perhaps it will be more intelligible if we say 
that they were thought of as the means for entering and gaining command 
over the whole astral world. But the Master puts all this aside as the lower 
wisdom. The higher wisdom is that whereby the spiritual and Divine is 
gained. 

Then comes the definition of the Eternal by negatives, the purpose being, 
first, to lead the disciple's understanding beyond the anthropomorphism of the 
popular gods, and then to awaken his spiritual vision of that Divine Being 
from which all manifested beings come forth, and to which they are all destined 
to return. 

Not through gifts and offerings, but through fervour and purification is 
gained the consciousness of the Eternal, that Being whence comes the food of 
all beings; both their sustenance and their experience, which is the food of life. 
Therefore consecrated food symbolizes experience of divine things. And 
through the sustenance which we draw day by day from the Eternal, comes 
the breath of life in us, our conscious existence; from the Eternal comes the 
conscious mind, with its power of discerning truth; from the Eternal comes 
the power to enter into the many mansions of the spiritual world; from the 
Eternal comes the power to build the house not made with hands, eternal in 
the heavens; to build that life whose works are immortal. 



THE TWO WISDOMS: MUNDAKA UPANISHAD 251 

From the Eternal, in the cosmic sense, all things come forth, all worlds, all 
life-energies, all consciousness. And, in the more individual sense, through 
the intuition and spiritual perception of the Eternal comes the building up of 
an enduring nature in man, with access to higher worlds and a deeper vision 
of truth. 

The last sentence translated above appears to mean this: Through the aid 
of the Master, all-knowing, all-wise, the knowledge of the Eternal comes to 
birth in the disciple, with name and form, implying true individuality, and that 
daily food for the inner nature which comes through the Master's grace and 
help. 

Then follows a passage which dramatically sets forth the substance of the 
Vedic sacrificial system, the body of the lower wisdom, as it might appear to 
one of its devotees. And this is immediately followed by a condemnation of 
that system and the exaltation of the higher wisdom. It is exactly the antith- 
esis which has been brought out before, between the Path of the Sun, which 
leads to liberation, and the Path of the Moon, which leads back again to this 
world through the bondage of Karma. We come first to the dramatic pres- 
entation of the lower wisdom. 

' There is this truth: 

The works which the Seers beheld in the chants are set forth manifold in the 
three Vedas. 

Perform them faithfully, ye who desire the truth; this is your path to the world 
of reward. 

When the tongued flame quivers, after the fire of oblations has been kindled, then 
between the two portions of consecrated oil let him throw the oblations. 

He who follows not the Agnihotra sacrifice with the sacrifice of the new moon and 
full moon, the four months sacrifice and the harvest sacrifice; he who invites not 
guests to the sacrifice, or offers no sacrifice, or a sacrifice without summoning all 
the gods, or without due rites, such a one loses the seven worlds. 

These are the seven quivering tongues of flame: the black, the terrible, the mind- 
swift, the ruddy, the dark red, the sparkling and the glowing brilliant. 

If he perform sacrifice while these are glowing, offering the oblations at the right 
time, these as sun rays lead him to the dwelling of the lord of the gods. 

Calling, Come! Come! the shining oblations carry the sacrificer with the sun's 
rays, speaking fair words and praising; This is your holy Heaven, your world of 
reward! 

So far, the dramatic picture of the system of fire-sacrifices. But there always 
lingers the thought that these Vedic ceremonies had once, perhaps in a far 
earlier day, a deeper and higher meaning; that this deeper meaning was veiled 
and obscured when the Brahmans turned the ancient Vedic system into a 
ceremonial religion, to rivet the power of their priestcraft upon India. There 
is, perhaps, the suggestion of seven modes of electrical force in the names of 
the seven tongues of fire. But the evident intention here is to condemn the 
ritual way to the paradise of selfish rewards, as the following passage shows. 



252 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

It may be explained in advance that "the eighteen" are the four Vedas, each 
divided into three parts, and thus together making twelve, to which are added 
the six subsidiary studies already enumerated. 

Infirm boats are these forms of sacrifice, the eighteen, in which are set forth the 
lower work. Those who, deluded, think this the better way, go again to decay and 
death. 

Others, turning about in the unwisdom of delusion, self -wise, thinking themselves 
learned, stray, wandering in the way, deluded, like the blind led by the blind. 

Turning about in manifold unwisdom, foolishly thinking, We have done the 
work! the followers of ritual perceive not because of their desires. Therefore, when 
their world of reward fails, they fall in misery. 

Thinking the merit of burnt offerings is best, they are deluded, not perceiving the 
other and better way. After they have received their reward in the. paradise gained 
by their works, they return to this, or, perchance, a lower world. 

But they who follow after fervour and faith, who in the forest dwell in peace, wise, 
serving the Eternal, purified from passion, they pass through the door of the Sun, 
to the Immortal, the Spirit, the imperishable Soul. 

We may tell ourselves that we are not likely to offer burnt offerings, or to 
strew oblations in the flames, or to chant the Vedic hymns. We may also, 
perhaps, congratulate ourselves that we are not working for their paradise of 
rewards. Therefore all these things may seem remote and almost meaningless 
to us. 

But we should realize that any act whatever, done in order that we our- 
selves may gain a reward of relished sensation or flattered vanity, is a burnt 
offering to a false god. There are more ways than one of making a Vedic 
sacrifice, and many of them we practise daily. When we make oblations to our 
desires, when we contrive and work to win flattery from ourselves and others, 
when we are wrapt in self, we are devotees of the ritual system that is here 
condemned. Not only the fire on the altar, but also the life-fires within our- 
selves, all our energies and powers, can be turned to evil self-seeking. Every 
impulse of sloth, every shirking of effort, is the seeking of a paradise of reward 
and repose, from which we shall sink miserably to a lower state. 

In contrast with those who practise the rites of self-seeking oblations, the 
closing lines of this passage describe the followers of the higher way. There 
is a literal and a symbolic meaning. First, the life of disciples, in well guarded 
seclusion in the forest or among the mountains, inspired by fiery aspiration 
and faith, dwelling in quietude of heart, seeking wisdom, serving in the purity 
of life that has seen and turned from the evil of passionate desires. But there 
is also the deeper and more universal meaning. The word translated "forest" 
means also wilderness, desert; it is a description of this whole material world, 
which is a wilderness in comparison with the spiritual world. We are dwelling 
in the wilderness, and those are the energies which we should exercise, if we 
would pass from self through the door of the Sun to selflessness. This would 
seem to be the same svmbol as the Gates of Gold. 



THE TWO WISDOMS: MUNDAKA UPANISHAD 253 

Discerning the worlds that are won by these works, let him renounce them. The 
uncreated is not won by works like these. In order that he may gain knowledge of 
these things, let him approach the Master, with kindling wood in his hands; a 
Master full of spiritual wisdom, firmly established in the Eternal. To the disciple 
who has thus drawn near to him, whose turbulent thoughts have been stilled, who 
has entered into peace, the wise Master teaches that truth whereby he knows the 
imperishable Spirit, the wisdom of the Eternal in its reality. 

The word rendered "renounce" means more than this. It implies a nau- 
seated revulsion and at the same time a completely realized indifference, to be 
gained as the fruit of revulsion. The commentary attributed to Shankara- 
charya says that we discern the true nature of the world of self-indulgence as 
the traveller in the desert discerns the true nature of the lake conjured up by 
mirage; and, seeing through the glamour, we turn from delusion to seek reality. 
Then it is possible to find the Master. The disciple brings kindling wood, the 
power to be enkindled. The Master communicates to him the divine fire of 
selfless aspiration. 

V 

There is this truth: 

As from a blazing fire sparks come forth a thousandfold, of like nature to it; so, 
beloved, from the Everlasting are born manifold beings, and thither also they return. 

For divine, without form, is Spirit; He is without and within, unborn; without 
breath or mind, pure, above the highest imperishable Nature. 

From Him are born life-breath and mind and all the powers that perceive and 
act, the aether, air, fire, the waters, and earth, the bearer of all. 

The Fire-god is His head, His eyes are sun and moon; the spaces are His ears; 
revealed wisdom is His voice; the air is His life-breath, the world is His heart, from 
His feet comes the earth; for He is the Inmost Soul of all beings. 

From Him comes the fire whose fuel is the sun; from the moon-power comes rain, 
and plants spring up on the earth. Spirit sends forth energy into Nature; through 
Spirit, many beings come to birth. 

From Him come the chants of the Rig Veda, the Sama and Yajur Vedas initia- 
tory rites, all sacrifices, ceremonies, gifts; the circling year also, the sacrificer, the 
world where the moon shines and the world illumined by the sun. 

The effort of the Master here is, to awaken in the disciple the understanding 
and intuition of the Logos, that primal Life which is manifested in every form 
of life. These lives appear to come forth; in reality they remain in and of the 
Logos. Therefore, however dire may be our imprisonment, the Divine Power 
is there also, in touch with us, ready to help and liberate us, the instant we 
sincerely desire to be rid of our bonds. We are the kindred sparks that have 
come forth from the great Light. 

Spirit is without form, yet all forms have their origin in Spirit. Spirit is 
unborn, and yet is the source of all beings that come to birth. Spirit is without 
personal, limited life-breath or mind; yet all life and all mind derive directly 



254 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

from Spirit. All things are within this great Life, and the Life is in all things; 
therefore Spirit is within and without. Nature, the power of manifestation, is 
everlasting. There is the eternal dual potency in Parabrahm: Spirit and 
Nature; Subjective and Objective; Noumenal and Phenomenal. But the nou- 
menal, the perceiving consciousness, is always more fundamental than the 
thing perceived. Spirit is, therefore, higher than Nature. 

The Logos is the source at once of all our inner powers, consciousness and 
perception and will, and of the outer powers and elements which make up the 
visible worlds. And the Master uses vivid symbols to lead the disciple to 
recognize the Logos in all the world about him: the celestial fire which gives 
life to the universe is His head; sun and moon are His eyes; the expanse of 
space is his power of hearing; the air is His life-breath; the world is His heart. 
Every sentence and symbol should be pondered over and imaginatively realized, 
until, like that disciple, we recognize the immanent Spirit in all things, and 
learn to find His voice in the words of all scriptures. We may understand the 
world where the moon shines as the astral world ; the world illumined by the 
sun is the spiritual. 

From Him also the divinities in their many forms received being, and the seraphs 
and men and beasts and birds; from Him the forward life and the downward life; 
from Him rice and barley; from Him, fervour and faith and truth, service of the 
Eternal and the disciple's rule. 

From Him come forth the seven lives; from Him the seven flames and their 
several fuel; from Him come the seven offerings. Seven are these worlds wherein 
the seven lives gain their experience, hidden in the secret place, according to seven 
and seven. 

From Him come the oceans and all hills; from Him the rivers flow in their many 
forms; from Him come all plants, and the fine essence through which the Inner 
Soul stands in beings. 

For that Spirit is all that is: work, fervour, the Eternal, the supreme immortal. 
He who knows this Spirit hidden in the inner being, he, beloved, unties the knot of 
the heart. 

The Master continues the teaching of the Logos, which is set forth with such 
simple, vivid beauty, that comment is almost superfluous. Two sentences, 
perhaps, may be made a little clearer. The fine essence through which the 
Inner Soul stands in beings appears to be subtile substance from which is 
woven the vesture of consciousness, first in the natural body, and, after that, 
the vestures of the psychical and spiritual bodies. Atma, which is without 
individuality, receives individuality through these vestures. The knot of the 
heart is egotism, the great delusion of separateness. This sense of separate 
being is at first the incentive of our life and effort; later, becoming an intoler- 
able burden, it becomes the incentive that drives us toward selflessness, to 

escape from the haunting obsession of self. r T 

\* J 

(To be continued} 



STUDENTS' SCRAP BOOK 



Music AND CONSCIOUSNESS 

EJT night, sitting on the veranda in the dark, I listened to a woman 
singing, a man's voice accompanying hers. They were singing without 
effort their voices soft and low and the songs were those of a past 
generation, which I suppose would be called sentimental to-day, and old negro 
melodies from the time of slavery. When they ceased, and the night was 
silent again, I wondered for the thousandth time what was the nature and the 
cause of the emotional effect which such singing has upon us, what it is it stirs 
in us, and whether it be pleasure or pain, or something deeper than either and 
giving rise to both. If it be pain, and I think there is real pain there, it is pain 
one seems to crave. 

I spoke of this to a friend ; but being in such a fog as to my own psychology 
I could scarcely have hoped to make it clear to another, had not this other been 
one who often understands me better than I understand myself. Halting as 
my attempted exposition was, further reflection has not enabled me to better 
it and I can only repeat it here. 

Such music gives; but in giving it makes us feel our lack of what is given. 
We are made more conscious of the lack than of the gift more poignantly 
aware of hunger than of satisfaction. There is other music of which this is 
not true: martial music, marching songs, or songs of passion, such as the 
"Bedouin Love Song," or "The Palms." Not only do they inspire you, they 
fill you, and I can find no other way to suggest it they enable you to 
fill them. This is what the simpler, sweeter songs of love and longing never do. 
They never fill you; and you never are able to fill them, though they drain 
your heart away. 

In my need of an analogy I thought of Tennyson's lines, 

"But O for the touch of a vanish 'd hand 
And the sound of a voice that is still!" 

For it seems to me that in such music we hear the voice, but only to hear it 
tell us that it is still ; and the touch of the hand is never given us, though our 
whole flesh is made to 'cry out for it. 

To all of which my friend answered: "No, the voice is not still. No, you 
are not made to hunger for what you have not, but for what you have. It is 
the nostalgia of the soul you feel ; and your home is yours. There the touch of 
the hand awaits you, with your Father's welcome." 

I think my friend was being kind to me, showing me my feeling in its best 
aspect that I might hold to it rather than to the worse. But if it be indeed 
the homesickness of the soul which such music stirs and plays upon, then it 
should help us to realize how close the soul is to our everyday life, and how it 

255 



256 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

lives in our hearts and minds and flesh, instead of only overshadowing them. 
For it is no distant overshadowing spirit which feels this poignant hunger, but 
we ourselves, as we know ourselves, and we feel it in every nerve and atom of 
our being. Were it not for the self-conscious restraints that civilization has 
bred in us, I believe that when we hear such singing we should get up and move 
toward it as automatically as a compass needle swings to the north, or as a 
moth is drawn to a flame. I would that our souls maintained as true a homing 
course. 

These latter reflections opened up another train of thought. What is it that 
draws the moth to the flame? Does not our own response to music offer us an 
entry into the understanding of the conscious life of what we are pleased to 
call the lower orders of creation? I do not mean the effect that music, audible 
to us, may have upon them as when a dog is made to howl by the repetition 
of a note on the piano, or as when snakes are drawn from their holes by the 
snake-charmer playing on his pipe. I mean rather that in the richness of the 
conscious but wordless states which music can evoke in us, we have an analogy 
to what scent may be to a dog, and to what may be the conscious life of birds 
and insects and flowers, mountains and the stars. We are too given to thinking 
that because we do not hear them talk, they do not feel ; that because we have 
not the senses to perceive their means of communication, therefore they do not 
communicate. 

But there is one striking fact which should here give pause to our conceit. 
In every region where man's inventions have artificially extended the range of 
his perceptions and sensibilities, he has found that nature has equipped some 
form of life with an organism inherently sensitive to the differences and stim- 
uli of which he himself has but newly and, as it were, artificially, become aware. 
The progress of man has extended his own horizon, but nowhere has it extended 
the horizon of Life. Never has he ushered Life into a new realm. Always 
Life has been before him. Go where he may, do what he may, learn what he 
may, he but follows and imitates, and acquires for himself the achievements of 
other of Life's children. 

One of the most notable and suggestive illustrations of this fact and the 
one which actually prompted me to put this note upon paper was given in a 
newspaper statement which I have not yet had an opportunity to verify. It 
appears, however, that w r hile two experimenters were working with a specially 
sensitive wireless telephony apparatus, they found that their instruments were 
rendering audible sounds which they were at first unable to identify, but which 
they later proved were the result of etheric vibrations emanating from the 
antennae of a pair of wandering cockroaches. 

If this statement be substantiated, and it be proved that insects communi- 
cate with one another by a form of radiant energy, transmitted and received 
through their antennae as by the artificial antennae of a wireless set, it should 
be as epoch making in our study of consciousness in the lower kingdoms as was 
the discovery of radium in our study of physics and chemistry. In the one 
case as in the other, human consciousness penetrates into a new and deeper 



STUDENTS' SCRAP BOOK 257 

level of life, and deals with subtiler forces of Akasa, whose grossest form is the 
ether and which is itself the basis of sound. 

My present thought, however, is not so much concerned with the truth of 
this discovery or hypothesis, as with the possibility of its being true. It is its 
possibility that is so far-reaching in its suggestiveness, and as a stimulant to 
the imagination. As we respond to music audible to us to vibrations of the 
air against the drums of our ears so may ants and beetles, butterflies and 
moths, rocks and plants and drops of water, earth and sky and flaming suns, 
all respond each to their own form of radiant energy, which may be to them as 
music or as speech is to us. Quite literally the stars may sing together, and 
hear their song as they sing it. When we cease to limit the sense perception 
possible to nature by the sense perceptions as yet known to man, we find no 
reason to set any limits whatsoever; and ceasing to limit sense perception we 
cease to limit consciousness. It becomes far easier than before to see con- 
sciousness everywhere and in everything. 

Yet it is really no new thought that other orders of life have other senses, 
though for the most part, not knowing what they are, science lumps them to- 
gether and calls them instincts. How does the homing pigeon find its way? 
Or the migrant birds in their long flights of spring and fall? Or the seal and 
salmon, that come back each year to the same breeding island or fresh-water 
stream? How does the vulture find its carrion? It is not by sight or by smell, 
at least as we know sight and smell. Or again, how is it that a rare moth, if 
held in captivity, can draw others of its kind, seemingly from a hundred miles 
away? These phenomena all point to senses other than our own as science 
has long recognized. But in thinking of them as instincts, we fail to take ac- 
count of their implications in the field of consciousness. The depths of the 
air and the sea, which to our senses seem colourless and silent, may be as full of 
colour as the rainbow or a pansy bed vibrant with music and perfume to 
the senses of a pigeon or a seal. 

It is a question of our senses. I sit at my desk in town and hear only the 
noises that make city life a torment: the shrill cries from the street, the explod- 
ing exhaust of some passing motor, the heavy rumble of a truck or bus, the 
clank and clang of metal striking metal. Upon my table lies a telephone 
headset connected to a small black box, from which a hundred feet or so of wire 
runs through my window to a neighbour's chimney. It is connected with 
nothing else, save only the earth. There is no battery; no source of power. It 
adds nothing of itself. It is but a new form of ear, which, placed against my 
own ear, translates into music or speech and enables me to hear the vibrations 
of the ether, pulsing all about me, but to which, without it, I am wholly deaf 
and unconscious. 

It is quite true that what I am thus enabled to hear has little attraction for 
me. The music is not likely to be of the kind of which I have been writing. 
Most probably it is from a mechanical piano, being played in Newark, N. J. 
But that is because the instrument is attuned to Newark, N. J. With a differ- 
ent tuning, a different sensitiveness, I might listen to cockroaches or to 



258 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

stars. If man and insects can thus fill the ether with sound and speech, can- 
not the voice of God do the same? 

" He that hath an ear, let him hear what the Spirit saith unto the Churches." 

B. 



"LISTENING IN" 

That little black box, with its telephone headset and wire antenna, fascinates 
me. Practically, I have very little use for it what I hear when I listen to it 
does not interest me, but its appeal to my imagination is profound and con- 
tinuous. It objectivizes a fundamental postulate of the mystic's philosophy 
the voice of the silence, the reality of the unseen. Life is never silent, each 
thing that lives each thing that is, for all that is, lives is giving utterance 
to its inmost nature, singing the saga of its ancient history and eternal aspira- 
tion, the drama of its soul. It is only we that are deaf and we need not be 
deaf. 

This summer I was reading extracts from the writings of Sufi mystics, and 
was struck by the difference between their use and ours of the word veiled. 
If we were to say, "Two people met, but one of them was veiled," we 
should infer that the unveiled one was recognized and the veiled one not 
recognized. Not so, to the Sufi. He, on the contrary, would infer that the 
veiled one recognized nothing, the unveiled one everything. To the Sufi the 
veil is over the eyes of the beholder, never over the object. Nothing in life is 
veiled, no mystery hid, to unveiled eyes. 

That is the message which my wireless telephone set brings me every time 
I look at it. It holds my thought, for its significance is immeasurable. While 
I sit and write, while I move and speak, all about me, through me, pulse 
voices that I do not hear voices divine and demoniacal, human and animal, 
flower voices and rock voices, whispering, shouting, singing, from distant 
suns and from the atoms of my flesh and the substance of my spirit, each its 
secret to me. I am deaf only because I have not attuned my senses to them, 
but have chosen and learned to listen, instead, to these commonplace sounds I 
hear. 

As I reflect on this, the whole theory of knowledge, and the greater part of 
the art of life, seem symbolized in the process of turning, this way and that, 
the two dials that project from the face of this wireless box, and by means of 
which it is attuned. Turn them to one position, and it is the piano in Newark 
which we hear. Turn them to another, and it is a ship at sea. To yet an- 
other, and it is from we know not where. 

The other day one of my friends, who had a wireless apparatus he had not 
set up, thought he would see what would happen if he ran a wire to the iron 
railing of the balcony outside his window. He did so, and picked up the re- 
ceiver to hear, clear and resonant, "The Peace of God, which passeth all under- 
standing, keep your hearts and minds in the knowledge and love of God, and 
of his Son Jesus Christ our Lord; and the Blessing of God Almighty, the 



STUDENTS' SCRAP BOOK 259 

Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost, be amongst you and remain with you 
always. Amen." There it was, pulsing in the ether, unheard, unsuspected, 
the ancient blessing of the church of which he was a member, spoken and broad- 
casted from he knew not where, but reaching to him, vibrant in his room, 
though he heard it only through the accident of the instrument's chance at- 
tunement. 

We cannot count upon the results of chance attunement being always so 
happy, and clearly it is folly to leave to chance a matter of such moment as the 
attuning of our senses. Yet it is a matter which seems to receive very little 
serious attention. We come home, let us say, from our daily work, and seat 
ourselves, rather wearily, to rest. A thousand voices rise within our minds, 
tentatively offering themselves for our attention. There are the voices of 
fatigue, telling us that we are tired, have worked hard and painfully. To 
listen to them is to attune our minds to them (all listening is an attuning), and 
as we do this the voices grow clearer, more persuasive and compelling. Soon 
we are convinced we are very tired. Self-pity is evoked, and, if we keep on 
listening, we find it is all that we can do to drag our "exhausted" body from 
that chair and proceed with what we have to do: There are other voices, or 
beginnings, suggestions of voices, in infinite variety. We can listen to which of 
them we will voices of gratitude or complaint, of desire or of duty, of hap- 
piness or sorrow, of others or of self, of hope or fear. Whichever one we listen 
to grows clearer and stronger as we listen ; for it is to it that, consciously or 
unconsciously, we are attuning ourselves. The effect of this does not stop 
when we stop consciously listening. Our minds retain the same pitch and 
sensitiveness, so that, though thereafter we pass through widely diverse ex- 
periences, we select from them only that element to which we are attuned. In 
this way days that should be happy are made sad and joyless, or, on the other 
hand, we are upborne through difficulties and trial and find only cheer and 
brightness. It is all a matter of how we tune our minds. 

This is the reason of the importance of meditation. Our unpurposed medi- 
tations owe their character to the habitual or chance tuning of our inner senses. 
Our purposed meditations are our purposed tunings of our mind and heart and 
will. 

