Gleanings from The Theosophical Path

( 45 Volumes, July, 1911 - Oct., 1936 ) Volume I.

Contents Archeology and Ethnology - Peru Under the Incas - Ryan - Copan - Gates - Maori Lore and Legend - Neill - The Tomb of Osiris and Strabo's Well - Edge - Egyptology and Theosophy - Ryan - The Aborigines of Australia - Neill - Ancient America - The West Africans - Edge - The Testimony of Megalithic Monuments - Travers - Dolmens in Brittany - V.B. - The Origin of Chess - E.T. - Vandalism in Ancient Architecture Greek Philosophy - Life and Teachings of Pythagoras - Darrow - Pythagorean Geometry - Edge - The Modern Platonists (Pletho and Taylor) - Darrow - Plato the Theosophist - Darrow - The Mysteries at Eleusis - Whiting Science - The Conception of "Force" in Physics - Ancient and Modern Calendars - Henry - Climatic and Axial Changes - Dick - Astronomical Lore - Mysteries of Sound - The Mirror of Language - Coryn - Incorrodible Bronze - Edge - Science and Misc. Notes Psychology - Psychic Epidemics - Dunn - The Alcoholic Demon - Coryn - The Sanitation of Sound - Ross - The Talking Habit - Leonard General Theosophy - The Augoeides - Ancients, Moderns, Posterity - Leonard - The Astral Body - Coryn - A May Swarm - Leonard - The Law of Cycles - Edge

- Why Do Theosophists Oppose Capital Punishment? - van Pelt - Punishment and Capital Punishment - Edge - Count Cagliostro and His Enemies - P.A.M. - "De Mortuis - " - Morris - The Esoteric Philosophy of Unselfishness (Shankara) - Woodhead - Fragment of a Lost Gospel - Darrow - The Gods of the Ancient World - Morris - An Hour on Olympus - A.W.H. - The Intelligence Behind Evolution - Linneas and the Divining Rod - P.F. - Man's Greater Self - Edge - "The Music of the Spheres" - Coryn - The Red Men - Travers - A Study of Contrasts - Leonard - Tibetan Mss. and Books - Edge - "Vivisection" in a Dictionary - Renshaw - The Vivisector's Understated Claims - Ross - What is Death? - "What is this Immortal That Thou Hast?" - Coryn - Work Regarded as a Privilege - Edge Theosophical History - Some Theosophical Plans - Malpas - Tingley's Early "Do Good" Mission in New York - Mayer-Spalding ---------------------Archeology and Ethnology Peru Under the Incas - C. J. Ryan Perusal of The Incas of Peru, a new work by Sir Clements Markham, K.C.B., F.R.S., etc., leaves the Theosophical student profoundly impressed with the fact that nothing but the teachings of Theosophy can explain such things as the sudden disappearance of races or civilizations. According to a superficial view of the law of Karma (the law of Cause and Effect on all planes) the high moral standing of the Peruvians, their industry, their courage, their wise and beneficent governmental system, and their warlike attainments, should have caused their empire to stand immovable against the handful of foreign invaders, even though they were provided with horses and muskets. But, to quote the words of one of H.P. Blavatsky's Teachers: "Patriots may burst their hearts in vain if circumstances are against them. Sometimes it has happened that no human power, not even the fury and force of the loftiest patriotism, has been able to bend an iron destiny aside from its fixed course, and nations have gone out like torches dropped into water in the engulfing blackness of ruin." (The Occult World) The cycle of the aboriginal American civilizations was closing, and the "New World" was to be the seat of a culture and a greatness of which we have so far seen but the first

faint shadowings. Sir Clements Markham first traveled in Peru more than sixty years ago, when a naval cadet on a British warship, and ever since he has made a special study of everything connected with that mysterious and fascinating country. He is recognized as a high authority upon its history, topography, and archaeology, and has produced many standard works upon these subjects, not the least interesting of which is the volume just published, which was written at the advanced age of eighty. The book commences with an account of the sources of our information respecting the history of the Inca civilization. One of the most interesting stories told is that of a native author, Don Felipe Huaman Poma de Ayala (an adopted Spanish name), chief of a tribe, who wrote a thick quarto of 1179 pages, cleverly illustrated in pen and ink by himself, called Nueve Coronica y Buen Gobierno (sic). The book describes the customs, the laws, the traditions, and history of Peru under the Incas; it gives accounts with illustrations of the palaces, the costumes, the weapons, the agricultural and musical instruments, and contains portraits of the twelve historical Incas and the eight first Spanish Viceroys. Above all in interest is the open and fearless attack upon the cruel tyranny from which the unfortunate Indians suffered. Says Sir Clements Markham: "The combined writer and artist spares neither priest nor corregidor.... The author traveled all over Peru in some capacity, interceding for, and trying to protect, the unfortunate people.... It is addressed to King Philip II and the author had the temerity to take it down to Lima for transmission to Spain. He hoped to be appointed Protector of the Indians. We do not know what became of him." Nor do we know anything about the reception of his book, though it reached Europe, for it was discovered three years ago in the Royal Library at Copenhagen. After describing the other native and Spanish authorities, Sir Clements Markham forcibly captures the attention by a description of the mysterious city of Tiahuanacu on Lake Titicaca. Absolutely nothing but perfectly unreliable tradition is known about the builders of this great city. Its age is evidently enormous, for, as our author says: "The surface of the Lake is 12,508 ft. above the sea.... The city covered a large area, built by highly skilled masons, and with the use of enormous stones. One stone is 36 ft. long by 7, weighing 170 tons, another 26 ft by 16 by 6.... The movement and placing of such monoliths points to a dense population, to an organized government, and consequently to a large area under cultivation, with arrangements for the conveyance of supplies from various directions.... There is ample proof of the very advanced stage reached by the builders in architectural art.... This, then, is the mystery. A vast city containing palace, temple, judgment hall, or whatever fancy may reconstruct among the ruins, with statues, elaborately carved stones, and many triumphs of masonic art, was built in a region where corn will not ripen, and which could not possibly support a dense population.... The builders may best be described as a megalithic people in a megalithic age, an age when cyclopean stones were transported, and cyclopean edifices raised." The last sentence shows a truly scientific spirit of caution which unfortunately is not too common amongst archaeologists. At Cuzco and Ollantay-Tampu there are other imposing remains of the same kind of cyclopean architecture. At Cuzco there is a fortress defended by three enormous parallel walls with advancing and retiring angles for enfilading. The stones of the outer wall have the following dimensions at the corners: 14 ft. by 12; 10 ft. by 6; etc. What can the purpose of these enormous stones have been? How can they have been raised? Were there giants in those days, or had the builders some strange powers of which we are ignorant? H.P. Blavatsky, in The Secret Doctrine,

plainly suggests that the power of sound was utilized by some of the prehistoric megalithic builders in raising the enormous stones. That being so, and there is no doubt that the stones were raised somehow, how can we dare to claim to be the first people who have mastered the laws of mechanics? Our author has been so much impressed by the mystery of the great city at Tiahuanacu that he has been compelled to seek refuge in the following solution, which, outre as it seems at first sight, is perfectly reasonable when considered in the light of the enormous antiquity of man: "The recent studies of southern geology and botany lead to a belief in a connection between South America and the Antarctic continental lands. But at a remote geological period there.... were no Andes. Then came a time when the mountains began to be upheaved. The process seems to have been very slow, gradual and long-continued.... When mastodons lived at Ulloma, and anteaters at Tarapaca, the Andes, slowly rising, were some two or three thousands of feet lower than they are now. Maize would then ripen in the basin of Lake Titicaca, and the site of the ruins of Tiahuanacu could support the necessary population. If the megalithic builders were living under these conditions, the problem is solved. If this is geologically impossible, the mystery remains unexplained." No human remains have been found to indicate the size of the people of the megalithic age in Peru. With respect to the uplifting of the Andes and the enormous age of prehistoric civilization, H.P. Blavatsky says in The Secret Doctrine: "Yet there are men of Science who are almost of our way of thinking. From the brave confession of the Abbe Brasseur de Bourbourg, who says that: 'Traditions, whose traces occur in Mexico, in Central America, in Peru, and in Bolivia, suggest the idea that man existed in these different countries at the time of the gigantic upheaval of the Andes, and that he has retained the memory of it.'" After the decline and fall of the megalithic civilization centuries of barbarism perhaps it would be more correct to say thousands of years - followed, though apparently traces of the ancient beliefs and customs were preserved and formed the basis of the later Inca civilization. The end of the early civilization is vaguely supposed to have come through the invasion of barbarians from the south (whence the earlier, megalithic civilization is also supposed to have come, but this is open to much doubt.) A remnant of the former race is said to have taken refuge at "Tampu-Tocco," * an unrecognizable locality southwest of Cuzco, and to have preserved some of the ancient wisdom, until it should be called forth again. For "centuries" semi-mythical kings reigned over the remnant, surrounded by barbarians, and then we come to the historical period when the Inca empire was formed. ---------* Tocco = a window ---------The names traditionally attributed to the earliest megalithic kings are significant, being either Divine names or the names of virtues. It is impossible to enter farther into the question here; it is sufficient to say that there is a strong resemblance to the Egyptian and other Old World traditions of Dynasties of Divine Rulers, Heroes, and ordinary human kings, which we find so widely spread. H.P. Blavatsky shows that these traditions were not fanciful, but that they are the remains of true historical records. Passing on from the fascinating subject of the prehistoric civilization of Peru, the

author then gives the early traditions reported to the Spanish conquerors which relate how the Inca race of historic time arrived at the future capital, Cuzco. The remnant at "TampuTocco," having been protected for ages from invasion by the deep gorge of the Apurimac River, had multiplied, and being more civilized than their neighbors found it was time for them to step out into a larger sphere. One legend states that the hill of "Tampu-Tocco" had three openings or windows out of which the tribes and the four Princes of the Sun with their four wives came. They all proceeded toward the north and finally reached Cuzco. A long period of confusion then came about, and it was not until the first definitely historical Inca, a wise and intelligent ruler, arose, that the well-organized empire was established. The word Inca means Lord. To the Theosophical student these semi-mythical legends of Peruvian history are profoundly interesting inasmuch as they confirm the teachings of H.P. Blavatsky in The Secret Doctrine, though they are not found in that work. No doubt, when we can read the Maya Codices much clearer testimony to the Theosophical teachings concerning the evolution of early man will be obtained, but until then the recorded traditions are of great value in corroborating the legends and records of the Eastern Hemisphere. Rocca, the first authentic Inca, probably began to reign about the year 1200 A.D. He aroused the people from their inertia, checked their vices, erected schools, the walls of which still remain; he commenced the new city of Cuzco on the site of the prehistoric one, using some of its cyclopean walls, and irrigated the surrounding country. The first land of the Inca race, the "Children of the Sun," was only 250 miles long by 60, but by degrees, they extended their empire until it covered an immense territory along the western side of the Andes. The central and original state, around Cuzco in the valley of the river Vileamayu, is most fertile and exceedingly beautiful. Sir Clements Markham sketches the personal history of many of the most distinguished Incas and other important historical characters so graphically and sympathetically that the reader becomes profoundly interested in their lives, and feels that they were really persons with the same qualities as those with whom we are familiar in European history. Perhaps it would be more just to say that the great characters depicted in Peruvian history possessed far higher qualities than many of the leading personages who walk the stage of our medieval ages, and as for the people in general, there is no doubt that in many respects they will favorably compare with any civilized European nation, past or present. Listen to what Mancio Serra de Leguisamo, the last survivor of the original Spanish conquerors, said in his Will, signed September 18, 1589: "First, and before I begin my testament, I declare that for many years I have desired to take order for informing the Catholic and Royal Majesty of the King Don Felipe our Lord, seeing how Catholic and most Christian he is, and how zealous for the service of God our Lord, touching what is needed for the health of my soul, seeing that I took a great part in the discovery, conquest, and settlement of these kingdoms, when we drove out those who were the Lords Incas and who possessed and ruled them as their own. We placed them under the royal crown, and his Catholic Majesty should understand that we found these kingdoms in such order, and the said Incas governed them in such wise that throughout them there was not a thief, nor a vicious man, nor an adulteress, nor was a bad woman admitted among them, nor were there immoral people. The men had honest and useful occupations. The lands, forests, mines, pastures, houses, and all kinds of products were regulated and distributed in such sort that each one knew his property without any other person seizing or occupying it, nor were there lawsuits respecting it. The Incas were feared, respected and obeyed by their subjects. They were so free from the committal of crimes or excesses, as well men as women, that the Indian who had 100,000 pesos worth of gold and silver in his house, left it open, merely placing a small stick across the door, as a sign that its master was out. When they saw that we put locks and keys on our doors,

they supposed that it was from fear of them, that they might not kill us, but not because they believed that any one would steal the property of another. So that when they found that we had thieves amongst us, and men who sought to make their daughters commit sin, they despised us. But now they have come to such a pass, in offence of God, owing to the bad example that we have set them in all things, that these natives from doing no evil, have changed into people who now do no good or very little. "This needs a remedy, and it touches your majesty for the discharge of your conscience...." Sir Clements Markham says of the people: "Slightly built, with oval faces, aquiline, but not prominent noses, dark eyes, and straight black hair, the Inca Indian had a well-proportioned figure, well-developed muscular limbs, and was capable of enduring great fatigue. He was very industrious, intelligent, and affectionate among his own relations.... Idleness was unknown, but labor was enlivened by sowing- and harvest-songs, while the shepherd boys played on their pincullu, or flutes, as they tended their flocks on the lofty pastures.... Periodical festivities broke the monotony of work, some of a religious character, some in celebration of family events.... A proof of the general well-being of the people is a large and increasing population. The andeneria or steps of terraced cultivation extending up the sides of all the mountains in all parts of Peru, and now abandoned, are silent witnesses of the former prosperity of the country." The religion and festival ceremonies are well explained in this book. Of course little or nothing is known of the beliefs of the prehistoric megalithic inhabitants, but a few carvings on the cyclopean stones give the idea that they were simple and pure. The historic Inca Indians worshiped the sun and moon and minor deities, but it is important to remember that they placed an oval slab of gold on the great Sun temple at Cuzco in a higher place than the images of the sun and moon, and that it represented the almighty unseen Being who created all things at the beginning. Among the people generally ancestor-worship was popular. The sense of the spiritual basis of life was never absent from the thoughts of the people, and it colored all their acts. Some of the priests claimed to have evolved magical powers, but they do not seem to have been abused. Sir Clements Markham considers that the weight of evidence is against the accusation that there were any human sacrifices; if they were ever offered it was only on very extreme and exceptional occasions. The high priest was called "The Head which Counsels"; he was often the brother of the reigning sovereign, and his life was passed in strict contemplation and abstinence; he was a man of great learning. The ceremonies of the Inca Church were most impressive and magnificent, but there seems to have been no discreditable lust for the "flesh-pots" amongst the sacerdotal ranks. Confession was practiced and penances assigned. A remarkable institution was that of the Vestal Virgins, who kept the sacred fire always burning. The description of their functions, novitiate, and duties, reads almost word for word the same as that of the Vestal Virgins of ancient Rome or of Celtic lands. They never went abroad without an armed escort, and were treated with profound respect. The Peruvians had a system of education, though not a written literature: "The memory of historical events was preserved.... by handing down the histories in the form of narratives and songs which the Amautas, specially trained for the duty, learnt by heart from generation to generation. They had help by means of the quipus, and also by the use of pictures painted on boards." The quipus were ropes to which a number of strings were attached, on which knots

were made to denote numbers, units, tens, hundreds, etc. The colors of the strings explained the subjects to which the numbers referred. The Amautas, or learned men, preserved the traditions and records with great exactness, as has been shown by comparing separate accounts collected in different places. The Peruvians were highly accomplished in the art of map-making. One of the relief-maps of Cuzco with its surrounding hills and valleys, was said by the Spaniards who saw it to be well worthy of admiration, and equal to anything the best European cartographer could do. The drama was very popular, and we are indebted to Sir Clements for a most interesting translation of one of the original plays called "Ollantay." It was first taken down in writing in the seventeenth century, though of course it is far older. The scene is laid in the time of the Inca Pachacuti, about 1470 A.D. Ollantay is a heroic figure who falls in love with a royal princess, and after many adventures is about to be executed for treason when the Inca sovereign magnanimously pardons him and all ends happily. A free translation into English occupies seventy pages of Sir Clements Markham's book. It is a most fascinating story. An interesting but pathetic chapter of Sir Clements' new book is devoted to the destruction of the Inca civilization. He says: "The world will never see its like again. A few of the destroyers, only a very few, could appreciate the fabric they had pulled down, its beauty and symmetry, and its perfect adaptation to its environment. But no one could rebuild it." Concerning the buried treasures of the Incas, the author has not the slightest doubt that the stories are true, and that there is a vast mass of gold hidden away in absolutely inaccessible places. In 1797 the treasure called the Peje Chico, the "Little Fish," was found; it amounted to many millions of pounds in value. The Peje Grande, the Big Fish, has never been betrayed by its custodians. A friend of Sir Clements Markham, the Senora Astete de Bennet, remembered a famous Indian patriot, Pumacagua, who had been given a small part of one of the hoards in order to finance a revolution which the natives attempted against the Spanish rule. He was seventy-seven in 1815, the year of the rebellion. Senora Astete recollected him coming with the gold. He was wet through, for he had been taken, blindfold, up the bed of a river in the night, to the secret hiding-place where he saw incredible quantities of gold in the form of ingots, vases, statues, etc. In connection with this romantic subject H.P. Blavatsky mentions in Isis Unveiled several interesting experiences of her own. (Vol. 2, pp. 27-34) ------------------Copan, and its Position in American History - William E. Gates In place among all the sites of ancient ruins on the continent of America, arouses a livelier interest in both the observer and the student, than does Copan. Other remains, in Peru, and even in Mexico, are of vaster bulk; but the ensemble of Copan produces upon the mind an effect comparable in Egypt only by that of Thebes. And this evidence grows and is supported at every step by the evidence of such researches and excavations as it has been so far possible to carry on. "All would seem to indicate a gradual addition of new features accompanied by

abandonment of older parts. It can readily be seen how a process of this kind carried on for centuries, without any well designed plan to adhere to or any definite idea to carry out, would result in a great complex mass of structures like that of Copan to puzzle and perplex the explorer. "There are other evidences that point to several successive periods of occupation. The river front presents what looks like at least three great strata, divided by floors or pavements of mortar cement. If these floors mark the various levels corresponding to different epochs in the history of the city, the question of the age of the ruins becomes still more complicated; for between each successive period of occupancy there is the period of silence, the length of which can only be inferred from the thickness of the superimposed stratum." - Dr. Geo. B. Gordon, Exploration of Copan, (in Peabody Museum Memoirs). The ruins of Copan lie on the level plain of a beautiful valley, a mile and a half wide by seven or eight miles long, in Honduras, some twelve miles east of the Guatemala boundary. The site thus marks the eastern limit of the region covered by the ancient Maya remains and inscriptions, as Palenque about marks its western edge, a short distance beyond the Guatemala line, in the Mexican state of Chiapas. The valley of Copan is watered by a swift river which enters and leaves by a gorge, washing the eastern side of the ruins. The force of the annual freshets each year carries away more of this river wall, and by its washings has shown that the entire elevation of 120 feet is of historical or artificial growth, showing the stratification of occupancy mentioned by Dr. Gordon, and yielding fragments of pottery and obsidian down to the water level. As can be seen by the plan, the ruins form a composite whole, some 2300 by 1400 feet, and the historical development of the site is shown by three independent pieces of evidence. Of these the most striking at first sight is the very apparent growth of the ground plan, pointing to successive additions and enlargements of an original nucleus, just as we see at Thebes. The second evidence is that of excavation, which proves beyond all question, even by the little so far done, that new structures and temples were built upon or into the old. And this evidence is corroborated by the dates on some of the monuments. The striking unity of the whole group of structures at Copan is therefore a composite unity, the result of long-continued occupation. Structures and temples were built and used; life flowed on around them, and after lapses of time whose length we have no means whatever (save in one case) of even estimating, other buildings were added, and the earlier ones built over, or even covered up by the new. People do not build temples and tear them down to build new ones the next year; nor on the other hand do alien peoples and civilizations expand by a harmonious enlargement the works of those they supersede, but rather change, destroy, or build their own. The first thing then to be realized about the entire group of structures at Copan is their composite unity; then that this is not the result of a single construction, but of growth and successive additions; then that these periods of enlargement are separated by other, more or less long, periods of continued use and occupation, during which the civilization of the people maintained itself, somewhat modified by time, but not broken or interrupted. And finally, this evidence, together with that of the monumental dates, to which we will come, has so far only to do with the ground plan and the structures we can discover by a few feet of digging on the surface of the plain of Copan; for we have not the slightest means as yet of relating anything we can see at Copan to the various strata of occupation, with intervening silence, marked on the 120 feet of the disintegrating river wall. Those periods of silence may indeed, for everything we can yet tell, be the silence of nonoccupation, of civilizations destroyed and forgotten, only to be followed by others. One Copan after another may have been built upon the obliterated site of its predecessor. Whatever evidence there is, read in comparison with similar evidence elsewhere, points to that; a few years ago we disbelieved in a historical Troy, only to find successive Troys,

and many like places elsewhere, built one above the other. To deny the like or its probability at Copan, would be foolish. But to return to the Copan whose remains we can see, one great question is forced upon us at the very outset. That is this: what must have been the state of the American continent, as regards civilization, during the ages into which we are trying to look? And that they were long ages, even for the Copan we have before us, we shall presently see. While all this was going on there, what was the rest of the continent like? Our preconceived notions of savagery or nomadic tribal communities must be thrown entirely to the winds, together with the statement of the historian Robertson, made in 1777, that in all New Spain there is not "any monument or vestige of any building more ancient than the Conquest." As a first step towards an appreciation of the place of Copan in American history, we must consider the actual state of New Spain (that is, the region from the Rio Grande to Panama, approximately) at the time of the Discovery. The Aztecs were in possession of the valley of Mexico, with an elaborate civilization, fairly comparable if not superior to that of Europe at the same time; but their history only goes back a few hundred years, for they were merely a warlike nation who had come in, probably from the north, and were about comparable to the Manchus in China, or the Goths in Rome. They settled upon and appropriated some (a very small part) of the civilization before them. Around them were various semi-independent peoples whom they had neither destroyed nor entirely subdued, and among whom they had only a primacy of force. To the southwest of Mexico the ancient Zapotec kingdom still existed, a link with the past, towards its end, but still owing nothing to the Aztecs. In Yucatan and Central America were the fragments of the Mayan peoples, broken up into half a dozen main language stocks, and a score of separate dialects. Between the Mayas and those of Mexico there was some intercourse and a little borrowing, with some very ancient traditions probably in common. In culture and mythology, as to which we have limited material for comparison, and in language, as to which we have ample material, they were about as much alike, or as closely related, as the ancient Germans to the ancient Romans. Both were Americans, as the others were Aryans, with a common inheritance of tradition, mythology, and language type; no more. Beyond all possible dispute, the Mayas were indefinitely the older people. The Aztecs had but a picture or rebus writing, and there is no evidence they ever had more than this. There are slight traces of writing akin to the Maya, among the Zapotecs. But the Mayas had a complete system of genuine hieroglyphic writing, certainly not derived from the Aztec picture-writing, but dissimilar from this in every way, with monuments antedating the period of Aztec history, on which the hieroglyphic forms are fully developed and perfect. The civilization, monuments, and hieroglyphs of Copan, Palenque, and of Tikal in southern Yucatan, are Mayan; but they are not the Mayan of the time of the Discovery. The period immediately preceding the entry of the Spaniards is a historical period. We have various chronicles written by native hands, princes, priests or recorders, giving us some of the early cosmic traditions, brought down into contemporary times. We have these in Maya for Yucatan, and in Quiche-Cakchiquel for Guatemala. In each case the period of definable history goes back several centuries, but throws no light on the earlier period. In 1500 the triple Quiche kingdom was still a powerful and civilized nation; and if we know less of it than we do of the Aztec it is only because it was more quickly wiped out, because Lake Tezcoco and not Lake Atiffin became the seat of the Spanish capital, and because no efforts were made at the time to preserve the Mayan knowledge and traditions, as was done by a few in Mexico. In northern Yucatan the capital of the last Mayan confederacy, Mayapan, had been destroyed in the middle of the 15th century; Chichen Itza lasted as a city practically up to that time; and on the island of Tayasal in Lake Peten, southern Yucatan, there was a powerful and flourishing Itza nation down to 1697. Of the architecture, manner of life,

house furnishings, etc. of the different living Maya centers we have reasonably full descriptions left by different Spanish writers of the time. And they do not correspond in the smallest degree, to the monuments and buildings we have left at Copan and other ancient, abandoned sites. We are only able to trace a continuation of the type, and to know that the same hieroglyphic writing we find on the carved monuments of the older places, continued to be used until the Conquest. So that after sifting the various descriptions, we find that even the powerful cities of Tayasal and Utatlan, the Quiche capital, were but villages in comparison. The nearest link is Chichen Itza, which seems to have been the last really great Maya city. Its architectural remains are indeed in size and extent comparable with the older sites; but in style and in the life of the people displayed by the carved and painted scenes, it is like comparing the Egypt of the Ptolemies with that of Ramessu and Hatshepsu. But Chichen Itza itself was abandoned as the capital at least a century before the coming of the Spaniards. And to quote from the description of Mr. A.P. Maudslay, from whose great work most of our illustrations are taken, after saying: "I fear that this slight description of Chichen must wholly fail to convey to my readers the sensation of a ghostly grandeur and magnificence which becomes almost oppressive to one who wanders day after day amongst the ruined buildings"; and then after noting various differences between the ruins of Chichen and those of Copan and Ouirigua, he adds: "....the absence of sculptured stelae, the scarcity of hieroglyphic inscriptions, and, most important of all, the fact that every man is shown as a warrior with atlatl and spears in his hand; the only representation of a woman depicts her watching a battle from the roof of a house in a beleaguered town, whereas at Copan and Quirigua there are no representations of weapons of war, and at Copan a woman was deemed worthy of a fine statue in the Great Plaza [see illustration, Stela P]. I am inclined to think that it must have been the stress of war that drove the peaceable inhabitants of the fertile valleys of the Motagua and Usumacinta and the highlands of the Vera Cruz [Copan], to the less hospitable plains of Yucatan, where, having learnt the arts of war, they re-established their power. Then again they passed through evil times: intertribal feuds and Nahua invasions may account for the destruction and abandonment of their great cities, such as Chichen Itza and Mayapan...." So much for the Maya civilization in the 15th century, and its then centers and capitals. But of Copan, Palenque, Tikal, and Quirigua, we have not the slightest trace as living cities. Cortes visited Tayasal on his way to Honduras; Alvarado overran and conquered the Quiche kingdoms; but no one even mentioned the existence of any of these older places. Not a tradition about any of them has ever been discovered among the living natives at any time; for all we can see they were then buried, in ruins, in the forests, and forgotten. In 1576 Diego Garcia de Palacio, Judge of the Royal Audiencia, made a report to King Philip II of his travels, by royal order, in what is now eastern Guatemala and western Honduras. He reached Copan, and describes "ruins and vestiges of a great civilization and of superb edifices, of such skill and splendor that it appears that they could never have been built by the natives of that province." He sought, but could find no tradition of their history, save that a great lord had come there in time past, built the monuments and gone away, leaving them deserted. This, in the face of what we see on the site, means exactly nothing. Palacio's original manuscript, which is still in existence, was forgotten, only to be later discovered, and printed first in 1860. For 259 years Copan was again forgotten, until visited in 1835 by John L. Stephens. Palenque for its part remained entirely unknown until about the middle of the 18th century. For what we know of real value concerning these ruins we are indebted to the works of Stephens, to the archaeological

survey and excavations carried on by Mr. A.P. Maudslay, by the Peabody Museum of Cambridge, and to a few less extended visits by other explorers. In 1891, by the enlightened zeal of President Bogrim of Honduras, the Peabody Museum acquired the official care of the Copan ruins for a period of years. As seen upon the plan, Copan consists of a group of pyramids, on the summit of each of which probably once stood a small temple; of terraces and walls; and finally of sculptured pillars or stelae, each of which has or had before it a low, so-called altar. Nearly all of these stelae bear on one face a human figure surrounded by most elaborate symbolism of dress, ornament, and other figures. The faces are dignified and for the most part not grotesque. Above the head is usually a triple overshadowing. The main symbolism is worked out in bird and serpent motifs, and into the dress at different parts of the body, notably the chest, are worked medallions of faces, as if to symbolize different human centers of consciousness in the body. The sides and back of all are covered with hieroglyphic inscriptions, whose general characteristic it is to begin with a date, which is followed by the indication of intervals which reach to other dates throughout the whole inscription. This statement holds good for practically all Mayan monumental inscriptions, on stelae or otherwise. And these dates, or most of them, are all we can yet read of these writings. We can, that is, read them in their own terms, but without being definitely able to translate them into our chronology. The first and greatest work done by the Peabody Museum was in the excavation and partial restoration of the Hieroglyphic Stairway. This stairway is on the west side of mound 26, almost in the center of the plan. It is 26 feet wide, with a three foot carved balustrade on each side. The risers of the steps are carved with a hieroglyphic inscription; at the base is an altar, and the ascent is, or was, broken by seated figures. But fifteen steps are left in place, although an approximate restoration was made by Dr. Gordon of the position of what were probably the upper rows. Originally they must have numbered about ninety, to the top of a pyramid as many feet high; but a landslip at some time, probably since Palacio's time, carried the upper rows down and on over the lower ones, which remained buried until Maudslay's first visit. Palacio mentioned a great flight of steps descending to the river, which the river may have destroyed. In front of the Stairway stands Stelae M, of which Dr. Gordon closes by saying: "It would seem to have stood in front of the older edifice, that served at last as a foundation for the Hieroglyphic Stairway with its temple, for centuries before the latter was built." And what now is the chronological evidence on these monuments? Without going into what would be long details to set forth even what is known of the very elaborate Maya methods of time reckoning, it is enough to say that these sculptured dates regularly specify a certain day (indicated by the combination of twenty names with thirteen numbers), and hence recurring only once in 260 days, falling on a certain day of a certain month, in a certain year expressed by four numbers in vigesimal (instead of decimal) progression, so that the successive figures stand for 1, 20, 400, and 8000 years, instead of as with us, 1, 10, 100, 1000. It is a moot point whether the dates include the next stage, of 160,000 years, in the reckoning, or not. And it may be stated by the way, that though the Mayas knew and used the ordinary solar year, their long chronological count was kept in terms of 360 days, the same as we find in co-ordinate use in ancient India, and perhaps significantly identical with the perfect circle of 360 degrees. Whatever the fact, however, as to these higher periods, it is established that nearly all the Maya inscription dates occur within the ninth 400 of the current 8000-year cycle; that is, they are dated between about 3200 and 3600 years after the initial date of that particular period. It is not possible for us to consider these dates other than as the contemporary dates of the monuments themselves; and the great number of them, all over the Maya territory, slightly varying for different sites, points most clearly to a special "building" period of about that extent.

A very few monumental dates go much back of this period. The initial dates of the Temples of the Sun and of the Foliated Cross at Palenque both fall in the 765th year of the same current 8000-year cycle, and that of the Temple of the Cross about five years before that great cycle began. But as these inscriptions then go on to cover long successions of years, these earlier dates are probably historical, but not contemporary. On the other hand, a very few dates come on into the tenth 400; and the only large stela bearing so late a date is at Chichen Itza, the last great Maya city, so far as our history goes. An analysis of the groupings of these dates on the various monuments of the different sites, and their mutual comparison, gives a good deal of basis to check future historical researches, and at Copan it gives us one definite confirmation, already referred to, of the evidence which the structures themselves afford of successive separated "building" periods, with continued intervening use. Of four consecutive and deciphered dates on the fifteen lower steps of the Stairway, still in position, at Copan, the second and third are respectively 48 and 74 years, and the last, at the lower right hand of our illustration, is 937 years, 44 days later than the first. We can hardly regard this date as a future or prophetic one; it must be, like similar final dates of long inscriptions at Palenque, the contemporary date of the structure. All the other dates at Copan, those as initial dates on stelae, fall within the "building" era of the ninth 400, which we have mentioned as common to nearly all the inscriptions - except one, Stela C, in the middle of the north part of the Great Plaza, whose date is apparently almost contemporary with this final date of the stairway. And these two dates are 730 years later than any other stela date at Copan. Of Stela C, Dr. Gordon says: "The two monuments [the Stela and the Stairway] have certain technical affinities in the carving, as though they might have been the work of the same master." In short, while we are still far from the end, the story of the monuments and their dates alike so far is that there was a great building period among the most ancient known Maya cities, in what we know as the ninth period, about date 3400 of the current cycle; that Copan shared in this; that then such building ceased, so far as dated monuments go, at Copan for some 730 years. That then the Stairway was rebuilt over a former pyramid, and Stela C erected; that this latter period was a few hundred years later than one Stela we find at Chichen Itza; that after that silence fell, oblivion for all the southern sites, and internal strife, warfare, and disintegration for the last great Itza city; then its abandonment; and then finally, on new sites, local dynastic histories, each silent as to these earlier places, yet embracing several hundred years of history, and carrying on even into Spanish times what were still then powerful and, as things went, civilized kingdoms. But they were not Copan. (Vol. 1, 419-26) -----------------

Maori Lore and Legend - Rev. S. J. Neill The two countries now known as the Commonwealth of Australia and the Dominion of New Zealand are only about 1200 miles apart, but they are separated from each other in more ways than by a strip of ocean 1200 miles wide. From a very distant past they have had a very different history. According to geologists New Zealand has been many times below the ocean, and up again, while Australia, during much of this time, has been "like a vessel half filled with the water in which it sits."

The Archaean, the very old rock formation of the western half, and of some other parts of Australia, it is true, reaches across beneath the ocean and crops out on the West Coast of the South Island of New Zealand, but how many changes, and what aeons of time followed from then until the more recent geologic periods! The very long separation of New Zealand from Australia, and the very different geologic fate of the two countries, are reflected in their fauna and flora. While there are no serpents in New Zealand, and no marsupials, except those brought there during the last century, and no tribes the remains of a very ancient past, all these are to be found in Australia. The whole past of the two countries seems to perpetuate itself in making and keeping them unlike still. While the continual intercourse between Australia and New Zealand tends to bind them together commercially; and while they are almost wholly peopled from the same "old country" Great Britain and Ireland, yet there remains an inexplicable something which separates and distinguishes them quite as much as we sometimes notice in the same family one brother differing from another brother. But in nothing, perhaps, do they differ half so much as in the aborigines that inhabit them. The Maori of New Zealand is but a late arrival comparatively - only a few hundred years, while the Australian native has been in the great Island-Continent during a period so vast that the imagination cannot grasp it. The Australian native has no legends, no native lore, no talent for cultivating the earth, etc.; the New Zealand native has made considerable advance in many ways, he can make boats and is a good seaman. He can carve in wood as all know; and as to legends and ancient knowledge he will compare with any ancient people. The Australian native has no notion of the past of his race; the Maori has distinct accounts of where his ancestors came from, what were the names and commanders of the boats they came in, and where they landed. This old home of the Maori is known as Hawa-iki, and is generally supposed to be Samoa and Tonga. The distance from these islands to New Zealand is about 2000 miles, and it is estimated that the journey could have been made inside one month without any great danger, the sea being often placid, and the trade winds favorable. Anyhow, the Maori tells of how some of his ancestors visited New Zealand, returned to Hawa-iki and again, with others, made the voyage to Aotearoa, New Zealand, so called from the name of one of the boats. The lore and legends of the Maoris were in danger of passing into oblivion, for the Maori had no written records, and all tradition and ancient teaching had to be passed on by word of mouth, by trained teachers, to prepared pupils in the Whare-kura. This danger was averted by the Governor of New Zealand, Sir George Grey, gaining the confidence of the Maori Chiefs and acting as the recorder of their ancient wisdom. This was done in 1855, and the second edition appeared in 1885. As it is now difficult to procure either edition a new edition has been issued by the Government of New Zealand, having been compiled by Mr. James Izett. The compiler says of Sir George Grey: "No man ever stood in New Zealand who more greatly possessed the power of influencing the minds and thrilling the hearts of his hearers. What infinite power of expression was his Biting sarcasm, flashes of humor, tenderest sympathy, in turn he could pour forth. A man naturally of the most tender and affectionate disposition, yet he put all his great powers aside so that the world should have the legends of the Maori simply as the Maori told them." Mr. Izett has departed from the severe primitive simplicity of the original form, and given us the old legends in what he believes to be a more readable form. He has also added a few legends from other sources. In a short article like this it will not be possible to do more than give a few items of the lore and legends of the Maori. The Maori lore was handed down orally by the teachers in the Whare-kura, sacred college, esoteric school, masonic lodge, or whatever it may be likened to. The Whare-kura in New Zealand was no doubt a faithful copy of the Whare-kura in the old home, Hawa-iki.