I spoke of this the other day, and a friend commented that it was clear my 
telephone set was the crude kind that depended for its action upon what is 
called the crystal detector, and whose range is very limited. The better and 
more powerful sets are based upon a different principle, and owe their sensi- 
tiveness to the passage of an electric current through a tube of highly rarified 
gas. For this, power is needed which is furnished by an electric battery or 
dynamo, and this causes the tube to glow. My friend pointed out that this 
gives us a much better and truer analogy to the development of the inner spirit- 
ual senses of the occultist or mystic. Meditation alone is not sufficient. It 
can attune the nature, but only to messages emanating from near at hand, and 
only over a comparatively narrow range of frequency and wave length. To 
hear the voices of the spirit, in contradistinction to their reflection, dis- 



2 6o THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

torted or undistorted, in the psychic world, one must do more than meditate. 
We must purify our natures, as the gas in the tube is rarified; and through this 
purified nature there must be a ceaseless current of power, of aspiration and 
endeavour, which makes the whole inner being luminous, as the tube is made to 
glow. 

I like this addition, and my own analogy very badly needed it. For it 
would be quite false to set forth the inner life as a mere matter of attune- 
ment, particularly if the process of attuning be considered a passive one. This 
may produce mediums and psychics, but it can never give rise to mystics or 
occultists. We must kindle the fires of our energies, make ourselves batteries 
and dynamos, as well as purify ourselves, before we can follow in the foot- 
steps of the Masters. The kingdom of heaven suffereth violence, and the 
violent take it by storm. 

B. 



"MIRACLES" AND NATURAL LAW 

Some years ago I heard a certain surgeon proclaiming loudly his disbelief in 
the "miracles" of the Gospels on the ground that in this scientific age it was 
impossible for any intelligent man to believe in occurrences "contrary to nat- 
ural law." On being asked to what natural law the reported miracles were 
contrary, he looked surprised, hesitated, and changed the subject. So far as 
my own beliefs go, he might have produced a dozen to which they were con- 
trary and it would not have affected in the slightest my conviction that they 
actually took place as recorded. Not that I believe that anything at all ever 
happens anywhere contrary to law. A very little study of Theosophy saves 
one from that violence to one's reason. But for a given occurrence to be con- 
trary to law, and for it to be contrary to some one of the few natural laws that 
we know, are two very different stories. That a strong force overcomes a weak 
one and a great law a lesser one, are matters of everyday experience. A thing 
may be quite impossible for one type of force and entirely easy and possible 
for a higher type. We may even be able to prove scientifically and conclusively 
that a given thing can never happen, and then be chagrined by seeing it occur 
under our eyes. 

For instance, one familiar with the laws governing ordinary sound waves 
could no doubt work out a relation between the distance the sound travels and 
the initial disturbance of the atmosphere (or is it the ether?) which gave rise 
to the sound. To increase the distance the sound could be heard from, let 
us say, fifty to one hundred and fifty, we should have to increase the force of 
the disturbance, with corresponding increase in the number of broken panes of 
glass, etc., resulting therefrom. It ought to be easy to prove that to make a 
sound in Paris that would be audible in New York, would at the very least 
result in breaking every pane of glass in Paris, if it did not shake down every 
house. All of this must be capable of scientific and mathematical demonstra- 
tion; yet we all know that to-day one can send a sound from Paris audible not 



STUDENTS' SCRAP BOOK 261 

only in New York but in Honolulu, and no one in Paris even hears it. It is 
impossible according to the laws of ordinary sound, but is rapidly becoming a 
commonplace through the employment of a higher type of force, namely, that 
used in Radio. Nothing happens that is contrary to law. A result is obtained 
that appears contrary to it until we understand the existence of the higher 
force. Then it becomes apparent that the "miracle " was merely an obedience 
to a higher law. 

M. 



COMMONPLACE DUTIES 

During the war we were told that duties done with the intention of helping 
did help, no matter how unconnected with the war these duties might seem. 
Any duty could be done with the motive of aiding the Masters' cause, and when 
performed by one who clearly understood that the war was in fact between the 
White Lodge and the Black, the simplest act carried out in that spirit might 
make available a force more potent for good than an army corps. Most of us 
who heard that statement accepted it as true, an,d tried in a feeble way to act 
on it, but what an incalculable difference it would have made had we really 
believed it with all our hearts! We knew what the war was about and whose 
cause it really was, and longed to take part in it. If we had believed as we 
believe that the sun will rise to-morrow, that we could be more potent than an 
army corps, with what fire and spirit we should have hurled ourselves at our 
daily duties. Yet hard as it is for the materialistic western mind to grasp, in a 
part of ourselves we know that it was and is true. Science has demonstrated 
that the finer the medium through which it acts, the more powerful the force. 
Hence the forces of the intellectual plane must be more potent than those of 
the material else how did man attain his mastery over natural forces? 
and those of the spiritual plane more potent than those of the intellectual. It 
is, accordingly, easy to see that an act performed with the selfless motive to aid 
the Masters' cause, involves three types of force of ascending degrees of po- 
tency, the physical forces needed in the act, the force of the thought that pre- 
ceded the act, and the spiritual force of the motive that caused it. The act 
brings the three forces to incarnation on this plane. It is on this plane that 
the Masters need force. On the plane of the spirit the force at their command 
is limitless, but, to make it available on lower planes, it must be drawn down 
by men who dwell thefe. It cannot be forced down without harmful reactions. 
Spiritual force is causal, and with control of causes, control of effects becomes 
simple. If one wishes to disseminate information, for instance, a printing press 
is worth more than many copies of a proclamation. 

How Masters use the force when once drawn down must, of course, remain a 
mystery to us, yet perhaps we can get a little light on this, as on so -many other 
things, from analogy. All we need is light enough to convince our doubting 
minds of the fact that they do so use it, to drive us to put the full power of our 
hearts into making force available for their use. Very little, if applied at the 



262 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

right time and in the right way, may produce great results. A thought, once 
launched, is an entity with a body and life of its own, and is capable of acting 
directly on other minds. The ideas promulgated at meetings of The Theo- 
sophical Society and in the QUARTERLY are heard or read by very few, and yet 
no one who has watched can fail to be struck by the great effect which, after 
the lapse of a little time, these ideas have on the thought of the world. In- 
stance after instance could be given. There is no use in speculating how it is 
done except, as said above, to the extent of convincing our rigid minds that it 
can be and is done. In that connection, two analogies have occurred to me. 
First, it is only necessary to set an idea in type once, in order to print and dis- 
tribute an almost limitless number of copies. In the same way, when expres- 
sion has once been given to a truth, it is not difficult to imagine its being im- 
pressed on any number of minds. 

It is harder to grasp the fact that spiritual force put, let us say, into doing 
household duties to the best of one's ability, with the intention of helping the 
Masters' cause, can be used by them in widely different fields of their work. I 
suspect that it would be much easier to understand if we had a more thorough 
knowledge of electricity, the laws of which have been said to correspond in 
many respects to certain phenomena of the spiritual world. Fifty years ago, 
we could not have imagined a boat which, without captain or crew or any con- 
nection with the shore, would respond instantly and accurately to the will of an 
operator more than a mile away, yet during the war such a boat was built and 
successfully steered by wireless with no one on board, through the crowded 
shipping of Gloucester harbour. No doubt the wireless on board had to be 
attuned to the wireless on shore. It may well be that in the same way the 
"intention" of helping the Masters is what attunes to their will the force that 
our action has put in motion in the world, and that makes it possible for them 
to use it as and where they wish. However, it is not the explanation but the 
fact that is of supreme importance to us. Really to believe it would trans- 
form the dullest life. I venture to say that no man was ever bored by re- 
peatedly firing the same machine gun in battle. The reason why we find our 
duties a dreary grind is because we have not glimpsed the immense potency for 
good of even the most commonplace when performed in the right spirit. 

M. 



MAGNETISM AND GRAVITATION 

Students of Theosophy will be interested in an address delivered "by Pro- 
fessor T. J. J. See, Government Astronomer at Mare Island, before the Cali- 
fornia Academy of Sciences, on November 26th, 1922. As reported in The 
New York Times, Professor See announced that he had discovered the cause of 
magnetism and of universal gravitation. 

According to the newspaper report, Professor See declares that the cause of 
magnetism lies in the action of waves considerably longer than those of light 
and heat, and, he asserts, there is a connection between magnetism and uni- 



STUDENTS' SCRAP BOOK 263 

versal gravitation which definitely proves that gravitation is also due to simi- 
lar waves in the ether, travelling across the heavenly spaces with the velocity 
of light. 

The report indicates that Professor See has followed and extended the ex- 
perimental demonstrations of Faraday and his pupil, Clerk Maxwell, who 
believed that magnetic inductive action might be conveyed along the curved 
lines of force which surround a magnet, but who were unable to prove this as a 
fact. Professor See is now able to prove, by mathematics and also experi- 
mentally, that the belief of Faraday and Maxwell was well founded, for he 
shows that these curved lines of magnetic force are really vortical filaments in 
the ether, and thus serve as rotation axes for the whole body of waves proceed- 
ing from a magnet. The lines of force, being vortices in the ether, naturally 
tend to shorten themselves as much as possible, as was observed experimentally 
by Faraday and Maxwell. It was upon the basis of Maxwell's researches, that 
this wave theory was first built up to explain the phenomena of magnetism. 
It also seemed to reconcile Ampere's ideas of the elementary electric currents 
which must circulate about each atom of matter. 

Students familiar with the writings of H. P. Blavatsky will not be surprised 
to find that the present discovery (?) that the forces of magnetism and gravita- 
tion are very near of kin, was not made by a specialist who had closed his eyes 
to everything in the universe except his own tiny section of a single subject; 
on the contrary, the report shows that Professor See had been following, cor- 
recting, and extending the researches of men so apparently divergent, if not 
contradictory, in field and in method, as Faraday and Humboldt. Forty 
years' study of Humboldt's Cosmos, and eight years spent on the Mathematical 
Theory of the Magnetism of the Earth, by Gauss, the pupil of Humboldt, were 
essential, the astronomer says, to his discovery. 

At the North magnetic pole, near Hudson's Bay, the dipping needle is pulled 
vertically downward by a force which has, at that point, one one-millionth of 
the pull of gravity. At the South magnetic pole, in King George's Land, the 
downward pull is also just one one-millionth of the gravitational force; while 
at the magnetic equator in Peru, the needle is pulled equally at both ends, and 
the total magnetic force is precisely one two-millionth of the pull of gravitation. 

Proceeding mathematically, Professor See shows that his conclusions indi- 
cate a new equation connecting magnetism and universal gravitation. His 
conclusions were reported to be as follows : 

1 . That magnetism -is due to waves in the ether, the rotary motion of the 
ether particles being about the lines of force, which is confirmed by Faraday's 
celebrated experiment, in 1845, on the magnetic rotation of a beam of polar- 
ized light. 

2. As magnetism is connected with gravitation, by See's mathematical law of 
1922, it follows that gravitation also is due to waves like those of magnetism. 

Turning from the newspaper account of Professor See's announcement, to 
some older material contributed to this field of research, we find H. P. Blavatsky 
writing in 1888, in The Secret Doctrine, as follows: 



264 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

"Light, heat, electricity and so on are affections, not properties or qualities 
of matter" (Ed. '93, Vol. I, p. 536). "Thus, supposing attraction or gravita- 
tion should be given up in favour of the Sun being a huge magnet a theory 
already accepted by some physicists a magnet that acts on the planets as 
attraction is now supposed to do, whereto, or how much farther, would it lead 
the astronomers from where they are now? Not an inch farther. Kepler 
came to this ' curious hypothesis ' nearly 300 years ago. He had not discovered 
the theory of attraction and repulsion in Kosmos, for it was known from the 
days of Empedocles. . . . That such magnetism exists in Nature is as 
certain as that gravitation does not ; not at any rate, in the way in which it is 
taught by Science, which has never taken into consideration the different 
modes in which the dual Force, that Occultism calls attraction and repulsion, 
may act within our Solar System, the Earth's atmosphere and beyond in the 
Kosmos" (Vol. I, p. 540). On page 639, Sir William Crookes is cited in support 
of "substance of negative weight," and also Sir George Airy, who says, in Fara- 
day's Life and Letters, " I can easily conceive that there are plenty of bodies not 
subject to this intermutual action, and therefore not subject to the law of 
gravitation." 

"Attraction alone will never fill all the gaps, unless a special impulse is ad- 
mitted for every sidereal body, and the rotation of every planet with its satel- 
lites is shown to be due to some one cause combined with attraction. 
If ever this theory of the Sun-Force being the primal cause of all life on earth, 
and of all motion in heaven, is accepted, and if that other far bolder theory of 
Herschell, about certain organisms in the Sun, is accepted even as a provisional 
hypothesis, then will our teachings be vindicated, and Esoteric allegory will be 
shown to have anticipated Modern Science by millions of years, probably, for 
such are the Archaic Teachings" (Vol. I, p. 577). 

"The Sun is the storehouse of Vital Force, which is the Noumenon of Elec- 
tricity; and it is from its mysterious, never-to-be-fathomed depths that issue 
those life-currents which thrill through Space, as through the organisms of 
every living thing on Earth" (Vol. I, p. 579). "The Occultists are taken to 
task for calling the Cause of light, heat, sound, cohesion, magnetism, etc., 
etc., a Substance. (Note) . . . The Substance of the Occultist, however, 
is to the most refined Substance of the Physicist, what Radiant Matter is to 
the leather of the Chemist's boots. ... It (Science) merely traces the 
sequence of phenomena on a plane of effects, illusory projections from the 
region that Occultism has long since penetrated. And the latter maintains 
that those etheric tremors are not set up, as asserted by Science, by the vibra- 
tions of the molecules of known bodies, the Matter of our terrestrial objective 
consciousness, but that we must seek for the ultimate Causes of light, heat, 
etc., in Matter existing in supersensuous states states, however, as fully 
objective to the spiritual eye of man, as a horse or a tree is to the ordinary 
mortal. Light and heat are the ghost or shadow of Matter in motion" (Vol. 
j, pp. 560, 561). 

"With the Esotericists from the remotest times, the Universal Soul or Anima 



STUDENTS' SCRAP BOOK 265 

Mundi, the material reflection of the Immaterial Ideal, was the Source of Life 
of all beings and of the Life-Principle of the three kingdoms. This was septe- 
nary with the Hermetic Philosophers, as with all Ancients. For it is represented 
as a sevenfold cross, whose branches are, respectively, light, heat, electricity, 
terrestrial magnetism, astral radiation, motion, and intelligence, or what some 
call self-consciousness" (Vol. n, p. 593). 

A. 



THE TURNING-POINTS OF WILLIAM LAW 

In the ordinary sense, it would be a travesty of expression to speak of the 
turning-point in a life which went straight to its mark as an arrow from the 
bowstring. But any man who has steered a ship by compass; or who has tried 
to reach through the shifting currents of life to a far goal, knows that many 
turnings must be made if the course is to be held true. 

This Englishman, William Law, born in 1686, kept a true course all his life 
long. He seems to have come into incarnation with the single intent and pur- 
pose to establish a new religious Order, or, perhaps, to externalize a very old 
one, who can say? He drew men, convinced them, inspired them, and then 
they went away. At the end of a life whose singleness of purpose and devotion 
would rank him among the great ones of history, there was no Order founded. 
The only permanent following he had gained was one maiden lady, and one 
rather sentimental widow, neither of whom seems to have understood very 
much except the lofty character of the teacher. By every outer standard, the 
man had failed in his objective, and yet, the Catholic Encyclopedia says of this 
protestant clergyman: "William Law the father of the religious revival of 
the eighteenth century, in his Serious Call sets up a standard of perfection 
little short of Catholic monasticism." 

His was the day of heavy argumentation on all matters of doctrine and of 
dogma. This arena of high debate had drawn to itself too much of the re- 
ligious interest and attention of the Anglican church. From the time of Law's 
first challenge to the logic of the Bishop of Bangor, he had proved himself a 
lusty champion of right reason and high principle. What man of that period 
was more skilled than he in building solid argument on argument, until the ad- 
versary was walled in or crushed by the formidable structure erected about him? 

At the height of his achievement and renown as a controversialist, Law 
turned to follow the star of his life. "This I can say from my own Experience, 
who have been twenty years in this Dust of Debate; and have always found 
that the more Books there were written in this Way of defending the Gospel, 
the more I was furnished with new Objections to it." 

But there was a subtler temptation in store for him. During the period 
when Law was residing with the family of Gibbon the historian, he became 
acquainted with the teachings of Jacob Boehme, the Bohemian mystic, which 
seem to have thrown back for him the very doors of the spiritual world. In a 
letter to a friend, Law writes, "Next to the Scriptures, my only book is the 



266 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

illuminated Behmen. And him I only follow so far as he helps to open in me 
that which God had opened in him, concerning the death and the life of the 
fallen and redeemed man. The whole Kingdom of Grace and Nature was 
opened in him, and the whole Kingdom of Grace and Nature lies hid in myself. 
And, therefore, in reading of him, I am always at home and kept close to the 
Kingdom of God that is within me." 

In the second dialogue of The Way to Divine Knowledge, there is a masterly 
exposition of the facts which must forever render human reason incapable of 
penetrating the Mysteries. Law's own understanding of Boehme's philosophy 
was as great as his enthusiasm for sharing it with others, and yet, at last, we 
find him saying, "But now I go back to that which I first spoke of; and though 
I give up all that I said of putting out Jacob Behmen in new Language, with 
Comments, &c., yet .1 must still desire, that, some way or other, he may be 
made more plain and intelligible." 

Neither reason nor mysticism could avail to lead this man away; he did not 
serve them, but turned them both to the greater service of his Lord. 

S. T. R. 



The man who, with Marcus Aurelius, can truly say, "0 Universe, I wish all 
that ihou wishest," has a self from which every trace of negativeness and obstruc- 
tiveness has been removed; no wind can blow except to Jill its sails. WILLIAM 
JAMES. 



It is not unthinkable space that separates Heaven and earth, but the condition of 
a man's own heart. JOHN SCOTUS ERIGENA. 



There are secrets which can never be told, and mutual exchanges of love which 
can only be found in the Cross. MGR. GAY. 



ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 



THE Student was the last to arrive. "How far have you gone with the 
Historian's propositions?" he asked. 
"We have been waiting for you," the Recorder answered. "But 
don't imagine that anyone remembers what they were: not even the Objector 
remembers what they were. Millions of things have happened since anyone 
read the October 'Screen of Time.' ' 

"You are mistaken," said the Objector. "Like Clemenceau with President 
Wilson's Fourteen Points, I did my best: for two weeks after you adjourned 
our last meeting, every morning as I woke I repeated aloud, ' I believe in the 
Historian's Four Propositions.' I found at the end of the fortnight that I had 
forgotten what they were, but I believed in them thoroughly; and this morning, 
to renew my faith, I read them over again." 

"Do you believe in them now?" 

"Of course not," he replied. 

We laughed. "I want to add a fifth," the Historian interjected. "It is 
this: just as surely as we have a motive for every word we utter and for every 
movement we make though most people go through life without any knowl- 
edge of their motives so when it comes to our 'blind spots,' we can and 
should trace them to some hidden desire to be blind, realizing that whenever we 
fail to see something intellectually which is obvious to other people, the explana- 
tion is that we don't want to see it." 

"Illustrate, illustrate!" exclaimed the Objector. 

" Let me explain first that my fifth proposition is merely an effort to remove a 
misunderstanding which exists in the minds of some students who have taken 
their Theosophy from books without thinking it out for themselves. They 
have misunderstood Karma. They have accepted the doctrine that intel- 
lectual blindness is the result of past wrong-doing, of past sin; but while they 
may try in a general way to overcome their weaknesses and faults, believing 
that by so doing they will remove, incidentally, some of the scales from their 
intellectual perception, they fail to realize that if the intellectual blindness per- 
sists, the cause of the blindness necessarily must still be operative, even though 
the outer expressions of the sin have been conquered completely. Take, for 
instance, an employer, who may have conquered laziness in many forms, but 
whose opinion of an employee may be neutral when it ought to be positive and 
condemnatory, the employer telling himself that he is being fair-minded, 
while actually he wants to keep the man simply because in some directions the 
employee is able to save him trouble." 

"Why shouldn't the employer keep a man, simply to save himself trouble?" 
our Visitor asked. "From one standpoint, employees might be regarded as 
time- and labour-saving devices, engaged on the theory that the employer's 
time and labour, thus saved, can be used more productively in other directions." 

267 



268 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

"Even from that standpoint," the Historian replied, "you will grant me, I 
believe, that a man should do what he does with his eyes open and not with his 
eyes closed. If an employer is influenced, unconsciously, by his dislike of 
change and trouble, to such a degree that he remains blind to really serious 
faults in an employee blind, perhaps, to fundamental disloyalty he may 
involve himself in most serious difficulties, and may involve others too." 

"I see your point and think it valid," our Visitor commented. "But how 
escape from that kind of blindness? What can one do about it? " 

"The best thing to do about it that I know," the Historian answered, "is 
to watch for blind spots as our daily experience reveals them to us, and as our 
more candid friends force them on our attention, and then to insist, in our self- 
examination, that there must be a cause for such blindness, fundamental and 
general, such as selfishness, but also an immediate, though unperceived cause, 
in terms of personal desire. Thus: if I did not see, it was because I did not 
want to see. Why did I not want to see? " 

It had been obvious that the Philosopher had something very much on his 
mind, and he now produced it, prefacing his remarks by saying that he had no 
wish to change the subject, but he was tired of the rattle in his own head and 
wanted to work it off on us. 

"Mine is not a proposition, but a dogma," he said. "I am convinced it is 
one of the most essential of all dogmas if a man seriously desires to serve the 
Lodge and to become a disciple. It is, that we must resolutely and persistently 
train ourselves, every day and all day, to grasp everything that happens, 
everything that is said to us, and particularly the things which the average 
person stigmatizes as misfortunes, as disappointments, as 'blows,' to grasp 
these things as God-given means to victory. Our reaction must be made in- 
stantaneous. We must not collapse first and pull ourselves together after- 
wards. The few seconds or minutes of collapse will in many cases prove 
ruinous. We must make our attitude toward life so positive; we must have 
such implicit trust in the beneficence of fate, that we shall see and seize our 
opportunity, as a man, fighting with bare fists, throws himself at a sword held 
out to him by the hilt, a weapon for his use. 

"What most of us do is to see, not the hilt, but the point of the sword, and to 
imagine that the point is turned against us; is intended by fate to pierce us. 
Then, if we don't yell (inside, I mean), we adopt an attitude of 'Christian 
resignation,' and picture ourselves to ourselves and to others if we can find 
spectators as victims and martyrs." 

"You are not going to deprive me of my martyr's crown," the Lawyer inter- 
rupted, "I won't have it." 

The Philosopher ignored him. " I admit it will need ceaseless practice, and 
that we have the habit of a life-time to overcome. Our habitual reaction is 
hopelessly negative, even if we do not actively cultivate our miseries." 

"But we ought to cultivate our miseries," the Lawyer protested. "Your 
philosophy is all wrong. You are asking us to function at one pole only. You 
would deprive us of all contrast! How do you expect us to enjoy our own 



ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 269 

cheerfulness except as a change from the poignancy, the pathos of our distress? 
Those of us, for instance, who live in New York, surely it is our duty to find 
and to cultivate some compensation, and what compensation can there be 
except that delightful sense of misery which the thought of quietness of 
heaven or the Swiss Alps may be trusted at any time to arouse? Give me 
five minutes of calm reflection, and I can become so sorry for myself that a stone 
would weep with sympathy!" 

"Somebody, some day, will take you seriously," said the Philosopher. 

"Don't be cynical," the Lawyer countered. "You lack faith. Yet" 
musingly "I have heard you discourse eloquently about the powers latent 
in man." 

"Leave him alone," interjected the Student, addressing the Philosopher. 
" He's hopeless. Go on with your subject." 

"No more to say," replied the Philosopher, "unless it be that the trick, as I 
see it, lies in getting ahead of the psychic reversal. A sword is presented to us, 
hilt toward us. Our psychic nature our imagination arousing fear re- 
verses the truth, and we see the sword descending upon us, point toward us. 
In this respect, also, 'it is never too late to mend'; but if our response were 
instantaneous and we were able at once to seize the hilt, as the high gods hope 
we shall, for the slaying of our enemies both seen and unseen, we should not 
only escape repeated and wasteful nervous shock, but our usefulness, as 
instruments, would be increased a thousand-fold." 

" I can see clearly," the Student commented, "that the public speaker, who 
meets interruption as an opportunity, is in a much stronger position than the 
speaker who dreads it, and that in debate particularly the man who scores is 
the man who is never on the defensive, but, instead, uses every statement by 
his adversary as a weapon against him." 

"After all," added the Engineer, "life is war, and we know how to rank a 
general whose attitude is negative, and who fails to see in every move of his 
enemy, a means to his own ends." 

"The Philosopher's fling at 'Christian resignation,' as ordinarily understood, 
was not unwarranted I fear; but, in fairness to orthodox Christianity, it should 
be remembered that consistent thanksgiving would bear the same fruit, both 
psychologically and practically, as the method just now suggested. If men 
were in fact to give 'thanks always for all things,' as I suspect Paul himself 
gave thanks, they would attain the Philosopher's goal without more ado." 

This was from the Architect. But the Student would have none of it. 
"Useless," he said, "because what they do is to groan thanks to God for the 
sharpness of the sword's point, as they feel it sticking into them, and to do 
that, as I see it, is the acme of what the Philosopher described as 'Christian 
resignation.' ' 

"Come now," pleaded the Architect, "there is another side to it. You 
remember The Sermon in the Hospital, by Mrs. Hamilton King: 

"Measure thy life by loss instead of gain; 
Not by the wine drunk, but the wine poured forth ; 



270 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

For love's strength standeth in love's sacrifice; 
And whoso suffers most hath most to give. 



Who crowns himself a king is not the more 
Royal ; nor he who mars himself with stripes 
.The more partaker of the Cross of Christ. 
But if Himself He come to thee, and stand 
Beside thee, gazing down on thee with eyes 
That smile, and suffer; that will smite thy heart, 
With their own pity, to a passionate peace; 
And reach to thee Himself the Holy Cup, 
(With all its wreathen stems of passion-flowers 
And quivering sparkles of the ruby stars), 
Pallid and royal, saying, 'Drink with Me'; 
Wilt thou refuse? Nay, not for Paradise!" 

"But that is not 'resignation,' " protested the Student; "what you have 
read transcends even thanksgiving, and suggests rather an ecstasy of love, of 
self-giving, of union." 

"Call it what you choose," the Architect replied. " It is Christian none the 
less, essentially Christian, because no other religion, so far as I know, has 
produced it. 

"Take 'The Lepers' Hymn,' which the Chapel has printed as a leaflet: it 
seems to me to express an attitude toward pain which is just as positive as that 
suggested by the Philosopher, and which has the advantage of springing from 
and returning to the love and worship of One who is outside of, and who is. 
infinitely greater than self." 

"Pardon me," said the Philosopher, "but my 'dogma,' as I called it, was 
based upon discipleship, and upon the supposition, therefore, that the motive 
throughout would be devotion to the cause of the Masters and an intense desire 
to serve them. Right self-identification, and a right attitude toward the 
events of life, would be means to that end. If the motive were love of self 
instead of love of the Masters, the result would be to turn white magic into 
black; in other words, it would lead, ultimately, to self-destruction. The 
question of motive is paramount." 

"I agree with you," the Architect rejoined; "and that is one reason why I 
think the method of acceptance, though it often degenerates into negative 
resignation, is safer than the more aggressive procedure which you outlined." 

"Safer, perhaps; but less efficacious, less positive, not so creative. Your 
way would lead to Heaven, even on earth ; but the disciple does not seek Heaven : 
he seeks service, and is prepared to risk his neck, and, if necessary, more than 
his neck, in order to make himself a fighter in the army of the Lodge." 

"What is the hymn you are talking about, the 'Lepers' Hymn,' I think 
you called it?" inquired our Visitor. 

"It was written for the lepers in the hospital of 'The Resurrection of Hope,' 
at Kumamoto, Japan"; and the Architect proceeded to read: 



ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 271 

All through the day this thought has been the dearest : 

That Thy beloved Hand is laid on me ; 
That Thou of all hast deigned to come the nearest 

And marked me with the sign of Calvary. 

Thou givest joy so deep to those in sadness, 

That though Thy pierced Hand may be downprest, 

There is within a hidden well of gladness, 

For which I thank Thee, knowing I am blessed! 

"Sublime comfort," said the Philosopher; "and I love and revere it because 
it is sublime because it finds joy, and finds it sublimely, in the midst of, 
and because of, disaster. But the objective, as it were, of that hymn, is com- 
fort, is joy, not service. It confirms my thesis. 

"We must not forget that these shades of difference, though most people 
would regard them as trivial, become of greater and greater importance as 
discipleship is approached. We are dealing with very subtile forces. Many a 
man is held back because he clings to an old formula, which may have served 
him admirably until yesterday, but which should be replaced to-day by an- 
other, of slightly different direction. This difference, though slight, may 
make all the difference in terms of spiritual progress. 

"There is an analogy in wireless telephony, which also deals with subtile 
forces. All books on the subject emphasize the importance of the antenna or 
aerial its length, direction, insulation and so forth. These books say very 
little about the 'ground' wire, except that it should be connected firmly with 
a water-pipe or radiator. Experience shows, however, that the length, direc- 
tion, and weight of this 'ground' wire a yard in length, this way or that 
has an immense influence on the result, and on your ability to ' tune in ' with 
what is desirable, and to exclude what is undesirable. It is clear to me that a 
very small change in the wording of an ejaculatory prayer a mantram 
may make an immense difference, spiritually, to those who use it." 

"Both of you will agree, I suspect," the Ancient interposed, "that self-pity 
is the evil which at all costs ought to be conquered. If the 'Lepers' Hymn' 
were to accomplish nothing else, it should make self-pity impossible, sup- 
posing, of course, that the hymn were understood. Self-pity seems to me to 
be the most demoralizing of all sins : the weakest and therefore the most weak- 
ening." 

" Incidentally, the most common," added the Engineer. "Very few people 
see it as a sin. Most people treat it as a luxury. Grown men will 'lie awake 
all night' for the satisfaction of pitying themselves for their sleeplessness, 
not deliberately, of course, but as subterranean motive. If, to this, they can 
add the joy of complaining about it to their wives, their gratification is certain 
to be increased, because either the wife will be sympathetic, in which case the 
self-pity is fed directly by her, or she will be unsympathetic, in which case the 
self-pity will be fed by a brand new grievance. . . . We humans are 
strange beasts! I believe lots of men die for the hope of being able to pity 
themselves some more on the other side of the grave." 



272 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

" Next to vanity, self-pity seems to me the most persistent of all our follies," 
the Ancient continued ; "but I believe, of the two, it is by far the easier to deal 
with." 

"Why and how?" asked our Visitor. 

"Easier to deal with, because less elusive. Vanity is so abominably subtle. 
It crops out on every plane, as long as 'the great heresy of separateness ' 
lingers, and I fear that means until man becomes a Mahatma. Self-pity, 
on the other hand, talks aloud, and can in any case be dealt with to some 
extent can be starved by obedience to simple rules." 

"Such as?" our Visitor questioned. 

"A very old one: never complain to anyone about anything, as a be- 
ginning." 

" I am sorry, but I don't see the connection." 

"Why do we complain? Either we want pity, or we want people to think 
that we are playing in hard luck and are heroic because we still ' keep going' (as 
if we could do otherwise!), or we want to excuse ourselves for some failure or 
weakness by complaining about circumstances or opposition or the general 
cussedness of fate. 

"Complaining to other people, however, is innocuous in comparison with 
complaints to ourselves or to God the sort of perpetual hard-luck story which 
so many people tell themselves mentally, seeing themselves as the victims of 
this or that, of ill-health, of misunderstanding, of unappreciative friends, of 
bad heredity, of poverty and so forth. Such thoughts come straight from hell, 
and should be dismissed accordingly. They spring from self-pity and they 
breed self-pity. The man who harbours them becomes a very slough of de- 
spond. Further, by keeping our attention on pain or difficulty, we give that 
much more life to pain or difficulty." 

"There you have hit it!" exclaimed the Student. " If we permit ourselves 
everlastingly to feel our feelings, to watch our symptoms, whether physical or 
emotional, we not only accentuate and prolong what already exists, but 
become in time no better than a bundle of feelings and a collection of symp- 
toms. All of us must have met people who pass their lives, feeling their feel- 
ings; and we know the sort of people they are and what they degenerate into. 
' Bother your feelings! ' is a first-rate mantram for anyone to use against himself 
when he wakes up sufficiently to wish to escape such a destiny." 

"It is a good mantram," the Ancient commented; "but we must be careful 
not to use it against others. There is danger always that we adopt the same 
attitude toward others that we adopt toward ourselves." 

"On the other hand," the Student retorted, "I have come to dread sym- 
pathy. Someone, with most kindly intention, says to me - 'How tired you 
must be!' and at once I look at my feelings to find out if I am tired. That 
which I had not noticed, probably at once becomes noticeable, and, in addition, 
I begin to feel sorry for myself because I cannot lie down to recover! " 

"On the principle of doing unto others as you would be done by," our Visitor 
commented, "would it not follow that we should never express sympathy, and 



ON THE SCREEN OF TIME 273 

would that not turn the world into a very cold and heartless place worse 
than it is already?" 

" I recognize the problem, and I don't pretend to have solved it," the Student 
answered. "If we turn to the recorded practice of Christ and of Buddha, we 
shall not find, I believe, a single instance of what we call sympathy expressed 
by either of them. We know that their sympathy must have been infinitely 
greater than ours; that they 'suffered with others,' for love of others, as we do 
not begin to suffer. Yet the fact remains, so far as I am aware, that not once 
did either of them say such things as we constantly say to our friends, 'You 
have my utmost sympathy,' ' I am so sorry you should have had such an un- 
pleasant experience,' 'It is too bad' (after we have listened to some recital), 
'Poor man, you certainly have had a hard time' any of the innumerable 
phrases which we use in all sincerity to express what we can of fellow-feeling." 

"But St. Paul said: 'Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with 
them that weep.' ' 

"True; and for the Jewish converts in Rome, such teaching doubtless was 
essential, just as it was essential to tell them not to curse those who persecuted 
them. The Jews were adepts at cursing! I am not sure, however, that we 
should draw a universal rule from Paul's advice. Would it not be fair to say 
that his rule in substance means only that we should take people as we find 
them, and should act accordingly?" 

"Ah, the tiredness that has come over your soul, friend of mine and friend 
of my Friend! You have lived too long in this city of steel. You need the 
little islands and the quiet seas; you need rest and the dream of dreams and 
the great wonder; you need once more to see the Heart he has given you, in 
old lands where the earth is full of men's prayers; where the hills and valleys 
praise him, and where his benediction broods, visibly, for love of the love that 
age upon age has yielded him." 

The Gael had arrived late. He could have heard only the last part of the 
Student's argument. But the Student is devoted to the Gael, and evidently 
had no desire to defend himself. "Tell me," he said. 

"There is nothing to tell. Does he not ask for sympathy? Does he not 
pour it forth? You know! Have you not seen him take some broken heart 
into his, and heal it, with love beyond the telling, with pity unutterable and 
overwhelming? That he says very little, I grant you. But what of that! I 
have seen a mother at the bedside of her fever-stricken child, listening in agony 
to its delirium. Does she say much? Can you measure her sympathy by her 
words? Does she not suffer far more than her little one, because of her love, 
because of her compassion, and because her child is more than self, is more 
than life to her? Compassion, sympathy, are the very cause of his being. 
Why else did he incarnate? ' Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy 
laden, and I will give you rest.' For what else does he live to-day? 

"That men misuse his gifts, whether received direct from him or carried to 
them by the hearts of others, is what we know, and, alas, is what all of us 

6 



274 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

are inclined to do! We do not think, perhaps, of what he suffers when misuse 
compels him to withhold." 

"What did you mean by saying that Christ asks for sympathy? " our Visitor 
interjected. 

"Perhaps you have not read the story of his self -revealing, through the cen- 
turies following his Passion. He has bared his heart that all men might hear 
and see its need. To one after another of his disciples he has done this, that 
they might speak of it to others and make him known at last. But all that he 
has revealed was foreseen, was forefelt, in visions familiar to every one of us: 
' Is it nothing to you, all ye that pass by? behold, and see if there be any sorrow 
like unto my sorrow!' 

"What is the solution?" asked the Student. 

"If it were only for our own salvation, we must give all the sympathy we 
possess, and pray ceaselessly for more, to give, to give endlessly, as he does. 
But in certain cases, where we have a special tie, a special responsibility, we 
must use exactly the same discrimination that a mother uses in her nursery. 
If her child falls and cries too easily, her sympathy goes out to the soul of her 
child even more than to its body, and she withholds comfort to give strength 
instead. But even if her words are sharp, as sometimes they need to be, the 
motive which inspires them is love; is the compassion which sees, and which 
gives all it has in answer. As a rule, however, we have no such relation with 
the people who, in scriptural language, are our 'neighbours.' It is their re- 
sponsibility, not ours, if they misuse our sympathy." 

" Even supposing it were possible to frame a rule, I doubt very much whether 
the same rule could be applied to men and women alike. What is poison for a 
man may be balm, and much needed balm, for a woman." It was the Phil- 
osopher who spoke. 

"Rank heresy! " exclaimed the Lawyer. " Have they not been made equals 
by Act of Congress?" 

" Perhaps " suggested the Philosopher, mildly, "perhaps two things can be 
equal without being alike. One hundred cents equal a dollar, but no one 
would treat or use one hundred cent pieces as he would treat or use a dollar 
bill. They are not intended for the same purposes." 
"Miserable side-stepper!" the Lawyer protested. 

"A man, to be a man, should not look for or permit himself to desire sym- 
pathy. A woman, on the other hand, would lose much of her femininity, and 
therefore much of her charm, if she did not desire the sympathy of those she 
loves." 

"Charm!" expostulated the Lawyer. "Charm! I thought we were dis- 
cussing principles of conduct; I thought we were discussing discipleship! 
What has that to do with a woman's 'charm 1 ! " 

"Everything." It was the Gael who answered him. 

T. 



LETTERS TO STUDENTS 

May 2nd, 1909. 



DEAR 

I was very glad to receive your letter, and I must apologize for not having 
replied to it sooner, but the extra work which the Convention and other 
matters have entailed, has kept me exceedingly busy. 

* * * * * 

no matter how hard it may have been for you, you must not 
forget that you would have had to suffer these things sooner or later, and that 
it is a great advantage to have done with them and to get them out of the way. 
I also think that a severe attack shows that we are alive inside, that our souls 
are close to the surface and can make these great efforts to purge the lower self. 

But it is hard, there is no mistaking that. You can have the comfort, if it 
is a comfort, of knowing that no one follows the path without similar suffering, 
or, as Light on the Path puts it, "without bitter complaint", and that you have 
not only plenty of companions in misery, but that the "brothers who have 
passed on" stand ready and willing and anxious to take you by the hand and 
comfort you as soon as you yourself make it possible for them to do so. They 
are much more anxious that we should reach the light than we are to reach it. 
They are ever ready to extend the utmost of divine sympathy did we but let 
them do it. But we close our minds to them, and they are helpless. 

The only advice I can give you is to persevere without discouragement. 
Read the devotional books morning and evening . . . keep the idea of 
what you are trying to do continually in the background of your mind, just as 
a mother never forgets her baby, even while she is fully occupied with her 
household duties. She keeps a portion of her mind always on the child, she 
knows when it is time to feed it, she hears instantly, even when asleep, if it 
makes any unusual noise, or does something unexpected. This is the best 
natural analogy I know for continual meditation, and it is entirely possible. 
It is also an enormous help and a constant source of renewed strength and 
spiritual energy. 

I hope you will write to me soon again. I am always at your service. 

Fraternally, 

C. A. GRISCOM, JR. 



October 3rd, 1909. 

DEAR 

I was very much pleased to find your letter of August 24th on my recent 

return from Europe. This is the first moment I have had in which to answer it. 

With reference to your question as to whether or not it is better to depend 

entirely upon oneself rather than to seek advice and help from another, there 

275 



276 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

is much to be said. Theoretically there is no doubt that if a person were strong 
enough to force his way into heaven without any help from anyone else, it 
would be best for him. But who is so strong? I know no such person. On 
the contrary, what my experience has been is that we are not strong enough 
to do it with all the help which all the good powers in the universe can give us. 
This is obvious, for otherwise we should be adepts already. 

There are certain things we can and must do for ourselves, but there are also 
certain ways in which we can and should be willing to receive help. Take a 
physical analogy. We must do our own eating. No one, no matter how they 
love us and desire to help us, can eat for us. But, and it is an important but, 
others who have tried and know, can warn us against certain kinds of food; 
they can advise a light diet, and if they are masters of the subject, like doctors, 
they can prescribe a diet which is especially suited to our needs. That is 
exactly our situation where we are taught the science of life. We have avail- 
able the results of countless ages of scientific living, and we should be simply 
foolish if we were to ignore this, to refuse the help that can be given us and 
which is actually offered to us, and decide that we must learn it all ourselves 
and depend upon ourselves. We must do the actual living, but we were foolish 
to refuse advice as to the best way to live. 

It seems to me that that answers your query, does it not? 

I am glad that you have found the well-spring of peace and joy which lies 
ever ready to be tapped by the disciple. There is no happiness to be compared 
with that which comes from work for others well and faithfully done. It takes 
us out of ourselves, and the moment we forget self we are happy. It follows 
too, that discouragement can no longer affect us. Discouragement is a cloud 
arising from doubt, which hangs over the lower self. If we cease to think about 
the lower self, naturally we cease to know or care anything about the clouds 
which may hover over it. But that is a long way off for all of us. All we can 
hope to do is to find our true self at times, and to get sufficient strength from 
that association to carry us through the next period when we sink back into 
the lower, and suffer from all the entanglements which that association brings. 

I shall be very glad to hear from you. 

With kindest regards and best wishes, I am 

Sincerely, 
C. A. GRISCOM, JR. 



April 5th, 1914. 
DEAR 

I am not a teacher, as you call me in your letter, which I was most glad to 
receive. I am ... an older student, who has been many years in the 
Movement and who, therefore, knows from experience some of the barriers, 
pitfalls, and obstacles which you are likely to meet. 

We have to make our own way in occultism, just as we do in worldly matters. 
No one can eat for us. They can give us food in abundance, but we must do 
our own eating and digesting. So it is with knowledge. It is spread before us, 



LETTERS TO STUDENTS 277 

a bounteous repast, and we take and use what we can. Often we do not know 
enough to recognize it as knowledge and we pass it by. So my function is to 
suggest, to encourage, to stimulate, to readjust. Life teaches, and is the only 
real teacher. 

You will have to grow into a knowledge of meditation, for it is a very difficult 
step. Do you pray? Prayer is the first step of meditation, its mental form, 
and we must all pass through it before we can hope to control the mind com- 
pletely, and so permit the highest form to become active. That will take a 
long time. 

You will find that your mind has a tendency to talk to you or to itself 
during your periods of meditation. The thing to do is to turn it to your Master 
and to let it talk to him. That is prayer. 

We can only help others to the extent to which we have become something 
ourselves. Previous to that we do more harm than good, and it is only the 
excellence of our motive which enables the Spiritual Powers to save the 
situation. 

With kind regards, I am 

Sincerely, 

C. A. GRISCOM. 



October I2th, 1914. 
DEAR- 

It is a long time since I wrote to you and since I received your last reply, 
but there did not seem to be any obvious need for further communication; as 
the Quakers say, "the Spirit did not move me" to write. 

Please remember that occultism is merely the science of life the art of 
living, secret only because people do not wish to learn. Nature holds no 
secrets from the disciple, but she rigorously guards her treasures from the 
amateur, the dilettante. What we . . . have to do is not to learn some 
secret wisdom, but to learn how to live, to live so well that we become 
centres of light and inspiration to all with whom we come in contact. 

Prayer, one aspect of prayer, is "talking with the Master" . . . Talk 
to him as you would to a very intimate friend ; tell him all your hopes; all your 
desires; all your faults and weaknesses; all your sins. Do not be afraid. He 
knows them already but can do little about them until you speak of them. 
Do not keep anything back. Do not have any reserved place. Do not be 
ashamed of your real desires. Out with them whether you think them worthy 
or not. If not, he will help you replace them with worthy ones. 

Prayer is one of the most valuable weapons in the arsenal of the disciple, and 
is not used nearly enough. We should pray about everything, i.e., talk to the 
Master about everything that concerns us. There is nothing too trivial, too 
unimportant for him to be interested in. 

With kind regards, 

I am sincerely, 

C. A. GRISCOM. 



278 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

October I2th, 1914. 



DEAR 

It is a good while I hope you feel it to be so since I wrote to you and 
received your reply. Much has happened in the world since then. Much has 
happened to me. I hope much has also happened to you. 

We grow through experience practically in no other way. Only the rare 
individual can profit by another's painfully acquired knowledge. Even book 
knowledge we must acquire for ourselves, and we never really know anything 
well until we have worked it out for ourselves. When it comes to Life, to 
living, it is even more true. I could tell you, for instance, that I doubt if you 
can keep well and do your work in the world, and not eat meat. But so long 
as you think you can, there is little use in my speaking. 

Furthermore, it is a law of life that we rarely really learn a lesson well that 
does not cost us something. Again it is only the rare individual who can learn 
through pleasure, through happiness. Most of us only learn through pain. 
Therefore the disciple's path is usually a painful path : but he learns the value 
and purpose of pain, the mystery of pain, so he ceases to "kick against the 
pricks". 

You say you need to develop your intuition. Well, the intuition is only 
your own soul speaking to your brain consciousness. It is speaking incessantly, 
but you only listen, and are only capable of hearing occasionally and at your 
highest moments. It is perfectly in your power to listen more often, and to 
.have your "higher moments" more and more frequently indeed until they 
become continuous, and your normal consciousness becomes the consciousness 
of your soul. That is chelaship. 

With kind regards, 

I am sincerely, 

C. A. GRISCOM. 



August yth, 1915. 

DEAR 

***** 

I want to give you one caution, and that is about your desire to spread 
Theosophy. It is a proper desire. At the same time you must realize that 
we can only teach what we are: real power comes from living and being, not 
from writing, or lecturing, or talking. Your rightful desire to work for others 
can be fulfilled best, and practically only, by being yourself a living example 
of the teachings you wish to spread. 

Too much talk about a subject can repel instead of attract. Names and 
phrases are barriers to many; but a shining example cannot fail to influence 
and teach. 

With my best wishes for your continued welfare, 

I am sincerely, 

C. A. GRISCOM. 



LETTERS TO STUDENTS 279 

LONDON, 

January I2th, 1911. 
DEAR 

Mr. Hargrove and I have been in London for nearly three weeks. We came 
most unexpectedly, leaving New York on less than a day's notice. We ex- 
pected to be here four days, and it looks as if we might be here four weeks, 
four months, or four years. It is in the hands of the gods. 

There was a lull in my business affairs to-day, and I was on the point of 

telegraphing you that we would come to tomorrow for the purpose of 

meeting your members, but after we had looked up trains and composed a 
telegram to you, I received word that a business associate of mine who is 
coming here to see me, will arrive tomorrow, so that I cannot leave town at 

present. I hope that before I return to America I shall be able to visit 

and see you all, but that also is in the hands of the gods. 