The manner of building and dedicating it was somewhat as follows. The priests built it of materials given by the people. During the building the priests abstained from food each day until the work was finished, so that the Whare-kura might be "unstained by any exhibition of mere animal grossness." At each stage of the building sanctificatory rites were performed; and when completed, a sacrifice in front of the building was offered. While this was being offered outside the building "a sacred fire and an umu (oven) had been lighted within the building. At the close of day another fire was lighted in the courtyard where food was cooked and eaten by the sacred men." The Whare-kura being now ready, the candidates had to be made ready also. Twenty or thirty youths of the highest rank were chosen and led to a stream or lake near by. While the youths stood in the water the priests dropped some water into their ears from a stalk of toe-toe. Then the priests entered the water themselves; ladled it several times over the candidates, and repeated the proper incantations. This will at once remind one of the ancient rite of baptism. Water represents truth, as we read: "Sanctify them in the truth: thy word is truth"; and, "Now ye are clean through the word which I have spoken unto you." The touching of the ears with a little water was no doubt symbolical of opening the mind to understand knowledge. All the other parts of the ceremony were also full of meaning, to those who understood. One of the strangest parts of this ceremony of initiation was the use of fresh sea-weed which priests and candidates took, and having repeated over it incantations, threw it from them as they came out of the water, and proceeded to the Whare-kura. This is thought to have some reference to a "flood" legend which was thus kept alive in the memory of Maoridorn. It may have been so, or it may have been a symbolical representation of something else, for the Maori has several "flood" legends which appear to stand out apart from this initiation ceremony. Another strange thing was that the only female permitted in the Whare-kura was an aged woman. This woman was supposed to have power by incantation to ward off all evil influences. As in the case of ancient Egypt, those engaged in the sacred College lived in the college and therefore apart from their families during the time of instruction. All things in and around the Whare-kura were tapu or sacred, and woe to the person who invaded the sacred place. All food had to be prepared at a distance, and left at a given place from which appointed persons brought it to the Whare-kura. The teaching began at sun-down and lasted till midnight. All slept from then till dawn. For a pupil to become drowsy during the time of instruction was a grave offense. The students had to repeat the teaching verbatim. This repetition lasted for a month so as to fix it for ever in the minds of the pupils. The scope of instruction, the curriculum, as we would say, extended over many things, especially incantations; a knowledge of the gods; the histories of the race; songs; the powers to procure death or to cure the sick, and many other things. When the time came to close the Whare-kura a test of the power imparted to the pupils was made before the whole tribe. Even in comparatively recent European days Maoris have been said to die just when they made up their minds to die. That the tohungas, or priests, and those whom they trained, obtained some powers not common is pretty certain. They seem to have obtained a knowledge of the power of vibrations, the power of concentrated will, and other things now fast dying out. One of their incantations called Hiki was said to be able to change the polarity of objects - "to make heavy things light," as we read in the legend when Maui drew up the islands of New Zealand from the depths of the ocean. A very peculiar closing ceremony was performed by the chief tohunga before the door of the Whare-kura was closed, not to be opened again till the following year. This ceremony consisted in a small mound of earth in the shape of a lizard being made before the Whare-kura. The tohunga placed a foot on either side of this heap of earth in the shape of a lizard, and reciting a certain incantation he would crush the lizard under foot. Pupils attended the Whare-kura for several years - from three to five - before they were

regarded as duly instructed. Besides the "Sacred School" there were other schools open to all, to men and women, all except the priests and their pupils of the Whare-kura. There was the school which gave instruction in agriculture; which told about the care of the kumara, taro, and other vegetables; and all about fishing, and snaring, and spearing. There was the astronomical school, for the Maoris had some knowledge of the heavenly bodies, for which they had names. This school was also very sacred and only those of the highest rank belonged to it. The scope of the school of astronomy, among other things, included much that we still find in some almanacs. It considered the time to plant and sow; the time for gathering in crops; for fishing and catching birds; for visiting, and many other things. The Maori belongs to the great Polynesian stock, and some parts of this interesting stock, such as that of Hawaii, seem to have excelled the Maoris in respect to the elaborateness of their ancient lore, and the different degrees of initiation. The priesthood of Hawaii consisted of ten sacred colleges, the sixth of which was devoted to medicine and surgery. The fifth was devoted to the science of divination, and the transference of the spirit which had just departed, "from the dead to a living body." The name Uli, in Hawaii standing for the Great Supreme - the Highest, the Eternal God - was the god invoked in the sacred schools. Among the Maoris the name Io was given to the same god. He was the unseen, incomprehensible One. That the Polynesians had descended from a people whose initiates, at least, possessed a very great knowledge, is evident from many things that have come down to us. It is not possible here to give at any length an account of Maori lore in regard to Nature, using this term in its most comprehensive sense. All that can be given is to repeat a few names with their meanings; and to leave a comparison of the Maori, Oriental, and other systems to those who make a study of Comparative Religion, or Comparative Philosophy. As the Oriental postulated Being as prior to all manifestation, so the Maori taught that Kore was at the back of all things. It is not very clear if Uli or Io, the Great Supreme, the Eternal God of the Polynesian, was the same as Kore; when we deal with the Infinite we must of necessity find difficulty in expressing our ideas. Kore seems to have been the Void, the thohu vabohu of the first of Genesis, the limitless space. It may have been the Maori form of designating "The Eternal Parent, wrapped in her ever-invisible robes," etc., which we read of in the first Stanza of The Book of Dzyan. For Kore, although the "void (the ethereal space, absolute nothingness), it nevertheless contained the elements and forces of all things that were to be, that were still unborn. From Te Kore (absolute nothing-ness) were evolved in ever descending degrees nine other kores: the First Void; the Second Void; the Great Void, etc.; and lastly, the Eastbound Void (Te Kore tarnaua), and the Black Void (Te Mangu). Te Mangu is said to be the son of Te Kore-tarnaua - the proper name is alleged to be Maku, signifying moisture. And from the union of Te Mangu with Mahorahora-nui-a-rangi (the Vast Expanse of Heaven) sprang the four supports of the heavens." The time-aspect of the Cosmos, looking along the evolutionary path upward, extended from the lowest forms of life to time illimitable. Omitting the Maori terms we have the following: "Void; darkness; seeking; following on; conception of thought; enlarging; breathing or godly power; thought; spirit-life; desire; Holy Spirit, or supernatural power; form of beauty when in the Spirit-Glory; Love in force, coming into Good; Possessing; Delightful; Possessing Power; and lastly Atea (Space, Void, Nothingness). The aspect downwards was tenfold, the last being Meto or Ameto (Extinction). The heavens were tenfold. The fourth of these, counting upwards, was "Te wai-ora-a-Tane, the water of life of Tane; from this water comes the spirit of the child about to be born. The seventh is Autoia; or the heaven in which the soul is created. The tenth and highest is Naherangi, or Tuwharea, the Supreme Temple of the Heavens, inhabited by the great gods. Here Rehua is the chief and ruling power."

The above is but a brief outline of the teaching. There were others. According to one genealogy, "God is alleged to have commenced His chant of the order of Creation at Te Po (the Darkness) and sang: Te Po begat Te Ao (the Light), who begat Ao-marama (Daylight), who begat Ao-tu-roa (Long standing Light)," etc., etc. The stories of the gods were no doubt attempts to explain to the pupils in the Whare-kura various aspects or ways of contemplating the Cosmos, some being much more metaphysical than others. When we come to the personification in Nature we see that the human mind, whether under the Southern Cross, or in Greece, or Rome, or India, fashions the legends of its divinities in much the same way. Rangi (heaven) was of course not the first god; indeed, he was the ninth in order of descent from the Supreme God; and everything about him was known, not only his genealogy, but all the things he did, very much after the fashion of the Greek Zeus. Te Reinga, the heaven or place of departed spirits, should not be confounded with Te Rangi, the sky. The children of Te Rangi were numerous. By his wife Pokoharua-te-popoko he had four children, and afterwards twelve. "These twelve constitute the family that dragged mankind down to earth; they are they who first persisted in following evil courses, through which resulted the appearance of confusion, sorrow, anguish, in the world. By another wife Rangi had seven children who dwell with him in the sky." By still another wife, HotuPapa, he had twenty-nine children and they became "the progenitors of the human race which now inhabits the earth." These numbers might, in the eyes of those critics who see an astronomical meaning in everything, be made to represent the year in its four seasons, and twelve months with twenty-nine or thirty days in each month. This is fanciful, and the Maori probably gave the story a much deeper meaning. Another tradition may be mentioned, if for nothing else than the fact that it tells us the Maori has the same name for the sun which we find in the old Egyptian. It will he remembered that from the last Kore (Te Mangu) and Mahorahora-nui-a-rangi sprang the four supports of heaven. From one of these called Rangi-potiki descended four children, the last being called Haronga, from whom sprang Ra, the sun, and Marama, the moon. There were many other gods, some of whom were of human form. The war-god, among a fighting people like the Maori, held a place of special honor. His full name was Tu-mata-uenga, but he was generally known as Tu. A very important god was Tane Mahuta (Mahuta is one of the names of the present "Maori King"), the god of the forests. It was Tane who fastened some of the constellations on the breast of Rangi. He also prepares the living water in which the moon renews herself. It is from the waters of Tane, the fourth heaven, that the soul is sent to animate the human child. There is another story which reminds us of Egypt and the judgment of Osiris and the forty-two assessors. The Maoris, according to one story, believed that there were two great giants which every man had to pass at death. If he were bright and gay he could pass in safety, but if he were heavy and clogged he was promptly destroyed. The moral of which is, "Go to rest with a smile." Some of the other gods were: Tangaroa, the god of the ocean; Ru, the god of earthquakes, whose full name was Ru-wai-moko-roa. He was said to be the son of earth (Papa) and sky (Rangi). Tahu, the merry god, presided over feasts and everything pertaining to food. A mighty god was the god of tempests, Tawhiri-matea. It was owing to a great contest between this god and his brother that part of the earth sank. It will be remembered that the presiding deity in the tenth heaven was Rehua. It says much for the spirit of Maori lore that this deity was represented as Goodness, Compassion itself. The heart of the universe is goodness. One is reminded of the words in The Light of Asia: "The heart of it is Love, the end of it Is Peace and Consummation sweet - obey!"

It is impossible to mention here half of the stories, and their variations. Those who have given to them much study confess that a great difficulty exists in unraveling the various legends, which, in some cases are at variance with each other, and in other cases dovetail into each other. Probably in the teaching of the Whare-kura all was made plain; but, as is so often the case, in the exoteric form there is much which is perplexing, if not misleading. It would not be fitting to conclude even such a brief account as this of Maori lore without mentioning the name of Tiki. His fame is known throughout Polynesia. Some say he was the original man, others that he created man. It is important to remember that Tiki himself was created by the Supreme Deity, the Eternal, whose name is Io or Uli. When woman was created the name given to her was Io-wahine, thus connecting her with the Supreme Deity, surely a very noteworthy thing in Maori lore. The name of the place where she was made is said to be Tapu-tai-roa, or Kura-wha, which of course is situated in Hawa-iki. The legends of Maoridom are numerous; some of them are evidently allegorical, others are stories probably founded on facts. Of the allegorical kind we may mention the legend of Maui, who went out with his brothers to fish and drew up New Zealand, known as "the fish of Maui," from the depths of the sea. "Then Maui said: 'This fish which I so fortunately have been enabled to bring to the surface was in ages past the source of much disturbance. It was constantly roaring as if distracted with pain, and vomiting as if suffering from long-continued sickness. Then it was wounded grievously, and so it sank to the bottom. There in its agony it writhed and twisted and trembled so as to be still a source of annoyance to the world. Knowing of these things I have brought you here so that I might raise this fish again to a new life.'" etc. Now according to geologists, New Zealand has been several times beneath the ocean and raised again. But how could the Maori of New Zealand know this, a teaching of the geologists during the latter part of the nineteenth century? The legend of Maui is clearly a New Zealand legend, not one from Hawa-iki, and it appears to refer very plainly to a teaching of geology of recent date. How did the Maori get the idea? Was there in the teaching of the Whare-kura more than the pakeha (white man) supposes? One can only wish that H.P. Blavatsky, who threw so much light on the teachings of the East, had also taken up the lore of the Maori; then, no doubt, we should see the ancient legends in a new light, and perceive that they do not stand alone, but have a more or less intimate connection with the mythology of other ancient peoples. (Vol. 5, pp. 387-95) -----------------The Tomb of Osiris and Strabo's Well - H. T. Edge As long as archaeological research is pursued with the zeal and honesty that is customary with archaeologists, it must result in a discovery of the truth about ancient history. Therefore it is destined to confute the timid hypotheses, which are numerous and ever-changing, being based on prepossessions of various kinds, both theological and scientific; and it is as certain to vindicate those ample and logical views of human history which were so ably expounded by H.P. Blavatsky. Under these circumstances we need not be surprised to find that the principal discoveries are "totally unexpected." This is a familiar phrase in connection with discoveries, whether in archaeology or in other branches

of science. Researchers usually claim to pursue the inductive method, but it may well be questioned what part induction has played in the really important discoveries. There is even ground for the extreme view that discoveries are made unexpectedly and while something else is being looked for; and that the inductive method, pursued betweenwhiles, not infrequently aids to lead investigators off the track until such time as another accidental discovery pulls them back again. But this is treating the word "induction" rather unfairly; for every reasoner is bound to include among his data certain opinions which he regards as proven or as axiomatic; and if these happen to be wrong, his conclusions can hardly be right except by accident. At any rate, if discoveries are "unexpected," this is evidence that the theories must have been incomplete. The Illustrated London News for May 30 contains an article by Edouard Naville on his recent discoveries at Abydos, as director of the Egypt Exploration Fund. These have given "quite unexpected results." An ancient geographer, however, seems to have been vindicated; for what has been found is designated by the explorer as being evidently what is called "Strabo's Well, which he describes as being below the temple." And other ancients are vindicated too, for besides Strabo's Well, the discoveries have revealed what is "evidently a tomb, and the sculptures show it to be what is regarded as the tomb of Osiris." M. Naville describes the building as "unique in its kind," and " probably one of the most ancient constructions preserved in Egypt." It was behind the western wall of the temple built by Seti I, and entirely subterranean, at a depth of more than thirty feet below the temple, and nothing revealed its existence. "The work started from the western end of the construction, from a colossal doorlintel which had been discovered two years ago at the end of a passage covered with funerary inscriptions of King Menephtah, the Pharoah of the Exodus. [?] This lintel, of much more ancient date than the passage, is a doorway in a wall extending right and left, and of a thickness of more than 12 ft. On the southern side the corner had been reached. The top layers had been discovered of the enclosure wall, built in magnificent masonry of hard red quartzite sandstone." With hundreds of laborers the sides of the building were traced and tons of loose material removed from the middle, and in eleven weeks the whole had been laid bare. It is a rectangle, 100 ft. by 60 ft. inside. The enclosure wall is twenty feet thick, consisting of an outer casing of red quartzite beautifully worked, with joints fine and the mortar hardly perceptible. A length of fifteen feet is by no means rare in the blocks. "The whole structure has decidedly the character of the primitive constructions which in Greece are called cyclopean, and an Egyptian example of which is at Ghizeh, the so-called temple of the Sphinx." The rectangle is divided into three naves or aisles, the middle one being the widest; they are separated by two colonnades of square monolithic pillars in granite about fifteen feet high and eight and a half feet square - five in each colonnade. These supported architraves more than six feet high, which, with the enclosure wall, supported a ceiling of granite monoliths that covered the side aisles. One of the few remaining of these monoliths weighs more than thirty tons. The building has been used as a quarry, so that much has been overthrown. Next comes another unexpected discovery. "When the work reached the lower layers of the enclosure wall, a very extraordinary discovery was made. In this wall, all round the structure, are cells about six feet high and

wide, all exactly alike, without any ornament or decoration. They had doors, probably made of wood, with a single leaf; one can see the holes where they turned. Such cells are not seen in any other Egyptian construction." These cells do not open on to a floor but on to a narrow ledge which runs along the naves. In the naves there was no floor, and under the ledge the masonry goes on down until water is reached at a depth of twelve feet. This is at the level of the infiltration water in the cultivated land, and luckily the Nile is this year lower than for fifty years. Thus the two aisles and the two ends of the middle nave form a continuous rectangular pool, while the floor of the middle nave, which is on the same level as the cells and ledges, forms an island with the bases of the columns resting on it. How much deeper the walls go, it is difficult to say; the explorer suggests that they go down another twelve feet below the water, but perhaps another surprise awaits us here. The only religious sculptures found are on the east side and represent offerings made by Menephtah to Osiris and other gods. "Osiris.... was supposed to have been torn to pieces by his enemy, Set or Typhon, and his limbs had been scattered among the chief cities of Egypt. Abydos being the residence of the god, its share had been the head, which was buried in his tomb. That tomb was very famous, and various excavators have been searching for it for years." At the lower part of the end wall of the rectangle was found the door of a cell like the other ones, but the back wall of the cell had been broken through and gave access to a large subterranean chamber, wider than the whole construction, very well preserved, with a ceiling consisting of two slabs resting against each other. On the ceiling and side walls are funerary representations, and the sculptures show it to be the tomb of Osiris. It is of a later date [?] than the rest of the cells, being from the time of Seti I. The pool is in the style of the so-called temple of the sphinx, which is of the IVth Dynasty and is characterized by the total absence of inscription or ornament. But here the pillars, instead of four feet square, are eight and a half. "It is impossible, in spite of the havoc made.... not to be struck by the majestic simplicity of the structure.... Was the pool in connection with the worship of Osiris? Did the sacred boat of the god float on the water?.... What were the cells made for?.... Was there a canal coming from the Nile, as the Greek geographer says?" * ----------* "Below the Memnonium is a spring reached by passages with low vaults consisting of a single stone and distinguished for their extent and mode of construction. This spring is connected with the Nile by a canal which flows through a grove of Egyptian thorn-acacias, sacred to Apollo." - Strabo, xvii, ch. i, 42 ----------Such are some of the questions that occur to the explorer. Undoubtedly a people so great as the Egyptians were in building and in the many arts and sciences appertaining thereto, were equally great in their religion. And indeed it seems too vast for our easy comprehension. Before we can understand the Egyptians we must grow - expand - get rid of our mythologies and superstitions. Referring to "Studies in Symbolism: II. The Great Pyramid," in The Theosophical Path for July, 1914, we may appropriately introduce some of it here. So far from having solved the many problems of the Pyramid, we are only just beginning to understand what the problems are. Some main clues, however, are to be found in H.P. Blavatsky's colossal works, Isis Unveiled (1877)

and The Secret Doctrine (1888). The Great Pyramid and the Sphinx stand today as symbols of man's immense civilized antiquity. On the ceiling of the Denderah temple were recorded three precessional cycles, making a total of 78,000 years. To quote from the article: "According to Theosophical teaching.... our present Fifth Root-Race has already been in existence about a million years. Each of its Sub-Races, the four prior to the present main one, lasted approximately 210,000 years.... The home of the Fourth RootRace was the "Atlantean" Continental system.... mainly destroyed during Miocene times, and the principal later remains of which, the Island Continents Ruta and Daitya, were mostly submerged some 850,000 years ago, the cataclysm which lives in universal memory as the Flood. The parts of Ruta and Daitya that remained were in turn submerged some 250,000 years ago, leaving, in the Atlantic, but the well-known island of Plato, who while repeating the story as narrated to Solon by the priests of Egypt, intentionally confused the continents, assigning to the small island which sank last all the events pertaining to the two enormous continents, the prehistoric and the traditional." Then follow some facts, quoted from The Secret Doctrine, which are (in part) as follows: "The Mighty Ones perform their great works, and leave behind them everlasting monuments to commemorate their visit.... They appear at the beginning of Cycles, as also of every precessional year.... The Great Pyramids were built under their direct supervision.... The first pyramids were built at the beginning of a precessional year...." Further on we read the following: "The earliest Egyptians had been separated from the latest Atlanteans for ages upon ages; they were themselves descended from an alien race, and had settled in Egypt some 400,000 years before, but their initiates had preserved all the records. Even so late as the time of Herodotus they had still in their possession the statues of 341 kings who had reigned over their little Atlanto-Aryan Sub-race." We have reproduced the above in order to save the reader the trouble of referring back to the article itself; as it leads directly to the following point in connection with the "Cyclopean" architecture. Now that we have found this kind of architecture built by a people of such antiquity and greatness of culture as the Egyptians, why need we any longer strain ourselves in trying to imagine that the rest of the Cyclopean architecture in different parts of the world was built by "primitive" people? Of course it is obviously not the work of primitive people, but we had felt obliged to try to convince ourselves that it was; now we need no longer do so. The Cyclopean architecture of Peru is also accounted for. Clearly this kind of architecture, wherever found, was the work of one of these earlier subraces, at a time when its diffusion was world-wide. Thus is explained the colossal energy, strength, and skill evinced in its construction. Osiris wages war with Set or Typhon, is slain, shut into a chest, and cut into pieces. Isis recovers all but one piece and buries them. Osiris then becomes ruler of the underworld. He is avenged by his son, Horus, who, with the aid of Thoth (intelligence), overcomes Set. This has the elements of a universal myth, traces of which may be found in Christian theology. The analogy of nature makes the sun typical of Osiris, and the sun's journey through the months and seasons typical of the death and rebirth of summer; for which reason some theorists, standing on their heads, have tried to make themselves and others believe that all these elaborate and universal allegories, together with the ceremonies and initiations connected therewith, were merely celebrations of the fact that

summer and winter succeed one another! Such is the "solar myth" theory; and well might a civilization wherein such a theory flourished be described as having drowned Osiris (the Light), and as being in dire need of the strenuous services of the Dragon, Set, and his coadjutor, Wisdom, to restore the God of Day. What then is the meaning of this allegory and the many others, and of the elaborate and sublime mysteries connected with them? Scarcely the celebration of a mere theological tenet or myth concerning the origin of the world! That would have been as puerile as the solar-myth theory. If a people such as the ancient Egyptians are known to have been, attached such immense importance to these representations and celebrations, they must have had good reason. Is it not the truth that the drama of human life, throughout the whole cycle of rebirths, is but an epitome of the life of the Universe itself; and that man, the Microcosm, is but a replica of the Macrocosm? In the myth of Osiris we see once more the allegory of human life. Man comes to earth, a radiant Spirit from the abodes of Light. There he encounters the subtle and Titanic forces of Nature, as typified by Set or the Dragon. These at first overcome him, and his Divinity becomes buried. The Light of his Wisdom becomes shattered into a myriad colored rays (as one of the allegories has it); his language (according to another) is confused into a multitude of tongues. There is misunderstanding and conflict among men, and a dispersal of races takes place. In short, whether we speak of man the individual or man the race, the primal unity splits into diversity. But with the "curse" comes ever the "promise." The Divine Light that incarnated in the natural man bears with it its own indestructible power of self-reproduction. Man ever treasures in his heart that Divine Spark, until the day when, by its aid, he overcomes the forces of the nether world and becomes his own Savior by his own Divinity. In the allegory, God the Savior is the Son of God the Creator. And it is God the Son, in conjunction with Intelligence (Thoth), who restores man the individual to more than his pristine glory, and reunites the sundered human races. This allegory then, symbolized a perpetual drama of the utmost importance to every man born of woman, since it was the drama of his own life. Hence we find that it has been celebrated universally. Nay, such was the origin of the Dramatic Art itself, which we, standing on our heads as usual, have tried to believe was merely a form of entertainment. But more than this: in connection with these symbolic representations, were solemnized those sacred Mysteries, wherein the select candidates were initiated into the sublimer secrets of life, and the unprepared multitude were instructed in that religion whose wisdom sufficed to keep their civilization wholesome and stable throughout ages. It is well known that part of the ceremonies entailed upon the candidate that he should be entombed for three days in a trance during which he disencumbered himself of former earthly shackles and emerged purified and fit to become a Teacher. It is impossible to do more than hint at such subjects, for, even if one were qualified to do more, one would not know at what point to begin the explanation - so vast is the subject. But the day is fast dawning when all shall recognize that these ancient craftsmen had a wisdom comparable with their skill, and had mastered secrets of life whose mere existence we scarcely suspect. But we are their destined heirs; for the eternal law ordains that what has been entombed shall resurrect. These mighty builders knew well what they were doing when they left their imperishable records to their posterity. (Vol. 7, pp. 250-56) "The transactions of this our city of Sals, are recorded in our sacred writings during a period of 8000 years." - Plato, Timaeus. "The Egyptians assert that from the reign of Heracles to that of Amasis, 17,000 years elapsed." - Herodotus, xxIbid. ii, c. 43.

---------------------The New Egyptology and the Theosophical Records - Charles J. Ryan [1911] The interesting problem of the origin of Egyptian culture is still unsolved by archaeologists, though many new facts have been recently discovered which seem to be leading to something definite. Nestor L'Hote said sixty years ago: "The further one penetrates into antiquity towards the origins of Egyptian art, the more perfect are the products of that art, as though the genius of the people, inversely to that of others, was formed suddenly.... Egyptian art we only know in its decadence." M. Jean Capart, the eminent Belgian Egyptologist, Keeper of the Egyptian Antiquities at the Royal Museum, Brussels, supports that opinion, saying, in his recent work on Primitive Art in Egypt, that M. L'Hote's conclusion was and remains legitimate. Since L'Hote's time fine works of art and astonishing beauty have been found in tombs of the Third Dynasty of Egyptian Pharaohs, about whom nothing - or next to nothing - was known until lately; even the Fourth Dynasty, the so-called Pyramid Builders, being historically very obscure, no agreement as to their date having been come to yet. It is fairly decided that they lived more than four or five thousands years B.C. Maspero, speaking of some paintings of the extremely ancient Third Dynasty, says: "The Egyptians were animal painters of the highest power, and they never gave better proof of it than in this picture. No modern painter could have seized with more spirit and humor the heavy gait of the goose, the curves of its neck, the pretentious carriage of its head, and the markings of its plumage." The human figure was also represented with great artistic skill at the same early period. Even then the characteristic full-faced eye in the profile face was a firmly established convention. We do not know the reasons for this, but it cannot have been accidental. According to Dr. Petrie, the great Egyptian explorer, the commencement of the Egyptian civilization that we call classical, the Egypt of the Pharaohs with its hieroglyphs, its established style of art, its complicated religion and philosophy, dates back to not less than B.C. 5000. This would be the time of the First Dynasty. Think what that means! A stretch of splendid civilization before the beginning of the Christian era about five times as long as the period that has elapsed since the time of King Alfred to this day, a period which has included almost or quite all that we look upon as worthy of consideration in our history! And yet back of Dr. Petrie's First Dynastic age we now find ourselves face to face with a prehistoric Egyptian civilization or civilizations of absolutely unknown age, possibly of a hundred thousand years duration. The one that immediately preceded the Dynastic or Pharaonic is supposed to be of Libyan origin. The possibility at least of a civilization of a hundred thousand years' duration should offer little difficulty even to the most critical, now that we have found a well-formed skull and skeleton near London differing very little from the modern type of Englishman, and estimated to be at least 170,000 years old. Long ago H.P. Blavatsky said in The Secret Doctrine and elsewhere that some form of Egyptian civilization had existed for an

immensely longer period than the archaeologists imagine, and Katherine Tingley has reasserted this most emphatically, saying that Egyptian civilization will be proved to be even older than the (historic) Indian. Archaeologists have always felt a great and peculiar difficulty in comprehending the sudden appearance of the high culture of the first Dynastic periods. It is impossible to believe that Egypt's greatness arose full-fledged, without long preparation, and yet where are the evidences of development? M. Jean Capart, the Belgian authority referred to above, has devoted great attention to this problem, and his conclusions are of interest to the student of Theosophy. He considers it exceedingly probable that gradual invasions or colonizations of a highly cultured race broke into the simpler Egyptian civilization from the South or South-east. These people, coming from the "Land of the Gods," Punt, which is commonly supposed to be Somaliland, he thinks came originally from some Asiatic country, bringing with them their arts and sciences and religion. As they blended with the Libyan inhabitants of Egypt, who possessed their own distinctive civilization, they established their already formed culture, and the combination produced what we call the Dynastic or classic Egyptian civilization. This would explain the origin of the classic Egyptian forms on reasonable grounds, and furthermore would make it clear why the Egyptians had so many things in common with the Hindus in matters of religion, such as the respect paid to the Cow as a symbol of Divine Power. H.P. Blavatsky, in Isis Unveiled, quotes the following from the ancient Hindu historian, Kulluka-Bhatta: "Under the reign of Visva-mitra, first king of the Dynasty of Soma-Vanga, in consequence of a battle which lasted five days, Manu-Vina, heir of the ancient kings, being abandoned by the Brahmans, emigrated with all his companions, passing through Arya, and the countries of Barria, till he came to the shores of Masra." (Vol. I, p. 627) She adds: "Arya is Eran (Persia); Barria is Arabia, and Masra was the name of Cairo, which to this day is called Masr, Musr, and Misro." (Ibid.) Mitsraim was the Hebrew name for the land of Cham, Egypt. Dr. E.A.W. Budge, the learned Keeper of the Egyptian and Assyrian antiquities in the British Museum, says he believes that a series of carvings on the walls of the Temple of Edfu, "....represent the invaders in prehistoric times, who made their way into Egypt, from a country in the East, by way of the Red Sea.... In later times the indigenous priesthoods merged the legendary history of the deified king of the 'Blacksmiths' in that of Horus, the god of heaven in the earliest times, and in that of Ra which belonged to a later period." The mythical story of Horus conquering Nubia and Egypt, with which Dr. Budge thinks the true story of incursion was blended, contains the significant assertions that the warriors of Horus, the "Blacksmiths," were armed with weapons of metal, and chains, and were expert builders. According to the Theosophical records the Great Pyramid was built long before the fifth millennium B.C. There are many mysteries connected with that most stupendous work of man which have not yet been suspected by the Egyptologists, not the least of which is the problem of its date and its builder; but, so far as they go, the stories of Horus' invasion and M. Capaq's luminous suggestions as to the origin of the Dynastic Egyptian civilization, are not inconsistent with the account of Kulluka-Bhatta; and in the light of the

new discoveries of one or more prehistoric civilizations in the Nile Valley, it looks as if the teachings of Theosophy were being vindicated in a way that was not dreamed of by archaeologists in the days when H.P. Blavatsky opened a small window into the mysterious past of glorious Egypt. (Vol. 1, pp. 15-19) -----------------The Aborigines of Australia [Excerpted from: "The Island Continent" by the Rev. S. J. Neill] .... When we come to a study of the aborigines of Australia and Tasmania we are confronted with problems of great interest. Here is a vast portion of the earth's surface, nearly as large as the United States, which has been severed from the rest of the world for countless ages. And here in this vast island continent, in this ancient, unknown land, lived the remnants of a race which had seen its prime before Europe existed. History knows nothing of this ancient land, nor of the tribes inhabiting it. The aborigines have no legends of their own origin. They are, seemingly, as much severed from the rest of humanity as if they belonged to another planet. First, let us get some idea of these fragments of an ancient race as early visitors have described them, or as they are today. Then we may consider the guesses of authorities; and lastly the hints given us in The Secret Doctrine. In early accounts of Australia as given in Blackie's Gazetteer, we find that the Australian was supposed to belong to the Papuan negro race. This is not the opinion of authorities today. The natives were described as of a sooty brown or chocolate color, about 5 ft. 4 in., to 5 ft. 7 in. high, the head small, the trunk slender, the arms and legs round and muscular. "The most remarkable feature, however, of the Australian savage is the eye, which is large, full, penetrating, and singularly eloquent, expressing the emotions and workings of the mind with vivacity and energy." In his movements the Australian native is swift and graceful. According to Count Strzelecki, when the native is seen "in the posture of striking, or throwing his spear, his attitude leaves nothing to be desired in point of manly grace." Captain Stokes, who circumnavigated Australia and came into contact with many tribes in different parts of the country, gives it as his impression that some of the natives possess higher powers than are usually attributed to them. He tells a story to illustrate this: "We had just completed our surveying operations when two of the boat's crew came to report a visit from one of the natives; they said their sable visitor came to them without any enticing, no offers of red or blue handkerchiefs, or some gaudy bauble that seldom fails to catch the eye of the savage, and without the slightest indication of fear. We hurried down to see this marvelously confiding native, who we found coming up the hill; he met us with all the confidence of an old acquaintance. His first act of civility was to show Mr. Tarrant and myself an easy road to the beach; and I shall never forget, as he preceded us, or rather walked by our side, yielding the path, with natural politeness, to those whom he seemed to consider his guests, how wonderful was the agility he displayed in passing over the rocks, sometimes coming down the face of one almost precipitous without the least apparent effort. His height was about 5 ft. 8 in., his forehead was remarkably high, his perception very quick, and his utterance gentle and slow. His extraordinary confidence in us commanded the respect of us all." One of the most interesting of the beliefs obtaining among the aborigines is that white people were their fellow-countrymen in a former state of existence. There is the record of a party of natives who visited a white settler twice a year because of his likeness

to one of their deceased relatives. To do this they had to journey about sixty miles, and part of that distance was through an enemy's country. From this we may reasonably infer that they held to this belief very strongly. When first discovered the natives of Australia lived in a state of "prehistoric simplicity." When they wore anything it was only in cold weather, or as a protection in traveling through the bush. They did not cultivate the soil, but lived on animals, roots, and seeds. They made rude axes and spears and boomerangs, but had no bows and arrows. They had no permanent dwellings, but erected a shelter of branches wherever they wished to remain for a short time. Women were held as property, but strange to say, nameinheritance was reckoned through the mother, "thus the sons inherited their father's hunting-ground, but bore their mother's name, and therewith the right to certain women for wives." The only sense of morality evidenced among them was in regard to property. The husband would beat his wife for unfaithfulness, "but he had no scruple in handing her over for a time to another man." Thus we see that the status of any people has in all ages everywhere been marked by the position which woman has held among that people. According to this criterion the aborigines of Australia stood low, perhaps lower than any race of people. It would be interesting to have an Australian's views on this subject. In regard to language the native of Australia presents peculiarities which are not a little perplexing. He counts one, two, and three; four is two-two. Yet his language, according to the writer in the Encyclopaedia Britannica, "possesses in its grammatical structure a considerable degree of refinement. The verb presents a variety of conjugations, expressing nearly all the moods and tenses of the Greek. There is a dual as well as a plural form in verbs, nouns, pronouns, and adjectives." As to religion, authorities differ very much. Some maintain that the Australian native has really no religion, and no belief in a Supreme Being. Other writers hold that there are among the natives certain traces of religion, and a belief in a Great Being. For instance, some of the tribes believe in "Baime, a gigantic old man lying asleep for ages, with his head resting on his arm, which is deep in the sand. He is expected one day to awake and eat up the world." A great deal has been written about the initiation ceremonies among the aborigines. The first was at about the age of ten when boys were covered with blood drawn from the veins of some of the older men. The next initiation was at twelve or fourteen, and consisted either of circumcision, or the youth had a front tooth knocked out. The third was at puberty when gashes were cut in the breast and back. Girls at puberty had a tooth knocked out, and were scarred in a manner similar to the youths. This ceremony of knocking out a tooth was accompanied by a very strange and interesting sound, viz., the booming of the "bullroarer," about which much has been written. Nearly every country in the world has some traces of the "bull-roarer." In New Guinea, Ceylon, Sumatra, among the North American Indians, in Brazil, Africa, and elsewhere, it has been traced. It is said that "there is no doubt that the rhombus which was whirled at the Greek Mysteries was one." The British Museum has a specimen of a Maori "bullroarer." This very sacred instrument was never seen by boys or girls before initiation. It consisted of a flat strip of wood, through a hole in one end of which a string was passed, and when swung round rapidly a peculiar humming sound was produced. This, when performed in the dark, was supposed to be the voice of the "Great Spirit," and naturally caused great awe in those who were being initiated. Having taken a hasty glance at the conditions which existed, or which still obtain among the aborigines, we may proceed to examine some of the scientific statements in regard to them. For some time, up till about the middle of last century, it was supposed that the aborigines of Australia were Papuans, but that view has been abandoned, though in the extreme northern territory it is possible there may have been some mixing from a Papuan element, but closer examination has served to manifest the differences between

the Australian, Papuan, Malay, and other races. Physically the Papuan differs very much from the Australian. Also the Papuan tills the soil, builds houses, makes pottery and bows and arrows; the Australian does none of these. Besides all this, the Australian is without any folklore or traditions. From all these things the scientists rightly conclude that "the first occupation of the Australian continent must have been at a time so remote as to permit of no traditions." And again: "They must be considered as representing an extremely primitive type of mankind, and it is necessary to look far afield for their prehistoric home." One may ask, Why so? Why look far afield? Why always feel bound to look somewhere else for everything? Why should not this very ancient land be the home of a very ancient people, a people so ancient that the present worn-out remnants have preserved no records, no memories of their ancestry? * ----------* I believe now the Australian Aborigine is accepted as being a distinct race and human type. - dig. ed. ----------The fact that the Australian presents several contradictory elements is one main puzzle, causing one authority to imagine one theory, and another a quite different theory. For instance, A. R. Wallace regards the Australians as "really of Caucasian type, and more nearly allied to ourselves than to the civilized Japanese or to the brave and intelligent Zulus." Dr. Klaatsch of Heidelberg is of much the same opinion, only he would date the ancestry of the Australian aborigines very far back. He thinks they are survivals from a very ancient Antarctic Continent which joined South Africa, South America, and Australia. But the Tasmanian problem is supposed by other scientists to be impossible of explanation on this theory. The Tasmanian problem is to this effect. Tasmania was once joined to Australia, but has been separated from it by Bass Strait for a vast geologic period. How, and when did the native Tasmanian get there? Was it before Bass Strait was formed? If after, how could he get there, seeing he was without any knowledge of boats? The Tasmanian natives (who became extinct in 1876, the newspapers of that year containing a photo of the last Tasmanian man and woman) is said to have had distinct traces of Papuan origin. How could he get to Tasmania after Bass Strait was formed, seeing he knew nothing about boats? And if he came from Papua all across the Australian continent before Bass Strait was formed, how is it that no Papuan traces have remained in Australia? This is the problem. The fauna and flora of Tasmania and Australia apart from geologic evidence, show they were once united. The fact that Tasmania is richer in types of the Marsupial than Australia is supposed to point to the South as the home from which the flora and fauna came, by way of Tasmania. All this points to the theory of a great Antarctic continent joining Tasmania and Australia with South America and South Africa. This theory is said to have "advanced from the position of a disparaged heresy to acceptance by leading thinkers." The Tasmanian native is the only trouble. If he had been like the Australian there would have been no difficulty, but his being of a Papuan type - how then can he be accounted for? The theory which is said to meet the difficulty best is that once, very long ago, before Bass Strait was formed, the Australian continent was inhabited by a Papuan stock some of which passed on to Tasmania and stayed there after the formation of Bass Strait. Afterwards, but still aeons ago, a Dravidian race from the hills of the Indian Deccan migrated to Australia, in time driving out or killing the Papuan stock which they found there. This is the state of knowledge or theory at the present; and it seems far from satisfactory. Why go so far afield, to Indian hill tribes? Why should those Dravidians choose such a far distant, and partly desert country as Australia? Above all, why should they clear out the Papuan inhabitants of Australia, and yet leave all the rest of the Papuan