I should like to have the opportunity of telling you something of our work 
in America and of the spirit which we feel underlies the times. The keynote 
of all we do now is discipleship. ... It seems to be our special message. 
There are other Societies teaching Theosophy, or at least a kind of Theosophy, 
but we alone, so far as I know, make a specialty of the Inner Life, and make 
everything we say or write turn on that. Karma, Reincarnation, the Seven 
Principles in man, all these specially Theosophical subjects are, after all, only 
interesting and useful as they teach us the rationale of spiritual development. 
As we have been told so often, what the Masters need, and the real purpose of 
all this Movement, is to get disciples. Let us then insist upon this in all we 
say or do. It is what I should speak to your members upon if I should have 
the pleasure of meeting them. 

Please give my kindest regards to and and the other mem- 
bers. I suppose that a day's notice would be sufficient to get your members 
together if we should find it possible to make you a flying visit. 

Yours very sincerely, 

C. A. GRISCOM. 



LONDON, 

February 22nd, 1911. 
DEAR 

Dr. Keightley has handed me your letter of the 2Oth together with the reply 
to our letter. I call it our letter, but, as a matter of fact, it was written by Mr. 
Hargrove. I am glad you appreciated it for it is an admirable letter. 

We have taken due note of your suggestion about putting it in the QUAR- 
TERLY and I think we can arrange to do so, and in the April number. We have 
sent a copy to America for this purpose. 

I have read your personal letter with interest. More and more as I grow 
older, I believe that we effect little by what we say or do, but can effect an 
enormous amount by what we are. For one thing, the first are only passing 
effects: the second is permanent and adds to the capital of the race as a whole. 



280 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

But further than this, the real influence we have upon others depends upon 
what we are and not upon what we do. A clever leading writer in one of the 
London dailies could write a much better sermon than the average priest, but 
it would have very little effect if it did not come from his heart. 

Discipleship then, which is the expression of our personal efforts after holi- 
ness, is what will mark the work of the T. S., and its success will depend upon 
our success. 

I am sorry that my engagements and duties here made a trip to 

impracticable. I should have much liked to see and talk with you and . 

Please remember me to her, and believe me, 

Sincerely yours, 

C. A. GRISCOM. 

December 24th, 1911. 



DEAR 

Do you know that I have carried your letter of June loth around wherever 
I have been, ever since I received it, to Europe and back last summer 
waiting for a chance to write you, and now I am going to combine my thanks 
for sending me a copy of your Lodge circular (it is a good idea) and the official 
thanks of your Convention for our cable from here (it was a joint affair), with 
my special Christmas greetings. 

At the heart of things is the Master's Peace and Joy and Love, and my best 
wish for you is that during the coming year you will learn to live more and 
more in these. 

Please give my kindest regards to and the other members in your 

region. 

As always, 

C. A. GRISCOM. 



August nth, 1915. 
DEAR 

I was very glad indeed to get your letter of the 27th of June, and I am much 
obliged to you for the clipping about the Quiet Hour Movement, which was 
introduced from New Zealand to a church in Newcastle, from which it spread 
throughout England and finally to this country. 

I have heard a good deal about this movement. A number of Episcopal 
clergymen are trying it over here, and being, as you know, a Quaker by birth, 
and also a reader of their periodicals, I have kept in touch with the movement 
through them. 

I was much interested in your report, sent to the Convention, of your work 
in , and also in the details you give in your letters. 

We had a very interesting and busy season, but the work is now pretty well 
closed down, as nearly everybody leaves New York during the summer months. 
We ourselves moved out thirty miles in the country, and I spend about three 
hours a day going backwards and forwards. 



LETTERS TO STUDENTS 281 

Of course the War continues to be the all-absorbing topic of conversation 
and of thought. We are not at all content over here, on the whole, with the 
way England is behaving, nor with the way this country is behaving. The 
great majority of real Americans and by that I mean people whose ances- 
tors have been in this country for, say, at least a hundred years are not only 
heartily in favour of the Allies, but they are also very much ashamed that this 
country has not taken a much more aggressive stand than it has in the War 
and that it has not definitely declared itself on the side of the Allies, and pitched 
in to render what assistance it could. I think the War is going to be a long one, 
and, of course, it is still possible that we may take our place alongside of the 
other powers who are fighting for what is best and highest in our modern life. 

With kind regards to and the other members at I am, with 

best wishes, 

Yours very sincerely, 

C. A. GRISCOM. 



May 8th, 1916. 

DEAR 

***** 

THE WAR It is still, and ought to be, the outer pivot around which life 
revolves. I have no use for anyone who is not deeply absorbed by it and its 
interests and problems. 

The attitude of our Country towards it makes us all sick. 

The attitude of England leaves much to be desired. 

Only France is almost wholly satisfactory. She is wonderful. The more one 
hears and knows about her and the French people the more one admires, 
almost to the point of reverence. She is redeeming the world, and we owe her 
an increasing debt of gratitude. I do not mean materially by her military 
resistance, but spiritually by the attitude of her people. 

I am glad to hear of your new members and good meetings. I am always 
glad to hear from you. 

As always, 

C. A. GRISCOM. 




m*i~*m,Am 

wr 1 >w 

dUB? 

nor 



From Ftto Nuova to Paradiso, by Philip H. Wicksteed; Longmans, Green and Company. 

This profound and penetrating study of Dante will appeal to two classes of students: first, 
those who are primarily interested in the spiritual meaning of the great trilogy, the Divina 
Commedia, as a revelation of life; and, second, those who wish to study the complete develop- 
ment of the mind of Dante, throughout his entire life, as illustrated by all that he has written. 

The author's view of the trilogy he himself sums up thus: 

"In the heaven of the primum mobile Dante sees a single point of intensest light, and since 
its spaceless glory represents God himself, Beatrice tells him that 'from that point all Heaven 
and Nature hang.' It is the purpose of this essay to show how the Comedy itself, in its ani- 
mating spirit and its intimate structure, 'depends from that point.' ' 

The deeply intuitive spirit in which he approaches the mystery of the Beatific Vision may be 
illustrated by this passage: 

"But how if . . . we really had the power, about which we so often speculate, of direct 
vision of another's thoughts and emotions and the whole sum of the processes in his conscious- 
ness! How if we could really 'see' another soul in all its vital movements and experiencesT 
Now, this is exactly the power which, according to the mediaeval belief, the disembodied souls 
of the blessed will actually acquire (and retain when reunited to the glorified body of the resur- 
rection) and which the angels enjoyed, by their very nature, from the first. Each such soul or 
angelic spirit can, up to the measure of its primal and inherent endowment, read the conscious- 
ness of every other as directly as it can read its own" (page 16). And the conclusion of this 
process: "By assimilation to the divine being and participation therein the blessed spirit seea 
God as he sees himself, and sees all things and all beings as God sees them: in their perfect and 
untarnished truth and beauty. There is no room here for accepting or rejecting. Seeing God, 
the spirit sees all things under God's own values, and is caught into the glory of his ineffable 
love and bliss. Standing thus at the fontal source of all being, the blessed spirit sees the ma- 
terial as w r ell as the spiritual side of creation in its intrinsic nature, even as the Creator sees it. 
Time, space, and causation are no longer conditions that bind the thought and experience upon 
which they are imposed, but acts of the Creative Mind itself, above which that mind, with all 
that it has called into fellowship with itself, stands supreme. God and his elect see the universe 
not in fragments but as a whole, not as a stream of effects which they must stem in order to 
reach up towards the first cause, but as an utterance flowing, as by force of its intrinsic and 
divine fitness and glory, from the central Consciousness itself within which they stand and by 
which they are compassed" (page 25). 

Passages like these give us the assurance that we have here a guide very exceptionally 
equipped to lead us to the deeper meaning of Dante. 

J. 

The Story of a Varied Life An Autobiography, by W. S. Rainsford; New York: Doubleday, 
Page and Company, 1922. 

This is the story of a personality, vital, magnetic, strong of purpose and of will the sort of 
personality before the impact of which the ordinary difficulties of life seem to melt, to say noth- 
ing of many of the extraordinary ones. Wherever we find the super-energized type of human 
being whether on the battle-field, in politics, in high finance, or occasionally in the Church, 

282 



REVIEWS 283 

we find their fellows making way for them, fulfilling their desires for them, backing them with 
their good will, their yielding, their allegiance. In the case of Dr. Rainsford this attraction to 
himself of men who believed in him, and even of men who toiled for him without quite believ- 
ing in him or rather in his methods resulted for the most part in good for the Parish of 
which he was so prominently the moving spirit. Taking up his life from the moment when he 
accepted a call to St. George's, we find him leading, with a fine courage, what at first looked a 
good deal like a forlorn hope. To-day we have grown accustomed to the idea of the Church as 
a centre of community life, indeed, we are sometimes in danger of finding the spiritual life 
of the church swamped in its competing social activities. Forty years ago the theory had its 
pioneers and they had not always easy going. There were all too many churches perishing 
slowly of inanition, and of these St. George's was a conspicuous example. A rich man cr two 
languidly kept it on its feet, but its vast dark spaces bore no relation, and offered no refuge, to 
the teeming masses of its neighbourhood. Dr. Rainsford, with true pioneer spirit, recognized 
its availability as a centre and, undeterred by opposition, he turned it into one. His ideas of 
how this should be done are to a great extent commonplaces of church policy to-day, but when 
he set to work he found it necessary to fight hard for his choirs drawn from the young people of 
the neighbourhood, for his free seats, and for his many methods by which the young and care- 
less, and the old and tired, could be attracted to a church. 

It is strange to read of Dr. Rainsford's gradual disenchantment and weaning from many of 
the dogmas of his church, strange, we mean, to a student of Theosophy. He seems like 
so many honest men in just his predicament to come blankly face to face with Theosophy 
and not to recognize it. As he staggers back from outworn formulae and half-understood 
creeds, he staggers almost into the arms of the Divine Wisdom - almost but not quite and 
to miss is to miss equilibrium, for there is no good stopping place for those who begin to ask real 
questions, short of finding real answers. 

For the rest this book is delightfully written, a treasure trove of interest and charm, the story 
of a life as full as it was varied, lived by a nature delivered by its essence to eternal youth. 
" Delivered to eternal youth " do we find perhaps just here the secret of both charm and limi- 
tations limitations so beguilingly confessed; Certain paragraphs are significant: "I 
found I could do something with the clerical mind when it was in its very youthful and forma- 
tive stage, but I never did, and never could, by argument, win or influence it to any observable 
degree once it was mature." Yes the book is young with an eternal youth, and charming 
with an unquenchable vitality, and brave with a fighter's courage. 

L. S. 

Direction de Conscience; Psychotherapie des Troubles Nerveux. Paris: Pierre Tequi, 1922. 

In this book the Abbe Arnaud d'Agnel and Dr. d'Espinez of Lyon present a comparative 
study of the methods employed by the spiritual director in his work of leading souls to God, and 
those of the progressive physician in his re-education of neurotics with weakened wills and mis- 
directed energies. The psychotherapeutic methods discussed are those of M. Vittoz, a neurolo- 
gist of Lausanne, whose work is welcomed by many of his colleagues as happily supplanting 
the crude and unpleasant, if not unmoral, theories and practices of the Freudian school of 
psychoanalysts. 

The treatise deals with-the treatment of the sick on two planes of consciousness the higher 
and the lower manasic the object being to demonstrate that the curative methods employed 
on one plane are equally applicable on the other; that the sick soul can be guided back to unity 
with its divine self by the same means, mutatis mutandis, as those used to restore to the sick 
mind its proper balance. There is really nothing new in this, for the practice of medicine was 
originally a function of the priesthood, and psychotherapeutic methods were those mainly 
employed in restoring to health the sick in mind or body who sought the temple ministrations. 
Later, the art of healing bodily ills was gradually divorced frcm the cure of souls, and in losing 
his spiritual functions the physician inevitably sank to the material plane, and drugs were given 
for physical ills, or what seemed to be such. But the physicians of souls retained psycho- 
therapy and, as the Abbe d'Agnel shows by a multitude of quotations from St. Francis de 



284 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

Sales, St. Ignatius of Loyola, Fenelon, and many other "directeurs de conscience," this has 
been in common use in the Christian Church down through the ages. Within a comparatively 
recent time the practice has been resumed by the medical profession, which seems to regard it 
as a special discovery of its own. 

Psychoanalysis as a means of bringing to light the hidden cause of disease, psychic or spirit- 
ual, is likewise no novelty, having been employed for centuries by spiritual directors. That the 
method has been perverted by a certain school of neurologists or psychologists affords of course 
no argument against its right application. St. Teresa used a form of it in the management 
of her melancholy nuns, and directors of conscience and right-minded physicians use it effec- 
tively to-day. And its corollary, the teaching of concentration and the training of the will by 
the methods discussed in this book or by similar ones, is employed by many physicians who 
justly estimate its value in the treatment of nervous and mental ills sins or their consequences 
on the astral plane. The correspondence between morbid states of the mind and those of the 
soul is strikingly brought out in this well-conceived work. The student of Theosophy will 
find here much that is interesting and suggestive. Having learned to know himself in some 
small degree by a form of auto-psychoanalysis, he may be able to progress a little farther along 
the Path by practising some of the measures here outlined. 

S. 

An edition of Light on the Path, published at Adyar in 1911, with an Introduction by C. W. 
Leadbeater, has just been brought to our attention. If the Introduction be sincere, and not 
deliberately pretentious, it is quite a remarkable exhibition of psychic self-deception. State- 
ments are made with great positiveness, and with all the air of first-hand knowledge, which 
have not the slightest foundation in fact; this kind of thing (N. B. we are not quoting Mr. 
Leadbeater; we are inventing it ourselves as we go along): "The first volume of the Secret Doc- 
trine, as we have it at present, was dictated to Madame Blavatsky by the Senior Warden of the 
Mexican Lodge of Masters, whose literary style is well known to all Initiates and is in marked 
contrast to that of the Master Kum-Luk, the pupil of Ashvaghosha, who dictated the second 
volume with His third Chakra while, with His fifth, He was directing the campaign of the 
Abyssinians against the Italians, which resulted in the defeat of the latter at the famous battle 
of Massowah [see any Handbook of Universal History for this 'evidence']. The slightly Latin 
turn which the Master Kum-Luk gives to his sentences, which is conspicuous in the second 
volume of Madame Blavatsky's serviceable little treatise, is due as all Occultists of high 
degree are aware to the Great Tibetan's long incarnation as Nostradamus. The reason the 
third chapter of the second volume is free from this peculiarity is that my own pupil, Helicon, 
not then in incarnation (he was resting after his labours as the Comte de St. Germain), volun- 
teered to correct whichever one of the chapters the Master Kum-Luk would prefer to submit to 
him. Highly appreciative of this compliment, the Master selected the third chapter, because 
the astral cypher in which he had drafted it was more distinct, and would be less trying to my 
pupil's eyes, than the more abbreviated cypher of other chapters. . . . To know such 
facts as these, they must be lived." 

C'est pour rire! Yet, for the benefit of some, we repeat: the foregoing is not a quotation 
from Mr. Leadbeater, though those who are acquainted with his writings might imagine that it 
is. We have been improvising in the style of Mr. Leadbeater, so as to indicate the manner of 
his Introduction to Light on the Path. 

We are sorry for the people who swallow such stuff and who seem to like it. The tragedy is 
that, echoing Mr. Leadbeater, they call it Theosophy. 

E. T. H. 

Quand Israel est Roi, by Jerome and Jean Tharaud; Paris: Librairie Plon, 1921. 

If Bolshevism still retains some glamour for anyone who sincerely desires to cure himself, he 
should read this excellent book, which describes Bela Kun's reign of terror in Budapest (March- 
July, 1919). In accordance with the doctrine of correspondences, it must give one a fair idea 
of the manners and customs of devils in Hell. 



REVIEWS 285 

As the title indicates, the authors are especially concerned with the relation of the Jews to 
the Revolution. Bela Kun was a Jew and so were most of his fellow-fiends. Indeed, Jews are 
so prominent generally in communist agitation everywhere that there is serious danger of an 
Anti-Semitic reaction which will know neither restraint nor reason. 

The fact is, of course, as the authors indicate, that there must be a "pair of opposites," a 
positive and a negative, to make a revolution. In Hungary, for example, the Jews were the 
positive element and the Magyars were the negative. The Jews were active, intelligent, 
greedy and cunning, whereas the Magyars were indolent, stupid, extravagant and sentimental. 
The time came when these opposing qualities could no longer be held in suspension, and then, 
just as in chemical phenomena, an explosion occurred. Both Jews and Magyars were there- 
fore responsible, if not equally responsible for what happened. 

Of course, the whole Jewish race is not to be blamed for the crimes committed by a few Jews 
in Moscow and Budapest. MM. Tharaud do not raise any such question. But there remains 
the fact that the worst malcontents in the world are very apt to be Jews. In other words, it 
seems to be easier for a Jew to become a Bolshevik than for anyone else. The authors describe 
the feverish intellectual activity, the perverted enthusiasms, the sensuality and the malicious 
hatreds of certain groups of young Jews in Budapest. Certainly all Jews do not suffer from 
these moral diseases in the same degree, but one wonders whether this unhappy race is not 
suffering to-day the consequences of an age-long and most obstinate materialism. With what 
desperate courage they have clung to the tangible goods of this world! Small wonder that 
among the more unbalanced of them, desire for riches should be converted into an all-consum- 
ing envy of those who possess them. 

Envy needs some excuse for itself before it becomes manifest in action. In the case of the 
Jewish Socialists, there is some reason for believing that a perverted version of the ancient 
tradition of the Messianic Kingdom provides them with the necessary illusion to veil their 
darker purposes. "In their ghettos filled with the dust of old dreams, the uncouth Jews of 
Galicia still watch on moonlight nights for some sign in the sky announcing the advent of the 
Messiah. Trotzky, Bela Kun and the others have not forgotten the fabulous dream. Only, 
tired of seeking in the heavens this Kingdom of Heaven which has never come, they themselves 
have made it descend to Earth. Experience has shown that their ancient prophets were better 
inspired, when they placed the Kingdom in the clouds." 

S. L. 

The Minds and Manners of Wild Animals, by William T. Hornaday, Sc.D., A.M.; New York: 
Charles Scribner's Sons, 1922. 

Whatever Dr. Hornaday does, he does with the force of deep conviction, and however many 
years of useful labour may already have been credited to his account, they have but deepened 
the enthusiasms that marked his youth. The director of the New York Zoological Park for the 
last twenty-six years, he has been studying wild animal life for more than half a century and 
has collected from all over the world. In this book he gives us the fruit of his long experience. 
He is not writing for scientists, nor recording the statistical results of systematic tests. He 
addresses the ordinary layman, believing that, "as the alleged lord of creation, it is man's duty 
to know the wild animals truly as they are, in order to enjoy them to the utmost, to utilize them 
sensibly and fairly, and to give them a square deal." He mingles his philosophy with his ob- 
servations, and sets forth both in bold and vigorous words, illustrating them with a wealth of 
illuminating incidents from his personal experience that are sometimes amusing, and sometimes 
exciting, but always interesting and enlightening. Some one once said that the more he saw 
of men the better he liked dogs. Dr. Hornaday has reached the same general conclusions by a 
different route. 

We commend the book to the readers of the QUARTERLY. It substantiates a thesis often 
advanced in theosophical literature, that there is more of manas in animals and less in man than 
human conceit is generally willing to suppose. 

V. 




QUESTIONS 



ANSWERS 




QUESTION No. 273. Can something be said about Karma from the point of view of happiness 
and joy? When Karma is discussed it is usually coupled with the idea of pain. If pain be re~ 
garded as a corrective, what, similarly speaking, would be the purpose of great happiness? 

ANSWER. The mother who found that her child rushed to her when in pain, but did not 
rush to her with its joys, would know that a barrier of some sort prevented the ideal union. 
May not the purpose of great happiness be an exercise in union? 

T. M. 

ANSWER. Karma has been called "the Divine bookkeeping." The business man who 
studies only his assets, and ignores his liabilities, ends in bankruptcy, at the least, and often 
in jail. Does this not suggest why it is wise to devote attention to the liability side of Karma? 
Pain may be a form of meeting obligations changing liabilities into assets. 

G. W. 

ANSWER. In the Secret Doctrine, Edition 1888, Vol. I, pp. 634 et seq., Mme. Blavatsky has 
presented a view which deals largely with this. The literal translation of Karma is action 
the action of Universal Law. Man has the power of free will to conform himself and his actions 
to Universal Law. When he does, he experiences happiness and joy. When he does not, he is 
confronted with forces which are stronger than he, as the whole is greater than the part. The 
result is pain; and that pain is the means to remind man and make him see that his true hap- 
piness does not come from personal pleasure, but consists in fulfilling the laws of the Soul with, 
as Light on the Path puts it, "a great and ever increasing delight." Pain then becomes a friend, 
and leads to joy and happiness. And this is accomplished by the education of the will when 
we learn so to guide and govern ourselves that we fulfil the laws of our real being, in place of 
the mistaken ones of our selfish, personal, temporary desires. 

A. K. 

ANSWER. Karma is the law of action, of life. From one point of view, the purpose of life 
is to train us in the use of our divine gift, free will. Every decision we make, every act we per- 
form, every thought we admit, is a seed we plant. It has its life cycle, grows, comes to fruition, 
and we ourselves harvest it in joy or sorrow. This is Karma. "As ye sow, so shall ye reap." 
One purpose of happiness may be to teach us what seeds to plant and what to avoid. 

. J- F. 

ANSWER. I should regard happiness as a corrective equally with pain. They are the two 
poles of the strata of emotional experience, and we are only able to recognize one by contrast 
with the other. Because one is an agreeable emotion and makes us feel comfortable, we, lovers 
of comfort, have agreed that it is a much higher and more "spiritual" condition than that of 
suffering. This is altogether natural, but it is not Theosophy, nor even theosophical. No 
emotion is spiritual. Neither happiness nor pain, therefore, can be spiritual in and of itself. 
By means of their interaction, and our sustained effort at preserving equal-mindedness and one- 
pointedness in their midst, we shall, under the operation of the Good Law which designed them 

286 



QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS 287 

for that end, acquire the poise and self-mastery which permits, first the vision, then the con- 
sciousness of the Peace which passeth understanding, that peace which can only be given by 
the Master "to the beloved disciples who are as himself," because they also have risen above 
the domination of the things of sense and time. Call it happiness if you will, but then invent 
another word for your happy feelings. These last we should perceive in all their loveliness, 
like the lights and colours of a summer day, but equally disassociated from them; attentive 
to them; learning their beautiful lessons; content that they should come, content that they 
should go; forever seeing beyond them to the purposes of life and the unfolding of the soul. 
Carlyle, feeling for the truth, has told us that a man can do without happiness, and instead 
thereof find blessedness, which the penetrating student of Theosophy would modify by one 
word a must in place of a can. 

When a man enters into that blessedness which spiritual consciousness brings, he finds him- 
self above the noise and jar of the swinging pendulum whose one beat brings him suffering, the 
next beat joy. Karma no longer buffets him back and forth. He stands midway, holding, 
himself, the balance of his life; and, firmly placed, can reach strong hands of wise compassion 
to those who rise and fall with the tide of emotional existence. Perhaps for those who are 
"happy," his compassion goes the deepest. 

"There is in man a HIGHER than Love of Happiness: he can do without Happiness, and 
instead thereof find Blessedness! Was it not to preach forth this same HIGHER that sages and 
martyrs, the Poet and the Priest, in all times, have spoken and suffered; bearing testimony, 
through life and through death, of the Godlike that is in Man, and how in the Godlike only has 
he Strength and Freedom? Which God-inspired Doctrine art thou also honoured to be taught; 
O Heavens! and broken with manifold merciful Afflictions, even till thou become contrite, and 
learn it! O, thank thy Destiny for these; thankfully bear what yet remain: thou hadst need 
of them; the Self in thee needed to be annihilated. By benignant fever- paroxysms is Life 
rooting out the deep-seated chronic Disease, and triumphs over Death. On the roaring billows 
of Time, thou art not engulfed, but borne aloft into the azure of Eternity. Love not Pleasure; 
love God. This is the EVERLASTING YEA, wherein all contradiction is solved: wherein whoso 
walks and works, it is well with him." 

CAVE. 

QUESTION No. 274. Has love the power to confer immortality? Can anything that is loved 
die? I do not mean will it continue to exist as a subjective idea, but will its existence as a conscious 
entity be continued by the power of the love given it? 

ANSWER. Ought not the question to be differently phrased? Love is an attribute of the 
soul and has an immortality with the soul. That which is of the soul is loved and does not die 
any more than the soul dies. The soul inspires love and draws forth a response to its own 
gift the gift of itself. And the thoughts inspired by love become the conscious entities who 
surround such great souls as the Masters, and these entities do the work of their parents, the 
Masters. 

A. K. 

ANSWER. Love can bear vicariously the Karma of another. It can procure for the person 
loved opportunities of retrieving himself, but it cannot confer on him immortality without 
some exertion on his part. Not even the love of the Masters can save a soul that is determined 
to be damned. 

St. C. B. 

ANSWER. What sort of love? There are so many meanings to this elastic word. We all 
count ourselves as lovers in one relation or another, and yet as we watch human love we must 
see, if we are honest, that it not only does not work for immortality it ignores it. Mortality 
cannot confer immortality and "confer" is perhaps not the right word here. Love is the 
power that moves the spiritual world, and lifted to that plane its power must be almost limitless 



288 

almost, not quite, for always the will of the beloved is free. God Himself so loved the world 
that He sent his Son, not to confer but to offer us immortality. If love below would aim to be 
as love above, would recognise that sacrifice is of its essence, would be strong to suffer or to 
make suffer, would be patient, not for a lifetime, but for many lifetimes, it could surely work 
miracles of redemption. 

L. S. 

QUESTION No. 275. What, if anything, are we accomplishing when we force ourselves to 
pray for something (a grace, an experience, suffering, a humiliation, or a deprivation) that we really 
do not want? We may believe that a disciple ought to want it, but we know that we do not. 

ANSWER. This is surely lip-service and we accomplish little, if anything. If we do not 
want anything from our hearts, how shall we obtain it by prayer? But the essence lies in this 

does the suppliant who believes that a disciple ought to want such "something," want to be 
a disciple? If so, he may be passing through a stage of "dryness" and he is right to continue 
to try for whatever it is, even though his personal self does not want it and cries out against it. 
Does not a part, the best part, of him really want it? Should not he pray to want it with his 
whole heart? 

A. K. 

ANSWER. If we believe that a disciple ought to want a given thing (and we know that we 
do not), we should pray for the desire to want it with the splendid honesty of: "I believe, 
help Thou my unbelief." 

T. M. 

ANSWER. We maybe bringinga reluctant lower nature into line with the desires of our Higher 
Self, our true desires, or we may be making a mistake. Is it part of our ideal to want that 
particular thing? If so, it is a desire of our real self, whatever our minds may say about it. 
Often, however, we may be mistaking a symptom for the reality back of it. Take suffering, 
for instance. There is no merit in suffering in itself, and no sense in praying for it just because 
we have heard that the saints wanted it. We may need it to soften our lower natures. The 
saints loved so intensely, they longed for suffering as a means of expressing that love. We all 
want to love intensely. We all want our lower natures softened whether it involves suffering 
or not. The same principle applies to humiliations. Above all else we should be honest in 
prayer. Pray for what you want, and that your desires may be purified. You do not really 
want anything that is not the Master's will, whatever you may think you want. Tell Him so. 
"Lord, I know not what I ought to ask of Thee. I dare not ask either for crosses or consolations. 
. . . Behold my needs which I know not myself. Smite or heal. Depress me or raise me 
up. See and do according to Thy tender mercy. . . ." (Fenelon.) 

J. F. B. M. 

ANSWER. To the Masters all hearts are open and all desires known, therefore we have 
no alternative but honesty. We waste our time trying to run before we can walk, or demand- 
ing to be rushed into battle before we have drilled. Great saints and che'las have carried 
great crosses, not stoically but joyfully because they have, by long submission to the Master's 
choice for them, developed a strength which He can use the strength of love. Let us rather 
pray, not for this and that which we think we ought to want, but for Love. 

L. S. 



NOTICE 

The only meetings of The Theosophical Society held in New York, N. Y., are those at 64 
Washington Mews, between Eighth Street and Washington Square, North, on alternate 
Saturday evenings at half past eight. There will be meetings on January 6th and 2Oth; 
February 3rd and ijth; March 3rd, ijth, and 3ist, 1923. 



COMMENT 




APRIL, 1923 



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



THE LOGOS AND THE MIND 

lo veggio ben si come gia risplende 
nello intelletto tuo Veterna luce . 

DANTE, Paradiso, V. 

WELL do I note how in thine intellect already doth reglow the eternal 
Light, which only seen doth ever kindle love ; and if aught else lead 
your love away, naught is it save some vestige of this Light, ill under- 
stood, that shineth through therein." 

In the two lines quoted above, from the longer passage given in English, 
Dante has said almost everything that can be said regarding the Logos and 
the mind. The eternal Light of the Logos glows again in our spiritual con- 
sciousness, when mind and heart have been cleansed and restored by the long 
process of purification so marvellously described in the Purgatorio. 

The heart of the matter would seem to be that not only our spiritual insight 
and will, but every power that we possess without exception, the whole sub- 
stance and force of our existence, comes to us from the Logos through the 
collective Divine Power which we call the Lodge of Masters, and in particular 
from and through that Master on whose ray of spiritual life and force we are. 
It is the work of the M,aster to give form to the spiritual ideal for each one of us, 
and to lead us, so far as we permit and co-operate, to fulfil that ideal and to 
make it concrete. 

Our powers are not our own, but come to us without exception from the 
Logos, while the way in which we should use these powers, the plan and ideal we 
should follow, are given to us by the Master on whose ray we are, who himself 
draws the principles and lines of his conception from the Logos. Plato speaks 
of the secondary creative gods who formed mankind, according to his teaching, 
as mirrors of the eternal Artificer. Dante in like manner calls the divine 

289 



2 9 o THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

potencies and high angels mirrors of the eternal Light. We may, perhaps, 
think of Masters in the same terms, and think of them as carrying out the 
same work. 

Quite literally, we are not our own. We did not provide ourselves with 
bodies, which come to us through the long succession of ages, from an impulse 
having its origin in the Logos; and this is true both of their form and of their 
substance, in the view of students of Theosophy. In exactly the same way we 
did not provide ourselves with consciousness, that miraculous power which 
looks out at the world through our eyes. We did not provide ourselves with 
will, the ability to set our powers in motion, and actively to use them. Con- 
sciousness and will are more palpably of the Logos than the form and substance 
of our bodies; and it may be helpful for us to consider that our consciousness 
and will, exactly as they are at this moment, are integral parts of the Logos, of 
the divine, universal Consciousness and Will ; not rays remotely derived from 
the Logos, but undivided parts of the Logos, here and now, just as, according to 
the most recent scientific view, our hands, for instance, are integral parts of the 
sum total of electrons which make up the physical substance of the world. 

Why then, if the Logos be divine Light, are we so often children of darkness, 
at best able to say: the good I would, I do not; the evil I would not, that I do? 

To begin with, is it not evident that the power thus to discern the dissonance 
between the good we seek and the evil we do, is already a gift of the Logos, an 
illumination of our minds by that ineffable Light? But the deeper mystery 
remains: Why are we so prone to darkness, if the Light be our Father? Why 
do we follow evil, if we are children of infinite Good? 

Here is at once the deepest mystery of human life, and the fact of which we 
have, from hour to hour, the most certain experimental knowledge: namely, the 
mystery of free will. From one side, that problem may be forever beyond our 
understanding, but from another side we know all that we can possibly use 
regarding it, much more than we are at all inclined to use. It is exactly as with 
the problem of Being; from one point of view, Being is, and must ever remain, 
an inscrutable mystery; from another point of view we know all we need to 
know, since we are possessed of being, and act confidently on that possession 
every instant of our lives. So we have free will, and we use it continually. 

We may find a workable expression of our problem, if we say that the divine 
Power, having given us substance and form, consciousness and will, all drawn 
from the divine Being itself, determined to add the final prerogative of divinity, 
the power of choice; not simply the power to choose between two directions, as 
a bird chooses one or another tree for its nest; but the power to choose, with the 
perception that one choice is good, and the other evil; the power to conform to 
the divine Will, with the power to disobey that will. This is the splendid 
and terrible gift with which Divinity has endowed us; and we can see that, had 
we not the power to disobey, the final virtue would be forever lacking from our 
obedience. 

But if we have both the power to perceive and the power to choose, why do 
we habitually drag our steps? Why is it such a long matter with us, to turn 



NOTES AND COMMENTS 291 

from the evil we recognize as evil, and to turn to the good which we know to 
be good? Why are we so sluggish and reluctant in our obedience? 

Time seems to enter into the equation as an almost dominating factor. But 
perhaps that dominance of time exists only in our imaginations; perhaps it is 
there, only because we think it is there. A few years ago, the followers of 
Darwin used to think that almost endless time entered into the change from 
a species to a derived species, through the addition of innumerable characters 
so small as to be invisible. But the followers of Mutation now think that the 
complete change takes but one generation, as the moss rose suddenly appeared, 
or the new evening primrose which started this hypothesis. It may be that 
time does not enter at all into either transformation; that our feeling of the 
innumerable divisions of time needed for any definite change in ourselves, 
any advance in conformity to the divine Will, is simply the expression of our 
divided wills, of our deep-seated reluctance really to exert ourselves. 

If we consider it ; our reluctance, our sloth is a very curious thing. Going 
to the limit of our physical knowledge in one direction, we reach the atoms, 
built up, according to the present view, of electrons revolving at the rate of 
thousands of miles a second; keeping up a pace, that would circle the globe 
more swiftly than Ariel. Going to the opposite extreme, we have the suns 
and stars, perpetually racing through interstellar space. We, somewhere 
between these swift extremes, are sodden with sloth. As we have said, it 
is profoundly strange from a philosophical point of view. 

The solution lies, perhaps, in that strange world, between earth and heaven, 
in which we have elected to dwell : the world of psychic life. From one point 
of view, it is the world of mind-images ; of pictures formed in the mind and by 
the mind, which exercise over us an extraordinary power of fascination. 

Many thoughtful minds have pondered over this power of ours to form 
mind-images. Patanjali, for example, calls them Sanskdras, a word derived 
originally, it would seem, from the patterns drawn by potters on the soft clay 
of their unbaked pots. Aristotle calls them Phantasmata, pictures first made 
through the senses and remaining in our minds after the outer objects are 
withdrawn. The Sutras of Kapila add that, once they are formed, they have 
a certain power of self-perpetuation, just as the potter's wheel, once it is set 
spinning, continues to rotate after the impelling force is withdrawn. 

Here we come to another gift which the gods have given us, seemingly with 
the same terrible completeness with which they gave us the power of choice: 
the gift, namely, of being attracted. The lines quoted from Dante suggest 
the divine purpose of that gift. We possess it in order that we may have the 
power of being attracted toward divinity. Its purpose is, to lead us home. 

But we use this divine gift as we use all our gifts, capriciously, perversely. 
We elect to be attracted by things which we know to be unworthy, our power 
to choose between good and evil giving us quite clear indications. It is pos- 
sible that we may sin ignorantly; it is certain that we repeatedly sin with our 
eyes open. 

To go back to the mind-images ; it would seem that we often confer on them 



our power to be attracted, that we purposely endow them with the quality 
of allurement, because we wish to be allured. Often we deliberately prefer 
that mood, all the time clearly knowing that it is a wholly unworthy mood. 

The mind-image on which we confer the amplest quality of allurement is 
often the image of ourselves. Like Narcissus who saw his image in the brook, 
we take as our beginning the image of our visible forms. This we adorn with 
treasures stolen from heaven, as magpies and jackdaws, though free from our 
culpability, sometimes deck their nests with pilfered jewels. Once more, 
it is philosophically curious that we do not hesitate to attribute to this pre- 
ferred mind-image the qualities even of God; we give it the absoluteness of 
Parabrahm, convincedly holding it to be the dead centre of the Universe, 
which all else serves and around which all else circles. And we steal God's 
benignant will, turn it about, and make of it malice, with which the beloved 
image is ready to defend himself against anything that threatens his infinite 
complacence. Perhaps somewhere in the wide Universe there is another 
spectacle equally grotesque, since it is a large Universe and contains many 
things. 

Aristotle holds, as it seems, quite justly, that these phantasmata form the 
basis of our ordinary mental life. From a group of mind-images we form a 
derivative mind-image which has in it something of them all, and then, repeat- 
ing the same process up a series of steps, we come at last to those universals 
which Aristotle so freely uses, to our harassment, in his Logic. But it is 
evident that, to serve this purpose, to become the basis of our mental picture- 
book, mind-images must have some permanence. Perhaps that need is the 
cause of their inertia, their power to continue spinning, as Kapila depicts it. 
And we take the two gifts, this needed quality of permanence in the mind- 
images, and our power to be attracted, and mix them into a potion which 
thereupon fascinates us, and holds us bewitched. 

There are these perverse possibilities all about us. For example, we pass 
our lives in a sea of mingled nitrogen and oxygen, which we habitually breathe 
into our lungs ; but these same elements blended in nitrous oxide quickly upset 
our bodily powers and make our bodies inert and insensible. Two good things 
blended, it would seem, may make a poison. And from one point of view we 
and all human kind with us have been sedulously busy, these many millen- 
niums, in thus juggling with the gifts of the Divinity, turning them to every 
possibility of harm. 

Every perception and power that we possess without exception is, if this 
view be true, an integral part of the Logos, a gift coming to us through the 
Master on whose ray we are; not arbitrarily, but in perfect conformity with 
the life and principles of the Logos, including the principle of loving kindness 
and infinite mercy. 

If we have terribly abused our freedom of moral choice, knowingly and 
repeatedly preferring the dearer to the better, if we have endlessly misused 
the power to be attracted, conferring it continually on things that we know 
to be unworthy, nevertheless the saving truth remains that these are still 



NOTES AND COMMENTS 293 

parts and powers of the Logos, and that that divine and benignant Light 
stands perpetually ready to illumine, guide and strengthen us, focussed in 
the understanding and the heart of each of us by the Master who stands 
above us, and who ever presents to us the ideal of our divine possibilities. 
So generous, so benignant is the mediation of the Master, so close to us does 
he bring the everlasting Light, that we have only to use the powers we already 
possess and have always possessed, in order to repair the evil we have done, 
to begin the laborious ascent of the Mount of Purgation toward the spiritual 
life that is our true destiny. 

We have light within us; we can see, if only the first step. For it would 
seem to be a certain truth that the divine Power above us, focussed upon us 
by the Master, is so benignant, so provident, that the duty which we see set 
immediately before us, whether of effort or of abstinence, does in fact con- 
stitute the first step of our return. And this would seem to be true, whether 
we fully understand it or not, if only we perceive it to be a duty and faithfully 
perform it. For even this faithful performance, in almost complete darkness, 
is a using of our powers in conformity with the divine Will, and that right 
usage immediately strengthens these powers, bringing into them more light 
and life. So we are already better prepared for the second step. 

The reason for this sovereign quality in the performance of any duty simply 
for the sake of duty, would seem to be that it is at last a right use of what 
we have so long misused: our power of free choice. By choosing duty for 
duty's sake, we at last align our wills, which are also a divine gift, with the 
Power that preserves the stars from wrong, and we thereby begin to partake 
in the strength and freshness of the most ancient heavens. 

It is one of the great positive truths of Life, that a spiritual power rightly 
used is far stronger than the same spiritual power wrongly used. As soon as 
we begin to offer up self-will on the simple and austere altar of duty, we begin 
to profit by that benignant law. Even a small duty faithfully performed 
with entire disinterestedness will prevail over a large accumulation of self-will, 
and will begin to undermine and lessen the heap. So we can definitely make a 
beginning, by responding to that unquenched spark that is in every one of us, 
the sense that the duty immediately before us ought to be done because it 
ought to be done, because that course is right. 

We can gain an initial leverage in this way for our next step. Through 
following the Light in the first step, we shall find ourselves in possession of a 
light already growing brighter, a light that will begin to illumine the furniture 
of our inner dwelling, and will begin to bring out the ugliness of much that we 
accumulate there. And we shall see, perhaps, that we have brought these 
unlovely things into our dwelling by misusing that other spiritual gift, the 
power to be attracted ; by fixing it on ugly and unworthy things. 

If this be so, and if we so perceive it, then it would seem possible to detach 
that power of attracting us from these unlovely things, and to transfer it 
immediately to the Power to which it rightfully belongs, the divine Power 
which so unwearyingly seeks to lead our feet into the way of Peace. 



294 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

If we succeed even to a little degree in making this transfer, in detaching 
the golden particles of attraction from things we now see to be ignominious, 
and attaching them to the guiding Light above us, then sheer duty, at first 
a stern lawgiver only, will begin to appear to us with the Godhead's most 
benignant grace. Or if we have already caught a first glimpse of the truth 
that the Power which is guiding us and strengthening us on our way upwards 
is inspired by fully conscious and responsive love, that it is the power of the 
living Master, then we may begin with reverent heart to worship the Lord 
in the beauty of holiness. 

And once more we may remind ourselves that spiritual powers restored to 
their right place and their right use steadily overweigh and overbear the 
same powers wrongly used; so that the golden particles of attraction, once 
we have detached them from the unworthy things in our minds and restored 
them to the Light and Power above us, will immediately gain in drawing 
power, reinforced by all the strength of celestial Being. Emerson has a happy 
simile to express this law: cut downward with an axe, and the whole weight 
of our planet aids you; try to cut upward with the same axe, and the weight 
of the planet pulls against you. 

Let us then consider how we may use our powers so that the whole weight 
of the Divine Power may pull with them, instead of pulling against them. 
And let us note, in passing, that that steady pull against our perverse wills, 
bringing with it pain and suffering, has again and again kept us back from 
destruction. It is as ready, yes, far more ready, to labour for our salvation. 

Let us begin with will, the power to use our powers. Jules Payot has well 
said that the most important element of the will is the power of voluntary 
attention. Truly, a great power, and a magical power, if we so see it. It 
is not difficult to illustrate this. We of this generation have seen a succession 
of the most marvellous scientific discoveries; and each of these was the fruit 
of voluntary attention. It is true that an element of "happy accident" 
entered into the first discovery of the matter-penetrating cathode rays, while 
a second "happy accident" entered into the first discovery of the radioactivity 
of uranium. But without the steady, voluntary attention of the observers, 
these happy accidents would have borne no fruit. And it seems certain that, 
in this providential Universe, we are all surrounded with happy accidents, 
potentially capable of bearing no less valuable fruit, if only we used an equal 
power of attention. For it seems that attention not only is the power to hold 
the perceiving thought steady, but that it also contains within it the power 
to perceive the inner significance of what we steadily view; this, in virtue of 
its being a ray of the Logos. 

So we can begin to turn our attention, and to fix our attention, on that 
divine star in our hearts, which shines with the everlasting Light; and, in 
virtue of our miraculous gift of true perception, we shall begin to learn more 
of that Light, we shall see more clearly what part of the furniture of our inner 
dwelling is worthy and what unworthy, what is good and what is evil. 

Then we have the power to form mind-images, and to confer upon them 



NOTES AND COMMENTS 295 

the power to attract us. But this power also, which has hitherto worked 
to allure and enmesh us, can be turned round, so that it will work for our 
liberation. For we can as easily form mind-images of things true and holy, 
which will draw us toward the everlasting way. 

And, as soon as we consider the matter, as soon as we turn on it that other 
power of attention, as a searchlight is turned upon scenery hidden in the 
darkness of night, we shall find that endless riches have already been gathered 
for us, immediately available for this very purpose. Those books which deal 
with the things of the Logos, and of our relation with the life of the Logos, 
the Sacred Books of the world, are filled from cover to cover with mind-images 
lit with the beauty of holiness. We have only to build them up in our own 
minds, and we shall have an army of lovely images, ready to fight the battle 
of purification and redemption within us continually. 

Take, for example, that ancient Upanishad, which pictures the youth, 
Nachiketas, descending into the House of Death. Here are mind-pictures 
which show us our own position, in the House of Death in which we have 
elected to dwell, and also the choice we must make, to find the way of liber- 
ation. 

Or take the setting of the Bhagavad Gita: the field of Kurukshetra with the 
armies of kinsmen arrayed against each other. That is the type of the battle 
within ourselves, against the deformation of ourselves, which we have under- 
taken to wage; and Krishna's exhortation to valour in that contest is an 
exhortation to us. 

Or, again, take the kingly figure of the Buddha, Siddhartha the Compas- 
sionate, which has drawn millions of hearts, even though his followers have 
rendered much of his teaching almost sterile, through their over-use of the 
argumentative mind, neglecting almost wholly the power of the heart. Yet 
even with this handicap, the story of the formation of his Order is full of 
compelling beauty. 

Again, if we consider it a moment, we shall find the history of the Master 
Christ doubly enriched with food for the imagination spiritually used. Christ 
constantly exercises the power to create mind-images that shall hold our 
thought and draw our hearts. All the parables are such images. And he 
has set in them those particles of gold which do draw us; in that respect, 
the work is already done. 

Take the parable of the Pharisee and the Publican: no two figures were 
ever more vividly drawn, with lines of such perfect simplicity; the temple as 
background, the attitudes of the two men, their contrasted prayers. If our 
central sin be self-worship, what an image of ourselves is presented to us in 
the Pharisee, who "prayed with himself," congratulating God on His perfect 
handiwork. And if the breaking of the image of self be the beginning of the 
way, when the divine Light reveals to us the evil of it, what truer picture of 
our attitude of heart, when we perceive this evil, than the prayer of the Pub- 
lican: "God be merciful to me a sinner." 

Or take what is, perhaps, the greatest of all the parables, the Prodigal Son. 



296 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

Where in all literature has eloquence risen to greater heights than in his ex- 
pression of repentance: "I will arise and go to my father"? 

But there is a more immediate and one-pointed use of the imagination, 
than this general enrichment of our hearts with dynamic images, rich in com- 
pelling beauty, that shall draw our hearts toward things divine and holy; 
and it happens that the parable of the Prodigal Son precisely illustrates this 
one-pointed use. 

He was not content with a vague purpose, dimly figured in his mind. He 
completed in his imagination the details of his act of penitence: "I will arise 
and go to my father, and will say unto him, Father, I have sinned against 
heaven, and before thee, and am no more worthy to be called thy son. . . ." 

He formed a defined mind-image, a completed mental mould, of what he 
purposed to do and .say; and, when he met his father, he found those words 
ready on his lips. Yes, and the Master who framed the parable made in it a 
mould for his children, in which many a penitent heart has found a resting 
place, a perfect expression of its own burden of sorrow and contrition. 

In this way, seeing the next duty in the light of the Divine Power now glow- 
ing more brightly in our hearts, we may form in detail the picture of ourselves 
performing that duty, and then endow the picture with those golden particles 
which have the power to attract our hearts, as we withdraw these particles 
from the wrong uses to which we have hitherto put them. The living mould 
we thus form and endow will almost carry us forward to the completion of 
our duty, again to use a simile of Dante's, like a boat carried with the stream. 

Our central sin of self-adoration has many subdivisions: self-reference, self- 
attribution, self-concern, self-pity, self -ad miration. We have endowed each 
with the power to attract and draw us. But we are now at the point where 
we can begin to make restitution. 