peoples in the islands north of Australia? Again, if they ever came from India why should there be no legends, no trace of any kind remaining of such a land and such a migration? It is but fair to state that there are said to be certain points of likeness between the Dravidians and the aborigines of Australia. Yet these statements should be received with caution, for external likenesses are sometimes more imaginary than real. The Tasmanians may not have been so nearly Papuan as was supposed. And in like manner the external similarities between Australian and Dravidian may not be very great. And even if not due to overstatement they might be accounted for in quite another way than the rather unlikely migration of Dravidians to Australia. "The Dravidian and Australian are both of good physique, and far removed from the ape." This does not prove much. And when Dr. C. Pickering speaks of the noble type of the Australian, and compares his head with that of an old philosopher, we cannot help wondering how it is that no pictures of Australians have a very "speaking likeness" to the bust of any old philosopher. Yet it was on the strength of Dr. Pickering's statements that Huxley concluded that "the Deccan are indistinguishable from the Australian races." The other evidence of similarity consists in what Bishop Caldwell says about certain words being alike in Dravidian and in Australian; and in the fact that the boomerang is known to the Australian and Dravidian, and to no other races, "with the doubtful exception of ancient Egypt." A few words in conclusion may now be given from the teaching of the Ancient Wisdom, the "Secret Doctrine," which, having been preserved by the proper Custodians for ages upon ages, has, in part, been given out in these latter days through H.P. Blavatsky. Regarding the Continent called Lemuria a Teacher says: "Lemuria.... should no more be confounded with the Atlantic Continent than Europe with America. Both sank and were drowned with their high civilizations and 'gods'; yet between the two catastrophes a period of about 700,000 years elapsed, Lemuria flourishing and ending her career just about that lapse of time before the early part of the eocene age, since its Race was Third. Behold the relics of the once Great Nation in some of the flat-headed aborigines of Australia." H. P. Blavatsky gives quotations from Haeckel, Professor Seemann, and W. Pengelly to show how closely they substantiate the Secret Doctrine. Again she says: "It must be noted that the Lemuria, which served as the cradle of the Third Root Race, not only embraced a vast area in the Pacific and Indian oceans, but extended in the shape of a horseshoe past Madagascar, round 'South Africa' (then a mere fragment in process of formation), through the Atlantic up to Norway.* The great English fresh-water deposit known as the Wealden - which every geologist regards as the mouth of a former great river - is the bed of the main stream which drained Northern Lemuria in the Secondary Age." ---------* This was written in the 1880's and accurately placed this ridge which wasn't mapped until the International Geophysical Year in the 1950's. See "Theosophical Notes," Victor Endersby, no. 1, 1961, p. 6. - dig. ed. ---------In another place, H.P. Blavatsky, after quoting Haeckel, says: "It certainly was a gigantic and continuous continent, for during the Third Race it stretched east and west as far as where the two Americas now lie. The present Australia is but a portion of it, and in addition to this there are a few surviving islands strewn hither and thither on the face of the Pacific, and a large strip of California, which belonged to it." Again, speaking of the race of that early Continent, she says: "The present yellow races are the descendants, however, of the early branches of

the Fourth Race. Of the Third the only pure and direct descendants are, as said before, a portion of the fallen and degenerated Australians whose far distant ancestors belonged to a division of the seventh sub-race of the Third. The rest are of mixed Lemuro-Atlantean descent. They have since then entirely changed in stature and intellectual capacities." As any one who gives a little thought to the subject will perceive, all the races were not equally developed on the Australian Continent, or elsewhere. Some had made progress, others had gone backwards. In a note in The Secret Doctrine, H.P. Blavatsky says: "Of such semi-animal creatures, the sole remnants known to ethnology were the Tasmanians, a portion of the Australians, and a mountain tribe in China, the men and women of which are entirely covered with hair. They were the last descendants in a direct line of the semi-animal latter-day Lemurians referred to. There are, however, considerable numbers of the mixed Lemuro-Atlantean peoples produced by the various crossings with such semi-human stocks - e.g. the wild men of Borneo, the Veddahs of Ceylon.... most of the Australians, Bushmen, Negritos, Andaman Islanders, etc. The Australians of the Gulf of St. Vincent are very hairy, and the brown down on the skin of boys of five or six years of age assumes a furry appearance. They are, however, degraded men; not the closest approximation to the 'pithecoid man' as Haeckel so sweepingly affirms." Many more interesting passages might be quoted, but enough has been given to point out two things: The way the Secret Doctrine has been corroborated by Science; and the way the scientific problems about Tasmanians and Australians can be solved. Lemuria was vaster than most of the scientists suppose. And there were elements of both degeneration and progress not dreamed of. Both Australia and the tribes inhabiting it are an example of the working of the law of retardation; for "....environment develops pari-passu with the race concerned. The survival of those later Lemurians, who escaped the destruction of their fellows when the main Continent was submerged, became the ancestors of a portion of the present native tribes. Being a very low sub-race, begotten originally of animals, of monsters, whose very fossils are now resting miles under the sea-floors, their stock has since existed in an environment strongly subjected to the law of retardation." Elsewhere we are told that the "sinking and transformation of Lemuria began nearly at the Arctic Circle (Norway), and the Third Race ended its career in Lanka," of which the present Ceylon is but the northern highland. It will thus be seen that a study of Australia and of its aborigines is one of surpassing interest. It links us in thought with a long-forgotten past. It also serves to direct the attention of thoughtful men to that wonderful source of knowledge, a small portion of which has been given to the world in Isis Unveiled, and The Secret Doctrine. (Vol. 5, pp. 263-70) -------------------Ancient America by an Archaeologist Like an oasis in a desert, like a moment of silence and a sound of distant bells amid a din of discordant sounds, comes a brief note on prehistoric America in the midst of a monthly review devoted to a resume of the Babel of modern thought. Bewildered with foolish spite of party politics, disgusted with lucubrations on "The Coming Christ," and a new Elixir of Life discovered in Africa, the reader achieves a moment of silence and inward joy inspired by this paragraph on an ancient City of the Sun, with its illustrations of the

sublime architecture and sculpture of that epoch. These pictures inspire a reverence, similar in nature, if different in quality, to that which the ancient classical architecture and statues inspire; it is more akin to that inspired by ancient Egypt. It speaks of a spirit, so different from any that pervades our modern life, yet arousing in the soul a response as of something familiar - familiar but very deep and ancient. We read that in the Bulletin of the Pan-American Union a writer describes Chichen Itza. The Itzas were a tribe of the Mayas, whose civilization reached a height equaled by no other people of the Western hemisphere. They excelled in architecture, sculpture, printing, and astronomy. The pyramid on which the temple stands is 195 feet long on each side at the base and covers nearly an acre. It is made of nine terraces of faced masonry. Up the center of each of its four sides rises a stairway thirty-seven feet wide. A picture of a temple facade, in rectangular massive style like that of Egypt and covered with elaborate symbolic carving, while up from the roof rise tropical plants that have grown there, is labeled, "View of an Ancient Monastery" (so-called). The impression it gives is anything but that given by the idea of a monastery. Its spirit is alien to that of any spirit familiar to the times in which monasteries have prevailed. It is awe-inspiring to think that this continent of America has behind it such a past, more ancient than Egypt, as great and perhaps greater. The Red Men must, many of them at least, be the remote descendants of this past. There is something about their physiognomy that reminds us of the faces on the ancient pottery and carving; a broad-featured bronzed type - what one might call a solar type. Peoples like the Zunis and Moquis have mysteries, into which but few white men have even partially penetrated; which shows they are the remnants of a once greater race, a part of whose knowledge they preserve in memory. This subject of ancient America has not yet received from archaeologists the attention it deserves. Nevertheless there are explorers who study in this field, and the results of their researches are frequently written up for the Sunday editions. In this way the public gets acquainted with the subject independently of academical instruction. Such periodicals as the National Geographical Magazine and Records of the Past often give beautiful illustrated accounts of the ruins. Thus we read that Dr. Max Uhle, director of the University of California's archaeological work in Peru, has discovered that a great civilization flourished at least 2000 years before the Incas, and that a highly cultured race was in existence in Peru before the Trojan war. In Guerrero, Mexico, in a region south of the Balsas River, over an area of fifty square miles, there are remains of thousands of prehistoric dwellings and scores of pyramids. The sculptured tablets bear the usual mystic geometrical symbols of the ancient Science of Life. A mining engineer, Mr. A. Lafave, is reported to have discovered in Arizona a prehistoric city older than Babylon or Nineveh, but nevertheless the center of a civilization very highly advanced. Great architectural skill is shown, and the symbol of what is called a sun-god was found. The British Museum recently acquired the collection of pottery and other relics discovered by Mr. Hubert Myring in the Chimcana Valley of Peru and stated by him to be at the lowest estimate 7000 years old. Yet this pottery shows the highest possible degree of skill, while the subjects represented prove that the artists had the materials of a highly cultured and complex civilization to draw upon. In Ecuador Dr. Marshall H. Saville of Columbia University discovered many tombs, and the objects collected show that the district was densely populated by a highly civilized people. Writing from New Orleans, May 13, Charles F. Lummis of Los Angeles records his excavations at Quirigua, Guatemala. A trackless jungle had to be cleared, and numerous

monuments of heroic size were found; one was twenty-six feet above ground and sixteen feet below and weighed about 140,000 pounds. The greatest discovery was a palace which must have been magnificent. It was surrounded by columns and the frieze was covered with carved heads. The ruined temples of Palenque, Uxmal, Chichen Itza, etc., have often been described. The mysterious hieroglyphics of the Mayas have yet to be deciphered; and when they are we shall have another epoch-making revelation like that following the deciphering of the Egyptian hieroglyphics by Champollion. Dr. Heath, a writer on Peruvian Antiquities, gives an account of the incredible size and quantity of the ruins, from which the following is selected. (See Kansas City Review of Science and Industry, Nov. 1878) "The coast of Peru extends from Tumbez to the river Loa, a distance of 1233 miles. Scattered over this whole extent there are thousands of ruins.... while nearly every hill and spire of the mountains have upon them or about them some relic of the past; and in every ravine, from the coast to the central plateau, there are ruins of walls, cities, fortresses, burial vaults, and miles and miles of terraces and water-courses.... Of granite, porphyritic lime and silicated sandstone, these massive colossal cyclopean structures have resisted the disintegration of time, geological transformations, earthquakes, and the sacrilegious destructive hand of the warrior and treasure-seeker. The masonry composing these walls, temples, houses, towers, fortresses, or sepulchres, is uncemented, held in place by the incline of the walls from the perpendicular, and by the adaptation of each stone to the place designed for it, the stones having from six to many sides, each dressed and smoothed to fit another or others with such exactness that the blade of a small penknife cannot be inserted in any of the seams thus formed.... These stones.... vary from one-half cubic foot to 1500 cubic feet of solid contents, and if in the many millions of stones you could find one that would fit in the place of another, it would be purely accidental." Speaking of the terraces, he says : "Estimating five hundred ravines in the 1200 miles of Peru, and ten miles of terraces of fifty tiers to each ravine, which would only be five miles of twenty-five tiers to each side, we have 250,000 miles of stone wall, averaging three to four feet high - enough to encircle this globe ten times." The mention of hieroglyphs yet undeciphered, which may any day prove the key to a new revelation of history, receives apposite illustration in an article in the Los Angeles Times (Sunday magazine edition) for May 14 [1911]. This describes the discovery of several cylinders, resembling the clay cylinders of Babylonian civilization, which have been deciphered; and it is thought that these may prove the Rosetta stone of American Egypt. They are about three inches long by an inch and a half in diameter, hollow, the walls a quarter of an inch thick. The clay has turned to stone, thus being preserved, and the inscriptions repeat hieroglyphs known to correspond to familiar phrases. The account in which this occurs is that of a discovery made by Prof. William Niven, a field archaeologist of Mexico City; and his statements as to the age and value of his finds are confirmed by Dr. Edward E. Seler, head of the National School of Archaeology of the Republic of Mexico. The latter authority declares the ruins and relics to be the evidences of a civilization new to archaeology, though bearing some resemblance to the ruins of the Tigris and Euphrates. This center of civilization lies about forty minutes' ride from Mexico City, under the suburb of Azcapotzalco. It is eighteen feet beneath the surface, and from it have been produced pottery of a type different from any hitherto found in Mexico, an entire goldsmith's outfit with patterns and molds for the making of ornaments of gold and silver, pendants and rings and beads of jade, copper knives which cut like steel, skulls containing teeth whose cavities are filled with cement and turquoise, the cylinders just mentioned, and many other objects. These things were found in an immense basin containing the ruins of a city some

ten miles long by three or four wide. Its houses were of laid stone, cemented with a white cement, unlike the black cement of Mitla or the gray composition of Palenque. The rooms were of uniform height - nine feet; the floors of tile - or, rather, of small squares of cement, colored and traced in beautiful patterns; the walls ornamented with frescoes and friezes showing a remarkable development of the color art. Paints used on these buildings, though evidently of vegetable composition and more than 3000 years old, are fresh and do not fade when exposed to light. The skulls and arrowheads found in the soil above are similar to those found in other parts, and relate to peoples having no connection with the occupants of this ancient city. Does not this prove that so-called "primitive man" was merely odd tribes of lowly nomads or settlers, belonging to fallen remnants of earlier civilizations; whereas many anthropologists seem to try to make out that they represent an earlier stage in evolution? This ancient city flourished long before the owners of the skulls and arrow-heads. All through the period of Aztec civilization it lay buried and unsuspected by the Aztecs. The great age of this civilization is amply proved by the fact that the city was buried under the wash of a great river that came down from the mountains. Geological considerations enable us to fix the date of that river back beyond other changes that have taken place in the ground since. Hence the city must be older still. And even before this flood the city was probably already abandoned - through pestilence, war, or some such cause. It was quite by accident that it was found; the exploring party chanced to step into a cave-in. It lies beneath the thick and long-cultivated residual soil, and consequently there may be an indefinite number of such cities almost anywhere. Among objects found was a dental cast of a human mouth. The more we discover, the more do we confirm the teaching that civilization is not of recent growth. The older the civilization, the more advanced - this seems to be the rule everywhere. Clearly the arts of modern civilization have been known before and we are but rediscoverers of them. We might go on quoting indefinitely, but must pass on to comment. It is very clear that these mighty builders, whose achievements have never since been equaled or even approached by any race in any part of the world were no barbarians or "primitive men." And we have to remember that it is not only from America that such archaeological accounts come, but from Asia, Africa, Europe, New Zealand - practically everywhere. And always one tale is the same - that of ancient civilizations and their prowess. Only recently the discoveries in Crete have altered all our views of Greek history by showing the existence of a great and widespread civilization in the Aegean, far preceding that of Greece. And side by side with all this we find the extraordinary fact that many anthropologists are still deeply engaged in their attempts to establish a gradual ascent of man from ape ancestors. Ignoring these evidences, they are diligently seeking and collecting the bones of unburied wanderers. But even these bones do not bear out the theory, for the older bones are no more ape-like than the later ones. Men exist on earth today, even among civilized peoples, as backward in type as these bones. What is quite certain is that man degenerates as well as evolves. Culture moves in waves, having ebbs and flows. The so-called aboriginal peoples are the remote and degenerated descendants of civilizations. But what is the real import of these discoveries? Are they mere subjects of curiosity and wonder? No; the interest lies in what they imply. For if there is to be any coherence in our views, we must make the rest of our ideas agree with our enlarged view of past history. And the conventional views of man and his life do not thus agree; they are too insignificant, and out of tune with increasing knowledge. (Vol. 1, pp. 323-27)

----------------------The West Africans - H. T. Edge That the learned and cultured of twentieth century Western civilization should turn with attention to West African savages, for the purpose of receiving from them information and instruction in the mysteries of religion and cosmogony, the origin of cults, the conscious powers of nature, and the fundamental principles of morality not to mention other things - is surely a remarkable change of attitude since a time so recent as that of our fathers. Yet that the above statement is not exaggerated is shown by a recent article in the Edinburgh Review, on "Some Aspects of West African Religions," by P. Amaury Talbot. This article proves that people can learn just as much as they want to learn, that they will find what they look for, and that there are none so deaf as those who will not hear. It proves that the West African native can be to us anything from a mere ignorant barbarian to a mine of traditional wisdom and lore, according to whether we look at him through the big end of a smoked telescope or with the naked eye. It proves, too, that even in stating a simple fact, a totally wrong impression may be conveyed by the words used, and the right impression given by simply altering the phraseology. For instance, we are familiar with the disparaging way in which it is said that "natives" everywhere "imagine everything in nature to be the home of a spirit or a god" - poor superstitious childish people; but this is how Mr. Talbot expresses the same fact: "To such men the commonplace does not exist. Each object is tinged with wonder and mystery; while forces, beneficent or malignant, are to be felt on every hand. Everything, from the smallest stone or humblest plant to the mightiest rock, river or tree, has an indwelling soul or 'Mana,' which is capable of projecting itself in a multitude of ways in order to influence the lives of those with whom it comes in contact." This phraseology seems to indicate that it is the "commonplace" which is superstitious, and that the natural view of nature is the correct one. And of course it is inevitable that we shall gradually arrive at the view that all nature is animate and moved by intelligent powers; for the only alternative to this view is to create phantoms, such as chance, necessity, and automatism. A tree or a rock can be used as so much brute material; but so can a human body; only it is not very intelligent to do so. It is better to enter into closer communion with nature when possible. But even the writer's expression that every natural object "has an indwelling soul," is not adequate, because it makes of the tree and its soul two separate things, thus favoring the materialistic doctrine that a body is a reality and that the soul is merely something which is inserted in it. It would be better to say that the tree is a soul, and that the wood, bark, etc., are but particular manifestations of this soul, or particular modes by which we perceive it. The doctrine of an animate nature has been dubbed "animism," in accordance with a familiar policy of killing things by labeling them; so anyone who objects to the doctrine can console himself by saying that it is of no consequence, as it is merely a case of "animism." The writer classes the study of "aboriginal" tribes as one of the two main branches of archaeology, and is inclined to regard it as the more important - the other branch being the exploration of antiquities. It sounds curious that we should study "primitive" races in order to explore the past; it would have seemed more reasonable to study ancient races for that purpose. It is, in fact, tantamount to acknowledging that these "primitive" races are

ancient races, with the great bulk of their experience behind them and not before. Do such races represent one of the early stages of human evolution, through which we have passed? Is it that these particular races have not yet passed beyond that early stage, but will do so later on? Or have they for some reason stuck fast and failed to evolve at all? The obvious fact is that most of the "aboriginal" races are old races, which have been on a descending arc of their racial evolution. By studying them, we can actually learn a great deal about the past history of civilization, for they preserve memories of their own civilization. Western Africa is mentioned by Mr. Talbot as perhaps the richest field for such study: "In this part of the world peoples of varying degrees of culture may yet be met, ascending and descending the ladder of civilization." What could be more evident than that evolution includes both rises and falls, and that it is far more complex than some of the crude elementary schemes suggested by experimenters in this study? Africa has well been described as the home of a most numerous and variegated assortment of human races, differing from one another widely and in every possible way. There are gigantic tribes where the men reach seven feet and over, and there are pygmies. Almost every shade of color is met, and the habits and temperaments are as divergent as the physiognomies. How can inadequate and conventional theories in anthropology deal with such a vast and complicated problem as this? Once accept the real explanation, however, and the facts fit in harmoniously. Africa has, for countless ages, been the retreat of a huge number of different peoples, who settled there in very remote ages, and became isolated from the rest of the world and partly from each other, so that each people had plenty of time to develop its own peculiar traits, and thus the divergence of types became still more accentuated. There are in Africa the remnants of a whole humanity of races, as multiform as the races which are comprised in our present-day humanity. The Dark Continent is like a past volume of human history. To quote from The Secret Doctrine: "Nowhere does a more extraordinary variability of types exist, from black to almost white, from gigantic men to dwarfish races; and this only because of their forced isolation. The Africans have never left their continent for several hundred thousands of years." (II, 425) With regard to the question of monotheism and polytheism, the writer says that belief in a supreme god, either with a feminine counterpart, or uniting in himself both male and female attributes, would seem once to have been practically universal, though now in many cases almost forgotten. Such deities were not regarded as having much to do with human affairs. The principle deities of the Ekoi are the Earth-God (anciently regarded as a goddess) and the Sky-God; which, with a change of sex, correspond to the Egyptian Heaven-Goddess Nut and Earth-God Seb? But there is no reason to force analogies with the Egyptians, for such deities are simply universal. As to the variations in gender, this also is frequent, and is explained by the fact that a principle may be masculine in some of its relationships and feminine in others; for which characteristic of change it is easy to find analogies in mathematics, chemistry, and elsewhere. In the case of the Sun and Moon, it is well known that the genders vary, even linguistically. When we find these native tribes using the same cosmic symbology as the ancient Egyptians, the ancient Aryan Hindus, the numerous native tribes of the Americas, etc., etc., we are left to choose between the hypotheses that this identity indicates a common source (not necessarily ethnic, for the source might be a common knowledge accessible to initiates in any race), or that "humanity, owing to the uniformity of its mind, always constructs exactly the same myths

everywhere." The latter hypothesis is but an excuse, and a very lame one, for avoiding the plain issue. The universality of the Wisdom-Religion is clearly indicated by these coincidences; and the survival of the symbols points back to the time of the earliest subraces of the present Root-Race, or even to Atlantean days, when the Wisdom-Religion was universally diffused. By way of commentary on the fact that sympathetic inquirers can find out more than those who hold themselves aloof, the following may be quoted: "For months after the present writer had begun to study the religion of the Nigerian Ibibios, he was informed by all classes, and on every hand, that Obumo was the head of their pantheon. Later, however, accident brought to light the fact that behind and above this deity looms the dread figure of Eka Abassi (Mother of God), at once mother and spouse of Obumo, the Great First Cause and Creatrix of all, from the Thunder-God himself to the least of living things. To quote the Ibibio expression, spoken with hushed reverence, as was every mention of her: 'She is not as the others. She it is who dwells alone, on the other side of the wall.'" Thus this World-Mother was like Isis of the Egyptians and Ilmatar of the Finnish Kalevala. Like Isis, she is connected with the Moon. The writer mentions the supreme Maori deity, Io, whose name was deemed so sacred that it was never uttered, and who was alluded to as "The Beyond" or "The High One." It is evident that in speaking of the Supreme, the attribute of sex is out of question; and whether we speak of the All-Father or the All-Mother, it is only a matter of the particular phase of divine power of which we happen at the time to be thinking. But the memory of Eka Abassi has nearly passed away and her fame has been eclipsed by that of her son. The All-Mother dwells in everything, but manifests herself most nearly of all in sacred waters, or under the guise of unhewn stones in the vicinity of sacred grove or pool. The writer quotes from an article on "A Common Basis of Religion," in the Journal of the African Society (April, 1913), by R.E. Dennet, who gives a list of the objects found by him in the sacred groves he has examined. These include mats, pots of water, seeds, shells, snake skins, parts of animals, sacred stones, a python set to guard the waters, a leopard to guard the land, and a fish eagle to guard the air. These objects, says the writer, are all parts of a complicated symbolism. Nor is the symbolism fanciful and superstitious; it agrees with the symbolism of other peoples, both great and small; it is a "masonic" symbolism, a symbolism pertaining to the Mysteries. It has been inherited from a past; and while now there is superstition mingled with it, this was not originally the case. And even now these people whom we call "savages" understand far more about it than we think; for the mere absence of our particular kind of civilization does not imply ignorance in everything. In fact, these people have probably cultivated one side of their nature to a higher degree than we have; and they are likely to be far more perceptive of the finer forces of nature than we are. Obumo, the Thunderer, spouse and son of Eka Abassi, is too remote to be much concerned with the affairs of men; and he leaves these in the hands of lesser deities. Here we come upon the question of the relation between monotheism and polytheism; they are not alternative or mutually exclusive theories, but complementary to each other. Our own monotheism is not found adequate, and so we have other gods, the chief of which is that which we somewhat vaguely call "Nature" and designate by the feminine pronoun. Such conceptions as "chance," "natural selection," "natural law" and the like, also take the place of minor gods with us; but we are less philosophical than the "heathen," for we make them abstractions while at the same time assigning to them deific powers, whereas the heathen frankly recognize their minor gods as conscious powers. Water, earth, and stone are the three great Mothers; how far more excellent a

conception than that which regards them as inert forms of matter! Some minds may call this superstition or idolatry, and it is to be feared that such minds can only be left alone to dree their own weird. Why not call it poetry? But that again is a name that has been traduced, so that with many it is only a synonym for superstition. Still, in idle moments at least, we might pleasurably and profitably indulge the fancy of living in a world where the earth was our Mother, the stones our Mother, and the soothing waters our Mother. Such a consolation, at any rate, may be necessary for poor savages, who have neither sweatingdens to work in nor automobiles to speed them away from such unpleasant sights. Naturally, among a people which has degenerated to a primitive mode of life, the lower aspects of their religion claim most attention; and in those minor nature-spirits which may mostly be classed under the name of Juju we find their principal interest. The cult of juju, together with ancestor-worship, is the dominant influence in their lives; and this is connected with a number of secret societies that exist all along the coast. In all but one of these societies membership is confined to men; but the writer mentions the following important fact: "A fortunate accident brought to my knowledge the fact - hitherto, I believe, carefully kept from European ears - that nearly all were once exclusively feminine institutions, as are the Bundu and the great Ekoi cult of Nimm at the present day." The men, it seems, grew weary of the dominance of the women, elicited the secrets, slew the leaders, and henceforth closed the societies to women. How did such a revolt arise, and why was it successful, are questions that might be asked. Of the Society of Egbo there are seven grades. Under native rule it usurped practically all the functions of government and made trade almost impossible for nonmembers. It is difficult to discover more than the merest fragments of the secrets of Egbo, as any known informant would meet with speedy death. Some of the powers of nature are known to and used by initiates in a way unknown to their white rulers. The totem of this cult is the leopard. Considerable detail is used by the author in describing the ceremonies of these cults; but we must pass these over. With regard to the "soul" - a word which in the language of western civilization, stands for anything and everything except the physical body - we are told that - "West Africans in general believe in a minimum of three souls inhabiting the physical body - (1) The astral, which roughly resembles the Egyptian Ka, and is called Kra on the Gold Coast; (2) the shadow soul, corresponding to the Egyptian Ba; and (3) the one which most nearly approaches our idea of the true Ego, and corresponds to the Egyptian Khu. Of these the last named is the only immortal one." But what is "our idea of the true Ego"? And also what does "astral" mean? However, the Egyptian names furnish us with landmarks; so, turning to the enumeration of them, we find the following: 1. Kha, body. 2. Ba, the soul of breath. 3. Khaba, the shade. 4. Akhu, intelligence or perception. 5. Seb, ancestral soul. 6. Putah, the first intellectual father. 7. Atmu, a divine or eternal soul. These are quoted in The Secret Doctrine, where their respective correspondences to the seven principles of man recognized in Theosophy are given. From this we find that Ba is the breath of life and corresponds to Prana. Kha is body, so that Khaba is the

breath-body and answers to the Linga-Sarira. This last is called in The Secret Doctrine "astral body," but this phrase has been so misused by quasi-theosophists and others that it is now misleading. It is evidently the one which the author calls Ka. His Khu is evidently the one called Akhu in the list - intelligence or perception, answering to the Theosophical Manas. But the fact that it is immortal shows it to be the higher Manas and not the lower. Thus we have among these natives the life-breath, the fluidic body (Linga-Sarira), and the incarnating Ego. But the writer says that at least three souls were recognized; so probably they recognize the other principles as well, though this knowledge may be part of their mysteries. In connection with this recognition of the Ka, we find sepulchral customs reminding us of those of Egypt and also of those observed by many other peoples. It is evidently recognized that the death of the body does not complete the dissolution of the earthly man but has to be followed by a second death. The lower principles of man hold together for a while after release from the physical body; and the period of their survival is apt to be unduly protracted in the case of those bound to earth by desires or anxiety. Hence the universal custom of observing rites designed to "lay" the shade; the placing of food and implements in the grave, with a view to preventing it from returning and harassing the living. This, of course, has nothing to do with the immortal Soul of the deceased, unless indeed the very ignorant should be unable to distinguish between the Soul and the shade. We may conclude this notice with the following quotation: "Love of children and reverence for the aged are almost universal. Among the Ekoi all quarreling is forbidden in a house where there are little ones, on the plea that the latter love sweet words, kind looks, and gentle voices; and should these not be found in the family into which they have reincarnated, they will close their eyes and forsake the earth till a chance offers to return amid less quarrelsome surroundings. Almost everywhere the 'maxim of Ani' is obeyed as strictly today as once in Egypt: 'Sit not down when another is standing up, if he be older than thee, even if thy rank in life be higher than his.'" Evidently love and tenderness to children is not confounded by these people with weakness. Children would much rather be kept in their rightful position with regard to their elders, than allowed to assert themselves unduly, as is so much done in this country. And though the lower nature may rebel against just reproof, nevertheless the parent who is dutiful enough to administer it wins the respect of his child. A subversion of the natural order means a loss of respect all around. It is noteworthy, too, that Reincarnation is accepted by these people, and the author says the belief is common with most West African peoples. (Vol. 7, pp. 459-66) ------------------The Testimony of Megalithic Monuments - H. Travers Archaeology is of unfailing interest to the reading public, and the press is evidently aware of this fact. Man is interested in the subject of his own ancestry, and more and more space is given to articles and illustrations dealing therewith. In a popular scientific periodical we find an abridgment of an address before a learned society on megalithic monuments; it is amply illustrated with photo reproductions and gives an excellent idea of the universal diffusion and magnitude of these silent witnesses of man's mighty past. The

pictures embrace the Balearic Isles, Peru, Easter Island, India, China, Honduras, Ireland, Abyssinia, Egypt, England, France, Africa, Siberia, and Java. The article accompanying them gives descriptions of the remains and also some speculations as to their origin and use. With regard to the speculations, the readers will probably feel how inadequate these are; and, remembering that academic opinions are many and conflicting, and that science is unsettled and continually changing, will await the advent of more light on the subject. It would seem that this is a case where preconceived theories have been permitted unduly to color the inferences which might be drawn from the evidence of the facts. True, the scientific method, though inductive in principle, allows in practice a reasonable amount of give-and-take between fact and provisional hypothesis; but sometimes the hypothesis is given undue prominence over the fact, and then we get what amounts to a dogmatic attitude. For instance, it is assumed, as part of a preconceived opinion, that the quarrymen and sculptors of these monuments were ignorant of the use of metal tools; whereas, in the absence of this preconceived opinion, the use of metal tools might have been inferred from the skill with which very hard material has been graven. The ignorance of metals, however, having been assumed in deference to well-known beliefs as to the evolution of races, it becomes necessary to account for the undeniable results in some other way; and here comes in the difficulty which cannot fail to strike the reader. The account at present under consideration adopts the policy of providing explanations so far as the writer's imagination will go, and leaving the rest unexplained. Sometimes, too, the argument seems to be that because things might have been so, therefore they were so. In the case of the Egyptian obelisks, we are told that some people think they were burned out of the quarry, and others that they were split out with wooden wedges. After the block was thus detached, however, it was "dressed and carved and removed to its destination." How carved? we may well ask; with fire or with wooden wedges? And why could they not have quarried the block with tools like those wherewith they engraved it? As to the transportation and erection of the monoliths, the writer prefers to say, "We do not know." Clearly the workmen had capable tools of some sort, whether metal or of some other kind not now known to us; the inference can be evaded only be a hypothesis more wonderful than that which it seeks to obviate. As to the Easter Island statues, we are told in so many words that the architects did drag them across the island with ropes made of native hemp, and did roll them up inclines, and did undermine them till they sank into perpendicularity, and so forth; when we strongly suspect that the writer's knowledge warrants no more than that they might so have worked. The great resemblance between the stones, their arrangements, and their inscribing, suggests that they were all erected by one race; but their widespread prevalence implies that such a race must have been spread over the entire globe. This idea is repugnant to opinions conceived on other grounds, and is therefore rejected. The theory of migration is also rejected on similar grounds; and we are left with the hypothesis that nearly all races pass naturally through a stone-age, wherein they are impelled to erect these gigantic structures and to dedicate them in the same way to the same grandiose religious yearnings. Our present authority, however, departs diametrically from many other theorists, for he abandons the idea that it was the environment that thus impelled so many independent races to act in the same way. That favorite principle will not work in this case, it seems; the environment was not the same. Hence it could not have been the environment which called forth the megalithic habit in the peoples. It must have been something from within. Man at all times and in all places has been intuitively impelled, says our authority. This alone will suffice to show the uncertainty of opinion on such subjects. Many of the monoliths, as is well known, are of enormous size. A corner-stone at Cuzco is 27 feet by 14 by 12, and enormous blocks are found high up in walls, as at

Persepolis, while the perfection of the fitting and jointing is an unceasing marvel. On the evidence of the facts one would infer great knowledge and power on the part of the artificers, and it is only preconceived ideas that prevent us from doing so. One would likewise infer the prevalence of a single race, rather than resort to the very difficult hypothesis mentioned above. It might be pointed out that at the present time there exists a race and a civilization (the European) which has carried its name and its ideas all over the globe. Why not so in the far past? The answer is, Because preconceived ideas about human evolution bar the way. But after all these ideas are very evanescent in comparison with the ages wherewith we are dealing; and it is possible they may be changed; and then the evidence of facts will be able to speak for itself. Some races do not have any megalithic stage, thinks the writer; the American aborigines have not been through it, though their predecessors had. Who, then, are those aborigines? Many will be disposed to regard them as the remote descendants of just such ancient races as built the monuments. They constitute a medley of many races; they are the remains of a whole human family, so to say. Differing widely among each other in language, customs, and disposition, they have a certain broad resemblance; though perhaps it would be more accurate to say that they resemble one another in the one point of being different from later races. Does the writer regard them as a "primitive" people that is, as a people who have never emerged from childhood? Both they and aborigines in general are far more like very old races, in their second childhood rather than in their first. In Africa we are faced with the same problem of a medley of widely differing races, all bearing signs of great antiquity; and putting such facts in conjunction with the evidence of the monuments, we have strong ground for the opinion that the past history of man is on a far larger scale than is at present believed, and that it goes much further back. Civilization, too, would seem to be a periodic phenomenon, sweeping like a wave slowly around the globe, raising now one people, now another, to its crest, and afterwards dropping them into the trough as it passes on. Then the old races continue to live, with simpler habits and fading memories. The phrase "primitive man" seems a stumbling-block in the way of impartial opinion. It suggests that human evolution lies all in one line, of which the present civilization is the highest point ever reached, and that all preceding races and ages have been but lower steps in this ascent. This theory, a survival of bygone narrow views, becomes more and more inconsistent with the growth of knowledge. Sooner or later the facts will force us to accept the view that civilizations have existed long ages ago and disappeared with scarcely a trace. If "primitive man" means living in a primitive state, then the world furnishes us many living examples today; but there is little, if anything, to suggest that such peoples are on the upward line of development. In attempting to divine the purpose of these monuments, we are prone to adopt the plan of searching among our own ideas for one which will suffice as explanation. Were they fortresses, tombs, or temples? It is at least possible, however, that their original object was one which would scarcely be comprehensible to our present ideas. Again, some allowance must be made for the probability that monuments which have stood for countless centuries would be used for all these purposes at different times as the convenience of different peoples might suggest. Some are evidently connected with astronomy, as though to fix sidereal positions for the marking of epochs and the counting of great cycles; or to focus the light of the sun or some star upon an interior shrine. The Egyptian ones are graven with signs whose meaning is even now but partially disclosed, and there are stones similarly graven in America, whose message has not been disclosed at all. It seems likely that the great human family which promoted the erection of these monuments had a science, a religion, or a religion-science, which was expressed in symbols, and that the symbols were thus indelibly recorded, not merely for memorial

purposes, but because the symbol was expected to evoke the cosmic potency for which it stood. In this case the proper erection, decoration, and dedication of such a temple might be a ceremony of the utmost importance to the welfare of the people who did it. What if superstitions are but the survival of ceremonials which once were performed rightly, knowingly, and effectually? A great field is open to Americans in archaeology, and yet we find them strangely fettered to the ideas of the Old World. Surely here is scope for originality and independence; and there are in America ruins as venerable as any in the Old World. We must expect a certain reluctance on the part of academic opinion to adopt views which would too suddenly and greatly enlarge the confines of its familiar domain; and we are fully aware that an acceptance of the Theosophical view regarding the antiquity of the human race would entail a somewhat revolutionary overhauling of comfortably settled ideas. What is more, our ideas in other respects would need enlarging, if consistency were to be preserved. But is not this overhauling already going on everywhere? In what department of thought and life is man not actively engaged in searching out broader ways? The question of man's past is intimately woven with the questions of his present and future. (Vol. 6, Feb., 1914, pp. 110-14) --------------------[Dolmens in Brittany] Brittany: Leaves from an Archaeologists's Notebook - V.B. Dolmen de Kerran (Kerhan), Near Locmariaquer, Brittany The name dolmen is compounded of two Breton words: dol, a table, and men, a stone. A dolmen consists essentially of several big stones set on end, forming supports or walls, with one or more capstones, which are usually larger than the uprights, forming a table or roof. The chamber or chambers thus formed are usually entered through a gallery or passage built in a similar fashion. When such a covered passage is found separately, not leading to a chamber, it is called an allee couverte; or, in other words, an allee couverte is an elongated form of dolmen. According to archaeologists, all dolmens and allees couvertes were formerly covered by tumuli or galgals, i.e. artificial mounds, sometimes of huge dimensions, composed respectively of stones, earth and mud, and stones alone. The denuding action of the elements, and the depredations of farmers requiring soil to spread on their fields, are the causes to which are ascribed the discovery of most of these monuments. Some of the larger tumuli which still exist enclose several dolmens: such is the tumulus known as Mont Saint-Michel, near Carnac, in which four large dolmens have been discovered, and others are thought to exist. The height of this tumulus is now 65 feet, but must once have been considerably greater, as the summit has suffered repeated levelings. Table des Marchands, Locmariaquer, Brittany The Table of the Merchants (Dol ar March'adourien) is considered the most remarkable dolmen yet unearthed. Its capstone is 20 feet long by 13 wide. Supporting this at one end is an upright stone gracefully rounded to a point at the top, and covered with partly-effaced carvings, which the archaeologists find unintelligible.

Alle Couverte des Pierres-Plates, Locmariaquer, Brittany The remains of this gallery form one of the finest specimens now extant of an allee couverte. It is 74 feet long, with a sharp bend about midway. On some of the upright stones are remarkable carvings, of which no explanation is at present forthcoming. In the background is seen the village of Locmariaquer, which is said to occupy the site of the ancient Doriorigum of the Romans. Interior of the "Pierres-Plates," Locmariaquer, Brittany This view illustrates the curious effect of bright sunshine entering between the menhirs which form the walls of the allee couverte, and shows one of the carved stones which puzzle archaeologists. The Mane-Rutual, Locmariaquer, Brittany The capstone of this huge dolmen measured, when intact, about 30 feet long by 15 broad, with an average thickness of about 3 feet; unhappily, it is now broken in two, and one end rests on the ground. Nevertheless, this monument, standing against the wall of a garden, and close to the houses of the village, seems more fully even than others a hoary reminiscence of the mighty past. Le Grand Menhir, Locmariaquer, Brittany The Breton name for this greatest of menhirs is Mane-er-H'roeck, the Stone of the Fairies. Its fall is popularly supposed to have been occasioned by lightning striking it early in the 18th century. A writer in 1727 describes it as fallen and broken much as we see it today; but there appear to have been five pieces at one time, whilst only four now remain. The fifth piece was doubtless incorporated in some needy farmer's wall, or broken up for mere road metal, like so many of the great megalithic monuments here and elsewhere. The four remaining pieces, the two largest of which are shown in the illustration, have a total length of 67 feet and a maximum width of nearly 14 feet; their total weight is estimated at 340 tons. When erect, this imposing pillar of granite must have resembled the obelisks of Egypt. Excavating a Dolmen on the Ile Longue, Gulf of Morbihan The illustration shows the dolmen as it was discovered by excavation in the galgal, or artificial mound of stones, which has crowned the little island for unknown centuries. It is supposed that all dolmens were at one time similarly covered by tumuli or galgals. Menhir du Champ-dolent, near Dol, Brittany This fine menhir stands about 30 feet out of the ground, but is somewhat dwarfed by the huge wooden crucifix which surmounts it. It seems rather paradoxical that a monument of the prehistoric past should be thus "converted to Christianity," but many other menhirs have suffered a similar fate. The more usual method adopted was to carve rude crosses or inscriptions on their surfaces. By this means the priests hoped to direct aright the prayers and offerings which, in spite of all injunctions against the practice, a great many of the Breton country-folk continued to make to certain menhirs all through the middle ages and until comparatively recent times. Indeed, in remote districts, this cult of the menhirs continues furtively even today. It may perhaps represent a dim and distorted reminiscence of age-old rites and ceremonies. .... (Vol. 2, pp. 98-100) -------------------

The Origin of Chess - E. T. The origin of chess has been attributed, according to the Encyclopaedia Britannica, to the following peoples: Greeks, Romans, Babylonians, Scythians, Egyptians, Jews, Persians, Chinese, Hindus, Arabians, Araucanians, Castilians, Irish, Welsh. There seems to be considerable diversity of opinion on this subject among savants; but we notice they have not included in the above list the Picts and Scots and several other nationalities which we could mention! If, as Solomon says, there is safety in the multitude of counselors, surely we have safety here, if it be any satisfaction to feel that one of the fourteen theories may be right, without knowing which of them it is. What is meant by the origin of a thing? Evidently the origin is understood to mean as far back as you can reach. This accounts for there being so many origins; each theorist has traced his own particular route as far back as he can, but nobody has reached the place whence the roads diverge. In view of the fact that all the races at present on earth have been preceded by races long since gone, it is probable that the origin of chess goes back farther than records and traditions can reach. The game may have been played on Atlantis, it may have been known in Lemuria. But what is there in chess to give it such remarkable longevity and universality? Like cards, it seems to be based on some fundamental principle and to be typical of human life. It is a drama, with its complete society in miniature - king, counselors, warriors, commoners. Its chequered field and the moves of its pieces are mathematical. Perhaps when it originated it was not a game; it may have been an augury, like the cards. The Encyclopaedia Britannica says chess is an intellectual pastime, peculiarly adapted to relieving the mind from the cares of business and this workaday world. It is not a difficult game to acquire. Edgar Poe laughs at the idea that chess is abstruse or that it requires an exercise of the subtler powers of the mind. He says it is merely complex; "All the elaborate frivolity of chess," are his words. Consequently it demands a concentrative mind, with a good visual memory. Huc, in his Travels, tells us that the Tartars and Tibetans cry chik when they check a piece, and mate when the game is at an end. These words came into English through the Norman-French; they are said to be of Persian origin, check meaning king (?), and mate meaning dead (?). Some theorists have even tried to fix upon individuals as the inventors of chess; among them are Japhet, Shem, Solomon, the wife of Ravana, king of Ceylon, the philosopher (?) Xerxes, the Grecian prince Palamedes, Hermes, Aristotle, the brothers Lydo and Tyrrhene, Semiramis, Zenobia, Attalus who died about 200 B.C., the mandarin Hansing, the Brahmana "Sissa," and "Shatrenscha," said to be a celebrated Persian astronomer. (See Encyclopaedia as above.) A rather miscellaneous list, to which we may take occasion to add a conjecture of our own - Francis Bacon! There is, of course, also our old friend the Devil - just the kind of thing he would do, for a man might easily forget the welfare of his soul while absorbed in the elaborate frivolity of chess! Living chess has been tried occasionally in our times, played on a chequered floor or lawn with men, women, and children in costume. Rather monotonous, especially for the pawns; but here again we appear to have been anticipated, for the Irish game, we are told, was played in the open air. There is a preponderance of authority in favor of the Hindu origin of chess - that is, it is considered that it can be shown to have existed in India earlier than anywhere else. (Vol. 2, pp. 399-400)

---------------------Vandalism in Ancient Architecture - Ariomardes The outlines of ancient history given in The Secret Doctrine are true, as time will prove and has already to some extent proven. Asia hides innumerable evidences of this history, many of them beyond the reach of vandal hands, waiting the day when the desert sands shall yield up their treasures. The Illustrated London News (Sept. 2, 1911) has an article on "Vandalism in Syria," which gives an idea of the complexity of ancient history even in this one part. Northern Syria and Mesopotamia have been the scene of forts and palaces from the time of the Hittites and down through the invasion of Nebuchadnezzar, the Persian and Seleucid monarchies, the Roman occupation, the Crusades and Saladin, to Mehemet Ali. Among the sites the most notable are Aleppo, Urfa (or Edessa), Antioch, Harim, Shaizar, Berejik, Carchemish, Masyad, Membij, and Baalbek (or Heliopolis). But at many of these places the ancient stone-work is even now being pulled down, not only by individuals but even by contractors, to sell the stone. At Berejik the rock-cut galleries and masoned ramparts are being pulled down to build a jail; while the as yet unexplored ruins of Carchemish are being exploited for the benefit of the Bagdad railway, as a quarry for building bridges. The vandalism of the past was even greater. Ibrahim Pasha razed the Byzantine walls and wrecked the Crusading castle of Antioch some eighty years ago. In 1878 a colony of Moslem Cherkesses from the lost provinces of Kars and Batum was placed at Membij and has systematically pulled down every building, removed every stone which was upon another, and distributed them over the countryside as dikes to enclose their fields. Baalbek, however, has been systematically preserved and has probably profited the Ottoman Government more as a site for tourists than as a quarry for stone; a principle which the Government would do well to recognize in the other cases. In the heart of the wide plains of Upper Syria there are deserted Roman towns with forum, basilica, portico, and shops, roofless but otherwise almost intact. They are hardly known, yet they too may be swept away by the building contractor. Even the most populous lands of the Old World are far from having been ransacked, and the soil hides well. What shall be said then of the lands of the West, where even the surface has in many cases not been visited? For we know that in the West also there were great civilizations. We have been learning by means of successive "renaissances" or recoveries of past knowledge, and are yet far from the point where we can begin to add to what has been built before. The higher we climb up the side of our valley, the larger becomes our view of the country left behind. Recent discoveries in science already give promise of a possible fulfilment of the idea that all events leave imperishable records and that these can be read again. If this be so, the lack of documents may not prevent us from learning the history of the far past. (Vol. 2, pp. 48-49) -------------------------Greek Philosophy Life and Teachings of Pythagoras - F. S. Darrow, Ph.D.

I. Life "Pythagoras, the pure philosopher deeply versed in the profounder phenomena of nature, the noble inheritor of the ancient lore, whose great aim was to free the soul from the fetters of sense and force it to realize its powers, must live eternally in human memory." - H.P. Blavatsky This world-famous Greek teacher of "the Heart Doctrine" was born about 580 B.C. on the island of Samos and died about 500 B.C. Before his birth it was prophesied to his father that a son was about to be born to him who would be a great benefactor of mankind. Some even went so far as to declare that Pythagoras was a human incarnation of Hyperborean Apollo. It is related that when a mere youth he left his native city to begin a series of travels to the wise men of all countries, from the Hindus and Arabs in the East, to the Druids of Gaul in the West. We are told that he spent twelve years in Babylon, conversing freely with the Magi, by whom he was instructed in all their Mysteries and taught the most perfect form of worship. He spent twenty-two years in Egypt as an intimate of the most learned heirophant, under whose tutelage he mastered the three styles of Egyptian writing, the common, the hieroglyphic, and the sacerdotal. He brought with him a personal letter of introduction to Amasis, the reigning Pharaoh, who forthwith wrote to the hierophants and requested them to initiate Pythagoras into their mysteries. Pythagoras first went to the priests of Heliopolis, but they, true to the inveterate Egyptian suspicion of foreigners, although hesitating to disobey Amasis openly, tacitly refused to initiate Pythagoras and advised him to go to the sacred school at Memphis, ostensibly because it was of greater antiquity than that of Heliopolis. At Memphis also he met with the same finesse, and was next sent to the school at Thebes, where finally under the most severe tests - tests which nearly cost him his life - he was fully initiated into the Egyptian Mysteries and thereafter had free access to the treasures of the hierophants. After leaving Egypt Pythagoras returned to Greece by way of Crete, where he descended the Idaean cave in company with Epimenides, the great Cretan prophet and seer, who in return for the removal of the plague at Athens in 596 B.C. accepted from the grateful people only a branch of the sacred olive of Athena, and refused the large sums of money which were offered, because he declared that spiritual gifts can not be bought and sold. From Epimenides and Themistoklea, the Delphic Pythia, Pythagoras received further instruction. In the course of his travels he became an initiate not only in the mysteries of India, Babylonia, Egypt, Greece, and Gaul, but also in those of Tyre and Syria. Pythagoras studied the various branches of knowledge, especially mathematics, astronomy, music, gymnastics, and medicine, and contributed very greatly to the development of these sciences among the Greeks, for he was a man both of singular capabilities and of great acquirements. His personal appearance was noteworthy. He was very handsome and dignified; regularly dressed in white, and wore a long, flowing beard. He never gave way to grief, joy, or anger, but was accustomed to sing hymns of Homer, Hesiod, and Thales, to preserve the serenity of his mind, and he was very eminent for his power of attracting friends. The religious element was predominant in his character, and his entire life was ruled by humanitarian and philanthropic motives. He was opposed to animal sacrifice, and on one occasion purchased a large draught of fish, which had just been caught in a net, and set them free as an object-lesson in kindness. Pythagoras was a practical occultist, and is said to have understood the "language" of animals so as to be able to converse with them and tame even the most ferocious. It is said of him that upon one occasion he was seen and heard publicly speaking at far distant places both in Italy and in Sicily, on the same day, a physical impossibility. It is also stated

that he healed the sick, had the power of driving away evil spirits, foresaw the future, recognized character at a glance, and had direct communication with the gods. Finally at the age of nearly fifty, Pythagoras went to southern Italy or Magna Graecia, after an unsuccessful attempt to establish a society in his native city, and in 529 B.C. founded the Pythagorean Brotherhood and the School of the Mysteries at Crotona. He gained extensive influence immediately and attracted great numbers of all classes, including many of the nobles and the wealthy, so that the society grew with wonderful strides and soon similar schools were established at many other cities of Magna Graecia: at Sybaris, Metapontum, Tarentum, and elsewhere. Each of these consisted of three hundred members accepted under inviolable pledges of secrecy and bound to Pythagoras and to each other by the most sacred of obligations. The statement as to the death of Pythagoras, which occurred when he was about eighty, vary. One account says that he was banished from Crotona and fled to Metapontum where he died after a self-imposed fast of forty days. Another says that he was murdered by his enemies when the temple of the school at Crotona was burned to the ground, either by the nefarious Kylon who because of his unworthiness had been refused admittance to the Brotherhood and his wicked associate Ninon, or by the frenzied townspeople. At the same time similar persecutions in the other cities where the branch schools had been established resulted in the (supposed) murder of all but a few of the younger and stronger members, who succeeded in escaping to Egypt. Thereafter individual Pythagoreans, unorganized in Schools, which were everywhere successfully suppressed, continued to keep the light burning for centuries. The doubtful point is, whether the temple and the various assembly halls of the Pythagoreans were burned at the end of the Leader's life, or about a hundred years after his banishment and death by starvation. Telauges, his "son," is said to have succeeded his father as the Head of the shattered society, but little is known of him. It is significant that the Pythagorean Brotherhood and School of the Mysteries at Crotona flourished during the last twenty-five years of the sixth century B.C., the accepted date of its overthrow being about 500 B.C. II. The School It was a Pythagorean maxim that "everything ought not to be told to everybody." Therefore membership in the society was secret, silent, and guarded by the most solemn forms of obligatory pledges and initiations. Members were classified as Akousmatikoi or Listeners, Probationary Members, who did not live at the School, and Mathematikoi or Students, Accepted Members, who lived with their families at the central School of the Mysteries or at one of its branches. Probably the Mathematikoi were further divided into two classes: the Pythagoristae or exoteric members, and the Pythagoreans or esoteric members. Practically any candidate of an upright and honest life was admitted at request as a Listener, but only the fit and the worthy were accepted as Students. Listeners, wishing to become Students, were forced to pass through a period of probation lasting from two to five years, during which their powers of maintaining silence were especially tested as well as their general temper, disposition, and mental capacity. A good working knowledge of arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, and music, (the four branches of Pythagorean mathematics), was required preliminary to admission to the School. Only the most approved members were admitted to the Esoteric Section. Women were admitted (an innovation from the Greek standpoint). Among these Theano was the most distinguished. She had general supervision of the women. The members were devotedly attached to their Leader and to one another. They were enabled to recognize other members even when unacquainted by means of their secret symbols, and it is recorded: "If Pythagoras ever heard that any one used symbols similar to his, he at once made him a companion and a friend." Unquestioning loyalty was

given to the counsels of Pythagoras by his disciples, for whom the ipse dixit of the master settled all controversy, and the rank and admission of candidates depended solely upon the intuitive discernment of Pythagoras, who made all appointments. The Students wore a special dress and had vows. They were trained to endure fatigue, sleep little, dress very simply, never to return reproaches for reproaches, and to bear contradiction and ridicule with serenity. The School of the Mysteries was a school of life, not a monastery. Pythagoras did not aim to have his disciples withdraw from active life, but taught them how to maintain a calm bearing and an elevated character under all circumstances. The intention was to train them to exhibit in their personal and social capacities a reflection of the order and harmony of the universe. The membership was international. As it was a Pythagorean maxim that "friends should possess all things in common," new members upon entering the School handed over their personal possessions to the proper official who turned them into the common treasury. A student was at liberty to depart from the School at pleasure and at his departure he was given double his original contribution, but over his former seat was erected a tomb, funeral rites were performed, and he was ever afterwards referred to by the loyal members as deceased. Purity of life was required and temperance of all kinds was strictly enjoined. All members ate at a common refectory in groups of ten, as at the Spartan syssitia. The diet was subject to a most careful regulation and consisted largely of bread, honey, and water. Animal foods and wine were forbidden. It is stated also that beans were tabooed because of their indigestibility and tendency to produce agitated dreams. Much importance was attached to music, and to the physical exercise of the disciples. Each day began with a meditation upon how it could be best spent and ended with a careful retrospect. The students arose before the sun, and after breakfast studied for several hours, with an interval of leisure, which was usually spent in solitary walks and silent contemplation. The hour before dinner was devoted to athletic exercises. In the course of the day there were mutual exhortations not to sunder the God in each and all but to preserve the union with the Deity and with one another. The students were accustomed to visit Pythagoras at night, and went to sleep with music. ....... III. The Teachings As Pythagoras met with the immemorial fate of the world's great teachers, many fantastic distortions of his teachings were published; some of them, in his name by his enemies, for the express purpose of bringing his teachings into disrepute; and many things were imputed to him which he certainly never said or did. Probably he did not commit any of his teachings to writing, but it is certain that his disciples memorized his sayings and treasured them as the oracles of the Deity. He had two forms of teaching: one public or exoteric, and one private or esoteric. It is noteworthy that wherever his teachings prevailed, sobriety and temperance displaced licentiousness and luxury, for the distinguished Pythagoreans were men of great uprightness, conscientiousness, and selfcontrol, capable of devoted and enduring friendships. (a) Exoteric Teachings The public teachings of Pythagoras consisted principally of practical morals of the purest and most spiritual type and emphasized the virtues of self-restraint, reverence, patriotism, sincerity, conscientiousness, uprightness, truth, justice, and purity of heart. He insisted upon the highest ideals of marriage and of parental duties, and always exerted his influence to suppress wars and dissensions. He was the first to apply the term philosopher or lover of wisdom to himself, as a substitute for the earlier term sage, for he said: "The Deity only is wise; men at their best are merely lovers of wisdom." He was

also the first to use the word kosmos or "order," as applied to the universe. He used to say: "Drunkenness is synonymous with ruin. "No one ought to exceed the proper quantity of meat and drink. "Strength of mind depends upon sobriety, for this keeps the reason undiverted by passion. "In answer to the question, 'When may I indulge in the pleasures of passion?' he replied: 'Whenever you wish to be weaker than your Self.' "Never say or do anything in anger. "Virtue is harmony; health, the Universal Good." He urged his disciples not to kill animals, because he declared that they have a right to live, as well as men. "It is the part of a fool to attend to every opinion of all men, above all to that of the mob. "Do what you believe to be right, whatever people think of you. Despise alike their censure and their praise. "Add not unto your grief by discontent. "Do not speak few things in many words, but many things in a few words. Either be silent, or speak words better than silence. "It is hard to take many paths in life at the same time. "Youth should be accustomed to obedience, for it will thus find it easy to obey the authority of reason. "Men should associate with one another in such a way as not to make their friends enemies, but to make their enemies friends. "We ought to wage war only against the ignorance of the mind, the passions of the heart, the distempers of the body, sedition in cities, and in families. "No man should deem anything exclusively his own. "Every man ought so to train himself as to be worthy of belief without an oath." He used to call admonishing, "feeding storks." "Philosophers are seekers after truth. "The discourse of a philosopher is vain, if no passion of man is healed thereby. Choose the best life; use will make it pleasant. "Man is at his best when he visits the temples of the gods. "A man should never pray for anything for himself, because he is ignorant of what is really good for him. "Do not the least thing unadvisedly. "Advise before you act, and never let your eyes The sweet refreshings of soft slumber taste, Till you have thence severe reflections passed On the actions of the day from first to last. Wherein have I transgressed? What done have I? What duty unperformed have I passed by? And if your actions ill on search you find, Let grief, if good, let joy, possess your mind. This do, this think, to this your heart incline, This way will lead you to the Life Divine.

..... "This course, if you observe, you shall know then The constitution both of gods and men. And now from ill, Great Father, set us free, Or teach us all to know ourselves in Thee. "The noblest gifts of heaven to man are to speak the truth and to do good. These two things resemble the works of the Deity. "Place intuition as the best charioteer or guide for thy acts. "Possess not treasures except those things which no one can take from you. Be sleepless in the things of the Spirit, for sleep in them is akin to death. Each of us is a soul, not a body, which is only a possession of the soul. "The tyrant death securely shalt thou brave, And scorn the dark dominion of the grave. "The greatest honor which can be paid to the Deity is to know and imitate Its perfection. "The wise men say that one community embraces heaven and earth, and gods and men and friendship and order and temperance and righteousness; for which reason they call this whole a kosmos or orderly universe. "Of all things learn to revere your Self. "Likeness to the Deity should be the aim of all our endeavors. The nobler, the better the man, the more godlike he becomes, for the gods are the guardians and guides of men. "There is a relationship between men and gods, because men partake of the Divine Principle. "You have in yourself something similar to God; therefore use yourself as the Temple of God. "Be bold, O man! Divine thou art. "Truth is to be sought with a mind purified from the passions of the body. Having overcome evil things, thou shalt experience the union of the immortal God with the mortal man." (b) The Esoteric Teachings (1) Symbols The esoteric teachings of Pythagoras, which he called "the Gnosis of Things that Are," or "the Knowledge of the Reality," so far as they can be gathered from the extant fragments, dealt with (1) Symbols, (2) Number, that is, the inner meaning of arithmetic and geometry, (3) Music, (4) Man, and ( 5) the Earth and the Universe. In his esoteric teachings Pythagoras gave out the keys to the system of practical ethics outlined in his exoteric sayings. Such of his public utterances as were called Symbols were mere blinds, capable of several interpretations with several distinct and highly important meanings attached to them. H.P. Blavatsky, speaking of these, says: "Every sentence of Pythagoras, like most of the ancient maxims, had (at least) a dual signification; and while it had an occult physical meaning expressed in its words, it embodied a moral precept." It is no mere coincidence that many of the maxims were and still are current among widely separated nations. The following are examples of some Pythagorean Symbols

together with their possible meanings as moral precepts: "Do not devour your heart": that is, do not consume your vitality in futile grief. "Do not devour your brain": that is, do not waste your time in idle thoughts. "When you are traveling abroad, turn not back, for the furies will go with you": that is, do not dally or cry over spilt milk but hasten to accomplish whatever you have begun; otherwise you will fail, and remorse and sorrow will thereafter attend you. "Do not indulge in immoderate laughter": that is, restrain the unstable parts of your nature. "Do not stir fire with a sword": that is, do not return angry words to an angry man, for "hatred ceaseth not by hatred but by love - this is an everlasting truth." "Turn away from yourself every sharp edge": that is, control your passions. "Nourish nothing which has crooked talons or nails": that is, cultivate only kindliness of disposition. "Help a man to take up a burden but not to lay it down": that is, by toils and sorrows men are strengthened. "Do not step above the beam of the balance": that is, live a life of perfect justice. "Spit not upon the cuttings of your hair or the parings of your nails": that is, even trifles are important. "Destroy the print of the pot in the ashes": that is, correct all mistakes. "Put the shoe on the right foot first but put the left foot first info the bath-tub": that is, act uprightly and honestly, washing away all impurities. "Look not in a mirror by lamplight": that is, do not be misled by the phantasies of the senses, but be guided by the pure, bright light of spiritual knowledge. "Transplant mallows in your garden but eat them not": that is, cultivate spirituality and destroy it not. "Do not wear a ring": that is, philosophize truly, and separate your soul from the bonds of the body. "When the winds blow, give heed unto the sound": that is, when the Deity speaks, attend closely. "When you rise from bed, disorder the covering, and efface the impression of the body": that is, when you have attained unto wisdom, obliterate all traces of your former ignorance. "Leaving the public ways, walk in unfrequented paths": that is, lead a spiritual, not a worldly, life. "Do not offer your right hand lightly": that is, do not make pledges which you cannot or will not keep, and do not divulge the Mysteries to those who are unfit and uninitiated. "Do not receive a swallow into your house": that is, do not disclose the Mysteries to one who is flighty and unstable. "Speak not about Pythagorean concerns without light": that is, do not assume to be a teacher until you have become a student. "When treading the Path divide not": that is, truth is one but falsehood is multifarious; choose that philosophy in which there is no inconsistency or contradiction. "Above all things learn to govern your tongue when you follow the gods": that is, learn the power of silence. "Disbelieve nothing admirable concerning the gods or the divine teachings": that is, the Deity is perfect justice and perfect love; "the Divine wisdom is the science of life, the art of living." "Do not cut your nails while sacrificing": that is, in praying, remember even those who are most distant. "Sacrifice and worship unshod": that is, approach the Mysteries with a reverent heart. "Entering a temple, neither say nor do anything which pertains to ordinary life": that

is, preserve the Divine, pure and undefiled; the divine science cannot be judged by the ordinary standards of human opinion. "Enter not into a temple negligently nor worship carelessly, not even though you stand only at the doors": that is, seek the Divine wholeheartedly without reference to personal advantage, no matter however humble your position. "Approach not gold in order to gain children": that is, beware of all teachers who barter the things of the Spirit; "by their fruits ye shall know them." "Inscribe not the image of the Deity on a ring": that is, do not think of the Supreme as either finite or personal. (2) Number The esoteric teachings of Pythagoras in regard to number dealt principally with the significance of arithmetic and geometry, and emphasized the importance of the application of number to weights and measures. He was the first to explain the multiplication table to the Greeks. The leading idea of his system was that of the Unity in Multiplicity. Therefore the Pythagorean concept of harmony was based upon the relationship of the One and the Many, the idea of the One in Many and the Many in One - "as above, so below." By number Pythagoras meant not merely figures, but regulated motion or vibration, rhythm, law, and order; for he made number equivalent to intelligence. He said: "Number is that which brings what is obscure within the range of our knowledge, rules all true order in the universe and allows of no errors." He assumed, as first principles, the numbers and the symmetries existing in them, which he called harmonies. He taught: "Virtue is a proportion or harmony. Happiness consists in the perfection of the virtues of the soul, the perfect science of numbers. Nature is an imitation of number." Pythagorean arithmetic was concerned especially with the first ten digits, which were "hieroglyphic symbols, by means of which Pythagoras explained his ideas about the nature of things." He taught that unity, the monad or one, is no true numeral, for one multiplied any number of times by itself always equals one; that is, unity unlike the true numerals, has not an infinite series of varying powers, for its square, cube, and other powers, are one and all equal to one, the first term of the series. Another peculiarity, which proves unity not to be a true numeral, is its indivisibility into whole numbers. "The monad is God and the good, which is the origin of the one and is itself Intelligence. The monad is the beginning of everything. Unity is the principle of all things and from Unity went forth an infinite or indeterminate duality, the duad, which is subordinate to the monad as its cause." Pythagoras taught that the duad, the first concept of addition, was the first true figure and regarded the one as a symbol for the Primitive Unity or the Deity, the Absolute, behind and above the indeterminate or infinite duad, which symbolized chaos or spiritmatter. The triad or the three, the monad plus the duad, symbolized the Divine, the Heavenly, as opposed to the Earthly. "The Pythagoreans say that the All and all things are defined by threes; for beginning, middle, and end constitute the number of all and also the number of the triad." The tetrad or the four exists in two forms, its actual form the quaternary or the four,

the symbol of Earth as opposed to Heaven, and its potential form, the tetraktys, which contains in germ the sum total of the universe, manifested and unmanifested, the Pythagorean dekad or ten, thus, 1 + 2 + 3 + 4 = 10. The tetraktys, therefore, was regarded as a very sacred symbol. The pentad or number five, symbolized man. The senary or number six, is, of course, composed of two threes, and was regarded as an abbreviation for the alpha and omega of evolutionary growth. The hebdomad or number seven, is the perfect number, par excellence, symbolizing both heaven and earth. In the words of H.P. Blavatsky: "The ogdoad or 8 symbolizes the eternal and spiral motion of the cycles, and is symbolized in its turn by the Caduceus (or herald's staff of Hermes). The nine is the triple ternary, reproducing itself incessantly under all shapes and figures in every multiplication. The ten or dekad brings all these digits back to unity and ends the Pythagorean table." "It is," Pythagoras says, "the starting point of number." Passing from the arithmetic to the geometry of Pythagoras, Plato's statement that "God geometrizes" is undoubtedly Pythagorean in origin, for it is said that Pythagoras perfected geometry among the Greeks, and the two well-known theorems that the triangle inscribed in a semi-circle is right-angled, and that the square of the hypothenuse of a rightangled triangle is equal to the sum of the squares of the sides, are still associated with his name. Pythagoras taught: "From the monad and the duad proceed numbers; from numbers signs; from signs lines, of which plane figures consist; from plane figures solid bodies. The Kosmos is endued with life and intellect and is of a spherical figure." From one point of view, One corresponds to the dot or point, Two to the line, Three to the plane, and Four to the concrete solid. The dekad was represented geometrically in the form of a tetradic equilateral triangle of ten dots, with one dot at the apex, and four along the base line, thus. * * * * * * * * * * This shows graphically how the tetraktys as 1 + 2 + 3 + 4 = 10; contains potentially the dekad. This ten-dot triangle filled out by lines becomes an equilateral triangle, with the dot at the apex and at the center remaining as generating-points for adjacent figures, and especially as the centers of circles, inscribed in and circumscribed about the original triangle. The principal plane geometrical figures known to have been explained by Pythagoras are the circle in its three forms: one with the center unmarked, the second with a dot at the center, and the third with the diameter drawn: [---]; the triangle: [---]; the square: [---]; the pentagram, or five-pointed star: [---]; and the hexagram, the six-pointed star or so-called Pythagorean Pentacle: [---]. The circle was called by Pythagoras "the most beautiful of all plane figures" and in its form with the center unmarked, corresponding to the monad or the one in arithmetic, was placed in a category by itself. The circle with a dot at its center corresponds to the duad, the triangle to the triad, the square to the tetrad in its actual as opposed to its potential form, which is that of the tetradic dotted triangle, as previously explained, the potential equivalent of the decad. The pentagram or five-pointed star corresponds to the

pentad, and the hexagram to the senary. The circle with its diameter indicated the actual dekad or 10 (for we no longer write the one within the circle to represent ten) as opposed to the potential equivalent of the dekad, the tetraktys. In his solid geometry Pythagoras taught that "the sphere was the most beautiful of all solid figures," and in its form corresponding to the monad, it was classed by itself. Pythagoras explained that both the earth and the kosmos were spherical in shape, and added that the universe was made up of five basic solid figures, which were built up from the triangle and the square: namely, the cube; the tetrahedron; the octahedron, a figure with its eight sides formed by equal equilateral triangles; the dodecahedron, a figure with twelve faces formed by regular pentagons; and the icosahedron, a figure composed of twenty equal and similar triangular pyramids whose vertices meet at the center of a sphere, which is supposed to circumscribe it. (3) Music Turning to Pythagoras' teachings in regard to music, which he regarded as a very important help in controlling the passions, it is said that he was the first to teach the Greeks the tonic relations of the musical scale, and invented for them the monochord, a one-stringed instrument, used in measuring the musical intervals. Upon these relations he built his celebrated doctrine of the Harmony or Music of the Spheres, that is, that the heavenly bodies, composing our solar system, in the course of their rotations emit the notes of the scale. H.P. Blavatsky and the ancients explain this by saying that Pythagoras called ..."a 'tone' the distance of the Moon from the Earth; from the Moon to Mercury: 1/2 a tone, thence to Venus the same; from Venus to the Sun 1 1/2 tones; from the Sun to Mars a tone; from thence to Jupiter 1/2 tone; from Jupiter to Saturn a tone; and thence to the Zodiac a tone; thus making seven tones, the diapason harmony. All the melody of nature is in those seven tones and therefore is called 'the Voice of Nature.'" Pythagoras declared that the harmony of the spheres is not heard by the ordinary human ear either because it has always been accustomed to it from the beginning of life, or because the sound is too powerful for the capabilities of the physical ear. In substantiation of this theory it is interesting to note that modern science expresses the intervals of music by proportions similar to those which mark the tonal distances of the planets. (4) Man Self-contemplation was strongly insisted upon and played a most vital part in the Pythagorean training. To his esoteric section Pythagoras taught the immortality of the soul, its preexistence, and its rebirth; karma; and the septenary constitution of man, partially veiled, it is true, under the form of a triple division of the soul into animal, human, and divine parts. "There is a doctrine whispered in secret that man is a prisoner, who has no right to open the door and run away. The gods are our guardians. "The soul is a harmony and the body its prison. "We choose our own destiny and are our own good or bad fortune. "Rash words and acts are their own punishment. "We are our own children." Intentional perversions of the teachings of Pythagoras, mere travesties of his ideas, are plainly evident in what has come down to us in regard to his belief in metempsychosis.