We see that every one of our powers is a power of the Logos, a gift of the 
Master, misused through perversity. Self- worship is the misuse of the power 
to worship whatever things are holy. Seeing the image we have made of 
ourselves as false, grotesque, addicted to theft, and at the same time seeing 
something of the magnanimous beauty and generosity of the Divine Power 
which is leading and guiding us back into the way of life, we can, through an 
effort of clear seeing and steady attention, change the direction of our worship, 
bending it no longer toward the false image, but to the godlike Power. And 
instead of referring all things that happen to the centre of self, we can, by the 
same steady effort, refer them to that Power, realizing that all events happen, 
not for the purposes of self-indulgence, but for the purposes of Soul. As 
we see more clearly that all our powers are from and of the Logos, it will 
become easier to attribute to the Logos whatever we may find in ourselves of 
understanding and of valour, thus changing from self-attribution to a right 
attribution of these gifts to the Power to which they really belong. As the 
light within us grows, self-admiration will wane; we can help that decrease by 
paying the tribute of hearty thanksgiving to the divine Grace which begins 
to lead us out of our self-made labyrinth. As for self-pity, a time will come 



NOTES AND COMMENTS 297 

when we shall begin to realize the wrong we have done, the injury we have 
inflicted, through our perverse disobedience; we may begin to turn our pity 
to a more honest use. 

In this work of restitution we shall be helped by the drawing power of the 
eternal Light, "which only seen doth ever kindle love." And we shall come 
to realize that the treasures of beauty are in the books which speak of the 
Soul, because the Soul which created and inspired them is the fountain of 
all beauty. The parable of the Prodigal draws our hearts, because the Master 
who created it has infinite power to draw our hearts; to lead us, like the Prodi- 
gal, homeward. 



Matter may really be considered as our sensuous misreading of the spiritual. 
That is to say, God sees one thing; our senses see another. In the wild lily cited 
by our Lord our senses see a thing exquisite in form and colour; and yet, relatively 
speaking, it is no more than a distortion of what God beholds and delights in. It 
is a commonplace fact that, even within the limitations of the senses, our sense- 
faculties perceive few things, if anything, quite accurately. Matter may therefore 
be considered as our wrong view of what God sees rightly. Both for Him and for 
us the object is there; but it is there with higher qualities than we can appreciate or 
understand. "THE CONQUEST OF FEAR," BY BASIL KING. 



There is no greater trouble for thee than thine own self, for when thou art oc- 
cupied with thyself, thou remainest away from God. ABU SA'ID. 



Young, your vices may be faults; but old, your faults are vices. BENJAMIN 
CONSTANT. 



Death has no pow'r th' immortal soul to slay; 
That, when its present body turns to clay, 
Seeks a fresh home, and with unminish'd might 
Inspires another frame with life and light. OVID. 



FRAGMENTS 



I 

THERE is no veil to the unseen world except our unbelief. 
Unbelief results from impurity. Blessed are the pure in heart for 
they shall see God. We shall never see until we believe that we can see; 
nor hear until we listen believing that we can hear; nor will the presence of the 
Great Companions be manifest to us until we are convinced that they are near. 
The inner sight is the power of sight purified. The inner hearing is the power 
of hearing attuned. The inner recognition is love answering to the call of love. 
Let us act upon these axioms even before we believe in them. They can prove 
themselves. 

II 

Temperament is only material from which we must develop character. Its 
appearance of finality is pure " maya." It is like the clay placed in the potter's 
hands, which he must turn into something of beauty and usefulness. 

Ill 

We should not give blind acceptance to any truth. We should not say: 
"That has been revealed, therefore it is so, I shall in that sense think no 
more about it." The road of progress does not lie that way. 

When a truth is presented to us, we must test and we must use it, apply 
it here, apply it there, sympathetically, not suspiciously; expecting to find 
it true, but realizing fully that it cannot be a truth for us until we have thor- 
oughly experimented with it, and can prove it on the blackboard of our lives. 
Up to then, it can only be an interesting theory, to which we give the reverent 
attention due its source and arresting power part of the mass of undigested 
"head doctrine" of which we are possessed, but in no sense "heart doctrine" 
before we have performed all the necessary experiments in the laboratories of 
mind and feeling. 

We are wise if we keep a list of these axioms and work over them one by one, 
patiently and thoroughly, until we have made them our own. WTien we have 
done that, we can pass them on to others. 

No man has a faith if he has not tested it. 

IV 

For every step in advance, for every step in the right direction, there is an 
immediate and peculiar temptation. Let us be on our guard. 

V 

Since in the Astral Light everything is reversed, more often than not what 
we think we want is not what we want at all. 

CAVE. 
298 



SUFISM 



III 

IN the "Notes and Comments" for July, 1922, reference was made to the 
world of Arabic thought in its relation to the Theosophical Movement in 
Europe, from about 638 A. D., when the Arab conquests began, to the 
time of Albertus Magnus, Roger Bacon, and Thomas Aquinas. In view of 
the great vigour, the splendid ardour, the fiery enthusiasm of the movement 
begun by Mohammed, it would be natural to suppose that the Lodge was 
making use of that instrument, was implanting there some portion of the 
Truth. To be sure, one of the characteristics most commonly outstanding in 
Mohammedanism, is its materialization of religious concepts. Yet a tradition 
exists among the Faithful that there were revealed to Mohammed three kinds 
of knowledge: one was the external religion which he gave to the world; the 
second was the spiritual doctrine, which he might reveal or not as he chose, 
and the third concerned certain mysteries which were to be kept secret. 
However this may be, there was within the Mohammedan faith, in possession 
of the Sufis (already discussed at some length in earlier numbers of the 
QUARTERLY) a body of teaching A\hich might reasonably cause Sufism to be 
regarded as the depository of the Truth, during the period when Europe was 
passing through the Dark Ages. With its lofty mystical concepts, its all- 
inclusiveness, its infinite variations, its freedom from form, Sufism seems too 
sharply in contrast to the narrow rigidity of Mohammedanism, to be an 
integral part of it. In its beginnings, however, this incompatibility was not 
apparent. Accounts differ as to the first Sufism. Some claim that it began 
about the year 800 when, as a result of the teachings of the Prophet concerning 
fear of God, fear of Hell, and fear of the Judgment, certain Moslems reacted 
away from the orthodox faith, and took refuge in asceticism and quietism. 
Others trace it back to the immediate companions of Mohammed, regarding 
it not as a reaction against, but as the natural consequence and concomitant of 
his teaching of fear. The early Sufis were orthodox Moslems as well, adhering 
strictly to the Koran and the Tradition. Indeed, to hold openly views con- 
trary to the Koran and the Tradition would have meant death at many a 
period in the history of the sect, and in later years much of the teaching was 
veiled under symbolical phraseology, or taught only to the few, while more 
orthodox doctrines were professed openly. But from the first, the members of 
the sect endeavoured to spiritualize the rites of Islam, and in contrast to the 
ordinary orthodox idea of submission to a despotic God, the key-note of their 
teaching was love of God, longing for God, a life spent in seeking union with 
Him. It inevitably followed that while the orthodox theologians continued 
to regard the Koran and the Tradition as the highest authority, and indeed as 
the whole of religious knowledge, the Sufi mystics came to regard as still 
higher authority the light of the individual soul, and to interpret the orthodox 

299 



300 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

teachings in accordance with this divine illumination, considering that their 
true meaning was thus mystically revealed. "Only complete union of the 
knower with the known is knowledge." 

Sufism meant, for one thing, renunciation of the world, and a life lived 
solely for God. To borrow from an eminent Sufi, " It is glory in wretchedness 
and riches in poverty and lordship in servitude and satiety in hunger and 
clothedness in nakedness and freedom in slavery and life in death and sweetness 
in bitterness. Sufism is patience under God's commanding and forbidding, 
and acquiescence and resignation in the events determined by divine provi- 
dence." There is but little difference between such words and those which any 
of the great Christian mystics would use of the way marked out by the Master 
Christ. Indeed, many of their writings bear witness to the fact that the 
language of the soul is one. "Take one step out of thyself that thou mayest 
arrive at God"; "A soul that thinks to meet with no suffering in love, when it 
addresses itself to love, is spurned"; "The first veil between God and his 
servant is his servant's soul," passages like these belong to a language that 
is universal, the common speech of the lovers of God, without regard to race 
or creed. And much of the Sufi teaching is of this character. One little 
parable, while perhaps somewhat more oriental in tone because of its terminol- 
ogy, is nevertheless, in spirit, possessed of the same universal quality in its 
expression of the longing for union, the pain of separation, the outpouring of 
love and the annihilation of self: 

A Dervish once to his Friend's door drew nigh, and knocked. 
"Who art thou, Faithful One?" was asked, ere 'twas unlocked. 
'Tis I," the Dervish cried. "Then in thou mayst not come; 
For at my well-dressed feast there is for raw no room," 
Replied the Friend. "But separation's fiery smart 
Can purify the crude, and cleanse from guile his heart. 
Since from the bonds of self thou art not yet set free, 
By fiery flame alone canst thou refined be." 
The Dervish went away. For one whole weary year 
Did wander, grief-consumed, his Friend no longer near. 
Then, cleansed at length by fire till self became as naught, 
He turned him back again; his Friend's abode he sought, 
And at His door he knocked, with trembling hand and meek, 
Fearing some careless word his foolish lips might speak. 
Again then asked the Friend: "Who at my door knocks low?" 
He answered only, "O Belov'd, Belov'd, 'tis thou!" 
"Since 'tis Myself that knocks, the door stands open wide 
But could two I's beneath one roof in peace abide?" 1 



1 All quotations are taken from the following books: Mysticism and Magic in Turkey, by Lucy M. J. Garnett; 
Mystics and Saints of Islam, by Claud Field; The Religious Attitude and Life in Islam, by Duncan Black Macdonald, 
M.A., B.D., and Studies in Islamic Mysticism, by Reynold Alleyne Nicholson, Litt.D., LL.D. The last named 
book is an admirable treatment of the subject, having the great advantage of sympathy and understanding on 
the part of the author, entire readiness to sink his own personality and predilections, and recognition of the reality of a 
world beyond the tangible evidence of the senses. His position is shown by his statement that "no intellectual 
effort will bring us to the stage whence an initiated Mohammedan sets out." 



SUFISM 301 

In their effort toward perfect conformity to the will of God, in contrition 
and sorrow of heart, humility of spirit and of demeanour, and in the desire to be 
regarded as the lowest and most humble of mankind, the great Sufis and the 
Christian mystics are closely akin. But this does not mean that Sufism 
lacked its distinctively oriental and Mohammedan qualities. Illustrative of 
this point, is the account of the turning to God of a youth who, on hearing an 
eloquent discourse, felt a great love for God welling up within him, and was 
carried quite out of himself in transports of religious fervour. As a result of 
the first direction given him, he retired to a little chapel in his home, and there 
sat for seven years, saying continually, "Allah! Allah! Allah!" And 
"whenever drowsiness or inattention arising from the weakness of human 
nature came over me, a soldier with a fiery spear the most terrible and 
alarming figure that can possibly be imagined appeared in front of the 
niche and shouted at me, saying, 'O Abu Sa'id, say Allah!' The dread of that 
apparition used to keep me burning and trembling for whole days and nights, 
so that I did not again fall asleep or become inattentive ; and at last every atom 
of me began to cry aloud, 'Allah! Allah! Allah!" The literature abounds 
in homely and often humourous stories, typical of the life of the people, and of 
their native wit, or sagacity, or craftiness showing equally, in many cases, 
the extreme credulity of the superstitious lower classes, where matters of 
religion are concerned. There is a saying in Mohammedan countries, to the 
effect that a man's faith is not made perfect until he is supposed to be mad ; and 
given the natural temperament of the people, this attitude produced extraor- 
dinary results. Furthermore, Mohammed had exhorted his followers, in 
case they did not feel deeply moved on hearing the Koran, at least to weep and 
thus to act as if they did. Extremes of religious feeling then, being consid- 
ered a mark of great piety, were much sought after, and religious ecstasies, 
instead of being a culmination of religious experience, were a most usual and 
constant occurrence. Listening to a verse of the Koran, hearing the name of 
the Deity pronounced, or a line of religious verse, were all that was needed to 
produce ecstasy. The peculiar cry of the so-called Howling Dervishes was 
used to this end. The dances of the Dervish Orders best known of which, 
perhaps, are the Mevlevi or Whirling Dervishes were performed with the 
same object in view, and their result was a state in which cutting with knives, 
or other self-inflicted mutilations, left the ecstatic wholly unconscious of 
injury. Clairvoyance was common, as also magical powers of various kinds, 
and the production of psychic phenomena. In many cases, the latter were of 
a lower-psychic order, but there is also a belief in a teaching of higher Magic, 
supposed to have been given to Moses originally, on one of the tablets of 
stone. Many of the practices which grew up, and especially the austerities 
resorted to in extreme asceticism, are anything but congenial to Western 
ways of thinking. But the strength and vigour, the completeness of devotion, 
the ceaseless, unwavering effort that lay behind it forty years of the most 
extreme asceticism were not unusual can evoke nothing but admiration. 

Sufism spread rapidly and was widely adopted. Different schools of thought 



302 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

grew up, based on differences of opinion concerning mystical theory and 
practice, within the sect. By about the third century after Mohammed, 
Orders similar to the Christian Orders began to be formed, growing rapidly in 
size and importance; and at about the same time, a new strain entered into 
the Sufi teachings the theosophical element. This was, doubtless, due in 
some measure to the universality of truth, and a result of the Sufi method 
of seeking truth within, by divine illumination. But during the long progress 
of Sufism, there is also the utmost significance in the history of the Arab 
conquests, resulting as they did in contact with the widely different civiliza- 
tions of the conquered countries, and a consequent infusion of other learning 
into the thought of the Arab world; and it was among the Sufis that new 
truths took root most readily. The July "Notes and Comments" shows the 
effect of the conquest of Syria, Mesopotamia, Egypt and Persia, and of the 
resulting contact with Neoplatonism and with a part of the Aristotelian teach- 
ing, both of which were "material of the Mystery Teaching." The Secret 
Doctrine mentions rare Chaldean lore that is in the possession of the Sufis. 
Added to this, Sufism had found a very ready soil in Persia some of the most 
renowned among the mystics and poets of the sect being Persians. It is not 
surprising, therefore, to find in the teachings of these men, which of course 
spread, far beyond their immediate disciples, certain elements of Zoroastrianism, 
and a most important addition various forms of pantheism. This 
latter was one of the points at which the influence of Plotinus was strongly 
felt, though every degree of pantheism was taught, from the emanation of 
the individual from the One and its return again into the One, down to a simple 
teaching of God's immanence in the world. All degrees, however, were in 
strong contrast to the orthodox view of Allah as entirely distinct from the 
world He created. By one means or another, also, certain elements of the 
religious systems of India were, at a fairly late date, brought into the main 
body of Sufi thought. It is deeply interesting and quite as might be 
expected to find in this amalgamation of truths from the four ends of the 
earth, large portions of the Truth, much as it has been presented in our own 
day. 

There is the doctrine of the fundamental unity of all things, that basic 
teaching of Theosophy. Being is one. Nothing else exists. The apparent 
diversity which presents itself on every hand, consists simply of the modes and 
aspects of the outer manifestation of reality. There is the Logos doctrine, 
and, as already suggested, the teaching of the descent of spirit into matter, its 
acquisition of self-consciousness, and return to its source. God (the term is 
left without definition here) reveals Himself on five planes: (i) the plane of 
the Essence; (2) the plane of the Attributes; (3) the plane of the Actions; 
(4) the plane of Similitudes and Phantasy; (5) the plane of sense. The close- 
ness of the parallel at this point is not difficult to see. As for man, he is 
Absolute Being limited by individualisation. The Perfect Man is a microcosm, 
reflecting all the attributes of the divine, and it is in man alone that the Ab- 
solute becomes conscious of itself in all its diverse aspects. Through the 



SUFISM 303 

medium of human nature, then, it returns to itself. "God and man become 
one in the Perfect Man . . . the upward movement of the Absolute from the 
sphere of manifestation back to the unmanifested Essence takes place in and 
through the unitive experience of the soul." 

The term Perfect Man is used in two ways, which one might regard as a 
higher and lower aspect of the same idea. According to one, the Prophet, 
Mohammed (not the human being but the spiritual), is above all question 
the Perfect Man, a copy of God, the spiritual axis referred to at times as the 
Logos "on which the spheres of existence revolve." In every age he 
manifests himself through the most perfect men of that time. This does not 
imply a reincarnation of Mohammed as a rule one finds among Arabian 
Sufis emphatic denial of any belief in reincarnation or metempsychosis, though 
it was sometimes taught by the Persians; but he inspires them, is their spiritual 
essence, and they his outer agents. (This suggests strongly what has been 
said of the relation between Buddha and Shankaracharya.) In its other use, 
the term Perfect Man refers to the greatest and most holy, living Sufi, the head 
of the Sufi hierarchy for the hierarchical system was an essential part of 
Sufi thought. The distinction between the two uses of the phrase is made 
clearer, perhaps, by a reference to the "holy one" who is illuminated by the 
divine attributes (and it will be remembered that every human being mirrors, 
in some degree, all the divine attributes), and the "most holy one" who is 
united with the Divine Essence. 

As for elements constituting man, there are indications of a division analo- 
gous to that of the seven principles, though the shades of meaning of the 
various Arabic terms are evidently difficult of translation, and it is perhaps 
unsafe to draw the analogy too closely. However, there is more than a 
coincidence in the statement that the "heart" has been called the rational 
soul ; that the spirit is its inner part, and the animal soul is its vehicle. Equally 
suggestive are the references to the nafs, said to be connected with the idea of 
breath, and equivalent to the Hebrew nephesh (which latter term the Glossary 
gives as synonymous with the Prana-Kamic principle), and in nearly every 
instance used as though referring to the kamic nature; also another element, 
the Arabic term for which is the equivalent of the Greek vovs, related to the 
intelligence or the perceiving power. Students of Theosophy will be interested 
in the following: "There is but one Light and the Truth is (as) the Moon. 
He who has found the science of his own body (called the Hum i Vurgood, 
his spiritual counterpart) knows his Lord; for the holy Prophet has said, 'To 
know thyself is to know thy Lord.' In this is comprised a knowledge of thine 
own secret and that of thy Creator." In this connection the functions of the 
"heart," in the religious life, and the several allied meanings with which the 
term is employed, are of special significance. "I mean by 'heart,' " says one 
learned Sufi, "his spiritual essence which is the locus of the knowledge of God, 
as opposed to the flesh-and-blood organ in which dead bodies and the lower 
animals share." In the Arabic word used, there is no idea of emotions, 
affections, or the sentiments which ordinarily are connoted when our own 



3 04 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

word heart is used. Instead, it is an innermost essence; the thing which 
perceives and knows; the very basis of man's nature. Elsewhere it is referred 
to as the Divine consciousness, the "Throne of God," and His "Temple in 
Man." 

The conscience or consciousness of the heart is a thing which God communi- 
cates: "At first He produces a need and longing and sorrow in man's heart; 
then He contemplates that need and sorrow, and in His bounty and mercy 
deposits in that heart a spiritual substance which is hidden from the knowledge 
of angel and prophet. ... It is immortal and does not become naught, since 
it subsists in God's contemplation of it. It belongs to the Creator: the crea- 
tures have no part therein, and in the body it is a loan." Then there is the 
pertinent statement that whoever possesses it is "living," and whoever lacks 
it is "animal." Elsewhere, those who lack it are spoken of as asleep. All are 
asleep, whether in this world or the next, who are "forgetful of presence with 
God." In the next world, while they are with God, nevertheless they are 
with him in sleep, the sleep merely being lighter than in this world. Only the 
man who knows God, and to whom God reveals himself (here again the thought 
of union), is truly awake. There is a striking passage, characterizing the 
essential nature of this organ of religion, as it has been termed a passage 
which again will suggest numerous parallels: "It knows God and draws near 
to God and works for God and labours toward God. It reveals what is with 
God; it is accepted by God when free from aught but him, and is curtained 
off from God when immersed in aught but him. It is happy when near God 
and prospers when man has purified it, and is disappointed and miserable when 
man pollutes and corrupts it." 

Closely related to the heart is the spirit, "the subtle substance or vapour 
issuing from the hollow of the physical heart, and spreading by means of the 
arteries through the whole body." Like the heart, the term includes the idea 
of the knower or perceiver. It has been compared to a lamp, or again to the 
outpouring of the light of the sun on a wall. Commentators find difficulty 
at this point, due partly to the profundity of the concept itself, and partly to 
the fact that this portion of the teaching is kept secret, at least from the 
masses. Readers of the QUARTERLY have long been familiar with the fact that 
care has been taken in every great religion, through all time, to guard the 
mysteries from the profanation of the masses. "And he said unto them, 
Unto you it is given to know the mystery of the kingdom of God : but unto them 
that are without, all these things are done in parables." To at least one 
commentator, however, it is a cause for nothing but bewilderment, as he 
endeavours to see any adequate reason for withholding so simple a teaching 
in so niggardly a fashion. H^ quotes the phrase, often used in this connection 
in Mohammedan theology, "Ye cannot bear it," and contents himself with 
the observation that intellectual snobbishness runs through the thought of this 
people, leading to the belief that the masses never can be taught! 

Even among his peers, the Sufi maintained, if not secrecy, at least a discreet 
reserve, and to indulge in useless or purposeless words was regarded as evidence 



SUFISM 305 

that he had strayed from the Path. The story is told of a Sufi who was asked 
by his brethren what gift he had brought back from an ecstatic trance. He 
replied, with characteristic Sufi symbolism, "I intended on arriving at the 
Rosebush (the presence of Allah) to fill the skirt of my robe with roses, in 
order to offer them to my brethren on my return. But when I arrived at the 
Rosebush, its odour so intoxicated my senses that the hem of my robe escaped 
from my grasp." There follows the significant phrase, "Silent is the tongue 
of the man who has known Allah." 

A very explicit teaching which is also of interest, is that regarding the 
Name. There are a number of divine names, some relating to the Divine 
Essence, others relating to the divine attributes. And the one name, Allah, 
comprises them all. This affords at least one explanation of the frequency 
with which the name of Allah is used among Moslems, a battle cry in time 
of war, a potent aid in meditation, a part of many religious rites, a power in 
all departments of Mohammedan life. "God made this name a mirror for 
man, so that when he looks in it, he knows the true meaning of 'God was and 
there was naught beside Him.' and in that moment it is revealed to him that 
his hearing is God's hearing, his sight God's sight, his speech God's speech, 
his life God's life," and so on. Here again we have the idea of union, losing 
oneself (passing away, as the Sufi called it) in God. And it is further taught 
that in one stage of illumination, the Perfect Man (in this case, of course, the 
Sufi of exalted degree) receives the mystery inherent in each of the names of 
God, and "becomes one with the Name in such sort that he answers the 
prayer of any person who invokes God by the name in question." If this 
condition of becoming one with the Name that is, of complete passing away 
from self and union with the divine were held in mind and heart, the promise 
"Whatsoever ye shall ask of the Father in my name" would take on ameaning, 
new for many of us, and the whole subject of prayer would receive a new light. 

There is a further step in this teaching of the Name. As already explained, 
there is a multiplicity of names, resulting from the ways in which God manifests 
himself. He is, for instance, the Guide, the Forgiver, the Avenger, and so on. 
Based on the verse of the Koran, "Allah shall lead the wicked into error," 
he is also, it is said, the Misleader, a conception that sounds strange to 
Western ears, but is in entire conformity with the Mohammedan doctrine of 
predestination, which was an accepted part of the belief of many Sufis. In 
some instances, however, there was difficulty in bringing into harmony with 
certain of the mystical .doctrines, the idea of predestining a man to eternal hell 
fire, a difficulty which will be obvious. Each thinker met the problem 
in his own way. One man who evidently found it both distasteful and insur- 
mountable, met it with the prayer: O God, since men and stones are alike in 
Thy sight, burn these stones and spare suffering humanity, and then dis- 
missed the subject from his system of thought. Another worked out an 
ingenious explanation, which, whether or not one believes in a "lake that 
burneth with fire and brimstone," affords a thought that may be helpful in the 
vicissitudes of ordinary life. According to him, when God predestines a soul 



306 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

to suffering in the life to come, he places in that soul also a certain delight in 
the torment, and the power to endure it. Without the power of endurance, 
he would perish; without the delight, he would turn to God, 'and in either 
case be freed. So long as the pleasure continues, the torment continues, and 
when God wills him to lose the sense of pleasure, the soul at once takes refuge 
in God (thereby finding release from torment). The idea may be made 
clearer, if from a number of pleasures enumerated, is cited one that is compared 
to joy in battle, which the soldier may experience in the highest degree, even 
though suffering intensely. The whole idea suggests (and this is where its 
practical value would seem to lie) the purifying effect of suffering, its power 
to burn out the impurities which, so long as they last, stand between us and a 
turning to God. 