Thus we are told that his enemies circulated the story that Pythagoras had declared that one of his relatives had passed into a bean, a vicious joke based on the fact that beans were excluded from the Pythagorean diet. Another similar malicious fiction about Pythagoras is thus referred to by Xenophanes, a contemporary philosopher. "They say that once, as passing by he saw "A dog severely beaten, he did pity him, "And spoke as follows to the man who beat him: "'Stop now, and beat him not; since in his body, Abides the soul of a dear friend of mine, Whose voice I recognized, as he was crying.'" That Pythagoras, himself, did not believe in transmigration after such fashion, is shown quite plainly by the following statements of Hierocles, the Neo-Platonist in his commentary upon the Golden Verses of Pythagoras: "If through a shameful ignorance of the immortality of the human soul, a man should persuade himself that his soul dies with his body, he expects what can never happen; in like manner he who expects that after death he shall put on the body of a beast and become an irrational animal because of his vices, or a plant because of his dulness and stupidity - such a man, I say, acting quite contrary to those who transform the essence of man into one of the superior beings, is infinitely deceived and absolutely ignorant of the essential form of the soul, which can never change; for being and continuing always man, it is only said to become God or beast by virtue or vice, though it cannot be either the one or the other." The following quotations give us true representations of Pythagoras' ideas on preexistence and rebirth. "Souls cannot die. They leave a former home, And in new bodies dwell and from them roam. Nothing can perish, all things change below, For spirits through all forms may come and go. ..... "Thus through a thousand shapes, the soul shall go And thus fulfil its destiny below. Death has no power the 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. So I myself (well I the past recall)...." Pythagoras regarded rebirth as a gradual process of purification and taught that the soul by reason of nobility of character gained by struggles upon earth was destined to be exalted eventually into far higher modes of life. "Imagination," he explained: "....is the remembrance of precedent spiritual, mental, and physical states, while fancy is the disorderly production of the material brain. "Man is perfected first by conversing with gods, which he can do only when he abstains from evil and strives to resemble divine natures; secondly, by doing good to others, which is an imitation of the gods; thirdly, by leaving the mortal body. "By our separation from the Deity, we lost the wings which raised us towards

celestial beings and were thus precipitated into the region of death where all evils dwell. By putting away earthly passions and devoting ourselves to virtue, our wings will be renewed and we shall rise to that existence where we shall find the true good without any admixture of evil. "The soul of man being between spirits who always contemplate the Divine Essence and those who are incapable of contemplating it, can raise itself to the one, or sink itself to the other. "Every quality which a man acquires originates a good or bad spirit, which abides by him in this world and after death remains with him as a companion." Pythagoras taught that man is a microcosm, a compendium of the universe, with a triple nature, composed of (1) an immortal spirit, the Spiritual Soul, intuitive perception, the Nous, a portion of the Deity; (2) a human intelligence, the Human Soul, the rational principle, the Phren; and (3) the sensitive irrational nature, the Animal Soul, the seat of the passions and desires, the Thymos. The Nous and the Thymos, he stated, are common to man and the lower animals, but the Phren, which in its higher aspect is immortal, is peculiar to man. "The immortal mind of man is as much more excellent than his sensitive irrational nature as the sun is more excellent than the stars." The physical body is but a temporary garment of the soul, into which "the Nous enters from without." "The sense perceptions are deceptive." "The principle of life is about the heart, but the principle of reason and intelligence in the head." Pythagoras added that at death the ethereal part of man freed from the chains of matter is conducted by Hermes Psychopompos, the Guide of Souls, into the region of the dead, where it remains in a state according to its merit until it is sent back to earth to inhabit another body. The object of rebirth is gradually to purify the soul by successive probations, until finally it shall be fitted to return to the immortal source whence it emanated. (5) The Earth and the Universe It is well-known that the ideas expressed by Plato in his Timaeus, the dialog which he named after his Pythagorean teacher, are derived almost entirely from Pythagorean sources. Therefore it is probable that Pythagoras taught about the earlier continents, which were destroyed alternately by fire and water, and in particular about the legends of Atlantis, including the account of an Atlantean invasion of Greece about 10,000 years B.C. before the Greeks lived in the Greek lands - an invasion which was repelled by the inhabitants of prehistoric Athens, who were akin to the ancient Egyptians. In regard to our solar system, Pythagoras knew not only that the earth is spherical, but also taught that the sun, likewise spherical, not the earth, is the center - a theory rediscovered more than 2000 years later by Copernicus and Galileo. Pythagoras also explained the obliquity of the ecliptic, the causes of eclipses, that the morning and evening star are the same, that the moon shines by light reflected from the sun, and that the Milky Way is composed of stars. He held that "the Universe has neither height nor depth but is infinite in extent," that "....there is a void outside the Universe into which the Universe breathes forth and from which it breathes in...."

and that "....the Universe is brought into being by the Deity and is perishable so far as its shape is concerned, for it is perceived by sense, is therefore material, but that (its Essence) will not be destroyed." Pythagoras declared that all nature is animate, for "....Soul is extended through the nature of all things and is mingled with them...." and he believed in one Deity, ruling and upholding all things. "There is One Universal Soul diffused through all things - eternal, invisible, unchangeable; in essence like Truth, in substance resembling Light; not to be represented by any image; to be comprehended only by the Nous; not, as some conjecture, exterior to the Universe, but in itself entire, pervading the sphere which is the Universe." From this One Universal Soul proceed Spiritual Intelligences, above, below, and inclusive of man; the subtle ether out of which they are formed becoming more and more gross, the further it is removed from the divine Source. He classified these Hosts or Hierarchies of Spiritual Intelligences into gods or major divinities, daemones or lesser divine beings of good and bad natures, and thirdly heroes or disembodied human souls, "immortal minds in luminous bodies," in position intermediate between men and the daemones. He declared "the whole air is filled with souls." H.P. Blavatsky says: "In the Pythagorean Theurgy these hierarchies of the Heavenly Host and the gods were expressed numerically." The Pythagoreans believed that the forces of nature were spiritual entities. They taught that there are ten spheres formed by the Heavenly bodies, those of Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, the fixed Stars, the Sun, the Moon, the Earth, and the Counter-earth or the Antichthon, about which little has come down to us but which is presumably connected with "the riddle of the Eighth Sphere." Furthermore the Pythagoreans taught that there were ten cardinal pairs of opposites or ten antithetical principles, which constitute the elements or Stoicheia of the Universe, namely, (1) the limited and the unlimited; the finite and the infinite; (2) the One and the Many; (3) light and darkness; (4) good and bad; (5) rest and motion; (6) the masculine and the feminine; (7) the straight and the crooked; (8) the odd and the even; (9) the square and the oblong; and (10) the right and the left. (Vol. 1, pp. 52-56, 130-42) --------------Pythagorean Geometery - H. T. Edge Das Theorem des Pythagoras, wiederbergestellt in seiner ursprunglichen Form und betrachtet als Grundlage der ganzen pythagoreischen Philosophie. (The Theorem of

Pythagoras, restored in its original form and considered as the foundation of the entire Pythagorean philosophy.) Von Dr. H.A. Naber, Lehrer an der Staatsrealschule erster Ordnung zu Hoorn (Holland). Haarlem, 1908. This book may be taken as one among many signs of the new Renaissance or revival of ancient knowledge. That Renaissance which gave us the ancient classics was only partial; for we have yet to understand them. Pythagoras we have never understood. H.P. Blavatsky speaks of him in terms of the highest reverence, as having been a great Teacher of the Secret, initiated in India, and founder of a school of esoteric philosophy in the Grecian world. His symbols and maxims are referred to continually by her. Other writers have also recognized him more or less as having been something more than he is usually considered to have been. The author of the present volume is not original in this respect; but he has been genuinely struck by the wisdom of Pythagoras, and has described the results of his studies and reflections in a way that is fresh. He has given us a number of mathematical details which will be found very useful in enabling us better to realize what we already believe about Pythagoras. It would require much erudition in the subject to be able to state how far the ideas of this author are original; so many have worked in this field. He tells us at the beginning that he saw the forty-seventh proposition of Euclid thrown on a lantern-screen at a lecture and was struck by what was evidently a flash of intuition. The illuminated picture seems to have hit him in a new way and to have started him asking: "What does it all mean, anyway?" The picture had been thrown through a piece of gypsum, on which the diagram was drawn; and the polarized light gave different bright colors to the different squares. The audience applauded, for they too were struck. Why did they applaud? Was it not, says the author, because they recognized a truth? We agree with him, and add that there is a racial memory as well as an individual memory, and that this often preserves truths which are not perceived by the mind but yet are recognized intuitively by a faculty beyond the mind. What did Pythagoras mean by his theorem? As the author shows, he did not mean a mere geometrical theorem but something far more important. The author reproaches the innumerable geometers and writers of school-books who have labored to "demonstrate" this theorem, which he regards as a proposition that should be self-evident and require no demonstration. He gives it therefore in a form in which it is self-evident, as follows. Passing over the particular case of square areas, he takes the general proposition - that if similar figures be described on the sides of a right-angled triangle, the figure on the hypotenuse is equal in area to the sum of the figures on the perpendiculars. By taking a right triangle and dropping a perpendicular from the rightangle to the hypotenuse we obtain three similar triangles, each of which is similarly described on one of the three sides of the original triangle; and it is obvious that one triangle is the sum of the other two. Thus the proposition becomes self-evident without proof. Euclid has something similar in his book on proportionals.

[Figure 1. Right triangles giving rise to a logarithmic spiral.] The Pythagoreans taught that the hypotenuse is equal in power (dunamiz) to the other two sides put together; and, referring to the 3-4-5 triangle, that the number 5 is equal in power to 3 and 4 together; 3 is father, 4 mother, and 5 offspring. It may be observed that 7 is the sum of 3 and 4, and is produced by the same two lines with an angle of 180'. The author attaches great importance to the significance of the word "gnomon." This is generally applied only to that figure which, when added to a square, turns it into a larger square; but the author extends the meaning so as to include any figure which, when added to a given figure, produces a figure similar to the given figure. Thus, if a right triangle be divided into two similar right triangles, then each of these latter is a gnomon to the other. And the process, being continued indefinitely, gives us an endless series of smaller and smaller triangles. Also, by reversing this process, and applying gnomons (that is, similar triangles) to the initial triangle, we can get an endless series of larger and larger triangles. By connecting up the corresponding points in these various triangles, we obtain logarithmic spirals; and the author obtains some spirals which are identical with those found on ancient monuments. One of these is the double right-and-left spiral of the Ram's horns, sacred to Jupiter Ammon, the sign of Aries, and found also on the Ionic column. We observe, by the way, that if the two horns are drawn so as to curve towards instead of away from each other, the sign of Taurus is obtained. The Ammonite, a well-known fossil, is a spiral curve, and the Nautilus is another. The Nautilus form can be readily drawn by means of a series of right triangles described in the above way. (See figures 1 and 2 herewith.)

[Figure 2. Right triangles and Nautilus.] The author thinks that Pythagoras was formulating in this way his doctrine of Evolution, as to which he says "Pythagoras taught geometry as a kind of introduction to a doctrine of emanation or evolution." The author's favorite triangle is that of the regular decagon; for the side and base of this are in the proportion of 1: v5-1 / 2, which is that of a line divided in extreme and mean ratio, or the Sectio Divina, or golden ratio. Much importance is attached to this wonderful ratio, which forms, in the author's opinion, one of the most vital parts of the Pythagorean teachings. Those who have studied it are aware of its wonderful properties. If a line, whose length is one unit, be divided so that one part equals V5-1 / 2, then the small part is to the large part as the large part is to the whole line. The parts are approximately .618 and .382. Thus .382, .618, and 1 are in geometrical proportion; and the next two terms of the series are 1.618 and 2.618. Any term of the series can be obtained by adding together the two preceding terms. If we take the numbers 1 and 2 and add them, we get 3; then 2 and 3 make 5; 3 and 5 make 8; 5 and 8 make 13; and so on.

And these numbers approximate more nearly as we go higher, to the golden ratio. The decagon triangle is called the triply isosceles triangle, because it can be divided into two isosceles triangles, one similar to itself, the other dissimilar. These two kinds of triangles have their angles 36, 72, 72, and 36, 36, 108. One of them is acute, the other blunt. The acute one may be called positive, the blunt negative. The author calls the pair of them Castor and Pollux, or Gemini. The obtuse triangle can also be divided into three one acute and two obtuse, making something like a Balance. We have noticed also the following remarkable fact (not in the book, we believe). By adding the negative triangle to the positive, either another positive or another negative triangle is produced. The resultant triangle is positive if the negative element in its composition is in excess, and negative if the positive element is in excess. (See figures 3, 4, 5.)

[Figure 3. The triply isosceles triangle divided into a (similar) acute triangle and an obtuse triangle. Showing also how the acute and obtuse triangles together make an acute triangle. [Figure 4. The obtuse triangle divided into one acute and two obtuse triangles and suggesting the Balance. [Figure 5. Showing how the acute and obtuse triangles together make an obtuse triangle.] The three problems of the squaring of the circle the duplicature of the cube and the trisection of an angle, are all considered; and the use of the curve known as the "limacon" in trisecting the angle is shown. An ancient ratio for pi was [the square root of 10.] It is found in Egypt and also in the Surya-Siddhanta. Its use in the latter is puzzling, since it is by no means a good approximation, and the other calculations in that work are so marvelously exact. One feels that there lurks some mystery behind the use of this value by those who so evidently knew better. It is the hypotenuse of a right triangle of 1 and 3. The author has a good deal to say about the Pyramid of Cheops, referring to Piazzi Smyth, Petrie, and others, and mentioning that the periphery of the base is supposed to be 2pi, times the height. As to his own theory - the angle of inclination of the Pyramid is given by some authorities as 51' 50", and this he finds to be the angle given by a right triangle, one of whose perpendiculars is .618... of the hypotenuse. A great many geometrical figures, series, and ancient ornaments are considered, and the geometry of the regular polyhedra is touched upon. Under "Evolution" the author maintains that the generating of a series of triangles by the successive addition of similar triangles (that is, gnomons), and the drawing of spirals thereby, was for Pythagoras a symbol of all growth and evolution. It is evident that by letting the spirals proceed in a third dimension, we shall get helices, and the growth of plants is at once suggested. The shapes of leaves, including even their apparent irregularities, can be thus explained geometrically. It would be possible to follow the author's suggestions endlessly and to apply them to shapes in all the kingdoms of nature, as well as (by extending the analogy)

to formless ideas. The following gives a good idea of the author's thesis: "If I interpret rightly the scanty remains of Pythagorism, there was, according to him, originally only one point, of atomic smallness. It had the form of a triply isosceles triangle. [An isosceles triangle which divides into two other isosceles triangles - the decagon triangle.] It was an ensouled point. It drew Space magnetically to itself, and a surface was built, like an ice-sheet on tranquil water. On the analogy of the formation of the icosahedron from the pentagonal figures this surface absorbed into itself matter; took on, like a kind of bubble, a third dimension." The remark about the atom being ensouled, which we have italicized, will especially remind the reader of H.P. Blavatsky, who, in passages too numerous for citation, insists upon the fact that the atom of the ancient philosophers was not a physical speck or a geometrical figment but a living entity - the only kind of entity there can be, unless there can be dead entities. They knew full well that the rudiment, the unit, of manifestation must be a living conscious Soul. They had never obfuscated their minds with fruitless efforts to conceive the inconceivable by endowing metaphysical abstractions with a fictitious reality. They knew that the properties of matter are nothing in themselves, but are simply properties - properties of something that has real existence. Such a work is difficult to review adequately; the writer is concise; one would have to reproduce whole chapters. We must be content to supplement a brief summary and some general remarks by a few choice references. The word "Theorem" is derived from a Greek word meaning "to see"; yet it is nowadays regarded as something which has to be proved - something not obvious. Pythagoras, by cutting a right triangle into two similar ones, rendered his theorem (as to the areas of similar figures described on the sides) selfevident. Since then some mathematicians have labored to demonstrate this theorem, and thereby earn the scorn of the writer. If we make a small square and call its area 1, and make larger squares by affixing gnomons with areas 3, 5, 7, etc., thus making the squares 4, 9, 16, etc., then the number 1 is seen to be at once a square and a gnomon. It is androgyne. Referring again to the subject of the gnomon, the author quotes Philolaus to the effect that: "Knowledge is possible only when between the soul and the essence of the object there exists a relation similar to that which the gnomon has." It is interesting to note that the Greeks, when they had any building to do, "did not, like us, stick in the straitwaistcoat of a metrical system, but chose their unit of area according to the immediate need." This of course is well known to every student of ancient building proportions. Plutarch is cited as saying that all bodies are divisible into elementary triangles. Here we may quote H.P. Blavatsky to the effect that "everything in nature appears under a triune aspect; everything is a multiplicity and trinity in unity, and is so represented by him [the Kabalist and Hermetic philosopher] symbolically in various geometrical figures." ("Sixpointed and Five-pointed Stars," The Theosophist, vol. II, no. 2.) Thus we have briefly summarized the author's principal points, and now add some remarks in comment. It is evident that he has received a touch of the real meaning of Pythagoras and his school, and that he has not been able to reduce all his intuitions to the mental plane. Innumerable books have been written by people with gleams of intuition, which they have endeavored to formulate; and these books are often very suggestive and often very obscure. Sometimes - though not in the present case - the author is a very indifferent mathematician, as judged by ordinary standards; and this circumstance still further impedes the conveying of his ideas. Readers of The Secret Doctrine will be familiar with the names of Ralston Skinner and Parker in connection with the quadrature and ancient measures of dimension, and with H.P. Blavatsky's criticisms thereupon.

That there is a mystery underlying the complex mass of ancient symbolism, geometric, mathematical, decorative, astronomical, musical, theogonic - what not - is very evident; and we need not trouble ourselves with those who find themselves able to regard it all as mere primitive superstition. But what is that mystery, and how is it to he plumbed? If one goes elaborately into the subject, one compiles a mass of erudition and discovers a number of curious "coincidences"; but instead of solving the mystery, these only open up new and wider fields. But what is worse one finds no useful direction for his studies and discoveries: he becomes bewildered and a mere crank. The fact is that he has not provided himself with some necessary key; he is exploring the country from afar without being able to pass the portal. He is playing with the most colossal jig-saw puzzle ever conceived, but can never stick more than two or three pieces together, and even they do not make anything that he can use. What was the key? To answer that question we need but turn to Pythagoras himself. We find that all his studies, unlike our own, had to be preceded by most strenuous and careful self-preparation, such as years of silence, abstinence in eating, and the like. This surely gives the clue. Perhaps these symbols contain meanings that cannot be conveyed to the mind in customary condition, but which strike the intuition like a flash when the whole nature has been purified and refined to the necessary quality. Perhaps these symbols are the alphabet and vocabulary of a mystic tongue that can be understood only by him whose ears have been duly prepared by long and arduous study. In The Secret Doctrine there is of course infinitely more about these matters than the writer has touched upon; but it would not be of much use to try to present any of it here. The same difficulty would arise; it might lead to an additional piling up of suggestive but unuseable lore. People need the key to understand such teachings. And that key is to be found in the ancient doctrine that wisdom is inseparable from conduct, and that discipline must precede knowledge. What is the etymology of the word "discipline," in any case? It means teaching. Geometry, as we know it now, is indeed something very different. On its applied side we have carried it to great perfection. In its purely theoretical aspect it is an entrancing mystery. But who ever thinks of connecting it with religion and conduct? Pythagoras is said to have kept secret the properties of certain geometrical forms. It is certainly no longer necessary to do so. But after all we are not sure what it was that he kept secret. We have inherited the tools of the Master and put them to such uses as we could devise; but we do not know how he used them. "Pythagoras learned his philosophy in India. Hence the similarity in the fundamental ideas of the ancient Brahamanical Initiates and the Pythagorists." So says H.P. Blavatsky in the place cited above, adding that: "Our authorities for representing the pentagram or five-pointed star as the microcosm, and the six-pointed double triangle as the macrocosm, are all the best known Western Kabalists - medieval and modern." And with regard to the double triangle: "So well known and widespread is this double sign that it may be found over the entrance door of the Lhakhang (temples containing Buddhic images and statues), in every Gong-pa (lamasery), and often over the relic-cupboard called in Tibet Doong-ting." It is manifest that this kind of geometry was an essential part of the sacred mysteries; and if the teachings of Pythagoras and other Greeks were only early attempts

at our kind of geometry where do these Buddhistic diagrams come in? But indeed such symbols are universal, as witness the Svastika, the Cross, and many others. Useless to us now (as we perhaps think), they evidently served an important purpose once. It is said that not all of the teachings in the Mysteries were oral. Much was taught by symbols, graphs, and scenic methods. (Vol. 6, pp. 233-40) ------------------The Modern Platonists and Theosophy - F. S. Darrow, PH.D. The interest of the student of Theosophy in the modern Platonists is due to the unmistakable fact that they belong to that "great and universal movement which has been active in all ages," of which the modern Theosophical Society is a part. This is easily established by calling attention to two of their cardinal tenets: that of the complete eternity and divinity of the spirit, and that of the superior reality of the inner spiritual world of thought as opposed to the outer world of physics. George of Trebizond, a man notoriously deceitful, vain, and envious, in a work composed before 1469, writes: "Lately has arisen amongst us a second Mahomet; and this second, if we do not take care, will exceed in greatness the first.... A disciple and rival of Plato in philosophy, in eloquence, and in science, he had fixed his residence in the Peloponnese. His common name was Gemistus but he assumed that of Pletho. Perhaps Gemistus, to make us believe more easily that he was descended from heaven and to engage us to receive more readily his doctrine and his new law, wished to change his name, according to the manner of the ancient patriarchs; of whom it is said, that at the time the name was changed they were called to the greatest things. He has written with no vulgar art and with no common elegance. He has given new rules for the conduct of life, and for the regulation of human affairs.... He was so zealous a Platonist that he entertained no other sentiments than those of Plato concerning the nature of the gods, souls, sacrifices, et cetera. I have heard him myself, when we were together at Florence, say that in a few years all men on the face of the earth would embrace with one common consent and with one mind a single and simple religion at the first instructions which should be given by a single preaching. And when I asked him if it would be that of the churches or that of Mahomet he answered, 'neither the one nor the other, but a third which will not greatly differ from the religion of olden time.'" This account is, of course, a slanderous caricature. It has, however, decided interest because it refers to the founder of modern Platonism, the restorer of the philosophy of the Academy in Europe, Georgius Gemistus usually known as Pletho, one of the most celebrated of Byzantine writers who lived in the latter part of the fourteenth and in the early part of the fifteenth century. Although probably a native of Constantinople he passed most of his life at Sparta in Southern Greece. Such was the nobility of his character and the pre-eminence of his abilities that despite the fact that many enemies were aroused by the successful spread of Pletho's Theosophical teachings, these enemies were compelled, by the universal honor and respect in which he was held, to remain silent throughout the century of his useful and untiring activity. But scarcely had he died full of years and honors, than they gathered all their venom and found vociferous utterance for their abuse.

The Emperor Manuel Palaeologus appointed him in 1426 to one of the most influential of the offices of the Byzantine Court and in 1438 he was sent as a deputy of the Greek church to Florence where he was introduced to the famous Cosmo de' Medici, who, as a constant auditor at Pletho's lectures on Platonic philosophy, became so interested that he established the Florentine Academy "for the sole purpose of cultivating this new and more elevated species of philosophy." It was also due to Cosmo de' Medici that we now know of Gemistus as Pletho. The word Gemistus is a Greek surname signifying "filled," given him not out of mere flattery, as is attested by his many writings, but because of his extraordinary knowledge in nearly every branch of science. The origin of the second surname Pletho is that the admiration of the statesman for the scholar suggested that Gemistus must be Plato come again, thereby causing him to be known by his now more familiar surname of Pletho, a synonym of Gemistus, jestingly bestowed because of its similarity in sound to the word Plato. The lectures of Pletho at Florence attracted such widespread attention that he soon found himself the leader of a new school of philosophy in the west - a school, which numbered among its numerous disciples the celebrated Cardinal Bessarion and which continued to flourish even after its founder had returned to his native Greece. Pletho wrote a surprisingly large number of able treatises, dissertations, and compilations, concerning geography, history, philosophy, and religion. Of these works his masterpiece was his treatise On Laws, of which the general title ran as follows: "This book treats of the laws of the best form of government and what all men must observe in their public and private stations, to live together in the most perfect, the most innocent, and the most happy manner." It was divided into three books which have come down to us through the centuries only in fragments, for the treatise itself was condemned to the flames by Gennadius, the Patriarch of Constantinople, because, among other reasons enumerated by that ecclesiastical dignitary: "Pletho while speaking of the immortality of the soul argued to prove that in accordance with a system of reincarnation souls return to earth in new bodies, after certain definite periods of time." Many Theosophical teachings are to be found in the writings of the Florentine Platonists and especially in those of the learned and honored Marsilius Ficinus, the translator of Plato and Plotinus, president of the Platonic Academy. In fact, the treatise of Ficinus On the Immortality of the Soul, contains perhaps more arguments proving the soul's indestructibility than any other single work in existence. To treat our subject fully would require a study of the seventeenth-century Platonists at Cambridge, England; and the nineteenth century New England Transcendentalists and American Platonists, including such men as Dr. Hiram K. Jones of Jacksonville, Illinois, Dr. Alexander Wilder of New York, and Thomas M. Johnson of Osceola, Missouri; but the fact that we have on previous occasions already considered some of the Theosophical teachings as enunciated by Dr. Henry More of Cambridge and by Ralph Waldo Emerson and Amos Bronson Alcott of Concord, permits us to center our attention now upon one of the most prominent of the eighteenth century Platonists. Therefore, in the words of H.P. Blavatsky: "We will recur to the untiring labors of that honest and brave defender of the ancient faith, Thomas Taylor and his works.... His memory must be dear to every true Platonist, who seeks rather to learn the inner thought of the great philosopher than enjoy the mere external mechanism of his writings. Better classical translators may have rendered us in more correct phraseology Plato's words but Taylor shows us Plato's meaning.... As writes

Professor A. Wilder: 'It must be conceded that Taylor was endowed with a superior qualification - that of an intuitive perception of the interior meaning of the subjects which he considered. Others may have known more Greek, but he knew more Plato.'" (Isis Unveiled, II, 108-9) And surely this is no small merit in the eyes of those who appreciate the golden words of Sir Philip Sidney: "I had rather try to understand Plato than waste my time in vain efforts to refute him." Words of warning indeed, that some verbal critics of modern times have been all too ready to disregard. One of the best pen sketches which we possess of Thomas Taylor, the Platonist, is the following, which was written by his friend J.J. Welsh, and published when Mr. Taylor was in his seventy-third year: "He is of middle size, well proportioned and firmly put together; his countenance is regular, open, and benevolent. There is a dignified simplicity and unaffected frankness of manner about him which are sure to win the affections of all who have the pleasure of seeing him. In his dress he is simple and unpretending; in his conduct, irreproachable. Among friends he is unreserved and sincere; a determined foe to falsehood; and always ready to make sacrifices when the end to be obtained is worthy of a noble mind. I verily believe that no man had ever a more passionate love of virtue, a loftier aspiration after truth, or a more vehement zeal for its diffusion. His manners.... are peculiarly soft and graceful, alike destitute of pride, haughtiness, or vanity, which, together with his venerable appearance, never fail to inspire both love and reverence. Being gifted with a very extraordinary memory, he is not only enabled to retain the immense stores of knowledge which in the course of a long life, assiduously devoted to study, he has amassed, but to bring them into complete action at his will. Such is the comprehension and vigor of his mind that it can embrace the most extensive and difficult subjects; such the clearness of his conception that it enables him to contemplate a long and intricate series of argument with distinctness, and to express it with precision; an acute observer of men and manners, he possesses an inexhaustible fund of anecdote, so that the flow of his familiar chat, the cheerfulness of his disposition, and his easy communicativeness, are as attractive as his mental powers are commanding. Very rarely has an understanding of such strength and comprehension been found united with a heart so pure and ingenuous.... I have the honor to know him most intimately and can truly say that his whole conduct is in perfect harmony with the principles of his sublime philosophy; that his every thought is in accordance with the whole tenor of his blameless life and that his intentions are wholly unsullied by views of personal interest.... His very profound and extensive mathematical acquirements, his fine poetical taste and ready powers of versification, would have raised other men to distinction but in him are only the accompaniment of still higher gifts.... I do not think that I can more truly and concisely sum up the character of this great and good man, than by applying to him what Shakespeare's Mark Antony says of Brutus: "'His life is gentle; and the elements So mixed in him that Nature may stand up And say to all the world, This is a man!'" Taylor was in fact a poet of no mean talent, and in his Orphic hymns, as is justly declared by the same writer, "He has performed the very difficult task of translating them in a manner that reflects the greatest credit on his abilities, taste, and judgment. His ear for metrical harmony is exceedingly good and there is a rich yet varied melody in his versification

which often suggests the happiest efforts of Pope." The two leaders of the American Transcendentalists of Concord were both great admirers of Taylor and owed much to his labors. Thus Fmerson says: "Thomas Taylor the Platonist.... is really a better man of imagination, a better poet, or perhaps I should say a better feeder to a poet, than any man between Milton and Wordsworth." And Thomas Wentworth Higginson states his opinion as follows: "He is certainly one of the most unique and interesting figures in English literary history." Mr. Bridgeman wrote as early as 1804 of Mr. Taylor, that "It is to this gentleman that English literature owes the accession of some of the most valuable productions of ancient Greece, which are rendered doubly valuable by the elucidation and ample explanations which his intimate knowledge of the Platonic philosophy and laborious investigation of the early commentators have so well qualified him to give." Mr. Thomas M. Johnson declares enthusiastically of Taylor: "He had a profounder knowledge of the Platonic philosophy than any other man of modern times.... Today, amid the business, turmoil, and strife of this commercial age, Taylor's memory and character are reverenced and his monumental works studied and appreciated by hundreds of.... philosophic minds." Mr. Axon, the English biographer and critic, truly states: "Taylor's translations represent a side of Greek thought that but for him would be unrepresented in English literature. His books remain a mighty monument of disinterested devotion to philosophic study. They were produced without regard to and hopeless of profit. They are not addressed to popular instincts.... The gold that was in them the Platonist thought deserved the trouble of toilsome digging. "It must be acknowledged that a man who devotes himself to poverty and study in an age and country famous for the pursuit of wealth; who has the courage to adopt and the sincerity to avow opinions that are contrary to every prejudice of the time; runs the risk of persecution and imprisonment; a man who 'scorns delights and lives laborious days' is entitled to our admiration and respect, and such was Taylor the Platonist, whose name should be remembered by all friends of learning and freedom of thought." Thomas Taylor was born in London on the 15th of May, 1758, and died at his residence in Walworth on the first of November, 1835. His first essay was published in 1780, a pamphlet on mathematics, and his last work was a translation of some treatises of Plotinus, published in 1834. Therefore, it is evident that his literary activity extended over more than half a century. While a mere boy his interest was aroused in mathematics by discovering that negative quantities when multiplied together produce positive ones, and this love of mathematics was fostered by a close study of the works of Dr. Isaac Barrow of Cambridge. As a youth Taylor was trained in accordance with his father's wishes for the Dissenting ministry, with the result that when the young man was prevented from realizing his father's

plan both by aptitude and inclination he found himself compelled under the stress of parental anger to struggle continuously for several years against the privations of utter poverty, during which time he was able to study only at night, and consequently for many years seldom went to bed before two or three in the morning. Nevertheless he persevered steadily in the study of mathematics and of Platonism amid the most adverse circumstances. He began his acquaintance with philosophy by familiarizing himself with Aristotle and his Commentators, and then with Plato and his Interpreters. He paid the greatest attention to the ancient commentators, for he believed, as he was accustomed to say, that a man might as reasonably expect to comprehend Archimedes without first knowing Euclid, as to understand Aristotle and Plato, who wrote obscurely from design, without the aid of their ancient interpreters, and maintained that the folly of neglecting these invaluable storehouses of information was equaled only by the arrogance of such as pretended to despise them. In fact he believed so implicitly in the ancient Greek commentators that he contended that because of their neglect, the philosophy of Plato had not been completely understood for more than a thousand years. Mr. Taylor soon turned to the study of the works of Plotinus and Proclus whom he admired in the highest degree; he often said that he had learned the Greek language from his knowledge of Greek philosophy rather than the Greek philosophy through his knowledge of the Greek language. In fact, he could read a philosophic Greek manuscript, in which the accents were unindicated, almost with as much ease as a book in his native tongue. On December 12, 1788, Mr. Taylor received the following enthusiastic letter from the Marquis Valadi, then just of age. This eccentric nobleman was early filled with a love of liberty and philosophy, and went to England in search of simpler habits of life. This is the letter in an abridged form: "To Thomas Taylor, better named Lysis, G. Izarn Valadi, of late a French Marquis and Tanissaire, sendeth joy and honor: "O Thomas Taylor! mayest thou welcome a brother Pythagorean, led by a savior god to thy divine school. I have loved wisdom ever since a child, and have found the greatest impediments, and been forced to great struggles, before I could clear my way to the source of it; for I was born in a more barbarous country than ever was Elyria of old. My family never favored my inclination to study, and I have been involved in so many cares and troubles that it cannot be without the intervention of some friendly Deity that I have escaped the vile rust of barbarism and its attendant meanness of soul. My good fortune was that I met, eighteen months ago, an English gentleman of the name of Pigott, who is a Pythagorean philosopher..... "I met with thy works but two days past. A divine man! A prodigy in this iron age! Who would ever have thought thou couldst exist amongst us in our present condition? I would have gone to China for a man endowed with the tenth part of thy light. Oh, grant me to see thee and be initiated by thee! What happiness, if, like to Proclus Leonas, to thee, I, who feel living in myself the soul of Leonidas, could be a domestic! "My determination was to go and live in North America, from love of liberty, and there to keep a school of Temperance.... in order to preserve so, many men from the prevailing disgraceful vices of brutal intemperance and selfish cupidity. There, in progress of time, if those vices natural to a commercial country are found to thwart most of the blessings of liberty, the happy select ones, taught better discipline, may form a society by themselves - such a one as the gods would favor and visit lovingly - which could preserve true knowledge, and be a seminary and an asylum for the lovers of it.... "Music and gymnastics are sciences necessary for a teacher to possess - what a deep and various sense these two words contain - and I am a stranger to both. O Gods, who gave me the thought and the spirit, give me the means; for all things are from you."

Mr. Taylor, although he generously entertained the Marquis for several months in his own home, had but scant leisure to devote to such guests. He was never idle and his constant energy and steady perseverance enabled him to perform an amount of literary labor that has been equaled by but very few men. He published over sixty different works, or more than seventy volumes counting reprints, and was a frequent contributor to many English magazines. In 1791 he printed anonymously the first edition of his excellent and thought-stirring Dissertation on the Eleusinian and Bacchic Mysteries, which was very favorably received, especially by Continental scholars; but the greatest of his works - a translation of all the Dialogs and Epistles of Plato, with the bulk of their Neoplatonic Commentaries - did not appear until 1804. His translation of Aristotle, also entire, was the result of the incessant labor of six years. His translation of Pausanius was accomplished within ten months at the expense of his health, for during it he lost the use of his forefinger in writing. When, indeed, the task was undertaken, Mr. Samuel Patterson, the literary auctioneer, declared that "it was enough to break a man's heart." Whereupon the bookseller with whom he was conversing exclaimed, "Oh, nothing will break the heart of Mr. Taylor." Some days before his death the Platonist asked if a comet had appeared, and when told that it had, declared: "Then I shall die! I was born with and shall die with it." And in fact he did die early on Sunday morning, the first day of November, 1835, "an exile straying from the orb of light for seventy-seven long and weary years." His motto presents a striking similarity in thought with that of the present Theosophical Society. Compare: "My sire is mind, whose sons are always free," with: "There is no Religion higher than Truth." Both alike fearlessly challenge dogmatism in all its forms. A true Theosophist, Mr. Taylor was ever a courageous defender of the oppressed, fearless in his avowal of his beliefs and in his censures of wrong-doing and of wickedness, although thereby he had to run counter to many of the most firmly established prejudices of his time. "He desired no other reward of his labor than to see truth propagated in his native tongue." He explains: "As an apology for the boldness with which I have censured certain modern opinions it may be sufficient to observe that to reprobate foolish and impious notions, where there is nothing personal in the censure, is certainly the duty of every honest and liberal mind." And again: "As an apology for the freedom with which I have censured modern writers and modern opinions, I deem it will be sufficient to observe that, in the language of Socrates, 'bidding farewell to the honors of the multitude, and having my eye solely fixed upon truth, I will endeavor to live in the best manner I am able, and when I die, to die so'; which can never be accomplished by him who is afraid to oppose what he conceives to be false and averse to defend what he believes to be true." Within nine years of the commencement of his literary career he had boldly declared in print that he was "not ashamed to own himself a perfect convert to the religion of ancient Greece in every particular so far as it was understood and illustrated by the Pythagoric and Platonic philosophers."

This sincerity immediately stirred up a veritable tempest of abuse which lasted for half a century, or rather for much longer, since it did not cease with his death. Although thus subject to all the venomous shafts of intolerance and bigotry, Mr. Taylor usually maintained a dignified silence, content to let the nobility of all his actions refute the slanders far more completely than mere words, for as he truly and eloquently states: "My views have been liberal in the publication and my mental advantages considerable from the study of ancient philosophy. Amidst the various storms of a life distinguished by outrage and disease it has been a never-failing support and inviolable retreat. It has smoothed the brow of care and dispelled the gloom of despondence; sweetened the bitterness of grief and lulled agony to rest. After reaping much valuable advantage from its acquisition I am already rewarded, though my labors should be unnoticed by the present and future generation. The lyre of true philosophy is no less tuneful in the desert than in the city, and he who knows how to call forth its latent harmony in solitude will not want the testimony of the multitude to convince him that its melody is ecstatic and divine. "Untamed by toils, unmoved by spite, Truth to disseminate I still shall write. "My principal object has been to unfold all the abstruse and sublime teachings of Plato, as they are found dispersed in his works.... Let it be my excuse that the mistakes I may have committed in lesser particulars have arisen from my eagerness to seize and promulgate those great truths in the philosophy and theology of Plato, which though they have been concealed for ages.... have a subsistence coeval with the universe, and will again be restored and flourish for very extended periods through all the infinite revolutions of time." Truly an eloquent tribute to the truths of Theosophy, "wisdom old as time." And again in speaking of the philosophy in accordance with which the ancient mysteries were developed, he adds: "It is coeval with the universe itself; and, however its continuity may be broken by opposing systems, it will make its appearance at different periods of time, as long as the sun himself shall continue to illuminate the world. It has indeed, and may hereafter, be violently assaulted by delusive opinions; but the opposition will be just as imbecile as that of the waves of the sea against a temple built on a rock, which majestically pours them back, "Broken and vanquished, foaming to the main." Still another testimony to the wonderful help and comfort afforded by the truths of Theosophy, which were to him, a source of the most solid consolation and incentive to disinterested endurance. They taught him to submit patiently to the will of heaven, to follow intrepidly the order of the universe and to abandon private advantage for the general good. How accurately do the following words describe the unique peculiarity of the Theosophical philosophy, namely: "That it is no less scientific than sublime; and that by a geometrical series of reasoning, originating from the most self-evident truths, it develops all the progressions from the ineffable principle of things and accurately exhibits to our view all the links of that

golden chain of which Deity is the one extreme and the body the other. "The true man is intellect [or Spirit].... the most excellent part of man, and the body is nothing more than the instrument of the rational soul, and external possessions are, indeed, the good of the body but are totally foreign to the exalted good of the mind." We cannot do better than end this sketch of the life of Thomas Taylor with a few extracts from his creed, which he says was intended to point, "a synoptical view of that sublime theology [or Theosophy] which was.... promulgated by Orpheus, Pythagoras, and Plato, and unfolded by their legitimate disciples - a theology which however it may be involved in oblivion in barbarous and derided in impious ages, will again flourish.... through all the infinite revolutions of time." And in this creed we shall see that the teachings of Karma and Reincarnation occupy a most important place. "I believe in one First Cause of all things, whose nature is so immensely transcendent that it is even super-essential (i.e., beyond the realm of existence): and that in consequence of this it cannot properly either be named, or spoken of, or conceived by opinion, or be known or perceived by any being.... "I believe, however, that if it be lawful to give a name to that which is truly ineffable, the appellations of The One, and The Good, are of all others the most adapted to it; the former of these names indicating its transcendent simplicity as the Principle of all things, and the latter indicating that it is the ultimate desire of all things.... "I believe that man is a microcosm, comprehending in himself partially everything which the world contains divinely and totally.... "I believe that the rational part of man in which his essence consists is of a selfmotive nature and that it subsists between intellect [or spirit], which is immovable both in essence and energy, and nature [or matter], which both moves and is moved. "I believe that the human soul as well as every mundane soul [every entity which is subject to birth upon earth] uses periods and restitutions of its proper life [i.e., is governed by the Cyclic Law]. "For in consequence of being measured by time it energizes transitively [i.e., swings back and forth like the pendulum] and possesses a proper motion [i.e., a motion peculiar to its own being]. But everything which is moved perpetually and participates of time, revolves periodically, and proceeds from the same to the same.... "I also believe that the soul while an inhabitant of earth is in a fallen condition, an apostate from Deity, an exile from the orb of light, and that she can only be restored while on earth to the divine likeness and be able after death to reascend to the Intelligible [or spiritual] world by the exercise of the cleansing and theoretic virtues [namely, those which produce soul-insight], the former purifying her from the defilements of a mortal nature and the latter elevating her to a vision of true being.... [This refers to the pre-existence and rebirth of the soul and to the Theosophical teachings as to involution and evolution.] "I believe that the human soul essentially contains all knowledge, and whatever knowledge she acquires in the present life is nothing more than a recovery of what she once possessed, and which discipline evocates [calls forth] from its dormant retreats. "I also believe that the human soul on its departure from the present life will [later] pass into other earthly bodies.... but the rational part never becomes the soul of an irrational nature. "I believe that as the divinities are eternally good and profitable but are never noxious and ever subsist in the same uniform mode of being, that we are conjoined with them through similitude when we are virtuous, but separated from them by dissimilitude

when we are vicious. That while we live according to virtue we partake of the gods, but cause them to become our enemies when we become evil; not that they are angry - for anger is a passion, and they are impassive - but because guilt prevents us from receiving the illuminations of the gods, and subjects us to the powers of avenging Spiritual agencies. Hence, I believe that if we obtain pardon of our guilt.... we neither appease the gods, nor cause any mutation to take place in them; but by our conversion to a divine nature we apply a remedy to our own vices, and again become partakers of the goodness of the gods, so that it is the same thing to assert, that Divinity is turned from the evil, as to say that the Sun is concealed from those who are deprived of sight.... "I also believe that the soul is punished in a future for the crimes she has committed in the present life; but that this punishment is proportioned to the crimes, and is not perpetual; Divinity punishing, not from anger or revenge, but in order to purify the guilty soul, and restore her to the proper perfection of her nature." (Vol. 5, pp. 99-109) -----------------Plato, The Theosophist - F. S. Darrow, A.M., Ph.D. (Harv.) "Immortal Plato, justly named divine, What depth of thought, what energy is thine! Whose godlike soul an ample mirror seems, Strongly reflecting Mind's celestial beams: Whose periods so redundant roll along Grand as the ocean, as the torrent strong." 1 H.P. Blavatsky says: "For the old Grecian sage there was a single object of attainment - Real Knowledge. He considered those only to be genuine philosophers, or students of truth, who possess the knowledge of the really existing in opposition to the merely seeming; of the always existing in opposition to the transitory; and of that which exists permanently in opposition to that which wanes and is developed and destroyed alternately." 2 Therefore, in the truest sense, Plato was a student of Divine Wisdom - a Theosophist. "Out of Plato come all things that are still written and debated among men of thought.... One would say that his forerunners had mapped out each a farm or a district or an island in the intellectual geography, but that Plato first drew the sphere." 3 In modern times although generally misunderstood, the founder of the Academy has had at least one true interpreter, Thomas Taylor, who is referred to by H.P. Blavatsky as "that honest and brave defender of the ancient faith whose memory must be dear to every true Platonist." 4 And again in her words: "There are hundreds of expressions in the Platonic Dialogues, which no modern translator or commentator - save one, Thomas Taylor - has ever correctly understood." 5 Plato came to fulfil and not to destroy the Law and the Prophets, and his words were not his own but the words of those that sent him. Therefore he represents Sokrates as saying just before his death: "My words, too, are only an echo; but there is no reason why I should not repeat

what I have heard; and indeed, as I am going to another place it is very meet for me to be thinking and talking of the Pilgrimage which I am about to make." 6 1. Plato's teachings in regard to the Absolute Deity. Plato teaches that "beyond all finite existences and secondary causes, all laws, ideas, and principles, there is an Intelligence or Mind (the Spirit), the First Principle of all principles, the Supreme Idea on which all other ideas are grounded; the Monarch and Lawgiver of the universe; the ultimate Substance from which all other things derive their being and essence, the First and Efficient Cause of all the order, and harmony, and beauty, and excellency, and goodness which pervade the universe - called by way of preeminence and excellence the Supreme Good - 'the God over all.' 7 "As every pool reflects the image of the sun, so every thought and thing restores an image of the Supreme." 8 In the words of Thomas Taylor, Plato and the Platonists "believe in one First Cause of all things whose nature is so immensely transcendent that it is even superessential (i.e. beyond and above the realm of existence); and that in consequence of this it cannot properly either be named or spoken of, or conceived by opinion or be known or perceived by any being.9 "This immense principle is superior even to being Itself; exempt from the whole of things, of which it is nevertheless ineffably the Source.10 "If it be lawful to give a name to that which is truly ineffable, the appellations of the One and the Good are of all others the most adapted to it; the former of these names indicating its transcendent simplicity as the Principle of all things, and the latter indicating that it is the ultimate desire of all things.11 "However, these appellations are in reality nothing more than the parturitions of the soul, standing as it were on the vestibule of the Adytum of Deity, and announce nothing pertaining to the Ineffable, but only indicate the spontaneous tendencies of the soul towards It." 12 It is thus evident that this Platonic conception of the Supreme Deity is identical with the first fundamental of Theosophy, defined by H.P. Blavatsky as "an omnipresent, eternal, boundless and immutable Principle, on which all speculation is impossible since it transcends the power of human conception and could only be dwarfed by any human expression or similitude."11 2. Plato's teachings in regard to the Cyclic Law and the Periodical Catastrophes. The second fundamental is stated by H.P. Blavatsky to be "the eternity of the Universe in toto as a boundless plane; periodically 'the playground of numberless universes incessantly manifesting and disappearing.'" 12 For in the words of Plato: "....if generation were in a straight line only and there were no compensation or cycle in nature, no turn or return into one another, then you know that all things would at last have the same form and would pass into the same state and there would be no more any generation of them." 13 "There have been and will be again, many destructions of mankind arising out of many causes; the greatest have been brought about by the agencies of fire and water and the lesser by innumerable other causes.14 "Stranger: Do you believe that there is any truth in the ancient traditions? "Kleinias: What traditions? "Stranger: The traditions about the destructions of mankind occasioned by deluges and by pestilence and in many other ways, and of the survival of a remnant?

"Kleinias: Every one is disposed to believe them. "Stranger: Let us consider one of them which was caused by the famous deluge."
15

"There occurred violent earthquakes and floods; and in a single day and night of rain - the island of Atlantis - disappeared and was sunk beneath the waves. And that is the reason why the sea in those parts is impassable and impenetrable because there is such a quantity of shallow mud in the way; and this was caused by the subsidence of the island."
16

3. Plato's teachings in regard to Karma, the nature of the Individual Soul, its Pre-existence, and Rebirth. Plato emphatically affirms the doctrine that the soul is judged unerringly and recompensed exactly according to its merit or demerit, for "Justice always accompanies the Deity and is the punisher of those who fall short of the Divine Law." 17 "To go to Hades with a Soul full of crimes is the worst of all evils." 18 "When a man dies he possesses in the Other World a destiny suited to the life which he lived here." 19 "And again, "we shall in Hades suffer the punishment for our misdeeds here." 20 "The Deity ought to be to us the measure of all things.... And he who would be dear to God must, as far as possible, be like Him and such as He is." 21 "Of all things which a man has, next to the Gods, his soul is the most Divine and most truly his own." 22 "We are plants not of earth but of Heaven." 23 Sir Thomas Browne, the author of Religio Medici, is echoing Plato when he declares: "There is surely a piece of Divinity in us: something that was before the elements and that owes no homage unto the sun!" "In the human soul there is a better and a worse principle; and when the better has the worse under control, then a man is said to be master of himself." 24 Thoroughly Platonic also is the following magnificent passage of Plotinos thus translated by the Cambridge Platonist, John Smith: "Having first premised this Principle "That every Divine thing is immortal!" (saith Plotinos), let us consider a Soul not such a one as is immerst into the Body, having contracted unreasonable Passions and Desires; but such a one as hath cast away these, and as little as may be communicates with the Body: such a one as this will sufficiently manifest that all vice is unnaturall to the Soul, and something acquired only from abroad; and that the best Wisdome and all other Vertues lodge in a purged Soul, as being allyed to it. If therefore such a Soul shall reflect upon itself; how shall it not appear to itself to be of such a kind of nature as Divine and Eternall Essences are? For Wisdome and true Vertue being Divine Effluxes can never enter into any unhallowed and mortall thing; it must therefore needs be Divine, seeing it is fill'd with a Divine nature by its kindred and consanguinity therewith. Whoever therefore amongst us is such a one, differs but little in his Soul from Angelicall Essences; and that little is the present inhabitation in the Body, in which he is inferiour to them. And if every man were of this raised temper, or any considerable number had but such holy Souls, there would be no such Infidels as would in any sort disbelieve the Soul's Immortality. But now the vulgar sort of men beholding the Souls of the generality so mutilated and deform'd with vice and wickedness they cannot think of the Soul as of any Divine and Immortall Being; though indeed they ought to judge of things as they are in their own naked essences, and not with respect to that which extraessentially adheres to them; which is the great prejudice of knowledge. Contemplate therefore the Soul of man, denuding it of all which itself is not, or let him that does this view his own Soul: then he will believe it to be Immortall, when he shall behold it, fixt in an Intelligible and pure nature; he shall then behold his own Intellect contemplating not any

Sensible thing, but Eternall things, with that which is Eternall, that is, with itself, looking into the Intellectual World, being itself made all Lucid, Intellectuall, and Shining with the Sunbeams of Eternall Truth, borrowed from the First Good, which perpetually rayeth forth his Truth upon all Intellectual Beings. One thus qualified may seem without any arrogance to take up that Saying of Empedocles - 'Farewell all earthly allies, I am henceforth no mortall wight, but an Immortall Angel,' ascending up unto Divinity, and reflecting upon that Likeness of It which I find in myself. When true Sanctity and Purity shall ground him in the knowledge of Divine things, then shall the Inward Sciences, that arise from the bottome of his own Soul, display themselves; which indeed are the only true Sciences; for the Soul runs not out of itself to behold Temperance and Justice abroad, but its own Light sees them in the contemplation of its own Being, and that Divine Essence, which was before enshrined within itself." 25 Plato, therefore, as every true Theosophist, teaches the complete Immortality of the Soul, its birthlessness as well as its deathlessness. Formerly, it dwelt in the world of Divine Ideas amid the essential realities whose shifting shadows alone are now beheld upon earth in the present condition of bodily imprisonment; but in the Empyrean is the glorious world of Incorruptible Truth, Beauty, and Goodness, the Abode of the Gods, and the native land of the human Soul, now a banished Pilgrim in this physical world of ours. With true Platonic insight Maximus Tyrius says: "The very thing which the multitude call death is the birth into a new life and the beginning of Immortality." 26 "And Plotinos declares: "The body is the true River of Lethe; for souls plunged in it, forget all." Plato states that: "The ancient doctrine.... affirms that the souls of men go from this world into the Other and return hither and are born from the dead. 27 The living come from the dead just as the dead come from the living.28 I have heard from certain wise men and women who spoke of things Divine that the soul of man is immortal, and at one time has an end, which is termed dying, and at another time is born again, but is never destroyed. And the moral is that a man ought to live always in perfect righteousness. For in the ninth year 29 Persephone sends the souls of those from whom she has received the penalty for 'the ancient crime' back again into the light of this world and these are those who become noble kings and mighty men, great in wisdom and are called holy heroes in after ages. 30 The soul, then as being immortal and having been born again many times and having seen all things that are, whether in this world or in the world of unembodied spirits, has knowledge of them all and it is no wonder that she should be able to call to remembrance all that she ever knew about virtue and about everything, for as all nature is akin and the soul has learned all things, there is no difficulty in her eliciting or as men say learning all out of a single recollection, if a man is strenuous and does not faint; for all inquiry and all learning is but recollection.31 And if the truth of all things always existed in the soul, then the soul is immortal. Wherefore be of good cheer and try to recollect what you do not know or rather do not remember." 32 In regard to the Platonic teaching that knowledge is soul-recollection Thomas Taylor says with great appropriateness: "Our looking into ourselves when we are endeavoring to discover any truth, evinces that we inwardly contain truth, though concealed in the darkness of oblivion. The delight, too, which attends our discovery of truth, sufficiently proves that this discovery is nothing more than a recognition of something most eminently allied to our nature, and which had been, as it were, lost in the middle space of time, between our former knowledge of the truth and the recovery of that knowledge. For the perceptions of a thing perfectly unknown

and unconnected with our natures, would produce terror instead of delight; and things are pleasing only in proportion as they possess something known and domestic to the natures by which they are known." 33 It is ordinarily claimed that Plato taught transmigration, that is, the possible passing of a human soul into animal bodies, but in this connection it is noteworthy that the passages quoted in substantiation of this claim occur in the Platonic eschatological myths, which Plato himself warns us should be interpreted symbolically and figuratively, not literally. In consequence of this fact we are certainly justified in interperting Plato's teachings in accordance with those of Theosophy which in the words of H.P. Blavatsky affirms "that nature never proceeds backward in her evolutionary progress. Once that man has evolved from every kind of lower forms - the mineral, vegetable, animal kingdoms into the human form, he can never become an animal except morally and hence metaphorically." 34 Therefore the ancient Neo-Platonist Sallust declares: "The Rational Part of man never becomes the soul of an irrational nature, but the truth of rebirth is shown by the environments of individuals at birth; for (how else is it possible to explain) why some are born blind, others imbecile, and others with vicious souls? And, besides, since souls are naturally fitted to perform their own peculiar functions in bodies, it is not appropriate that when they have once left a body they should thereafter remain indolent forever." 35 Similarly, another ancient Neo-Platonist, Hierokles, in his Commentaries upon the Golden Verses of Pythagoras, explains that "If through a shameful ignorance of the Immortality of the human soul, a man persuades himself that his soul will die with his body, he supposes what can never happen; also he who believes that after his death he shall put on the body of a beast and become an irrational animal because of his vices, or a plant because of his dullness and stupidity - such a man.... is infinitely deceived and absolutely ignorant of the essential form of the soul, which can never change; for being and continuing always man, it is only said to become God or beast by virtue or vice, though it cannot be either the one or the other." The teachings of Plato in regard to the human soul when thus interpreted are in full accord with the third and last basic truth of Theosophy: "....the fundamental identity of all souls with the Universal Over-Soul, the latter being itself an aspect of the Unknown Root; and the obligatory pilgrimage for every soul a spark of the former - through the Cycle of Incarnation or 'Necessity' in accordance with Cyclic and Karmic Law." 36 Therefore Plato is in the fullest sense a Theosophist; for his teachings are the same old truths of the primeval Wisdom-Religion, which have been again brought forward in modern times by the three Theosophical Leaders, H.P. Blavatsky, W.Q. Judge, and Katherine Tingley. (Vol. 2, pp. 175-81) Notes 1. Thomas Taylor, on the Title-page of his Translation of the Phaedrus, 1792. 2. Isis Unveiled, Vol. I, p. xii.

3. Ralph Waldo Emerson: Plato, the Philosopher. 4. Isis Unveiled, Vol. II, p. 108. 5. H. P. Blavatsky: "Old Philosophers and Modern Critics," from Lucifer, Vol. X, August, 1892, p. 453. 6. Plato: Phaedo, 62, c. 7. Cocker: Christianity and Greek Philosophy, p. 377. 8. Ralph Waldo Emerson: Plato, the Philosopher. 9. Thomas Taylor: Miscellanies (The Platonic Philosopher's Creed), 2nd Ed., 1820, p. 30. 10. Thomas Taylor: Introduction to Proclus on the Theology of Plato, 1816, p. ix. 11. H.P. Blavatsky: The Secret Doctrine, Vol. I, p. 14. 12. H.P. Blavatsky: Ibid., Vol. I, p. 16. 13. Phaedo, 72, a-b. 14. Timaeus, 22, c. 15. Laws, 676, c; 677, a-b. 16. Timaeus, 25, c-d. 17. Laws, 716, a. 18. Gorgias, 522, e. 19. Republic 20. Republic, 366, a. 21. Laws, 716, c. 22. Laws, 726, a. 23. Timaeus, 90, a. 24. Plato, Republic, 431, a-b. 25. Plotinos: Enneads, IV, 7, 10; John Smith, Select Discourses, London, 1660, pp. 104-5. 26. Dissertation xxv, on Since Divinity Produces Good, Whence do Evils Originate? 27. Plato: Phaedo, 70, c. 28. Phaedo, 72, a. 29. The number nine refers to a mystic cycle of Orphism, and is one of "the seven boundaries of the soul" represented symbolically by the numbers 1, 2, 3, 4, (2 2), 8 (23), 9 (32), 27 (33), that is, the first three numbers and their first three powers. 30. Quotation from Pindar, given by Plato. 31. Plato: Meno, 80, d-e; 81, a-d. 32. Meno, 86, a-c. 33. Thomas Taylor: Complete Works of Plato, Vol. IV, p. 282, note. 34. H.P. Blavatsky: Isis Unveiled, Vol. I, Point Loma Preface, p. 15. 35. Sallust: On the Gods and the World, xx. ----------------------The Mysteries at Eleusis - Lilian Whiting "Many are the thyrsus-bearers, but few are the mystics." The Mysteries of religion were not alone centered in the Eleusinian, but they meet man at every turn and constitute that alembic crucible from which divine wisdom is distilled; but a sojourn in Athens brings one to a vivid realization of the scenic splendor and impressiveness of these ancient rites celebrated at Eleusis, and from the old Dipylon cemetery the visitor passes through the very gateway, leading into the via sacra, from

which the ancient processions went forth. Eleusis is twelve miles from Athens, and the Gate is within easy walking distance from Constitution Square, the central part of the Hellenic capital. Faring forth from the via sacra, the view commands the Acropolis, with that ethereal ruin of the Parthenon which seems to float in the air. The way is lined with funeral urns and sculptured tombs, although many have already been removed to the National Museum. The road winds on past the olive groves where Plato had his Academy, over the Cephissus, and into a deep, wild valley opening to the famous pass of Daphne beyond which is the Thracian plain. The processions that went forth along this route to celebrate the Eleusinian Mysteries have almost left their image in the ethereal currents to be disclosed to all in sympathy with the marvelous rites. They were invested with great splendor of ritual, and each of the officials carried in his hand a sprig of thyrsus; there were priests, mystics, youths, and maidens, who, when reaching the wayside temple of Apollo, would pause on the journey singing choral hymns, and dancing in honor of the god. "O happy, mystic chorus, The blessed sunshine o'er us On us alone is smiling, In its soft, sweet light; On us who strive forever With holy, pure endeavor, Alike by friend and stranger To guide our steps aright." What was the purpose of these rites? There have been almost as many solutions and speculative theories as there have been questioners, but apparently the celebration only accentuated that universal quest of the spirit as to its origin, purpose, and final destiny. It is the quest solved by Theosophy alone. The Mysteries taught a more sustaining faith in the immortality of the soul, and in the nature of the experiences to be encountered after the change we call death. Cicero was one of the hopeful interpreters. "Much that is excellent and divine does Athens seem to me to have produced and added to our life," he said, "but nothing better than those Mysteries, by which we are formed and molded from a rude and savage life to humanity; and indeed in the Mysteries we perceive the real principles of life, and learn not only to live happily but to die with a fairer hope." This conviction of Cicero was shared and also affirmed in various expressions by Plato, Sophocles, Pindar, and many others. Above the beautiful Bay of Eleusis is a high plateau on which the Temple of the Mysteries stood, and which is said to have been of such magnificent proportions as to hold thirty thousand people. There was a wide portico adorned by twelve Doric columns, from which two spacious portals led into the interior, which was quarried out of the solid rock underlying the height. The roof of the Temple was supported by forty-two colossal columns, in six rows; it was nearly two hundred feet long, and proportionately wide. It is within recent years that the Archaeological Society of Athens has excavated this ruin, finding intact the pavement and much of the foundations of the walls of this vast sanctuary, and this discovery is felt to have offered hitherto unknown problems to architects in its complexity of structure. When the procession entered Eleusis with the men bearing olive branches, the youths adorned with chaplets, the maidens bearing holy vessels, each devotee, also, with a flaming torch whose glow lighted up the darkness as they advanced chanting the Homeric hymn to Demeter, the spectacle must have been impressive indeed. With all, special preparations had preceded the journey. Those who took part had all bathed in the sea; they had kept a fast; and the day before setting out was sacred to sacrifice. But as to whether the celebration was exclusively a spiritual rite is a disputed

matter. Certainly every rite was symbolic; certainly it was all one form of the manifestation of idealism. The first initiations of the Eleusinia, were called Terminations, denoting that the rudimentary period of life was ended, and that the candidate was now a Mysta, or liberated person. There were the Greater and the Lesser Mysteries, and the Greater were held to complete the liberation, and carry the candidate on to higher stages of development. "All men yearn after God," said Homer. The Greeks believed the soul to be of a two-fold nature, linked on one side to the Divine world, and partaking of the Divine nature; on the other, allied to the phenomenal and the temporary, and thus under bondage. No two commentators on the Eleusinian Mysteries have ever been in complete accord. Dr. Mahaffy says, however, that all the more eminent authorities agree in one respect: that the doctrine taught in the Mysteries was that of faith in the next state of existence, and that this belief made those who partook of the rites better citizens, and better men. Eleusis was also famous as being the native city of Aeschylus, who was born there about 525 B.C., and it cannot but suggest itself as a speculative query as to what degree his deep spirituality, and his messages of imperishable truth were influenced by the strangely religious character of the environment, the scene of the Mysteries. When the ceremonies opened in the Temple, the initiates entered clad in linen, the head wreathed with myrtle, and golden grass-hoppers in the hair. But the actual nature of these rites has never been authoritatively disclosed. All speculation and all the theories find certain points and fragments of support, but no one rightly claims any entire knowledge. The philosophy of Aristotle reveals to us that the Greeks held an undoubted consciousness of both the visible and the invisible worlds; that they contemplated life largely from the standpoint of eternity. Among the most beautiful of the rites of which we have actual record was the symbolic passing on of the lighted torch from one to another, each torch in the procession being lighted from the one immediately preceding it. This rite was to suggest by symbol the transmission of knowledge from one generation to another and from one century to another. Apparently the Eleusinian Mysteries were but another revelation of the manner in which the spiritual nature of man forever asserts itself as the inheritor of Immortality. (Vol. 6, pp. 42-44) --------------------Science The Conception of "Force" in Physics - by a Physicist In Scientia (May, 1912) M. Abel Rey, of Dijon University, discusses at considerable length the "Ostracism of the Concept of Force from Modern Physics." It may surprise some people to hear that force has been thus banished; but they must bear in mind that the word "force" is used in two senses. First, it is used by those who seek to find the cause of phenomena, to denote some actual agent or entity supposed to operate in nature and produce all the effects which we see and which science studies. Secondly, the word "force" is used by physicists who are occupied in describing phenomena and in measuring their qualitative and quantitative relations, to designate a mathematical quantity - the strength of the impact with which a moving body strikes another. The former meaning

refers to a (conjectured) reality; the latter is an abstract mathematical term. Of course "force," in its engineering sense, has not been ostracized; the idea which has been banned (as alleged) is the idea that there is any such agent as force operative in matter or alongside of matter. The writer says: "Rational mechanics employs the word 'force' to designate, not a thing, a reality, but a relation or a group of relations.... Force, in the mathematical sense of the word, is therefore merely a mathematical quantity, a theoretical abstraction and a creation of the mind. When mechanics defines force as a cause of movement (which is moreover not very correct), it does not give the word 'force' an objective sense. It indicates thereby.... that a movement is connected with certain conditions by precise and measurable relations.... "We have to determine what corresponds objectively and in material reality to the elliptical expression of mathematics.... "Capacity for action, and of action at a distance - such are the fundamental elements of the physical conception of force."* [*French original of translation footnote] M. Rey, in reviewing various stages in the history of physics, shows that at one time there was a dualism, which regarded force and passive resistance as the twin primal agents behind phenomena. This, of course, is a familiar idea; we call this duality by such pairs of names as "force and matter," "spirit and matter," "motion and stability," etc. They represent the positive and negative, or active and passive. Subsequently the duality was made into a unity (in a sense), by supposing that force was the only element, and that force had two modes, one positive, the other negative. This is the idea of Boscovich, whose theory the writer gives as follows: "Every material element is in reality but a center of forces attractive and repulsive. By the first we explain attraction, magnetic, and capillary phenomena, cohesion, etc., by the second, spatial extension, impenetrability, the solidity and elasticity of bodies."* [* French original] H.P. Blavatsky speaks as follows of Boscovich: "Faraday, Boscovich, and all others, however, who see in the atoms and molecules 'centers of force,' and in the corresponding element force an Entity By Itself, are far nearer the truth, perchance, than those who, denouncing them, denounce at the same time the 'old corpuscular Pythagorean theory' .... on the ground of its 'delusion that the conceptual elements of matter can be grasped as separate and real entities.'" - The Secret Doctrine, Vol. I, p. 507 The reference is evidently to Stallo's Concepts of Modern Physics. Stallo shows, as does the late Borden Bowne and other writers, that physicists often allow themselves to forget that they are using words in an abstract sense, and that they consequently erect their concepts into realities, thus giving rise to delusion and confusion. This is true enough, and we started out by saying that the word "force" is actually used in an abstract sense and therefore designates no reality. But apart from this, there may be a reality; and this is what H.P. Blavatsky here insists upon. The confusion arises from the dual sense of such words as "force," "heat," or "light"; the phenomenal effects which we designate by those names may - nay, must - have behind them actual entities, which we must perforce designate by the same names. Thus, the fact that abstractions are "reified," as Stallo puts it, does not interfere with the fact that nevertheless there is an actual entity which can be described as force. We do not propose to follow M. Rey through the details of a careful and lucid review

of the subsequent stages in physical theory, but merely to make some remarks on the general question involved, especially as it relates to the Theosophical point of view. "Action at a distance" is of course the great bugbear all through. Nor can we suppress a smile at the device of those who have sought to get over this difficulty by restricting action at a distance to very small distances - as when actions across planetary space are referred to an ether, thus limiting action at a distance to that which is supposed to take place between atoms. It is like an atheist professing his willingness to believe in a God, "provided it was only a very little one." The truth is that no device, such as trying to resolve a pull into a push, or representing force as merely an effect of motion and mass, will serve to avoid the difficulty. "Distance" itself is an irresolvable element of our conceptual power, and we have to assume it before we can begin to think in physical terms. Consequently we must be content to assume action at a distance. And, if we desire to resolve it further, we must quit the domain of physics altogether and enter upon an analysis of our own mental states. This brings us to the part of the subject, briefly touched upon by M. Rey in concluding, which refers to the desirability or otherwise of entertaining a physical conception of the universe at all. He frequently admits that the expressions of physicists are but convenient formulae, and that they often forget this fact. What lies beyond he calls "un inconnaissable." He weighs the question whether our appreciation of life has lost or gained by the sharpening of our intellect along these physical lines. He calls the conceptions of physics "une logique industrielle." But we are living in a very earnest age, and people are calling for knowledge that goes to the root of life. Formulae which merely describe external relations may still prove very useful in applied industry, but we need something more as a basis of philosophy and an interpretation of the universe. The greatest science is the Science of Being; for what more ultimate fact can we reach than the fact of Being? And, as all other branches of science must be merely parts of this, and relative to it, we must always, in studying these branches, come eventually to the fringing line where we can no longer achieve exactitude and where we must be content to assume our data. M. Rey says that it is possible to consider the theories of physicists as simply a stage in the evolution of the human intellect; and so indeed they are, and the scenes already begin to fade, making way for new scenes gradually looming from behind. H.P. Blavatsky says that the "old corpuscular Pythagorean theory" has never been rightly understood; and she says much the same about other ancient theories. This is because we translate the ancient words into words which in our language have other meanings besides the one which they were intended by the translator to represent. The word "atom" is a case in point. Did the ancient philosophers always - if ever - mean anything like what modern physics has meant by the word? The word "atom," on the contrary, as used in antiquity, has oftener denoted one of those very "centers of force" - or, rather, of life mentioned above; and the word "soul" might just as well be used. But perhaps the word "monad" is better still. It is obviously a mistake to endow atoms with physical properties, such as mass and spatial extension; for by so doing we defeat our own object, which is to resolve physical properties into something else. The "priority accorded to the tactile and visual representation of the universe," can be regarded, as M. Rey says it can, as "les simples effets des hasards de l'evolution et des circonstances pratiques." The ancient philosophers did not give such priority to externals, but regarded physics as a subordinate branch of the science of life and consciousness. Hence the atom was for them an atom of life, a soul. The causes of phenomena must be sought in the region of noumena, so that physics, in its ultimate resolution, becomes the science of self. (Vol. 3, pp. 155-59)

-----------------Ancient and Modern Calendars - T. Henry "The Perpetual Calendar: Its Reproduction as a Lost Art," is the subject of a paper in The Scientific American Supplement by L.J. Heatwole, Co-operative Observer U.S. Weather Bureau. The writer speaks with admiration of the perpetual calendar system which seems to have been universally known in antiquity, and which provided for the unevenness of the solar year with at least as much exactitude as does our Gregorian system, while being far more symmetrical, especially in the matter of weeks and months, than the latter. This system, he points out, was based on the number Seven, the greatest of all the mystic numbers. Six days with a sacred seventh made up the week, and 52 weeks made the year. An extra week was intercalated at fixed intervals, and this intercalation was omitted at certain other and longer intervals. The Egyptian system comes in for commendation, the writer pointing out that long ages of observation must have preceded so perfect a system. And indeed we must either suppose such ages or else infer that the ancients had other means of ascertaining the exact length of natural cycles - such, for instance, as a knowledge of the mathematical principles underlying the motions of the celestial bodies. The existence of these ancient calendars, especially that of the Hindus and their marvelously accurate tables of the revolutions of the planets and their nodes and apses, constitutes one of the most irrefragable proofs of the truth of the Theosophical teachings with regard to the Wisdom-Religion of antiquity. And the marvel becomes all the greater if we deny to these ancient astronomers the knowledge of those elaborate instruments which to us are so indispensable. Only by long ages of careful investigation and recording, or by some other means not at our disposal, could they have arrived at the data. During the earlier years of our civilization we formed the habit of regarding all antiquity as representing a more rudimentary stage of intelligence and culture, and this led us to view ancient ideas with a prejudiced vision. Later on the progress of geographical and archaeological discovery revealed to us in part the fact (which will be more fully disclosed as years roll on) that our view of antiquity was erroneous, being due to the impetuosity of our youth. In respect to the calendar, we had supposed that certain civil years and rough approximations which were in use among ancient nations represented the extreme limits of their knowledge on that subject. Closer examination has shown that in India, although many different kinds of year are in use even today, the exact length of the solar year was known in very ancient times; and it is the same in other countries. Altogether, in studying chronology, we find a great mass of data concerning various kinds of civil calendars and systems of intercalation; and the whole points to a very extensive knowledge and study of the subject in antiquity. It would be a curious commentary on our previous attitude towards antiquity if we should find ourselves obliged to re-adopt some one or more of the systems used by the ancients. Our present knowledge of natural cycles seems deficient in many respects. It is mainly limited to the day, the month, and the year; but it seems unlikely that the scale stops short of these divisions at either end. If so many days make a month, and so many months make a year, then what comes after the year, and what divisions are there smaller than the day? It is possible that there are natural cycles so far unknown to modern astronomy but known of old; and, if so, then these cycles might, by their intersections with the smaller cycles, give rise to more than one species of year. This would account for the use of years of 360, 364, etc. days. Again, we have no natural divisions corresponding to the hour, minute, or second; though it would seem that there should be some such

divisions approximating to the numbers 24 and 60, just as the natural month and year approximate to 30 and 360. However, a pursuit of the subject of chronological systems would lead us into many details and carry us very far afield. Such a study will be found to confirm the opinions above expressed - namely that great knowledge of natural laws existed in pre-Christian times, and that this knowledge included the possession of a profound mathematical key, applicable to astronomy, chronology, architecture, etc. (Vol. 2, pp. 168-69) ------------------Climatic and Axial Changes - F. J. Dick [1912] In Arago's Popular Astronomy, published about fifty years ago, he drew attention to the discovery on the shores of the Arctic Ocean, near the mouth of the Lena, of an enormous "elephant" contained within a mass of frozen clay, the flesh of which was so little altered that the Yakuts of the neighborhood cut it into pieces to feed their dogs. He concluded that Siberia was formerly a warm country, and that the catastrophe which caused the death of the animal suddenly reduced the region to an arctic condition. He adds: "In the present state of our knowledge we perceive at first only one cause which would be capable of altering almost suddenly, and in a very definite manner, the thermometric character of a climate.... Let us imagine that the axis of rotation of the Earth pierces the surface in Peru or Brazil, without the inclination of the equator to the ecliptic undergoing any change, and icebergs would soon float into the ports of Callao and Rio de Janeiro.... It would freeze there at the surface in less than twenty-four hours.... "Any change, especially as it must be sudden, could not result from the forces to which the earth is daily subject; but if our planet were to come into violent collision with some large external body, a sensible displacement of the axis would be the almost necessary result." Other results, it may be guessed, would happen first, leaving neither Earth nor its denizens in condition to discuss them. The collision theory will hardly work. As to suddenness, not a century has elapsed since a tiger was killed on the banks of the Lena in latitude 52' 30', in a climate colder than that of St. Petersburg and Stockholm. Arago pointed out that all European regions contain, at a moderate depth, remains of more or less tropical animals; and he might have added that during the Miocene age Greenland developed an abundance of trees, such as the yew, the redwood, a sequoia allied to the Californian species, beeches, planes, willows, oaks, poplars, and walnuts, as well as a magnolia and a zamia (Gould) - southern plants which neither perambulate nor grow under glaciers. One explanation might be that the general temperature of the Earth at that time was higher, although we have no definite facts to warrant the assumption. On the contrary, so far as the effects of solar radiation are concerned, the chances are that the Earth was then farther from the Sun. The Secret Doctrine in a number of different places says that such well-defined climatic changes result from changes, or disturbances of the axial direction.