Not only in their view concerning hell but, as might be expected, in their 
teaching of heaven also, the Sufis introduce variations on the orthodox 
Mohammedan idea. Only in three lower paradises are found the material 
delights which are usually suggested by a reference to the Mohammedan 
heaven. In four higher paradises are the saints and holy persons, ranged 
according to their degree of sanctity. There is also an eighth paradise, but 
this is "the roof of the Throne of God," and in it is the Divine Essence alone. 
In connection with the teaching concerning heaven, there is an interesting 
feature, which has its counterpart in the theosophical teaching regarding 
Kriyasakti. With the dwellers in paradise, thought has its full creative 
potency with them, every idea immediately creates its corresponding object 
of sensation. And it is explained that this is not more generally possible in 
earth life, because most men are spiritually dead. Connected also with the 
teaching about heaven and hell are views concerning death, which suggest an 
effort to combine the orthodox belief with theosophical elements borrowed 
from Eastern religions. "Spirits," it is said, "dwell in the place toward which 
they look, without being separated from their original centre." The spirit 
never loses the qualities with which it is originally endowed, though, during 
earth life, it may have them only potentially. If on entering the body, the 
spirit regards the natural dispositions of the body as capable of being thrown 
off, surmounted, it "acquires angelic dispositions." The contrary being the 
case, it "assumes bestial dispositions." When, at the end of earth life, 
Azrael, the death angel, appears, he comes in a form determined by the beliefs 
and actions of the life just completed; the spirit looks upon him and, true 
to its nature, dwells in the place toward which it looks, the body thereupon 
dying. Then comes a quasi-theosophical portion of the teaching: the spirit 
does not leave the body immediately, but "abides in it for a while, like one 
who sleeps without seeing any vision." Next it passes into an intermediate 
state, and presumably after that, to its final, predestined place. 

To return once more to the subject of the Name: the different names, each 
producing its characteristic effect, were regarded as the reason for, the cause of, 
the different religions. This meant, theoretically at least, a very tolerant 
attitude toward all other religions, for each form of worship was regarded as 



SUFISM 307 

expressing some aspect of the Divine; all were necessarily in accordance with 
God's will and contributed to the divine perfection. God, in the restricted 
sense of the word (not the Absolute), is "the God who is contained in the 
heart of his servant"; and "the colour of the water is the colour of the vessel 
containing it." But the most perfect form of religion is the one that contains 
the idea of God most completely and universally. What this perfect form was 
thought to be, is shown by rather an amusing piece of evidence: in later 
centuries, a Brahmanical writing of which the fifth and last part was suppos- 
edly secret, and forbidden to most Brahmans, came into the hands of the Sufis. 
For the interdiction, the Sufis gave the explanation that those of the Brahmans 
who read the secret portion invariably became Moslems! 

In a recent QUARTERLY there was quoted the teaching of H. P. B. concerning 
the dream state, and here again, it is worth while to note the conclusions 
reached by the Mohammedan mystics. The nearness and reality of the 
unseen world is a powerful factor in all their thought. The soul, in its essence, 
is spiritual, but its spirituality may be only potential while it is acting 
through the body and the bodily channels of apprehension. During deep 
sleep, when the body is at rest and the avenues of the senses closed, the soul 
may, for a flash of time, reach the pure soul-state. This, it is explained, 
brings with it for the moment, a knowledge of future events, for the forms 
of events are contained in all spiritual essences, and the soul is then in its 
essential, spiritual state. 

Every night, O God, from the net of the body 

Thou releasest our souls and makest them like blank tablets; 

Every night thou releasest them from their cages 

And settest them free: none is master or slave. 

At night the prisoners forget their prisons, 

At night the monarchs forget their wealth : 

No sorrow, no care, no profit, no loss, 

No thought or fear of this man or that. 

What is experienced during sleep must, on return, however, all be translated 
into terms of everyday life. The veil of the senses requires that. In the case 
of a person far advanced on the Path, it is not a matter of flashes during sleep, 
not a matter of dream. His soul has actually (no longer potentially) become 
a spiritual essence, and apprehends otherwise than through the agency of the 
body and the senses. The soul-contact with reality is of three kinds the 
first, that of ordinary humanity; the second, that of the saints and holy 
persons, and the third, the Vision of the prophets, though the latter is of a 
special nature far transcending the other two. But the practical point em- 
phasized, was the fact that contact with reality is possible when all the life of 
the senses dies down, becomes quiescent, and the soul is freed from bondage. 
That being the case, the same contact is of necessity a possibility while awake, 
granted the same means are employed. " Every man is potentially a seer and 
a saint." And the years of austerity, the rigid Sufi discipline, were of course 



3 o8 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

directed to this end in the words of the Song of Life, "to reach awake the 
sea of power we bathe in while asleep," or, in Sufi phraseology, to plunge the 
mind, at will, totally in God. In fact, it was taught that anyone, by means 
of the proper discipline, could see the spiritual world though only the 
upright soul could see it perfectly. 

There seems to have been no fixed length of time for passing through the 
course of discipline, and methods apparently varied widely with different 
teachers, or even with different pupils under the same teacher. There is one 
instance, and perhaps many more, of an aspirant who gained illumination at 
once, and without going through the exercises, at least under the usual 
conditions. The record is that of a young court official in India, during the 
reign of one of the Mogul emperors, thus representing a late development 
of Sufism, not within the period referred to by the "Notes and Comments." 
The would-be neophyte had sought long to become a disciple of a certain 
noted Sheikh, but had met only refusal, because of his very evident duty in 
other directions, though told that he had a vocation. Finally, he was ac- 
cepted. In this case, the Sheikh, by his personal aid, helped him to untie the 
"knot of the heart" a phrase which the Sufis, too, employed. His is a 
record on which we would not venture a comment, but it is quoted for what- 
ever it may convey to the reader: 

"... The heart of the master was filled with sympathy with me. . . . 
During that entire night he concentrated his mind upon me, while I directed 
my thought toward my own heart; but the knot of my heart did not open. 
So three nights passed, during which he made me the object of his spiritual 
attention, without any effect being felt. On the fourth night, Molla-Shah 
[the Sheikh] said, 'This night, Molla-Senghin and Salih Beg, who are both very 
open to ecstatic emotion, will direct all their mind on the neophyte.' ' This 
was done, and the next morning the report was given to the master that a little 
clearness had been perceived by the pupil. At this the master expressed 
encouragement, and continued the task in person. 

"Thereupon, he made me sit before him, my senses being as though in- 
toxicated, and ordered me to reproduce his own image within myself; and, 
after having bandaged my eyes, he asked me to concentrate all my mental 
faculties on my heart. I obeyed, and in an instant, by the divine favour and 
by the spiritual assistance of the shaykh, my heart opened. I saw, then, that 
there was something like an overturned cup within me. This having been set 
upright, a sensation of unbounded happiness filled my being. I said to the 
master, 'This cell, where I am seated before you I see a faithful reproduction 
of it within me and it appears to me as though another Tawakkul Beg [the 
name of the aspirant] were seated before another Molla-Shah.' He replied, 
'Very good! The first apparition which appears to thee is the image of the 
master. Thy companions [the other novices] have been prevented by other 
mystical exercises; but, as far as regards myself, this is not the first time that 
I have met such a case.' He then ordered me to uncover my eyes; and I saw 
him, then, with the physical organ of vision, seated before me. He then made 



SUFISM 309 

me bind my eyes again, and I perceived him with my spiritual sight, seated 
similarly before me. Full of astonishment, I cried out, 'O master! whether 
I look with my physical organs or with my spiritual sight, always it is you that 
I see.' ' He tells of visions that appeared to him, explaining that under the 
direction of his master, he saw, each day, still further into the spiritual world. 

From Sufi literature there conies the story of an elephant exhibited in a 
dark room to a number of people. One of them felt its leg and declared the 
animal to be like a pillar; another felt its ear, another its side, another its 
trunk, each observer, in the end, having a different opinion of what the strange 
beast was like, yet each being right so far as he went. The fable is used to 
illustrate the impossibility of really compassing the whole of Sufism the 
need to realize that even after lengthy study and prolonged effort, it may well 
be that only one aspect has been touched upon. 

There is one element, however, which it would seem safe to regard as inherent 
in every aspect, the key which would unlock the door to an understanding of 
the whole, namely, abandonment of self. Selflessness is made a cardinal 
principle. When the individual self is lost, the Universal Self is found; yes, 
but further than that, a man's very inspiration .to selflessness must be free 
from self. It is not the self that can make the effort to become selfless, but 
only the Divine that can accomplish it "through a flash of the divine beauty" 
in the heart. God gives the inspiration to self-abandonment, and God carries 
it through, or it is nothing worth, for "one who renounces a thing through 
self is in worse case than if he had not renounced at all." There is much in 
this connection which suggests Light on the Path, and, as in that book, the 
teaching is that the self must be transformed, transmuted, until it is wholly 
submissive to the spirit. 

Perhaps nowhere more than in this teaching of self-abandonment, is there so 
apparent the completeness of the Sufi practices. An outer observance, to be 
worth doing at all, must go clear through motive, spirit, innermost being, all 
at one. It is not personal participation in the Divine nature that must be 
sought, but total freedom from the bondage of selfhood. There is the story of 
the worshipper who, prompted by the devil, ceased his cry of "O Allah!" 
because he met with no response, "because the answer 'Here am I' came not." 
Swift was God's message in rebuke: 

"Was it not I that summoned thee to service? 
Did not I make thee busy with My name? 
Thy calling 'Allah!' was my 'Here am I', 
Thy yearning pain My messenger to thee. 
Of all those tears and cries and supplications 
I was the magnet, and I gave them wings." 

What more complete freedom from the bondage of self than to find the 
response solely in the impulse to call upon Him, to find in the pain of separation 
from Him, in the yearning for union with Him, complete satisfaction since He 
has called it forth utter acceptance of His will, be it heaven or hell. 

J.C. 



THE TWO WISDOMS 
MUNDAKA UPANISHAD 



TRANSLATED FROM THE SANSKRIT WITH AN INTERPRETATION 

II 

The Eternal is manifest, yet concealed; Moving-in-secret is its name; it is the 
great abode in which all things are set firm. 

It moves and breathes, with opening and closing eyes; know ye that this, which is 
Being and non-being, is to be sought after; it is beyond the understanding of crea- 
tures, it is most excellent. It is fiery, more subtile than the atom; in it these worlds 
are set, and the dwellers in the worlds. 

This is the enduring Eternal, this is Life, the Word, Mind. This is the Truth, 
this, the Immortal. This is to be aimed at as the mark; pierce that mark, 
beloved! 

Grasping the potent weapon, the Secret Wisdom, as thy bow, fit to it the arrow of 
thought sharpened by meditation, drawing the bow with the heart filled with the 
Being of That, aim at the Everlasting as thy mark, beloved! 

The holy syllable is the bow; the arrow is thyself; the Eternal is the mark. The 
arrow should be sped by him who has conquered delusion; let him find lodgment in 
That, as the arrow in the mark. 

That whereon Heaven and Earth and the space between are woven, with Mind and 
all lives; know ye That as the One, without other names, for That is the bridge of 
immortality. 

As spokes are set in the nave of the wheel, in Him are the life-courses set; through 
them He moves in manifold forms of life. Meditate ye on the Soul through the holy 
syllable; may it be well with you, in crossing to the shore beyond the darkness. 

THE Eternal is manifest in the whole manifest universe, yet concealed as 
to its own unknowable Being. Moving-in-secret is its name, because it 
is the hidden motive force, the inner driving power, in everything from 
the atom to the cosmos. We find ourselves steady in the midst of space; 
wherever we are, it is always "here"; we are thus steadfast because our inmost 
being rests, set firm in the Eternal. 

We have the same contrast which Plato draws, between the Eternal, which 
ever is, but never becomes, and the manifested worlds, which never are, in the 
sense of final reality, though they are ever becoming. In this sense, the 
Eternal is both Being and non-being. And what a superb picture of the 
Eternal, alternately manifest in Manvantara and concealed in Pralaya: "It 
moves and breathes, with opening and closing eyes." 

The Commentary attributed to Shankaracharya contains a passage of 
310 



THE TWO WISDOMS: MUNDAKA UPANISHAD 311 

exceptional eloquence, referring to these verses: "Who is that Mighty One? 
It is He, at whose command Heaven and Earth stand apart, separated from 
each other; He, at whose command sun and moon move for ever, glowing like 
whirled firebrands; He, at whose command the rivers and the oceans transgress 
not their bounds; He, at whose command all things that move or move not are 
established; He, at whose command the seasons and the waters trespass not; 
He is the Mighty One." 

The full meaning of the holy syllable, Om, is set forth at length in Mandukya 
Upanishad, to be translated next in this series. As regards the macrocosm, it 
symbolizes the three worlds, earth, interspace, heaven, summed up in the 
divine world which contains them all; as regards the microcosm, it symbolizes 
the three worlds in man, in their ascending order: the natural man, the psychical 
man, the spiritual man, consummated in the divine man; or it is the conscious- 
ness of each of these, again in ascending order. And the ascent from the 
ordinary consciousness of the natural man, to the supreme consciousness of the 
divine man, through meditation enkindled by fiery aspiration, is symbolized in 
the Upanishad by the arrow shot at the mark, and lodging in the mark. 

He who is under delusion looks not toward the Eternal, but toward broken 
reflections of the Eternal in visible, material things, by which his eyes are 
fascinated. He must break this fascination through his ardent desire for 
Truth, before he can begin to aim at the Eternal. 

The concept of the remaining verses is almost exactly that of Dante, in the 
twenty-seventh Canto of the Paradise: 

"The nature of the universe which stilleth the centre and moveth all the rest 
around, hence doth begin as from its starting point. And this heaven hath no 
other 'where' than the Divine Mind wherein is enkindled the love which 
revolveth it and the power which it poureth forth like rain. Light and love 
grasp it in one circle, as doth it the others, and this engirdment He only who 
doth gird it understandeth. Its movement by no other is marked out; but by 
it all the rest are measured." 

He who is all-knowing, all-wise, whose is this greatness in the world, He is the 
Soul, established in the city of the Eternal, in the heavenly ether. 

Formed of mind, leader of life and of the body, established in food, dwelling in the 
heart, Him the wise discern through wisdom, formed of joy, immortal, radiant. 

The knot of the heart is untied, all doubts are cut; his bondage through works 
wears out, when That is known, which is above and below. 

In the highest golden vesture is the stainless, partless Eternal: that radiant One, 
the light of lights, whom the knowers of the Soul know. 

The sun shines not there, nor the moon and stars, nor these lightnings, nor fire 
like this; after the shining of this, all things shine; by the light of this, all else is 
illumined. 

The Eternal, verily, is this, immortal; the Eternal is before, the Eternal is 
behind, the Eternal is on the right hand, the Eternal is on the left; extended below 
and above is the Eternal, the Eternal is all this, to the uttermost. 



312 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

When the disciple, through the use of intellect and intuition, has gained some 
conception of the Eternal as the Life of all things, he is bidden to seek that 
Eternal within his own heart, superbly called "the city of the Eternal": "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 
elsewhere. It is beyond you ; because when you reach it you have lost yourself. 
It is unattainable, because it for ever recedes. You will enter the light, but 
you will never touch the flame." 

The Soul is the leader of life and of the body, because by the Soul the whole 
setting of life and every event are ordained, for the purpose of the Soul; the 
powers of the body are the outer manifestation of the powers of the Soul, made 
concrete in order that the earlier steps of experience may be more easily gained. 
It is established in food, because food is the symbol of experience, which is the 
food of character, the food by which the inner life grows. 

The knot of the heart is the sense of separateness. The disciple "grasps his 
whole individuality firmly, and by force of his awakened spiritual will recog- 
nizes this individuality as not himself, but that thing which he has with pain 
created for his own use, and by means of which he purposes, as his growth 
slowly develops his intelligence, to reach to the life beyond individuality. 
When he knows that for this his wonderful complex separated life exists, then, 
indeed, and then only, he is upon the way." 

The symbol of the Eternal as the light of lights is as old, perhaps, as the soul 
of man, as old as light itself. It runs through all the Scriptures of the world. 
Isaiah uses the same simile : "The sun shall be no more thy light by day ; neither 
for brightness shall the moon give light unto thee ; but the Lord shall be unto 
thee an everlasting light, and thy God thy glory." An even closer parallel is 
found in the Revelation: "And the city had no need of the sun, neither of the 
moon, to shine in it: for the glory of God did lighten it, and the Lamb is the 
light thereof." 

Two birds, close comrades, rest on the same tree. One of them eats the sweet fruit; 
the other watches, eating not. 

In that tree is man, sunk down, grieving for his lost power, deluded; when he sees 
the other, the Lord in his greatness, as one with him, he is freed from sorrow. 

When the seer beholds the Maker, the spiritual man, bearing within him the 
Eternal, then, illumined by wisdom, passing beyond both works enjoined and works 
forbidden, stainless, he attains to supreme oneness. 

This is the Life that shines through all beings; knowing Him, he attains to wis- 
dom, for there is no other who imparts wisdom . Rejoicing in the Soul, delighting in 
the Soul, accomplishing all things, he becomes the most excellent knower of the 
Eternal. 

The parable of the two birds joined together in close companionship indicates 
the relation of the inner and the outer self. The inner self watches, while the 
outer self eats the fruit of the tree of life. The outer self is man, sunk down, 



THE TWO WISDOMS: MUNDAKA UPANISHAD 313 

grieving for his lost power, deluded ; when he regains the vision of the inner self, 
the Lord in his greatness, as being his true self, then he is freed from sorrow. 

This would seem to be that stage on the way, of which it is said: "Look for 
the warrior and let him fight in thee. Take his orders for battle and obey them. 
Obey him not as though he were a general, but as though he were thyself, and 
his spoken words were the utterance of thy secret desires; for he is thyself, yet 
infinitely wiser and stronger than thyself." 

For 'his Soul is to be gained by truth, by fervour, by thorough knowledge, by 
service of the Eternal perpetually rendered. 

In the body within, formed of light and radiant is he, whom they who strive 
toward him behold, they whose sins are worn away. 

Truth conquers, and not untruth; by truth is the path, the divine way, ascended, 
the path by which the seers go, who have gained their desire, to the supreme treasure 
house of truth.' 

Great is that, divine, in form beyond thought, more subtile than the subtile, 
shining forth. Farther than far, yet it is close at hand; here, hidden in the heart, 
for those who have vision. 

Not by the eye is that apprehended, not by speech, nor by the other powers, nor by 
penance and the works of the law; through the grace of wisdom, when the heart is 
pure, through meditation he beholds Him who is undivided. 

This subtile Soul is to be known through the heart, into which life has entered 
fivefold; through these life-forces the whole consciousness of beings is woven; when 
this consciousness is purified, the Soul shines forth. 

Whatever world he who is purified conceives in his heart, whatever desires he 
desires, that world he wins, and those desires; therefore let him who seeks well-being 
honour him who knows the Soul. 

The Soul is to be gained by truth. If we consider that the Eternal is made 
manifest to us in truth, beauty and goodness, we shall, perhaps, find it to be 
true that our own age has a deeper reverence for truth than for either goodness 
or beauty. Those who devote their lives to the search for truth, in the many 
fields of science, would appear to be more convinced, more in earnest, more 
whole hearted in their search than, let us say, the devotees of art, poetry, 
painting, who are professed seekers of beauty; or than those who make a pro- 
fession of the search for goodness, in religion. These are sincere in their way, 
but they seem in a sense to lack both the high enthusiasm for truth which 
inspires so many followers of science, and the final determination to follow the 
truth, to seek the truth, to pay any price for the truth, which so many men of 
science have. The men of science willingly undertake greater sacrifices, and, 
just because of their deep reverence for truth, and their profound determination 
to attain to truth, they do not think of their undertakings in terms of sacrifice, 
but rather in terms of promise, of opportunity. This profound reverence for 
truth, this indomitable determination to pay any price whatever to attain it, 
counting that price a splendid opportunity, is the spirit which must inspire the 



3 I4 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

disciple, who must likewise have the same disinterested and impersonal worship 
of truth for its own sake. 

He knows the supreme dwellins of the Eternal, resting in which the world shines, 
luminous. They who have conquered their desires, draw near to the spiritual man; 
full of wisdom, they conquer the seed of rebirth in the world. 

He who desires desires, dwelling on them in his mind, through these desires he is 
reborn in this place or in that. But he who has attained his desire, who has gained 
the Soul, from him even in this world all desires melt away. 

Not by speaking is the Soul gained, nor by much reasoning, nor by hearing much; 
whom the Soul chooses, by him it is gained; the Soul reveals its own form to him. 

Nor is the Soul to be attained by him who lacks valour, nor by the heedless, nor by 
penance without renunciation. But when he wisely strives through the right means, 
this Soul enters his heart, where dwells the Eternal. 

Attaining Him, rejoicing in wisdom, purified from passion, gaining peace, 
winning that all-penetrating Soul, wise, united with the Soul, the seers enter into the 
All. 

This passage is so full of the simplicity of beauty that it hardly needs any 
comment. But there is, perhaps, one phrase on which further light may be 
shed by a comparison with other Scriptures: "Whom the Soul chooses, by him 
it is gained." 

Take the words of the Western Master: "Ye have not chosen me, but I have 
chosen you, and ordained you " ; or the words of his heroic disciple, Paul : "When 
it pleased God, who separated me from my mother's womb, and called me by 
his grace, to reveal his Son in me . . . " and think of the endless specula- 
tions concerning predestination and foreordination which have been based on 
them, causing on the one hand much spiritual pride and vanity, and on the 
other, deep moral anguish; and it becomes apparent how great is the need of 
wisdom and of humility, in interpreting passages like these. 

It would seem to be a question of perspective, of seeing the Soul, the Higher 
Self, in its true relation to the lower, personal self; the whole series of personal 
lives existing for the purposes of the Soul, that the divine powers of the Soul 
may be brought forth and made manifest. If we see this, then we can think of 
the Soul planning, guiding, supervising the whole series of lives; in these lives 
developing, one after another, its divine potentialities into actualities; and 
finally, when the time is ripe, summoning the personal self to become one with 
its divine prototype, so that the full essence of individual life, which has been 
brought to a focus through personal experience, may be carried over into the 
Soul. In that given life, then, when maturity had been reached, the Soul 
might be said to choose the personal man; to this extent, predestination would 
be a reality. But it is evident that the power of the Soul has been over the 
whole series of lives, guiding and guarding them, waiting only for ripeness. In 
this sense, there has been no injustice, nor is there any reason for the moral 
anguish that this doctrine misunderstood has inflicted on so many sensitive 



THE TWO WISDOMS: MUNDAKA UPANISHAD 315 

hearts. For we may be certain that these very hearts that deeply concern 
themselves with the problem of election, thereby prove their ripeness; that con- 
cern itself is the work and evidence of the Soul, preparing them for the final 
effort and sacrifice, the sacrifice of the sense of separateness. 

Nor, we may reverently suppose, is it otherwise with the choice of the disciple 
by the Master. He who ardently longs to be chosen as a disciple, testifies by 
that very longing that the power of the Master is over him ; the longing itself is 
the Master's gift, to lead him on his way homeward. 

They who have understood that wisdom which is the essence of the Vedas, who 
strive through renunciation and union, purified in heart, all these at the time of the 
end gain liberation, immortal in the realm of the Eternal. 