To quote from it : "The Secret Doctrine teaches that, during this Round, there must be seven terrestrial pralayas, three occasioned by the change in the inclination of the Earth's axis. It is a law which acts at its appointed time, and not at all blindly, as science may think, but in strict accordance and harmony with Karmic law.... Science confesses its ignorance of the cause producing climatic vicissitudes and such changes in the axial direction, which are always followed by these vicissitudes; nor does it seem so sure of the axial changes. And being unable to account for them, it is prepared rather to deny the axial phenomena altogether, than admit the intelligent Karmic hand and law which alone could reasonably explain such sudden changes and the results.... Such.... shifting does not happen between sunset and sunrise, as one may think, but requires several thousands of years...." Students of Theosophy know that everything is under the control and proximate guidance of various orders of intelligences corresponding to different realms of action, just as a railroad train is under control of the driver; and that there is no magic, in the sense of a subversion of natural laws, although everything is magical when regarded as operative effects of will and intelligence. They also know that results are ordinarily reached along direct and simple lines. Thus no "magician" would be likely to lift a train at New York and set it down at Chicago. Neither do planets change their courses or their angles of spin because a celestial spirit comes to give them a kick. Notwithstanding earthquakes and other calamities the gods operate along sane lines. The persistence of our beautiful Earth is proof. To imagine that things happen fortuitously - such as the idea of the harmonious grandeur of a solar system with its myriads of various orders of being, incarnate and excarnate, resulting from the accidental primordial encounter of "two streams of cosmic dust" - is a superstition of some who in saner moments are men of science. Now as to the train: if while running at eighty miles an hour it neared a ten-chain curve, would the driver increase steam-pressure and brake-power, or shut off steam and slacken speed? The latter of course. Just so, when the time arrives for an unusual disturbance of axial direction, there are undoubtedly laws which ensure that the Earth is not destroyed, even if many of its passengers (reincarnating egos and races) be shaken out of their bodies for the moment. Mechanical laws are never suspended on their own plane of action; but all the agencies which produce or counteract mechanical effects are by no means fully known yet; which happens to have an important bearing on the subject of climatic and axial changes. In a spinning body like the Earth there is a vertical precession, of about one degree in six thousand years, which may be called inversional precession; that is, a movement which would invert the direction of the poles if long enough continued. In an article on the Earth's Rotation (Century Path, October 31, 1909) which invited attention to current theories about causes and effects of the slight oblateness in the Earth's shape, it was suggested that the present rate of diminution of obliquity was due neither to "gravitational" planetary influences, nor to "tidal friction" (the latter would increase the obliquity) but to what might be called an electro-magnetic torque. A first step toward this way of looking at the cosmic forces playing in and around the Earth was taken by Kelvin and Tait in their suggestion that "the Earth and Sun together constitute a thermodynamic engine." (Natural Philosophy, ii, 830) Now the Earth, as well as man and everything else, possesses an inner subtle body or essence, non-atomic, and having properties unknown as yet to science. In that, and not in visible or tangible "matter," inhere the imponderable agencies with their dual correlations of sympathy and antipathy, attraction and repulsion. So long as science continues to ignore an important fact of this kind, so long will it fail to understand the possibility of a

connection between Karma and axial changes. As regards the "mass" and moment of momentum of the Earth, probably we are far from being in a position to estimate either truly. Referring to Newton and the fall of the apple, H.P. Blavatsky wittily said that "the Apple is a dangerous fruit, and may again cause the Fall - this time of exact science." For there are different kinds of magnetism. "The materialist.... will some day find that that which causes the numberless cosmic forces to manifest themselves in eternal correlation is but a divine electricity, or rather galvanism, and that the Sun is but one of the myriad magnets disseminated through space - a reflector. That the Sun has no more heat in it than the Moon or the space-crowding host of sparkling stars. That there is no gravitation in the Newtonian sense, but only magnetic attraction and repulsion and that it is by their magnetism that the planets of the solar system have their motions regulated in their respective orbits, by the still more powerful magnetism of the Sun, not by their weight or gravitation." (Isis Unveiled, I, 271) The point is that while normal conditions prevail, "gravitation" between Earth and Sun, etc., may be nearly as good a word as "magnetism" so far as regards "the law of force," equal areas in equal times, etc., though it hardly covers the facts of certain variations; but when the inner essences of Earth become altered by the mephitic emanations of human and other life, interactions with the pure solar life-currents occur, causing retardation and torques, while other internal "forces," or more properly entities, push outward and pull inward. The earth's axis becomes more rapidly inclined, continents sink and rise, races are destroyed, and so on. The motif is purification, preparation for new races. Considerable cataclysms are few and far between. Minor ones occur at intervals roughly corresponding to the great precessional year, the last being about eleven thousand years ago, when Poseidonis went down. The whole subject is extremely complex and we can form but the faintest idea of the subtle yet titanic forces and interactions underlying cosmic phenomena. Supposing a major cataclysm occupied ten thousand years, that "a third of the stars fell from heaven" (Book of Enoch), which means sixty degrees of change, that the kinetic energy involved remained about constant, while the average angular velocity of rotation was retarded temporarily, say about fifty percent, the ecliptic torque would have been about seventy-five times its present amount, roughly speaking. The inner structure of the Earth is definite, and involves, apparently, the resumption of a more or less erect position after each cataclysm, the "head" (the geographical North pole, see The Secret Doctrine, II, 400-1) towards the Draconian regions of the sky. In order to bring the geographical North pole down to Peru, as Arago suggested, it would seem that the time would have to be reduced from our imagined ten thousand years to something like twelve hours, and the access of kinetic energy to produce the needed torque would afford ample employment for Byron's angels, ".... who all were singing out of tune And hoarse with having nothing else to do." But they may have done it, who knows? With an intermediate inclination of say 45', an orbit of considerable eccentricity, and mid-winter at perihelion, the Greenland summers would have been long and warm enough for the trees that grew there. If there was once a polar day lasting almost an entire year, this must have been when the terrestrial and ecliptic poles nearly coincided. Cosmic phenomena belong in truth more to the domain of biology than to physics. The Icelandic Eddas, the description of Valand bringing on a cataclysm, Wm. Q. Judge's story of The Skin of the Earth, and The Secret Doctrine, outline more real science than our

textbooks on these subjects. Blind theories about man-bearing spheres rolling haphazard through space, remind one of the Irishman who wanted to buy a clock. "Here is one," said the dealer, "that goes for eight days without winding." "Eight days without winding!" said Pat, eyes kindling. "We guarantee it," was the reply. "Gorra, that's wonderful! And for the sake of St. Patrick, how long would it go if you did wind it?" (Vol. 2, pp. 83-87) -------------------Astronomical Lore - A Student Among the exhibits in the Science Section at the Coronation Exhibition in London, was a Chinese planisphere from the Royal Scottish Museum, which records observations that must have been made some thousands of years before the Christian era and handed down to the time of the maker. Ancient Hindu astronomy is a standing puzzle to modern astronomers, for its records have preserved from the remotest antiquity accurate calculations of the revolution periods of the heavenly bodies, their nodes, apsides, etc.; and the ordinary theories respecting the evolution of human knowledge are flatly contradicted thereby. The SuryaSiddhanta gives the number of revolutions performed by each planet in a period of 4,320,000 years; and the quotients obtained by dividing the period by the number of revolutions give in each case figures agreeing with our own to a nicety. How were these results obtained? Moreover there are in some of these ancient treatises calculations that go beyond anything our astronomy has yet accepted, dealing as they do with those larger cycles concerned with apparent displacements of the fixed stars. The celebrated French astronomer Bailly made a careful study of these. Despite certain limitations due to a natural reluctance to concede superiority to an ancient Oriental people, and confessedly poor translations, he arrived at the conclusion that this people had attained profound knowledge in astronomy, and drew the general inference that civilization is extremely old, and that this earth has witnessed its rise and fall many times. Some of Bailly's conclusions are considered at length by H.P. Blavatsky in The Secret Doctrine, where they are used, together with those of other later well-known writers, to show the consensus of evidence in support of this branch of the teachings she outlines. Was this knowledge obtained by observations or deductively? In both ways, probably. We know that ancient civilizations lasted for long ages, and we known that indelible records in stone were kept. Modern astronomers have discovered that one object at least of Stonehenge and similar monuments was to fix epochs depending on the precessional movement. But there is also a strong presumption that the ancient calculators possessed numerical keys. In this case their method would have been partly observation and partly deduction from general principles; a method we all apply, whether intentionally or not. The existence of such mathematical clues - applicable to the measurement both of time and of space - has often been suspected; and in our own times isolated workers have labored in this field of speculation, discovering sundry fragments. Their efforts being usually solitary, however, and unsupported (when not actually opposed) by the generality

of workers, have not achieved recognized success. Some of such speculations are considered in The Secret Doctrine, where it is shown that not infrequently these so-called "cranks" arrived at results commensurate with what we learn about the ancient science from other sources. Among these isolated workers may be mentioned Ralston Skinner and even Piazzi Smyth in connexion with the measurements of the Great Pyramid and certain integral approximations to the ratio pi. Doubtless mankind in bygone times, having brains and other faculties, as we have, but having studied for far longer periods than our civilization has yet had time to study, reached results which for us are still in prospect. It is conceivable too that their faculties may have been superior to ours in some respects - less materialistic, perhaps; and they may have been more united among themselves. Ancient astronomy is certainly a hard nut to crack for conventionalists. (Vol. 1, pp. 334-35) -------------------------Mysteries of Sound - by a Teacher of Physics There are certain difficulties in the physical theory of sound which need further elucidation; for though the physicists and mathematicians may have satisfactory explanations of them, the notions that exist in the mind of the average person are very unsatisfactory. A writer has recently been contributing to The English Mechanic some articles on the part of the subject relating to tuning-forks and sound-waves; and he brings forward some facts, which, whatever may be the rights of the case, do show that the theory of sound as explained in Tyndall's celebrated lectures is deficient in many important respects; as also that succeeding writers have followed Tyndall without due examination. The difficulties raised are mainly as follows. A tuning-fork will continue to give forth its note for a considerable time, during which the vibrations of its prongs rapidly diminish until they are no longer perceptible, yet the sound is still audible. If we now calculate the velocity of the motion of the prongs (taking, say, a fork whose frequency is 256), we find that it traverses some exceedingly small distance in 1/512 of a second. The writer gives figures which assign to the prongs a velocity of only a few feet a year. Even if we suppose the amplitude of vibration to be as much as one-thousandth of an inch, we get a velocity of about half-an-inch a second, or 150 feet an hour. But the writer shows, from the fact that the fork will continue sounding for a minute or more, that the amplitude of the vibrations of its prongs towards the close of that time must be much less than this; so that its velocity is greatly less than that of the hour hand of a watch. This being so, the question is, How does it start air-waves? Now there may be a satisfactory explanation of this problem, but it seems certain that Tyndall has not given such an explanation. In his lectures it is stated that the vibrating prongs of the fork set up waves consisting of alternate phases of condensation and rarefaction in the air; and Tyndall goes on to maintain that a body vibrating as slowly as the pendulum of a clock cannot produce such air-waves. Yet this tuning-fork moves much slower than the pendulum. True, the tuning-fork has the greater frequency; but if this be the explanation of the difference between it and the pendulum, that circumstance is not indicated by Tyndall. With regard to the communication of vibration from one fork to another of similar pitch, Tyndall and after him other writers and teachers - state that if a vibrating fork be held very near but not touching another which is not vibrating, and with the prongs of both forks

parallel, the second fork will be set vibrating. But the writer shows that it is not necessary to have the forks either parallel or near to each other. He succeeded in making one fork start another at a distance of the length of two large rooms with a closed door between. Here again there may be a satisfactory explanation, but Tyndall's is not the one; and Tyndall, in premising that the forks must be near together and parallel to each other, seems to have adapted his experiments to suit his theory. That at least is the writer's contention, and he makes out a plausible case for it. We cannot follow this suggestive writer through all his remarks, of which the above are but a sample; but it is clear that he has put his finger on some weaknesses in the ordinary explanation of acoustical phenomena. It has indeed often aroused wonder in the minds of thinkers to reflect that a body with so small a mass as air should be able to set in motion a body so heavy as iron. And in the writer's experiment of making one fork start another across two rooms and a closed door, the laws of dynamics seem considerably taxed. It is evident that the explanation about the vibrating prongs is ruled out of court by the fact that the sound is transmitted in all directions from the prongs, and not merely in the line of their motion. This suggests that the effective vibration is molecular and not molar. But in that case the amplitude of said vibration should be smaller than ever, and the velocity of the vibrating particles would consequently be absurdly small. Yet this minute velocity - and correspondingly minute momentum - is said to set the air in motion so as to produce a wave traveling at 1100 feet per second; and further the air is supposed to be able to start another heavy steel fork vibrating. There may be a satisfactory explanation, but what is it? Not the one in the books, evidently. The writer recounts that he and some friends once approached Tyndall himself by letter with these difficulties, and received the curt reply that they need not worry as the wave-theory of sound was all right. Further inquiries and entreaties for an explanation brought only silence; and the same results were obtained from another eminent authority who was approached. The writer concludes that the airwave theory is not correct and that sound is a definite force, in the sense that light and electricity are forces, which is transmitted from body to body. His conclusion harmonizes with Theosophical teaching. There has been much confusing of the physical effects which accompany sound with the cause itself. All the experiments given in the books ought to be carefully tried under all possible conditions, with a view to seeing just how much of them is true, and especially how much more is true; and particular attention should be given to those which are hard to reconcile with the theory. The workings of the telephone and phonograph are far from being really understood. The theory explains the results in a general sort of way, but more information as to details would be desirable. It is very difficult to understand how the marvelous complexity of sounds which these instruments will transmit or record can be expressed by combinations of to-and-fro vibrations, which, as it would seem, would considerably overload the capacities of the material used in the construction. Indeed, letting alone these instruments, if we consider that (according to the theory) the loose light air itself has to accommodate all these vibrations, such as might proceed from an orchestra or from a babel of voices crossing each other in every direction - we shall see that the mechanical theory of sound offers some difficulties. We need a soniferous ether or an emission theory. But the case of sound is only one of several in which the mechanical theories are being found inadequate. The Theosophical teaching on the origin and the phenomena of sound will eventually be recognized as the correct one. J.W. Keely said, "The sounds from vibratory forks, set so as to produce etheric chords, while disseminating their tones (compound), permeate all substances that come under the range of their atomic bombardment. The clapping of a bell in vacuo liberates these atoms with the same velocity and volume as one in the open air; and were the agitation of the bell kept up continuously for a few millions of centuries it would return to its

primitive element; and, if the chamber were hermetically sealed, and strong enough, the vacuous volume surrounding the bell would be brought to a pressure of many thousands of pounds to the square inch, by the tenuous substance evolved. In my estimation, sound truly defined is the disturbance of atomic equilibrium." (Vol. 2, pp. 209-211) ----------------The Mirror of Language - H. Coryn Habaidedeima is a Gothic word simply and fully translated by our had. Habaidedeiwa, habaidedeip, haibaidcdeits, are likewise Gothic words, also completely rendered in had. There are fifteen of these shrapnel charges, accomplishing what we do with our one little bullet. They are inflections of a verb, various moods, persons, numbers. Modern languages move towards brevity and simplicity, not sacrificing clearness. What did the older ones gain by this elaborate inflecting? What are the inflections? It is generally taught that they were originally separate words which gradually got fused on to elemental roots. "In the beginning" each word, root, had meaning only; relation was indicated by the position of the words in the sentence. John's hat would be expressed by John - hat. Chinese is a language of this kind; it is supposed to be still "in the beginning." In the next stage two roots would be stuck together to indicate relation. A root meaning something like ownership would be made to lean up against John. John's hat would be John-owner hat. This is agglutination, such as we see in Finnish. The relational word now becomes smoothed out and worn away into a mere inflection - we have an inflectional language, say Gothic or Sanskrit or Latin. In the fourth stage the inflections have mostly disappeared, as in English. But if this has really been the course of evolution we must find it curious that no inflectional language is visible in its earlier stages of agglutination and isolation. We have the passage of the third stage into the fourth, but not that of the second into the third or the first into the second. And as to most of the inflections, it is not known what they are. The roots have been favored with several theories of origin. There is the bow-wow theory - imitation of sounds made by animals; the natural theory just as any natural object when struck gives out a sound peculiar to itself, so primitive man, struck metaphorically by the sight of anything, emitted a sound which henceforth became the name of that thing; the pooh-pooh or emotional ejaculation theory, not so very distinguishable from the previous; and the yo-heave-ho theory, according to which primitive man, engaged in occupation, emitted certain rhymthic sounds comparable to those of sailors winding the capstan or grooms cleaning a horse. These characteristic sounds became the name of the action or of the things acted upon or worked with. Modern language expresses concrete thought. To make it express emotion is a rather difficult work almost peculiar to poets. Poets have two methods. (1) They arrange the words so that the vowel and consonant sounds acquire a special musical quality. (2) They select words that have emotional associations - for example, ocean, moonlight, dove, star; or such few words as directly indicate emotion - for example, moan, weep, majestic. And this leads naturally to a new theory of the origin of language as a whole, the theory of Jesperson the Danish philologist. Men sang out their feelings, he says, long before they were able to speak their thoughts. In other words, language was originally the chanted expression of feeling or

emotion, not of thought. Early man voiced the pulse of the life-current, not for communication, but because he could no more help it than a bird can. He did humanwise, and therefore very complexly, what the bird does very simply. Jesperson draws a parellel, as respects their evolution, between the arts of speech and writing: "In primitive picture-writing, each sign meant a whole sentence and even more - the image of a situation or of an incident being given as a whole; this developed into an ideographic writing of each word by itself; this system was succeeded by syllabic methods, which had in their turn to give place to alphabetic writing, in which each letter stands for, or is meant to stand for, one sound. Just as here the advance is due to a further analysis of language, smaller and smaller units of speech being progressively represented by single signs, in an exactly similar way, though not quite so unmistakably, the history of language shows us a progressive tendency towards analysing into smaller and smaller units that which in the earlier stages was taken as an inseparable whole." In the beginning, then, the chant was a continuous stream, a natural expression of feeling. As the feeling would change with the changing phenomena of nature, sunrise, rain, wind, and so on, so would the chant change. At first it would perhaps be unconscious; then conscious; and finally a mode of communication. Then the continuous flow was broken into something corresponding with sentences, each "sentence," as evoked by some definite and limited natural event, constituting a sort of description of that event. Then verbs - that is, the doings and nouns - the things doing the doings - would separate out. The verbs would express a good deal of doing, would be quite lengthy pieces of chant, gradually shortening pari passu with accurate understanding of what was being done. Finally they would stand as elaborately inflected forms, each form containing, as in the known inflected speeches, a notice of the person or things acting, the nature of his action, and the action's relation to time past, present, or future. In certain languages the verbs also contain notice of the sex of the person speaking and the sex and number of the persons addressed. Chanting continued down to Greek times. The Greek word was intoned, was a phrase of music; the sentence was a melody. Now in our day and speech, the inflections are nearly all gone, the word being shortened to its comprehensible minimum; song has separated from speech and pure music from song; whilst song has mostly divorced itself from dance or bodily motion. The poet, the dancer, the speaker, the singer, and the player, are five persons instead of one. We may speculatively add more to Jesperson's theory, for it may be quite harmonizable with the usual one. In chemistry it does not follow, because we know only of the breaking down of heavier elements into the simpler ones, that there was no period of putting together. Though neither does it follow that radium was built by the putting together of those very elements into which it breaks down. Speech may at first have been a chanted flow of open vowels. The first consonants would doubtless have been those which permitted the chant to go on unbroken: m, n, 1, r, th, v, z, ng, zh. Then each definite bit of phrase might, we may suppose, have been closed by one of the other consonants, p, b, d, and so on. As ideas sharpened, short roots would evolve, each with its one vowel opened or shut, or both, by a consonant, each root corresponding with one thing or one doing. Then a thing root, a doing root and a form of one of the three time roots, might be agglutinated together. Lastly would come inflections proper. And yet the whole might be encased in a matrix of song, persisting down to Greek times, a long inflected verb being admirably suited for the chanted feeling perfusing it. The deduction of all which would be that we brain-think far more than early man, and sense far less. Let us hope that history may not have to record a stage of gabble and clack succeeding to speech as speech succeeded to intonement and intonement to song. Theosophy makes primitive man spiritual in origin and essence. And it sees in sound, audible and aerial or inaudible and ethereal, the fashioning-force of the universe.

Behind sound lies the guiding will. Primitive man was a part of that guiding Logos, gradually losing most of his power as he became negative to - because increasingly desirous of - the sensations of matter. He lost spirituality in brain-mentality. He passed from creative spirituality to emotionality and sensuality. Now, after childhood, the enfeebled life-pulse no longer suffices us; we have to stimulate it in various ways to give us the intensity we want. All of which history is reflected in the history of language. (Vol. 5, pp. 411-14) -------------------Incorrodible Bronze It has frequently been maintained that ancient nations, some of whose art-works remain to us, knew secrets in metallurgy which have been lost and not yet recovered by us; and that in this way they were able to make bronze tools as hard as steel, or harder, to make metals which would not corrode, etc. Where one has a wish to prove that ancient races did not possess such knowledge, there is a conflict between theories and facts, resulting in attempts to find an explanation which will solve the dilemma. But where one has no reason for desiring to represent the ancients as not being so endowed, the facts present no difficulty. One the one hand we have monuments of the hardest stone, elaborately engraved with deep and accurate intaglio. On the other hand we know that many ancient civilizations were of extremely long duration, and that surviving offshoots of these great civilizations show a remarkable skill in many arts and industries. There is an a priori probability that many processes were known which have not yet been rediscovered; and the fact that these architectural and sculptural remains exist merely increases that probability. With regard to incorruptible bronze, the following, which is condensed from the Journal of the Royal Society of Arts (Britain), is interesting. Figures of the Buddha are found in the north of Siam in great numbers, on the sites of ancient temples which have been crumbling for centuries, leaving the figures standing amid the forest trees. The interesting thing about these figures is the perfect condition of the bronze after centuries of exposure to tropical suns and rains. The bronze is called by the natives “samrit” - the perfect or auspicious alloy - and its composition for a long time remained a secret, until, according to the American Consul at Bangkok, a few years ago the formula was discovered in an old Siamese manuscript belonging to the late King of Siam. The following is a translation: "Take twelve ticals (one tical is equal to one half-ounce avoirdupois) weight of pure tin, melt it at a slow fire, avoiding bringing it to red heat. Pour two ticals weight of quicksilver, stir until the latter has become thoroughly absorbed and amalgamated, then cast the mixture in a mold, forming it into a bar. Take one catty in weight (eighty ticals) of refined copper and melt it; then gradually incorporate with it the amalgam, keeping in the meantime the fused mass well stirred. When this has been done, throw into the crucible a sufficient quantity of ashes obtained from the stems of the bua-bok (lotus) creeper so as to cover the molten metal. Remove the dross with an iron ladle. The metal remaining is samrit bronze." It is surely easy to understand that many such formulas might have been known and never hit upon since. The possibilities in the way of making alloys are endless, especially

when it comes to using ingredients or reagents other than metals. It would be strange indeed if an industrious, highly intelligent, and very patient people, working for ages, inspired by enthusiastic motives, should not have discovered many things which are unknown to us whose history is so recent and whose records have been so largely concerned with less peaceful arts. - H. T. Edge [Theosophical Path, vol. 1, no. 2, August 1911] --------------------------

Science and Misc. Notes - Mystery of the Molars - Density of Matter - Gigantosaurus Africanus - Baalbek - Aural Sound The Mystery of the Molars .... [Persisting variations in species] But this would only apply to variations useful from the moment of their appearance. If at first - as they often are - so small as to be useless, a mere tendency or suggestion, they would not persist. Having, according to the theory, no special purposive force behind them, and being the products of mere accident, they would quickly be diluted out of existence. The chance theory would therefore be able to account for the persistence of such few variations only as were useful from their first appearance. Are there any such variations? According to the theory itself, no! For it does not admit sudden jumps; merely fine shadings from the common type. And these fine shadings confer no advantage. Since, moreover, they occur only by some chance confluence of conditions, they must depend for their force of heredity upon the continuance of this confluence. And to account for the next, and the next, degree in the progression, the theory must require that the conditions become more and more effective - and so on, till the degrees sum up to a useful degree. What a lot of wriggling to escape the conclusion that there is a purposive force at work! Even Professor Osborn does not see it in his studies of teeth, though he walks straight up to it. Mr. Gruenberg, summarizing the Professor's work in The Scientific American says. "The cusps of the molar teeth do not appear 'fortuitously' and then survive in accordance with their relative fitness, as would be required by the Darwinian theory, nor do they appear fully formed in a discontinuous manner, in the sense of De Vries' theory; they appear at definite points, at first too small to have any adaptive or selective value, and become with succeeding ages larger and larger until they are of adaptive value. In other words they are determinate in their origins; they develop gradually; and they are adaptive in the direction of their development from the very start.... They arise because of some inherent tendency or potentiality to vary in a determinate direction. What this internal determining factor is we do not know."

The same problem presents itself in the origin of horns, at first and for ages too small to be of any value. Science has recently discovered the "subconscious," finding that it possesses powers over the body, fashioning, healing, or deforming, which are quite beyond the reach of the conscious mind. Suppose that the subconscious is part of the conscious of nature. Grant to nature the purposiveness which we find in the subconscious, and the difficulties respecting the appearance of variations vanish. Heredity is an aspect of the persistence of the purpose, a persistence shown likewise by the relatively wide area of a species in which a variations occurs, and by the steady progression of the variation, despite its primary uselessness, on to the stage where first it becomes helpful in the struggle for life. (Vol. 1, 336-8) ---------Density of Matter .... H.P. Blavatsky, in The Secret Doctrine, tracing the evolution of the human races, advances a very curious piece of information, which has recently received some confirmation from scientific sources. The records upon which she drew state that the density of the materials constituting the Earth's substance was not always the same as at present. At first the Earth was in a comparatively ethereal condition; this gradually became grosser and more material, until, "during the middle period of the LemuroAtlantean Race," many millions of years ago, it attained its greatest hardness. Since then the cycles intervening have carried us onward, on the opposite ascending arc, some steps towards "dematerialization." Until lately the ascertained facts of science would not have permitted physicists to understand the possibility of such modifications of matter. It was thought, and still is by many who have not exercised the faculty of "scientific imagination" or who have not followed closely the most recent pronouncements of science, that the atom was a changeless fundamental unit, and that matter was eternal in the familiar forms. But since the discovery of electrons and the transmutation of radium, etc., our views of the possibilities of matter have greatly enlarged, and he would be a bold man who would put a limit to speculation upon the subject. Professor Bragg, in a recent article in Science Progress, states that there is very strong evidence that any two "atoms" can pass through one another, given sufficient velocity of approach, which condition is fulfilled by some of the particles shot off from radium. This is a most extraordinary claim, but it is nothing new to students of Theosophy, who have always believed in the illusionary nature of the matter apparent to our senses. William Q. Judge, an authority upon this subject, gives many significant hints in his works, elucidating the teachings of H.P. Blavatsky upon the different grades of illusion in matter. Now in connection with the "dematerialization" of the material substance of the earth (including the atmosphere) which has been taking place extremely slowly for a good many millions of years, as the cycles move onward towards a more spiritual condition, we are reminded of a curious scientific suggestion that has lately been published in Cosmos and widely circulated in the scientific press. It has arisen through the study of the problem of aviation. Owing to simple mechanical causes flight becomes more and more difficult as weight increases, for the weight increases in a greater proportion than the area of supporting surface. Large birds substitute, as far as possible, sailing flight for flapping of the wings. Thus the size of animals capable of flight has an upper limit, and this seems to be reached, in the present state of Nature, by the large birds so far as sailing flight is concerned, and by the large insects so far as flight by wing vibration is concerned. And yet in past ages much greater animals have flown. One reptile of the group Pterodactyl has a span of over thirty feet, which exceeds that of a racing Bleriot aeroplane;

this creature lived during the Cretaceous period, and flew as far as ninety miles inland. Certain dragon-flies of the Carboniferous era measured over three feet from tip to tip of their outstretched wings. Under present conditions it would be quite impossible for these creatures to fly. The most natural supposition is that in the times when these creatures flew through the air, the atmosphere had a greater density than it has at present. This is the conclusion reached by Mr. Harle, the palaeontologist. It would be difficult to find a more reasonable testimony from a scientific standpoint to the Theosophical assertion that the general density of the Earth was greater in the late Secondary Age than now. (Vol. 2, pp. 137-38) -----------------Gigantosaurus Africanus Recent discoveries in Africa have resulted in the finding of a nearly complete skeleton of what is by far the largest animal whose remains have yet been found. [1914] This saurian, which has been named Gigantosaurus Africanus, was found by German savants at Tendaguru in German East Africa. It is not long ago that Diplodocus Carnegii was an object of wonder as being the largest nearly complete skeleton found. This was 84 feet long, and 11 feet high at the shoulder; but Gigantosaurus is 160 feet long and 22 feet high at the shoulder. His arm bone is 7 feet 1 inch, as long as the whole leg of Diplodocus. An imaginary picture of him appears in The Illustrated London News (August 30), where he is seen to be an enormous lizard, but with legs as long proportionally as those of a bear, an immense tail trailing behind, and a very long neck carrying an insignificant lizard's head. He lived in Lower Cretaceous times. There is considerable doubt as to whether an animal of such a size could stand up or even cohere, supposing physical conditions to be anything like they are now. If he was aquatic, the difficulty, of course, would not be so great; but if he became stranded, he might be crushed under his own weight. There is a similar difficulty with regard to some of the flying reptiles. Perhaps, then, we may surmise that physical conditions were not the same at this remote age; the properties of matter may not have been the same. And after all it is just as reasonable to suppose this as the contrary; especially when we reflect that everything is subject to evolution. Men of science are more favorably inclined to the view that such things as chemical elements are not fixed and constant, but may change and evolve. And so it may be with other qualities of nature. One would hardly expect that a world so different in many respects from the present world would be identical in other respects. The evolution of animals, so far as size is concerned at any rate, has not been continuously progressive. The lizard tribe has greatly degenerated since Cretaceous times. (Vol. 6, pp. 121-22) -----------------Baalbek A scientific contemporary contains an illustrated account of Baalbek. The columns in the Great Temple are 7 1/2 feet in diameter and 70 feet high (including bases and capitals); the shafts are each composed of three stones. A wall has its lower courses built of stones of moderate dimensions, but as we ascend they increase in size until we come to a row of three stones, the shortest of which is 63 feet and the longest 65 feet in length, each being about 13 feet by 12 feet in the other dimensions. In the quarry near by lies a still larger block, which was never detached from the rock beneath; it is 70 by 14 by 13 feet, and its weight is estimated at 1,100 tons. The attempt to explain the transportation and raising of these blocks by mere multiplicity of human labor has always seemed a feeble theory; the difficulty of course being to explain how the combined strength of so many men could be brought to bear, or what materials could have been found adequate to the strain. But there is enough

evidence that the builders were able and cultured people; hence we may reasonably infer that they had engineering means equal to their culture. The same applies to other cyclopean builders, of which the world offers so many examples from China to Peru. It has been a puzzle why little or no mention is made of Baalbek by Greek and Roman writers. Its origin is lost in the mist of history. It was associated with the Ancient Mysteries, and the name signifies that it was dedicated to the Sun. But the use of the expression "Sun-worship" is apt to suggest to the casual reader the degraded rites afterwards associated with that name and with the name of Baal. The worship of the fires of animal vitality is the polar opposite of the reverence for the Spiritual Sun. Sacred symbols and pure rites have always been subject to profanation. The sacrifice of a mannikin, intended to signify the offering up of the lower self in devotion to the great Cause, has found its travesty in human sacrifices. Yet, as regards Baalbek, we must give due weight to the fact that during the spread of Christendom it was a stronghold of "Paganism," and has probably been much maligned and misrepresented by zealous chroniclers. Even in our day the most egregious calumnies can be solemnly uttered with reference to worthy causes. Prejudice and fixed habits of thought blind men's eyes, so that they do not see things. These monuments of antiquity tell a tale which we do not yet want to hear. We prefer our familiar view of the world and of human history. (Vol. 6, pp.169-70) ---------------Aural Sound In the Monthly Weather Review for January is reproduced an article by a Norwegian, who cites many well authenticated instances of a rushing sound having been observed in connection with auroras, including a note from an observer of thirty years' standing for the Finnish Meteorological Institute, who is a very careful observer. In reply to an inquiry he wrote: On October 10, 1911, we had a very beautiful flaming aurora over the whole dome of the sky, but no sound was heard here. It is when the aurora sinks down low over field and forest that it is accompanied by a noise similar to that of a roaring and rushing stream. Four times in thirty-four years have I observed this sound and reported it to various observatories. Mr. T. Gran of the Scott Antarctic Expedition once heard a peculiar noise attending an Aurora Australis, and the party of Lieut. Campbell repeatedly heard such a noise. (Vol. 7, p. 147) -------------------Psychology Psychic Epidemics - William Dunn The physical epidemics that have afflicted humanity throughout the past, such as the Black Death, the Plague of London, smallpox, cholera, etc., have not been more terrible in their aspect and effects than have been the psychic epidemics that have swept over whole portions of the race - obliterating for the time being nearly every trace of individual sanity among the people so affected. The worst of these psychic scourges have occurred under the cloak of religion, and perhaps no form of human degradation can equal

the depths to which whole communities have been carried while such epidemics lasted. An important analogy between physical and psychic epidemics is this: that contagion originates from one individual. These psychic plagues have not been confined to religion, however, but have taken many other forms in political and financial manias. Dr. Cutter of Yale, author of the "Psychological Phenomena of Christianity," remarks that "All powers are capable of reverse action: water, fire, steam, electricity, are wonderful aids to mankind if regulated, but if they get beyond control, how great is the destruction! A child can start a fire; it is not so easily stopped. A revival is such a power that when once started it may sweep a community. It may arouse the passions and degrade religion to the frenzies of savages or beasts, or it may permeate the minds of men and cause a growth to the full stature of the true man." The same writer says in speaking of phenomena of contagion: "The leader of a crowd is usually a despot.... He never sways the crowd by reason.... but trusts to the emotional contagion, which is part of the crowd mind.... Once the mob-self is brought to the surface it possesses a strong attractive power and a great power of assimilation. It attracts fresh individuals, breaks down their personal life and quickly assimilates them; it affects in them a disintegration of consciousness and.... the assimilated individual enters fully into the spirit of the mob." So great is the collective power of suggestion that a crowd will see things which do not exist, and hear sounds which are purely imaginary. Not only does this apply to the depraved, but it may be experienced by every unit in the crowd. Those who read and observe can hardly avoid noticing this phenomena in all avenues of life. Historical Data During the Crusades, forty thousand German children and thirty thousand French children were infected with a psychic epidemic so terrible in its fanatical zeal that nothing could restrain them. Whenever restrained from following their aim, they sickened and died. During the last of the Crusades, the women Crusaders were overpowered by a strange mania; entirely devoid of clothing, they rushed about the streets speechless, and in frequent cases fell into ecstatic convulsions. When the Crusade-epidemic was abating, a new one arose. In 1260, bands of people in Italy were seized with a veritable craze for public scourging.... Both men and women went in groups from town to town, and stripped to the waist, or with but a loin cloth about their bodies, they stood in public places and scourged one another. The flogging-epidemic was succeeded by the dancing mania, when large assemblies of men and women took to dancing with wild delirium in both churches and streets. The witchcraft epidemic lasted from 1484 to the middle of the eighteenth century. Table of dates during which the above psychic epidemics occurred: Crusades ........ 1096 to 1299 Flagellants (flogging) ....... 1260 to 1348 Dancing ........ 1374 to 1470 Witchcraft ....... 1484 to 1749 An instance of contagious phenomena is the following:

"At Old Orchard Beach a crowd of several thousands was made to give up all its valuables and money.... and some of those who contributed most had simply gone to see 'how it was done.'" At revival meetings scenes have occurred which pass description. It is only necessary to mention the "barkers" as a type. Groups of men and women, on all-fours, snarling and growling and snapping their teeth at the foot of a tree. This was called "Treeing the devil." The frenzy which swept over the French nation and known as the French Revolution, ending in a carnage of blood, is an illustration of a psychic epidemic manifesting in social life. The phenomenon presented was in many respects similar to that which accompanies frenzied fanaticism in religion. Financial and speculative frenzies are psychic disorders that act in the same manner as other forms of these national distempers. Three historical examples will be interesting. In 1634 the Dutch became suddenly possessed with a mania for tulips. The whole population embarked in the tulip trade, neglecting all ordinary industry. The mania to speculate in tulips obsessed the whole nation. So contagious was the epidemic that foreigners became smitten with the same frenzy and poured their money into Holland. The result was that thousands were ruined and a cry of lamentation went over the land. In 1717 John Law infected the French nation with his scheme for trade on the western bank of the Mississippi. Three hundred thousand applications were made for shares in the company; the eagerness to be a shareholder rose to a pitch of frenzy. People of every age and both sexes invested. Then the bubble burst, and multitudes were ruined. In 1711 the "South Sea Bubble" - a similar mania - infected the English nation with kindred frenzy. Shares were inflated from L100 to L1000 and more, and suffering was great when the "Bubble" burst at last. In modern times the historical instances given above are being re-enacted in countless ways, although in a more divided manner. Psychic epidemics may be observed in the emotional outbreaks that occur from time to time when unreasoning crowds become infected with some mania. We have but to recall the disturbances reported in the daily newspapers. Psychic diseases are as easily transmitted to weaklings as are the well-known physical sicknesses. The pity of it is that those infected usually imagine that they are acting from a good motive and from reason; whereas, as a matter of fact, the so-called "motive" has been put into them by one who is himself mentally awry. Advanced physicians declare that all known physical ailments, fevers, and chronic diseases, have their exact counterpart in psychic or mental disorders, and that the psychic manifestations are but diseases on their way to the physical plane. All good movements for the uplifting of Humanity have had their reverse manifestations in misdirected zeal or psychic disease. Just as good food, when improperly taken, leads to physical disease, so may sacred teachings be misused by those whose psychic bent outruns their spiritual aspirations. The psychic epidemics that afflict mankind evidence the presence among men of the ancient evil of humanity - namely, the animal and emotional nature, uncontrolled by the overshadowing divine nature, seeking to establish a kingdom for itself. The safeguard lies in the cultivation of the higher will - selfcontrol. (Vol. 4, pp. 260-62) --------------------