Gone are the thrice five parts in their places, and all the shining powers in their 
several shining, and all works, and the self of mental action; all have become one in 
the unchanging Supreme. 

As rivers, flowing to the ocean, go to their setting, putting off name and form, so 
the possessor of wisdom, freed from name and form, gains that Spirit which is higher 
than the highest, the Divine. 

He who knows the supreme Eternal, becomes the Eternal, nor is any born in his 
line who knows not the Eternal. He crosses beyond sorrow, he crosses beyond sin, 
freed from the knots of the heart he becomes immortal. 

This is declared by the Vedic verse: 

They who fulfil the rites, who hear the Vedas, who are established in the Eternal, 
who offer themselves with faith in the one Seer; to them let him declare wisdom, who 
have duly fulfilled the head vow. 

This is the truth which the seer Angiras declared of old. He receives it not, who 
has not fulfilled the vow. 

Obeisance to the supreme Seers! 
Obeisance to the supreme Seers! 

Two phrases in this beautiful passage call for a slight elucidation. The 
"thrice five powers in their places" are the five senses or powers of perception, 
the five powers of action and the five energies which are called the life-breaths. 
These, with the self of mental action, make up the lower personality, and are 
left behind when full liberation is attained. 

The "head vow" is referred by the Sanskrit commentators to a vow to carry 
fire on one's head as a penance or a trial of faith. But we may surmise that this 
vow itself is a symbol, perhaps of purification of thought by the fire of wisdom; 
perhaps of the resulting revival .of long dormant perceptive powers. It is said, 
in another Upanishad, that in the head is the home of Indra, ruler of the gods. 
It is possible that the vow may have seme relation to this. 

The last sentences pick up the thread of the opening passages of this Upani- 
shad, in which we are told that it embodies the teaching of the Master Angiras, 
who received it through the succession of the supreme Seers. 

C.J. 



AKHNATON THE "HERETIC" 
PHARAOH OF EGYPT 



VII 
THE NEW KINGDOM (THE EMPIRE) 

AMENHOTEP III died when his son was still almost a child and Queen 
r\ Tiy, already used to a large share in the government, became Regent. 
^ At a not much later date the young Crown Prince was married to the 
Princess Nefertithi who is supposed by some writers to have been Syrian, a 
fact which has not, however, been proved. Petrie identifies her with a certain 
Mitannian princess, while N. de G. Davies says: "There is no strong ground 
for supposing it (her origin) to have been foreign. The Queen's rights as 
heiress rather imply a royal Egyptian descent on both sides." Maspero 
speaks of her as "a princess of the pure solar race," maintaining that " Ameno- 
thes IV (Akhnaton) married her so as to obtain through her the rights which 
were wanting to him through his mother Tiy," who, Maspero insists, was not 
royal. The point is interesting as well as important since there is so much 
difference of opinion in regard to the amount of Asiatic influence in Egypt 
(and especially at Court) during the period of which we write. Whatever 
Nefertithi's origin may have been, however, the choice seems to have been a 
wholly wise one, for she proved to be in every way the sympathetic sharer of 
all her husband's ideals, the active supporter of all his reforms. 

We come now to the time when the Crown Prince Amenhotep had become 
the Pharaoh, Amenhotep IV, inheriting the throne of his fathers, and, what 
must have been a source of great concern to him, inheriting also the god 
which his forefathers had worshipped, but which, thanks to a priesthood faith- 
less to its responsibilities and duties, had now become a national menace. 
The young Pharaoh can have had no illusions as to the degradation of that 
priesthood, nor on the other hand, can the priesthood of Amen, seeing the 
increasing reverence paid the, as yet, unfamiliar god Aton, have had any 
misconceptions as to the growing danger to themselves in a consequent de- 
crease of power and riches, should the royal favour be transferred. For Aton 
was now officially recognized, and while it is evident from contemporary 
records that Amenhotep IV, trying to guide the minds of his people to purer 
religious conceptions, realized the danger to .his country of too sharp and 
sudden a break, yet is it also apparent that he determined, early in his reign, 
to establish Aton worship as the state religion, hoping no doubt that time 
and the example of the Pharaoh would wean his people's hearts away from 
their dangerous allegiance to the priests of Amen. Therefore we are not sur- 
prised to find, in the early years of the reign, a te'mple dedicated to Ra- 
Horakhti-Aton in the very midst of the Karnak-Luxor group. This intro- 
316 



AKHNATON THE "HERETIC" PHARAOH OF EGYPT 317 

duction at Karnak of another god than Amen was no innovation, for many 
other gods had long since been represented there, and it is almost certain that 
at first there was no intention of obliterating any of them, nor of showing 
actual severity towards the older priesthoods of Egypt. This would be entirely 
in keeping with the kindly nature of the young reformer, who would certainly 
never have resorted to harsher measures had he not been driven to them. But 
the priests of Amen could brook no rival who threatened to supplant Amen as 
the state god, and they increased their intrigues, in which they were already 
only too proficient, till at last it must have become evident that in order to 
save Egypt from utter moral ruin a clean sweep must be made. It is at this 
point that the various historians on the period part company, for to some the 
actions from now on of Amenhotep IV show him to be the most relentless of 
fanatics, while others recognize in him "the warrior who knows no compromise 
with evil." 

It must have been a terrible time for the young King who loved his country 
so passionately, so selflessly, and many long hours must he have spent in prayer, 
asking for guidance, hoping that wisdom would be given him in this moment 
of Egypt's grievous need. It was no small thing for one man, even if he were 
the Pharaoh, to face countless generations of tradition and resolutely to turn 
aside into unfamiliar paths, calling on his people to follow him, pleading with 
them to turn from the old observances, now dishonoured and defiled by evil 
associations, to what must have seemed strange new forms. Little wonder if 
only a handful responded, the rank and file of humanity is ever fearful of 
the unknown, the untried. But Amenhotep IV had a will of iron under his 
gentle, gracious exterior, a determination probably till then little suspected by 
anyone, perhaps least of all by himself, and soon the world was watching a 
struggle of opposing wills such as had not before been seen ; the royal will on 
the one hand, through which was working the Divine Will of the Powers of 
Light, and the sacerdotal will on the other, the foul subterranean channel for 
the work of the Powers of Darkness; the one, open, straightforward, trans- 
parent; the other, crafty, manoeuvring, unclean. 

The change was abrupt; in practically all the histories of Egypt comment is 
made on the rapidity with which Amenhotep IV altered his method, and 
though none seem to throw more than a glimmer of light by way of explana- 
tion, it is certain that only events of a very remarkable nature could have 
instantly resulted in the complete abandonment of the earlier, more peaceful 
methods; for up to now any attempted reforms had been entirely conciliatory 
in spirit. It seems to us that we have not far to look, and that we find two 
distinct causes 1 which are responsible for this sudden change. Our evidence in 
both cases is fragmentary but it apparently furnishes us with the needed 
solution. About the second or third year of his reign there appears to have 

1 It is quite likely that the recent discovery of the tomb of Tutankhamen in the Valley of the Kings at Thebes 
may throw much new light on the whole " heretical movement," once any papyri found in the tomb are deciphered. 
One or two archaeologists, notably Weigall, have long since held the theory that Akhnaton's actions were influenced 
by and could be linked historically with the movements of the Israelites prior to the Exodus. It is not impos- 
sible that some such connection may come to light, but in the meantime we can only await developments. 



318 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

been the discovery of a kind of plot contrived by "the priests," no doubt 
at all that the priests of Amen are meant, though to judge from subsequent 
events, some of the other priesthoods (not of course Heliopolis) would seem to 
have been concerned in it. What sort of a plot it was we are not told, but 
knowing the character of the priesthood of Amen at that time, we realize that 
it must have been of a very black and terrible nature probably a last, 
desperate stand in what the priests realized was already a lost battle for su- 
premacy in Egypt. The only direct reference we get to it is in a proclamation 
to his people made somewhat later by the King himself. In this proclamation 
he makes it evident that the priests have surpassed even their customary 
baseness, and in a passage full of growing scorn and indignation he draws a 
picture of their increasing infamy during the reigns of his predecessors, 2 appar- 
ently making no attempt to soften or modify the revelation of their guilt. 
Such a public arraignment must have called for supreme moral and physical 
courage, and we believe that the young King realized to the fullest the personal 
danger he ran in thwarting and exposing the schemes of the priests of Amen, 
the masters of black magic; but he never for one moment wavered in the step 
he resolved to take. 

The other cause which was the real turning point in his life is to be found 
recorded in an inscription which is also very fragmentary, but there is no doubt 
that it is the broken account of a great spiritual experience. Self-dedicated 
while still a boy to the service of Aton, very early in his reign he had himself 
assumed the office of High Priest, taking the title of "Great Seer" which, we 
remember, was the name by which the High Priest of Ra at Heliopolis was 
known, and it must have been about this time that he had the epoch-making 
revelation of what the Aton faith was to mean. Its suddenness is made 
evident to us in the tomb at Thebes of Rames, an official of high rank and 
many titles. 3 In this tomb we find among the earliest reliefs and inscriptions, 
the Pharaoh, Amenhotep IV, represented in the orthodox fashion as a follower 
of Amen, no doubt showing an early and voluntary concession to tradition. 
Side by side with this, and apparently of not much later date, the Pharaoh is 
no longer portrayed as worshipping according to custom, but is shown definitely 
under the protection of Aton, with all the peculiarities of art which gives Aton 
worship a stamp of its own, the sun's disc with down-streaming rays, of 
which we shall speak later. What, however, is most significant of all, is an 
inscription, very much defaced, most of it lost forever, but which is beyond the 
least doubt a fragment of an account given by the King himself, of the sudden 



1 The passage is so damaged that we can with difficulty piece it together, but the aim of the Pharaoh would seem 
to be to give a short historical account of the gradual, but unarrested degradation of the priesthood of Amen, for 
the names of two Kings are mentioned, though only one, the second, is decipherable. That one is Thothmes IV, 
which would probably make the first name that of Thothmes' predecessor, Amenhotep II (though of course it 
might be his successor Amenhotep III). In this way we should gather that the degradation began just after the 
death of Thothmes III, which is, as a matter of fact, what history has shown us. We shall refer to this record later. 

* For a good drawing of this important monument refer to The Funeral Tent of an Egyptian Queen, by Villiers 
Stuart, plates 15 and 16. The reader is, however, warned against the historical conclusions put forth by the author 
i.e. that Amenhotep IV and Akhnaton were two separate and distinct individuals. Later research has rendered 
this idea quite untenable; vide in particular Maspero's Struggle of the Nations, p. 316. 



AKHNATON THE "HERETIC" PHARAOH OF EGYPT 319 

unveiling to him of the Inner World, the sudden revealing of the Realities of 
Existence, the sudden seeing of his Master face to face. This fragment is one 
which is incorporated in a much damaged collection of brief inscriptions, all 
of which refer to an audience which Rames (especially trusted as "master of 
secret things of the palace") had with the King, an interview probably ex- 
pressly planned for the purpose of communicating the High Command which 
the King himself had just received. It was perhaps his first conscious con- 
nection with the Lodge, perhaps an initiation. So illegible is most of the 
inscription that we do not know what were the details of the King's disclosure 
to Rames, and we can only guess at them from the Pharaoh's subsequent 
actions as we watch the steady and orderly unfolding of the Aton faith. We 
may know at least, however, that from that High Command, as he under- 
stood it, the young King never swerved by so much as a hair's breadth. The 
fragment runs thus: ". . . The words of Ra are before thee, . . . 
of my august Father who taught me their essence ... all that is His 
. . . since He equipped the land. ... It was known to my heart, 
opened to my face, I understood. . . ." 

No student of Theosophy could read these words without a quick and 
reverent response to their evident meaning, and we must all instinctively link 
up this broken record of an overmastering experience with that other, fortu- 
nately less fragmentary account of a like unearthly and glorious adventure 
(also Egyptian) which we find in the second book of The Divine Pymander* 
and which in spirit it resembles so closely that we venture to give a fraction 
of it here : 

My Thoughts being once seriously busied about the things that are, 
and my Understanding lifted up, all my bodily Senses being exceedingly 
holden back, as it is with them that are very heavy of sleep, by reason 
either of fulness of meat, or of bodily labour, methought I saw one of 
an exceeding great stature, and an infinite greatness call me by my name, 
and say unto me, "What wouldest thou Hear and See? or what wouldest 
thou Understand, to Learn and Know?" 

Then said I, "Who art Thou?" "I am," quoth he, "Poemander, the 
mind of the Great Lord, the most Mighty and absolute Emperor: I know 
what thou wouldest have, and I am always present with thee." 

Then said I, "I would Learn the Things that are, and Understand the 
Nature of them and know God." "How?" said he. I answered, "That 
I would gladly hear." Then he, "Have me again in thy mind, and what- 
soever thou wouldst learn, I will teach thee." 

When he had thus said, he was changed in his Idea or Form and straight- 
way in the twinkling of an eye, all things were opened unto me: and I saw 
an infinite Sight, . . ." 
The remainder of this indescribably majestic chapter, far too long to give in 



4 Collectanea Hermelica, edited by W. Wynn Westcott. Vol. II. Bk. II. Cf. also Thrice Greatest Hermes, Vol. II. 
pp. 3 to 20. 



320 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

its entirety, can easily be referred to by anyone wishing to refresh his memory, 
and he will find much of it especially illuminating if he bear in mind the 
spiritual kinship of the two experiences. 

Apparently the King took action at once. At all costs must a resolute and 
unabated effort be made to save the remnant of his people (those at least, who 
had not already given themselves, beyond recall, to the corroding influences 
of the day), from their fatal submission to the priests of Amen. He had tried 
by gentle means to bring his country back to a sense of the old-time purity and 
simplicity of the religious life; he had tried to show them that it was clean 
hearts not hollow ritual which was the true life; that unity of aspiration not 
emphasis on separate cult worship would alone restore Egypt to her former 
spiritual glory. The only response from the priesthoods had evidently been 
nothing but increased intrigue, hypocrisy, lying; and there was but one thing 
to do, the evil must be cut away once and for all, the time for half measures, 
for friendly adjustments, was past. So the King took a daring and resolute 
step, proclaiming that henceforth no other god than Aton (always be it 
remembered a higher aspect of Ra) was to be allowed recognition anywhere 
in Egypt. The various priesthoods (save Heliopolis) were dispossessed, the 
priesthood of Amen, to all outer appearances, completely wiped from the face 
of the earth : so far as human means could make it possible, the Amen cult was 
blotted out. The King sent his sculptors through the length and breadth of 
the land with the orders that wherever the discredited name of Amen was 
found, in temples or on monuments, it was to be effaced. Wherever the word 
"god" appeared, Aton was to be graven in its place, while the old word 
"gods" so common in Egypt, was done away with altogether. The many gods 
were to be drawn tip into and absorbed in the One God, Aton, and in Him 
was to be found the whole of Truth. This is where, it seems to us, most com- 
mentators have gone astray, losing the very keynote of the Aton faith; for 
Aton was the Uniter, and in that sense the Preserver. This has not been 
sufficiently emphasized, and historians have been far too prone to dwell on the 
destructive side of the Aton worship, carrying it no farther, and forgetting 
Akhnaton's unfailing and sustained efforts to show that Unity, above all else, 
was at the heart of the "new religion." 

And now the King determined to change his name. Since it was the Amen 
priesthood which had been at the root of the evil tendencies of the day, poison- 
ing all social life and neutralizing all spiritual effort, contaminating the other 
priesthoods and sowing disaster broadcast, Amenhotep would bear no name 
which contained the dishonoured word. Also there was undoubtedly a more 
positive and occult significance, the change of name which denotes com- 
plete change of life, complete severance from old conditions, the being born 
again into a larger, holier world, which in its most familiar form we find sym- 
bolized to-day in the Roman Catholic Church by the adoption of a new name 
when entering a religious order. Hereafter the King was to be known by a 
name which interpreted the true state of his own heart, Akhnaton, "The 
Glory of Aton" or, as sometimes translated, "Aton is Satisfied." 



AKHNATON THE "HERETIC" PHARAOH OF EGYPT 321 

Beside this there was his own father's name, and this must have caused him 
a real pang, for having pledged himself to clear the land of Amen he could not 
even allow the name of Amenhotep III to remain, and he therefore gave orders 
that it was to be cut out wherever it was found. This is one of the "base acts" 
which Akhnaton's enemies hold up against him, ignoring the fact that not only 
was it by no means an uncommon thing in Egypt for one King, wishing to 
appropriate a certain monument to himself, to have his own name inserted 
over that of its real founder (thus giving the appearance of his having erected 
the monument himself), but ignoring also what is of more vital importance, 
that Akhnaton did this in defence of an all-consuming principle, while in 
most of the other cases it was done purely as a means of self-glorification. 5 
Knowing the innate gentleness of Akhnaton's nature there is every reason to 
believe that this act was a most painful one for him, but once haying given 
himself to his work, there was no thought of turning back. 

He now decided on a step which no doubt he had contemplated for some 
time. Thebes had been the hot-bed of the subversive Amen-worship and was 
full of bad influences. He was too fearless to have any misgivings on his own 
account, but being wise beyond his years, he knew that the few followers he 
had collected around him must be given every chance of remaining true to 
their new allegiance, and he therefore determined to remove his court to a 
spot which was at a safe distance from old associations. There is absolutely 
no excuse for believing, as Akhnaton's unfavourable critics would have us do, 
that this decision was prompted by the selfish desire to shut out from his own 
paradise the rest of the world. The universal spirit of the religion which he 
gave to that world, and which with an overflowing heart he offered the peoples 
of his time, is in flat contradiction to such a view-point. So far from wishing 
to shut anyone out he spent his short life pleading with them to throw away 
their petty, self-seeking lives and join him in his untiring search for "The 
Truth." So boundless was his devotion that he wanted to remould the whole 
world for Aton, to make for him a new and beautiful dwelling place from 
whence could stream out unhindered, over the broad earth, the pure, unsullied 
spring of worship and adoration which he felt welling up in his own heart. So 
he set about building a City of the Horizon, and he chose for its site a great, 
semi-circular, rock-bound plain on the eastern bank of the river, in Middle 
Egypt. A vast amphitheatre of cliffs girded this plain, stretching wide, shel- 
tering arms about it protectingly north and south; the river, sweeping past, 
guarded it on the west. So far as is known, no town had ever been built here, 
and few traces of any later occupation have been found. It was virgin ground 
when Akhnaton chose it for the House of his Father Aton, and so practically 
has it remained to this day. We could almost apply to it those words found 
in the Comments on Light on the Path: "There are certain spots on the earth 



* We give one example only, Horemheb, Commander-in-Chief of the army under Akhnaton, and trusted by 
him as a friend, and who, later, usurping the throne became one of Akhnaton's most bitter critics, not only appro- 
priated inscriptions graven by other Kings, but his pylon at Thebes is built of the blocks of stone which had been 
used in constructing Akhnaton's (his friend's and his King's) Theban temples, and this for the sole purpose of 
magnifying his own importance. 

3 



322 THEOSOPHICAL QUARTERLY 

where the advance of 'civilization' is unfelt. ... In these favoured 
places there is always time, always opportunity, for the realities of life; they 
are not crowded out by the doings of an inchoate, money-loving, pleasure- 
seeking society." It was sacred ground then as it is now, and in that small, 
holy precinct, kept alive by a mere handful of "the faithful," was concen- 
trated what had formerly been the exalted heritage of the whole land, an 
abiding consciousness "of the Lodge of the Great Brotherhood which was 
once the secret splendour of Egypt." 

The rapidity with which the great town of Akhetaton, "The Horizon of 
Aton," and known to us to-day by the Arab name of Tell el-Amarna, was 
built, throws a side light on Akhnaton's consuming energy and force, once he 
had determined on a course of action, for, so far as we can discover, the city 
was made sufficiently habitable for the King and his court to remove there 
by the fourth or fifth year of his reign. But before the actual removal, and 
while he was still living at Thebes, he apparently made many state visits 
of inspection to the then fast-growing town, and he had caused to be cut 
in the living rock of the encircling hills, on both sides of the river, fourteen 
huge boundary stelae, thus marking the limits of the whole sacred district 
of Aton. Some of these stelae record various ceremonies, when the King 
made public appearances and when certain proclamations were issued. One of 
them furnishes us with such a brilliant picture of the early days of the city, 
and puts on record statements of such vital importance made by the King 
(statements which show him to have been consciously acting, not of his own 
unaided volition, but under Divine Guidance), that it will serve as a good 
starting point from which we can continue to trace the life and growth of the 
Aton faith in its new surroundings. It was evidently a ceremony of dedica- 
tion, and though in exactly what part of the city the ceremony itself was held 
is not made clear, we read how, after the usual religious sacrifice, the King 
called together his nobles and high officials and told them that he had built 
Akhetaton in obedience to a Divine Command, that Aton himself had chosen 
the spot and set its boundaries. The King, with a solemn vow then swore 
never to alter these boundaries or to allow the stelae to fall into ruins. We 
quote only from parts of this particular record, as the inscription is a very 
long one: 

Year 4, fourth month of the second season, day 4. 

Liveth the Good God, . . . [here follow the titles of the King 
and Queen]. 

On this day Royalty was in Akhetaton. His Majesty ascended a great 
chariot of electrum, like Aton when he rises from his horizon, and fills 
the land with his love. . . . Heaven was in joy, earth in rejoicing, 
every heart in gladness, when they saw him. 

And his Majesty stood before Father Hor-Aton [Horakhti-Aton] and 
Aton radiated upon him life and length of days, invigorating his body 
every day. Said his Majesty: "Bring me the companions of the King, 



AKHNATON THE "HERETIC" PHARAOH OF EGYPT 323 

the great ones and the mighty ones, the captains of soldiers, . . . 
of the land in its entirety." They were conducted to him immediately. 

His Majesty said unto them: "Behold Akhetaton which the Aton 6 
desires me to make unto him as a monument in the great name of my 
Majesty forever: it was the Aton my Father that brought me to Ak- 
hetaton. Not a noble directed me to it, not any man in the whole land 
directed me to it saying 'It is fitting for his Majesty that he make an 
Horizon-of-Aton (Akhetaton) in this place.' Nay, but it was the Aton 
my Father that directed me to it, to make it for him as an Horizon-of- 
Aton. . . . 

". . . : behold Pharaoh, Life, Prosperity, Health, found that it 
belonged not to a god, it belonged not to a goddess, it belonged not to 
prince, it belonged not to princess ... [as we have already seen, 
it was virgin ground]. There is no right for any man to act as owner 
of it. ..." 

Then his Majesty lifted his hand to heaven unto Him that formed him, 
Hor-Aton, saying: 

"As Father Hor-Aton liveth, the great ^and living Aton, ordaining 
life, vigorous in life, my Father, . . . my wall of a million cubits, 
my remembrancer of eternity, my witness of that which belongs to 
eternity, that formeth himself with his hands, whom no artificer hath 
known, who is established in rising and setting each day without ceasing 
with seeing whom may my eyes be satisfied daily, when he rises 
in this House of Aton (the temple) in Akhetaton, and fills it with his 
own self by his beams beauteous with love, and lays them upon me in life 
and length of days for ever and ever. 

"I will make Akhetaton for. the Aton my Father in this place. [Here 
he calls attention to the strict limits of the sacred area.] I will not make 
for him Akhetaton south of it, north of it, west of it, or east of it. 
I will make Akhetaton for the Aton my Father upon the orient side of 
Akhetaton [the city itself was never to spread from the eastern bank of 
the river, though the actual sacred district included a large tract of land 
on the west bank also], the place which he did enclose for his own self 
with cliff, and made a hryt (altar) in the midst of it, that I .might offer to 
him thereon: this is it." 7 

There then follows a long statement of general plans for the new city, for 
the royal palace, the Queen's pavilion, the tombs for himself, the "Great of 
Seeing" (the High Priest) and the "divine