The Alcohol Demon - H. Coryn, M. D. R. Rosenwasser, writing in The Medical Record on "The Drink Habit," concludes with the expression of his opinion that the vast majority of inebriates who sincerely desire to be cured, can be; and moreover by office treatment without detention. But that those who enjoy their inebriety and do not wish to be cured cannot be cured or much improved by any plan of treatment. In the minds or brains of this latter class of persons there is either something present which does not belong there, and which we are unable to remove, or something lacking, which we are unable to give. [Italics mine. H.C.] The Doctor is grazing one of the secrets of human nature, a secret not at all known to the psychology of the day. It contains the origins of the doctrines of damnation, lost souls, the "second death," and vampires. Some of the "black sheep" who disgrace an irreproachable parentage, and the unfortunates - often men of genius like Edgar Allan Poe - who drink as if under the impulse of a periodical obsession against which they are helpless,* appear by the same principle. -----------* Some say that Poe's drinking excess is only a popular myth. - dig. ed. -----------If "unconscious cerebration" be an admissible label, it is under it that the drinkobsession should be classed. If a plan, an invention, a problem in conduct, a difficulty of thought or calculation, suddenly coming into the mind fully matured, solved or cleared, is regarded as the evident product of much sub-conscious - but yet, conscious - preparation, so is the obsessional outburst. The victim, waking in the morning, may find all the arrangements for the - by him unplanned and unintended - debauch already completed in his mind, sources of necessary money, method of escape, details as to secrecy, excuses and with them the overmastering impulsion. But we suggest that "unconscious cerebration" is a phrase that is incompetent and even meaningless, and repeat that sub-conscious is not unconscious. In the normal animal life, as lived under the superintendence of nature, there is sickness but once - at death; and till then, perfect health. The centers of physiological activity for the upkeep of the individual and the race make their appeal to consciousness at their cyclically recurrent periods, have their demands adequately satisfied, and disappear again. At such periods only does the animal's mind take cognizance of these functions and devise means of satisfaction. The eating, drinking, sleeping, etc., are done merely when necessary and merely to the extent necessary. Mind, in fact, just covers the functions, has no other duty or capacity, and sufficiently serves each in turn. The human program differs very much. Man is not as a rule healthy, knows many sicknesses, and has a mind which has much more imaginative pictorial power than that necessary to serve the animal functions. As in the animals, it responds to each of these functions at their cyclic appearances and preoccupies itself therewith. But some of them, after their due satisfaction, it does not let go. Pleased with the sensation, it immerses itself therein too thoroughly, develops it, prolongs its demands, complicates it, recalls it in memory and devises means for its repetition wholly apart from its limited functional service. In perfect, balanced health the understanding tone of all particular sensations is the general sensation of well-being. In so far as man has not this health he has not this sensation. But he can get it, artificially and temporarily, from alcohol; to which fact the

drinking habit nearly always owes its establishment. The drinker's attention is preoccupied with the sensation of health and vigor; he connects this with the taste and other subsidiary sensations afforded him by alcohol, making a compound unit of them all and dowering it with a kind of life of its own, ensouling it as it were from his own human consciousness. At first this created thing, creature, calls for its satisfaction only at certain stated times, then retiring below the floor of its creator's consciousness. But as, each time it emerges, he may ally himself more closely with it, lend it more life - his life, his will - its visits may be oftener and oftener, its demands more and more imperious. But they are not recognized by him as imperious so long as he concurs. The demands are his own. Then come, in the intervals, regrets and counter-resolutions. Finally he despairingly recognizes, both in the intervals and even at the time of yielding, that he is in the grip of a power, a will, greater now than his. In the next stage the man himself has disappeared. He is represented by and merged in the crave he created, now an actual intelligence acting for one end only, foreseeing and planning, permitting no other activity than such as will directly or indirectly serve it. The man is now, not the victim of the alcohol crave, but in a sense that crave itself. His proper humanity is absorbed, his intelligence now but cunning which in certain cases reaches an extreme finish. This is the stage to the beginning of which Dr. Rosenwasser refers. We said "in a sense that crave itself." In what sense? How far? For Ego is spirit brought to a focus in self-consciousness; but the crave is a subjective energy of matter. Can the first become the second? Not absolutely; but when spirit, which should dominate matter, permits itself to be stripped little by little of its prerogatives and insignia so that its self-consciousness is lost in the continuous consciousness of a material crave, its being as spirit is suspended, its previous acquisitions as spirit are lost. It is submerged in matter, outwardly in physical matter, the visible body, more immediately in that subtler astral body which forms the matrix of sensation. At the death of the grosser vehicle it finds itself, instead of in freedom, still chained to the finer. And that finer vehicle remains charged with the old crave in all its intensity, is still intensely living, very, very slow to disintegrate and die, and still possessed of the cunning it displayed before. It is now a disembodied crave, i.e., as to the gross body, but not to the subtler astral body, in which it still inheres. When therefore this vehicle does finally disintegrate, scatter its atoms and die, the Ego is as if it had not lived that life. Having merged its consciousness in matter, with the loss of that matter it has lost consciousness, in a sense is not as part of the spiritual world. But before that, before the subtle astral matrix has disintegrated, what is the state of things? What will that disembodied crave be doing? Trying to satisfy itself. And for that it must enter and use some living human organism. It must find an open door. But there is something more to be said, appealing however only to those who understand reincarnation. That Ego which is embodied in each of us, which is each of us, is a derived ray of a great Ego which stands to each of us as Supreme Soul. "As many men on earth, so many Gods in Heaven." This is one and yet not one with its representative on earth. Each of its successive representatives, in the long line of incarnations of every human individual, is a pulse or aspect of its self-consciousness; and in and through every such pulse, a whole incarnation, it tries to enrich itself spiritually. That is our, or its, purpose in incarnation. One such pulse, in the case we are considering, has been lost, has failed. A whole lifetime has borne no spiritual fruit. Whilst the Supreme is essentially and necessarily immortal, yet as the consciousness of that degenerate aspect of itself it became extinct. Modern psychology has not as yet the conception of the divisibility of consciousness. It must be realized, however, if human nature is to be understood. The Higher Ego, the Soul, at the birth of each individual, extrudes from its own conscious

essence a nucleus of light for the animation and humanization of the new brain. This, little by little, becomes the mind and Ego of the child. It slowly reaps the experiences of life, and, if it does not break by depravity the connection between itself and its divine source, at death is reunited therewith, its consciousness expanding to the greater. It has rebecome the greater without losing anything that made it a self to itself on earth. From the standpoint of the higher, it has reaped and garnered itself. For the next incarnation it, as the higher, repeats the former process, both reappearing on earth as the new Ego, and remaining the watcher in heaven. But where the link is broken by depravity, how then? The nucleus of spirit has lost itself in matter, tied itself thereto. At death therefore, instead of passing home, it must remain with the disintegrating astral form to which it has lent so much of its life, must experience the continuance of sensation and the fiery craving for it, and the slow torture of disintegration. Returning to our case, we can see that the Soul must now replace that failure of itself, and in its next incarnation it will try to do so, selecting the best heredity it can for its representative. And here is the explanation of another puzzle in psycho-pathology. The new incarnation may occur before that conscious shell and relic of the last life has disintegrated and died "the second death." There are in such case two centers of terrestrial consciousness, successive corners from the same spiritually parental essence; the first not yet discharged unconscious from its still living shell; the second beginning life. And unless, as the years go by, the second keeps itself strong and positive in the light, it is, because of the relationship, uniquely liable to an invasion or obsession of the other - that is, to an outbreak of alcoholic debauchery which may easily prove the first of a series. This fate need never happen; the fateful first steps which open the door need never be taken. But there are few teachers and parents who read their children's natures well enough for perfect training; none outside the ranks of Theosophy who know of the terrible possibility in human life which we have tried to make clear. (Vol. 4, pp. 192-96) -------------------The Sanitation of Sound - Lydia Ross The growing campaign against unnecessary noise in cities is a movement of practical sanitary value. As every sight produces some effect by the picture it conveys to the mind, so every sound carries an influence in the story it tells. Even when the individual only unconsciously looks or listens to passing sights or sounds, his health and character are more or less affected by the prevailing type and tone of his surroundings. The tones of "sweet bells jarred and jangled out of tune" that so disturb the musical ear, also affect the nervous systems of less discriminating hearers. Musicians know that notes must be arranged in certain harmonious groups to satisfy the ear, just as an artist combines the right colors to satisfy the eye. It is also known that certain notes lead on to others so imperatively that they are no more fit for the ending than are the words in an unfinished sentence. Although only musical students may understand these defects, the unsatisfying and disturbing effect of them is felt more or less by many others. The quality of external impressions, carried by the special senses to the brain, is reflected from thence throughout the general nervous system. In this way, pleasant or disagreeable sights, sounds, smells or other impressions, react upon the whole body. The

influence is often very marked, as every cell shares in the agreeable or repugnant sensation. The pronounced effect upon the health and spirits of great joy or sorrow, or intense passion or emotion, is well known. Similar in kind, if less marked in degree, is the chronic effect of less personal and less vivid impressions which persistently react upon the body through the nervous system. The sensations of great sorrow or physical suffering or of great happiness tend to monopolize the feeling, for the time, so that all else is forgotten or sensed only as unreality. However, each experience, as felt in turn, is but one of many phases of feeling, of all of which the Perceiver within is aware. This power to perceive and feel and know, great enough to comprehend and respond to the whole range of feeling, always inheres in the real inner nature, however much individuals may vary in partially expressing it. It is this subconscious knowledge, that completeness is possible, and that harmonious action is natural, which makes one intuitively unsatisfied with imperfection. It is this subconscious self which is disturbed by the disorderly or fragmentary phases of truth in form or color or sound which lack complementary lines or colors or tones. A certain rhythm is natural to healthy functions, and a condition of equilibrium is the normal state of the brain and nervous system. The heart's rhythmic contraction and dilation are typical of the action of other tissues. The booming sound of ocean waves is restful, because it tells of orderly, crescendo movement up to a poised climax, and then the regular diminuendo of sound, in keeping with the diminishing expenditure of force. There is a restful finish in the blending notes of a bird's song and in many pleasing nature sounds. But the sudden, shrill call or cry of birds or beasts of prey jar upon the inner ear by their abrupt imperfection and inharmony of sound made up of unrelated notes. At a distance, the sounds of a city are so far blended that the composite result is not unpleasant. But within the busy streets, the ear is constantly assailed by a succession of abrupt, unrelated, discordant and shrill sounds. Each one insistently challenges the attention to its fragmentary story of city life. The imperative gong on street cars, the rasping rattle of trucks over the pavement, the sharp clang of bells, the shrill cry of hucksters, the discordant din of elevated trains, the threat of automobile horns, the piercing note of whistles, and many other alarms, keep up the auditory assault. Each discordant tone of the unrelated series demands the attention, which is constantly disappointed by the specific incompleteness and general inharmony. To the suburban visitor the city noises are distracting and wearisome. Not only his brain feels the excitement of an intruding confusion of unusual sounds, but the brain also telegraphs the sense of lack and discord to every nerve and thus to every cell. No wonder that the noise puts his "nerves on edge." As the nerves are everywhere in the body, there is a general feeling of restless tension and a subconscious straining to catch the missing rhythm in this excess of sound. The music of a good band is a decided help to weary, disheartened troops on the march. But abrupt, discordant sounds are irritating and exhausting. This is felt especially by the sensitive, the sick and the very young, all of whom have impressionable nervous systems. It is easy to see why such noise would distinctly affect their nervous poise, their health and dispositions. The efforts to change the discordant tone of competition, to which civic life is so largely keyed, to the more harmonious and rhythmic movement of co-operation is in line with the natural healthy action of the body politic. The dominating and unrelated tone of the man or of the corporation that would overpower all others, reacts injuriously upon both the hearers and the makers of it. In keeping with movements that make for social harmony and completeness are the finer phases of sanitation as related to sound. Nature moves rhythmically in her own realms. Man, in making the town, instinctively strikes the keynote of his own quality in the busy streets. Harmony and unity of tone and of action belong to the City Beautiful, because they are an intrinsic part of life and not an artificial acquisition or luxury. The physical health,

the mental poise and the moral status, are all stimulated, strengthened and enriched by the satisfying sense of completeness and harmony. When the full value of this fact is appreciated, the resulting desire to work it out in detail will easily find the way and the means. (Vol. 4, pp. 98-100) ------------------The Talking Habit - Percy Leonard Women, with tongues Like polar needles, ever on the jar; Men, plugless wordspouts, whose deep fountains are Within their lungs .... Storms, thunders, waves Howl, crash and bellow till ye get your fill, Ye sometimes rest; men never can be still But in their graves. - O. W. Holmes One who had good opportunity for observation has called Mr. Judge a "strong, silent man"; and well the title suited him, and what high praise such words become when used of any man. The strength comes from the silence, for a still tongue implies neither a feeble intellect nor a barren mind; but is often associated with unusual mental power, and richness and profundity of thought. Restraint of speech in strong and silent persons frequently results from an embarrassing flow of ideas and such a sense of intellectual vigor that they hesitate to break into chatter of ordinary society for the same reason that prevents the owner of a steam-hammer from using it for cracking nuts. It is well known to the ordinary practitioner that excessive talking is frequently the cause of severe nervous prostration, and all the deeper students of Theosophy are familiar with the idea that the organs of speech possess creative power which it is a kind of desecration to misuse. We are told that when the Deity at the dawn of a new cosmic day said "Let there be light" there was light; but among ourselves how few there are whose remarks throw any illumination on the matter in hand. A victim of this habit often talks not because he has something to say, but to stop the embarrassing habit of the mind to think: a process which gives rise at times to strange conclusions, highly subversive of one's settled opinions and not infrequently forcing us out of our comfortable stagnation, into lives of strenuous toil. One who abandons himself to the talking habit has really little need to think. The river of verbosity which ripples off the tip of his tongue is more of the nature of an offscouring or an excretion, than the product of mental activity. That the mind has little to do with such fatal fluency is easily perceived by one who has ever been in the company of a person who has the habit of talking aloud to himself. Such utterances are only useful as giving an object lesson of the workings of the brain-mind unregulated by the reasoning faculty or Higher Mind. These overheard soliloquies are little more than a confused medley of the current contents of the mind loosely connected by the laws of association and strongly tinctured with the personality. The ceaseless talker seems to think that if he only strings sufficient words together, he must in course of time strike such a combination

as will contain a gem of wisdom. But in the tedious process such tremendous floods of the nonsense which bores and of the gossip which disrupts society are let loose, as surely more than counterbalance the extremely slender chance of such a possibility. By practising restraint of speech we need not fear the getting-out of practice. Solomon has told us that there is time to keep silence and a time to speak, and when the time for speech arrives the silent person's words fall with all the greater weight because of their impressive rarity. George Eliot, it is said, was usually a listener in mixed company; but when she did break silence it was to such good purpose that she was always sure of a respectful hearing. Most people, we imagine, can remember their first meeting with an allusion to William the Silent and the hopeful expectations which started into life in reference to a man whose habits earned for him this soubriquet. Here among crowds of empty babblers was one man who had achieved self-mastery to the extent of preserving silence when he had nothing particular to say, and thus conserving his energy for higher use. A truly rare accomplishment! How many splendid enterprises have succumbed to inanition simply because the force which should have energized them into vigorous life has all been squandered in profuse discussion. Is it not true that when a man is first confronted by some arduous, unaccustomed duty that it drives him inward to those central solitudes where in the stillness of his heart he forms his great resolve and whence he issues forth clothed with resistless power from his association with his higher self to carry out the duty which the Law assigned him to perform? One of the surest ways to court disaster is to infect the atmosphere with arrogant predictions of success. Loudness of talk is often taken by the vulgar as a sign of power. On the contrary it is a sure symptom of energy running to waste. True force of character is not displayed by verbal fluency nor even by intense activity of mind; but by the strength of secret will which holds back speech, and even stills the mind's machinery, and like some monarch sitting on a throne concealed from vulgar gaze, enforces its commands in regions far remote with no external show of sovereignty, but solely by the exercise of overwhelming power. Silence appears to be a positive terror to some of these habitual talkers. Sometimes you see a full-grown man hurry along the road to overtake a friend and thus escape the horror of a silent walk and the unwonted company of his own thoughts. Out of the silence were these people born and to the silence will they go when their vain lives are spent; and yet it never comes into their minds to fit themselves by practice for their wordless destiny. Silence must have preceded the universe of sound, just as the light broke from the bosom of primeval darkness; silence therefore is no empty void, but the exhaustless treasury from which all sound has issued forth, and back to which it must return to its remotest echo, when the great cosmic clock tolls out the hour of universal rest. "Silence is the Mother of all, out of which all proceeds. As we rise into the silence, so can we reach out to that place where all things are possible for us." Is there not great joy in this wider hope? (Vol. 7, pp. 412-14) -----------------General Theosophy

The Augoeides

- A Student In Bulwer Lytton's story Zanoni one of the two heroes who gives his name to the book is represented as calling forth his own inner, higher, self, the Augoeides, in order to get counsel in his difficulties. Lytton knew what he was writing, though few enough of his readers know what they are reading. For the majority the scene goes for what it is worth as pure imagination. A contemporary, the English Fortnightly Review, in an issue towards the end of last year, printed an account of the early clays of Elizabeth Blackwell, those days in which she came to the conclusion to break all precedent and qualify as the first woman doctor. In order to earn the necessary money she left her home and took up residence as teacher in a school eleven days' (then) travel away. The account says: "Upon the first evening of her new life Elizabeth Blackwell records an experience 'unique in my life, but still (in old age) as real and vivid.... as when it occurred.' With 'the shadow of parting' upon her, she had retired to her room and was gazing from her open window across the dim outlines of hill-ranges illumined by the light of countless stars, when a sudden terror seized her. 'A doubt and dread of what might be before me gathered in my mind. In an agony of mental distress, my very being went out in a cry for Divine help. Suddenly the answer came. A glorious presence as of brilliant light flooded my soul.... nothing visible to the physical sense; but a spiritual influence joyful, gentle, and powerful;.... the despair vanished; all doubt as to the future, all hesitation.... left me, and never in after life returned. I knew that my individual effort.... was in accordance with the great ordering of the world's progress.' So the vision passed, but its influence remained." The curious gleaner of religious experiences can find hundreds of cases like this. Though most of them occur in the lives of religious reformers and enthusiasts, a fair proportion are found quite outside that field. Sometimes there is the sense or vision of a presence, sometimes an audible voice, sometimes merely a sudden and absolute clearing up of difficulties and perplexity. What are we dealing with? Hallucination? Sometimes, assuredly. But always? The believer in human ensoulment should not say so. For if there be in each of us a divine something beyond personality, why may it not at some intense moment succeed in making its presence and guidance clearly felt despite the blinding personality? That might be granted; but how about the vision, the visible form of light? Yet a vesture to the soul ought not, even for science, once that soul is granted, be so very difficult a matter. Every smallest molecule is a compound of hundreds or thousands of radiant particles. A cloud of these, or perhaps of units still finer, seems not impossible as the vesture of a consciousness higher than that of the brain-bound personality. For most men, conscience is a guide but imperfectly sensed. The workings of the physiological and sensuous nature, and of brain thought, are too vivid for finer perceptions and ideation to be felt and recorded. Yet if the soul be a real entity, a ray of the Supreme Light, such perceptions and ideation must be as unbroken a stream for it as ordinary perceptions and thoughts are for the personality. Is it impossible that a fixed real belief in the soul, a constant watchfulness for its guidance and verdicts, and a complete dominance over the ever intrusive lower nature, may lead on occasion to a full and conscious intercourse with the soul? "The man (says H.P. Blavatsky) who has conquered matter sufficiently to receive the direct light from his shining Augoeides, feels truth intuitionally; he could not err in his judgment.... for he is illuminated. Hence, prophecy, vaticination, and the so-called illumination from above by our own immortal spirit."

- a ray and very part of Supreme Spirit. (But that inerrancy of judgment is for him only who has conquered matter in very deed. Short of that - and how many are not short of that? - the divine communication will surely be mixed in its reception with all sorts of personal preconceptions and picturings, and especially with those resting on subtle forms of vanity.) Man is an evolution from the brutes, says science; and they from vegetation; and vegetation from the inorganic. In other terminology the human monad, essentially divine, separated from the Supreme Light, loses its divine consciousness as it enters the lowest levels of matter and works its way up. Each is an emanation, not directly from that Light, but from some one of the conscious spiritual energies which are born from it at the dawn of activity and are its active manifestations. "So many men on earth, so many gods in heaven." And this god, angel, is from the first the overshadowing guide of its emanation, the peregrinating monad. In man, or as man, the latter begins for the first time to become conscious of its guide and source, conscience, the "Father in Secret," the Augoeides. The crown of human evolution is the reunion of the two; and the end of all evolution, so far as one epoch of it is concerned, is the withdrawal of the latter into absolute quiescent Light, the nirvana of all things. In the Mysteries, each degree of awakening of the man to the presence of his overshadowing guide, was a degree of initiation. For this final touch he had to prepare himself by long preparation and self-discipline. For without that touch, and the teaching then imparted, his perceptions of the Augoeides were surely mixed with too much human matter to be dependable. And it is the loss of the Mysteries, the lacking in our day of that condition, that makes modern seership - from that of Swedenborg downward - so faulty, so unreliable, and so often dangerous. (Vol. 7, pp. 24-26) -------------------Ancients, Moderns, and Posterity - Percy Leonard "The Present is the Child of the Past; the Future, the begotten of the Present. And yet, O present moment! Knowest thou not that thou hast no parent, nor canst thou have a child; that thou art ever begetting but thyself? Before thou hast even begun to say 'I am the progeny of the departed moment, the child of the past,' thou hast become that past itself. Before thou utterest the last syllable, behold! thou art no more the Present but verily that Future. Thus, are the Past, the Present, and the Future, the ever-living trinity in one the Mahamaya [Great Illusion] of the Absolute IS." - The Secret Doctrine, Vol. II, p. 446. Could we by putting on Carlyle's Time-annihilating hat transport ourselves to ancient Greece, we should find the citizens believing themselves to be moderns. If we informed the first man we met that he was an "ancient" (provided that he understood our execrable Greek) he would stare at us with incredulous disdain. The Greeks of ancient times believed themselves to be upon the plow-point of advancing time and every bit as modern as we feel ourselves to be today. And it is just as hard for us to realize that we shall be regarded as "the ancients" by our remote posterity, who also will one day be "ancients." The population of the world in the year 3000 is just as unsubstantial to ourselves as we should be to the contemporaries of Pericles; and yet - here we are. And here posterity will be, and each succeeding generation feels itself to be existing in the Living Present with

a shadowy retrospect of "ancients" in its rear, and a still more vague and unsubstantial posterity in prospect. Could we induce our ancient friend to consider our existence at all, he would certainly relegate us to the dim, unlighted vistas of far-off futurity, as ghostly nonentities destined some day to be born; and yet - here we are. The story of Marathon, to us an incident of ancient history, was to the citizen of that epoch, "news." The relics of antiquity, the blackened loaves from baker's shops in Pompeii, the amphorae, the tattered fragments of cloth from the mummy cases, were all as commonplace and modern to the men of ancient times as our utensils and fabrics are to us. In a recent excavation of a Roman villa in England, some shelves were found on which were stored antique curios collected by the Roman occupant as relics of his ancients. Little did he dream that he who was so full of life, so eager in his quest for remnants of the past, was really an "ancient" himself, and that his familiar villa would be studied by us moderns as an interesting ruin of a past civilization. As surely as we excavate the site of Troy, so future students of antiquity will search the buried ruins of Chicago, Paris, Rome, and New York, and speculate upon these modern times with all the interest we reserve for ancient Greece. "One generation passeth away and another cometh; but the earth abideth forever." The days of old, these modern times and our remote posterity may seem to the Omniscient Eye as an eternal Now. Could we emancipate ourselves from our absorbing interest in the transient trifles that concern our present, petty personalities, we too might share the calm of that eternal consciousness and sit as gods and watch the flitting pictures on the Screen of Time. (Vol. 2, pp. 21-22) --------------The Astral Body - H. A. W. Coryn It is safe to say that science will never accept the astral body - by that name: at any rate not until philosophy accepts the prototypal Ideas of Plato. Yet the evidence, if not for them, then for something discharging the same function and therefore after all for them - is irresistible. One thinks first of the growth of living animal tissues in glass jars, demonstrated at the Rockefeller Institute. Removed from the body to which they belong and placed in nutritive fluids which they can absorb, they attain a size that would constitute them fatal diseases if they were in situ at home. They would in fact be malignant growths of highly organized types. Why don't they grow to that size? Because "the nervous system" restrains them within the limit of usefulness. How does "the nervous system" know that limit? Has it a picture in its "mind," a plan according to which it works, according to which it variously restricts or encourages? When some of the molluscs are cut in two each half grows the part it has lost, the head an after-part, the after-part a head. Two animals result, each exactly like the original. As the severed cells are called upon to perform and do perform new and unexpected work, what and where is the architectural plan by which they do it? The cells of a leaf have finished their growth. Now comes their work, the fixing of

carbon from the air, transpiration, and so on. But cut off, say, a begonia leaf and place it on damp soil properly protected. It proceeds at once upon a wholly new program, sending down roots, sending up stalk, fresh leaves, and finally flower. It is obviously working according to a plan. When a germ cell or seed does that the problem can be concealed by talking about its chemical constitution and so forth. We are told that the seed behaves as it does because it is constituted by nature to do so, molecularly arranged for just that function. But the cells of the leaf were not arranged for that but for quite other functions. How come they to be able to stop their proper line of work and follow this one, generating not only leaves like themselves but all other parts of the plant including seeds? We are of course pressing the problem of heredity, the persistence of racial and family type. But heredity is only a word that expresses the observed facts without a gleam of explanation. The consciousness of the mollusc, as an individual, and that of the leaf on a lower plane, can be only sensational. They do not intelligently arrange and design what they are doing. But to ascribe it to molecular mechanism only, is no better than to say God did it. Either is such a form of mere words as unwise parents throw at a too questioning child to stop, without satisfying, its mind. No idea corresponds. The gap in conception remains exactly what it was. When a chimney is blown down, the builder notes the gap and builds another. His mind contains a picture of what ought to be there. An architect does not deliver the whole plan of his building to each of the workmen. Each follows his ordinary work, being merely told where to begin and when to stop. When all of them have done their part the building is complete. Why may we not suppose that the cutting-in-two of a mollusc constitutes some such appeal to some intelligence somewhere in nature as the missing chimney constitutes to the builder? The force flowing in the cells of the injured animal is thereupon directed to the work unexpectedly required. Science now speaks freely of human "subconsciousness," meaning sub-mental consciousness in man. And it knows that that sub-mental consciousness can, when properly called upon (and also habitually on its own account), do reparative work upon the body whose method is not comprehensible to the man himself. It is, within its limits, intelligent; it knows what it has to do and what it is wanted to do; and it commands the necessary forces - which are beyond the man's reach, owner of them as he may be or think he is. This subconsciousness is embodied with the man, but is not the man and is not an ego. May it not be regarded as a part of nature-consciousness, focused in an organic body and with the intelligence necessary to do its work? And it does not follow that the lower down the scale of mental intelligence is an organism, the lower down a parallel scale is this intelligence. What we call, when in our own bodies, the subconscious, may be just as fully present and just as intelligently at work, in the bodies of plants and animals. If we say that the plan of repair and the plans of hereditary type are in the conscious intelligence of this diffused nature-mind, we are at any rate reasonably proceeding from the known and not glossing the unknown with mere words. The astral body of any plant or animal is its plan of structure in this nature-mind. It is subjective substance, just as is a picture in our own mind. And it contains the vital energy necessary for the guidance of the protoplasmic matter that will clothe it, an energy that guides but is not one of the physical forces. As an analogy from higher up the planes of being, conscience guides mental thoughts and desires but is not among their number nor of their nature. It is the divineastral form or plan, of what the thinking man should be. On both planes the form and the guiding energy setting from it become the negative and positive aspects of one thing. (Vol. 1, pp. 24-26)

-------------------A May Swarm - Percy Leonard Many people who would never rise from their chair to examine a bee upon the window-pane, will run with eager haste to get a nearer view of a swarm of bees. The clinging units merge into the general mass as if impelled by some collective frenzy of the social instinct. Shining eyes and jet black legs appear in fine relief against the soft, brown velvet of the body fur. The sunshine is reflected back in iridescent flashes from the gauzy kings. The insect throng is seething with intense excitement and bubbles over with abundant life. The first swarming usually takes place in early summer. For some weeks a steady flow of honey has been pouring into the cells. Every day thousands of young emerge from their cocoons fully equipped for their lives of labor. Some half a dozen young princesses in their nursery cells clamor for freedom with shrill and angry voices. The queen is wrathful and excited and is only prevented from a murderous onslaught upon her successors by the continuous restraint of her bodyguard. A few days previous to the swarming, scouts have been abroad seeking new quarters, and at last the day of exodus arrives. The morning opens warm and bright, but even now a threatening cloud would keep the cautious insects at home. The sun is mounting in the sky. The swarming is at hand. The entire population remains under cover although their neighbors are all busily engaged among the flowers; and a peculiar throbbing note is heard within the hive as though some powerful locomotive full of steam were waiting with an impatience to begin her run. The dull vibration ceases and in the quiet pause the emigrants load up their honey-sacs with silent haste. Suddenly a tumultuous murmur arises in the center of the hive and a dense cloud of bees issues from the portals. A note of wild, ethereal ecstasy sounds out as every bee of that melodious throng mingles her song of exultation with the general hum. The living cloud now swirls in this direction, now in that. It shifts between us and the sun and looks like some dark storm-cloud strangely out of place on such a sunny day. As suddenly it veers, and now we see the sunshine full upon its front so that it seems as if the sunbeams had been captured in a silver mesh as thousands of vibrating wings reflect the flashes of white light. Upon a branch, a little blackish lump is seen to form, no bigger than a walnut; yet a moment later it has grown as big as two clenched fists. Now it has doubled as the flying insects hurl themselves upon the swelling nucleus. At last the whirling cloud has settled and the elongated cluster, hanging pendulously down, resolves itself into a plastic mass of clinging, struggling bees that reaches almost to the ground. So far from being the instigator and the leader of the swarm, it often happens that the flying host is on the wing before the queen appears outside, and sometimes she declines to fly so that the disappointed thousands slink crestfallen home again. The branch is now sawn off and deftly shaken into a new hive. Laden with honey, the bees are good-tempered and easy to handle. On taking possession, squads of bees wander through the new premises and clear away any litter that may chance to be there. Others hang motionless from the roof, but though inactive they are not idle. By some mysterious alchemy they are transmuting their honey into wax, which after some twenty-four hours protrudes in tiny white flakes from between the segments of their abdomens. The mason sisters eagerly seize the wax as soon as it appears and immediately lay the comb foundation. Others collect "propolis" (a kind of vegetable varnish found on the leafbuds of certain trees) and carefully proceed to

stop the cracks and ventilation holes. The queen, who ceased to lay a day or two before the exodus, and who is now distended with accumulated eggs, hastens to drop an egg in every cell as soon as it is built, and the common workers disperse themselves abroad in search of nectar. The queen is not an autocrat; but merely the prolific mother of a family which sometimes numbers eighty thousand. She is surrounded by a band of devoted attendants who treat her with every token of affectionate respect and yet who exercise complete control over her movements. Sole mother of the hive, the future myriads yet unborn already live within her palpitating frame. Remove the queen and the masons cease their work. The foragers bring no more nectar. The guards relax their vigilance, and everything goes downhill to ruin. Reintroduce the queen, and once again the social tide resumes its wonted flow, and measureless content finds audible expression in a universal hum. The queen-mother is the only portal which admits the future generations to the sunlit world of labor, and just as a printer who would watch unmoved a maniac destroy a single copy of his newspaper, but would start up in indignant protest to prevent an assault on the stereotype plates with a sledge-hammer; so the bees care little for the death of maiden workers who can be duplicated indefinitely; but will defend the fertile mother with devotion even in face of death. (Vol. 4, pp. 333-34) -----------------The Law of Cycles - H. T. Edge "....distinctive tendencies of civilization at work, putting forward new claims, indicating new paths, and entirely reversing the whole trend of life." These words, met with in a magazine article, will serve as a text or starting-point for subsequent remarks, just as they served to suggest and inspire the subject. The fact is now palpable that humanity is rounding one of the great corners in its history. [1914] Only a few years ago we might still have been in doubt as to this fact, but we can hardly be so any longer, so great and rapid are the changes now going on. And when a course which for a long while has been nearly straight approaches the corner which is to lead it in a new direction, the rate of curvature becomes accelerated; more changes take place in each succeeding year than in the year before it. Every department of speculation and activity shares in the movement. New discoveries are made, inventions multiply themselves and transform our habits, the religious world is upheaved, great movements are inaugurated, ideas on every subject change. Old landmarks disappear, and we begin to question the very foundations of ancient faiths and to seek new principles whereon to build a nobler superstructure. Nor is the movement merely local or national; it is world-wide. And this last constitutes one of the greatest features of the transformation; for never in the known history of mankind was the human race so woven together as now. The consequences will be tremendous. To find another such transformation we must go far back in history. We can trace various movements at different epochs, but it is difficult to decide their relative importance or to what extent they are comparable to the present movement. Some 1500 years ago the western Roman Empire broke up. At an intervening time there was the Renaissance; and so one might go on speculating. The "law of cycles" is a most important item of the Theosophical teachings.

Number and numbers underlie the whole plan of the universe; and cycles result from the application of numerical laws to time. We are all familiar with certain common natural cycles, but a study of Theosophy greatly extends the range of this subject. The two most familiar cycles are those of the day and the year. They are determined by celestial movements and they influence all nature, including our own. These two cycles alone may serve to acquaint us with not a few fundamental principles which we may afterwards apply on a larger scale. The course of a single day of twenty-four hours is like a circle; and as we trace its curve, we recede from the starting-point and then return towards it. But the succession of days also builds up the year, and this has the effect of turning our circle into a spiral curve (or helix), which does not return to the same point but only to a similar point. Each new dawn brings us back to the beginning of a day, but also carries us a little way along the greater circle of the year. The two curves together combine into a vortex, which is the shape that is formed when one takes a spiral wire spring and bends it round into a circle: each little circle represents a day, and the whole large circle represents the year. This vortical curve gives us the key to the general plan of cyclic evolution. It seems unlikely that the process thus traced in two of its degrees should either begin with the day or end with the year; one would expect rather that the day itself should be similarly compounded of a smaller cycle, and that the year should similarly generate a larger cycle; and so on, both ways, indefinitely. And the ancient teachings declare this to be the fact. Yet we use an artificial hour, made by dividing the day exactly into twenty-four parts, instead of a natural hour contained unevenly in the day just as the day is contained unevenly in the year. We do not know what the natural hour is, or even whether there is one; but it may be remarked that the moon traverses its own diameter (in its revolutionary motion) in about an hour. Similarly we have no larger natural cycles than the year, unless indeed we take into account the revolutions of the major planets, or their mutual conjunctions, or the revolutions of the moon's nodes and apsis, and some other movements. Yet there is good reason to believe that antiquity recognized such larger cycles and connected them with astronomical events, in accordance with a principle not now known or recognized. One very important cycle of antiquity was that determined by the revolution of the sun's equinoctial point (or of the earth's node), a period estimated by modern astronomers at 25,868 years. As is well known, the place which the sun occupies in the heavens at the vernal equinox is different every year, being about fifty seconds of arc further back each year than at the year before. Thus the equinoctial point takes about the aforesaid period to make a complete circle of the heavens. We do not know this exact period, as we can only infer it by observing the rate of motion, assuming that this rate is constant throughout the whole period, and dividing 360 degrees by the annual variation observed. Consequently we may be to some extent in error as to its real value. Nor do we now attach any importance to this astronomical event, unlikely though it is that any event would be without significance, and still more unlikely that some would be significant and others not. The ancients, however, attached much importance thereto. The cycle was divided into twelve parts, each part marked by the entrance of the equinoctial point into a new zodiacal sign. This gives periods of 2155 years more or less. This period was said to mark great changes in history - new dispensations, so to say, if we may use the word in a nontheological sense. The old order passed away and a new one was initiated. There was a new keynote sounded, a new pattern of life and ideas set. The character of the period was denoted by the zodiacal symbol appropriate thereto. At the beginning of each cycle a great Teacher appeared and sounded the spiritual keynote for that cycle, conveying in a manner suited to the particular cycle the eternal message of truth and right-living. Whether or not we are at the junction of two such cycles has been much debated and seems extremely probable. But it is difficult to fix the date, partly because the exact length of the cycle is not generally known, and partly because of

the uncertainty of the point of origin. The zodiacal constellations (which should be distinguished from the ecliptical zodiacal signs) are indefinite in form and extent, and we cannot find any convenient degree marks graven upon the sky. It is said that the origin of the celestial zodiac was fixed by the position of the star Revati (a Hindu name); but unfortunately this information is neutralized by the further statement that this star has disappeared. From The Secret Doctrine we understand that the knowledge of this and other exact numerical facts forms part of knowledge that is carefully guarded. The revelation of one fact would lead to the discovery of others, and a line must be drawn somewhere. Nevertheless it is interesting to go over the map of history and try to trace such cycle changes and fit them into the signs of the Zodiac. There must have been, for instance, an Aries age, a Taurus age, and so forth. We know that the Bull was the sacred emblem at one time, and the Ram at another; and other such symbols will at once occur to the student. Whether or not the period of 2155 years (more or less) should be subdivided in accordance with the degrees, minutes, and seconds of the circle, is another interesting question. If so, the degree would correspond to a human lifetime. There are many other cycles, also marked out by astronomical events, such as rare planetary conjunctions, eclipses, and luni-solar cycles. All of these were regarded as having significance in the affairs of men. If two or more important cycles intersect, or fall due at about the same time, the significance is increased; and it is stated that such an intersection occurred at about the beginning of the present century. Another accompaniment of cyclic changes is terrestrial changes and cataclysms. Geologists have been divided in opinion as to whether the vast movements traceable in the crust of the earth were accomplished by sudden or by slow processes. The truth is probably that both kinds of processes have played their part in the result. Contemporaneous denudation and upheaval are accomplished in both ways. A flood will affect more in a few hours than the ordinary denudation will accomplish in as many years. The land is slowly rising and falling all the time; yet now and again violent movements occur. The larger cycles are marked by differences in the configuration of the land and water surface of the earth, and also by the flourishing of different successive great Races of mankind. This will remind the student of the lost Atlantis and the great Atlantean race; also perhaps of the Antarctic continent and the Lemurians. This is a stirring and spacious view of history; it will commend itself to the judgment by its reasonableness and its symmetry, and the intuition will recognize it as true even if ignorance does not. Conventional ideas of human history seem small beside it. Surely it should inspire us, to entertain so grand an idea of our own ancestry and heritage. The progress of evolution is, as said, spiral; civilization succeeds civilization, and humanity rises and falls; yet every time it reaches a higher point, in some sense, than ever before. Much of our progress consists in a recovery of forgotten knowledge, or a return to cyclic points similar to what humanity has reached before. We have records of the powers of past great races in those megalithic monuments of profound antiquity which bestrew the world; these were not the work of primitive races. There are cycles in our individual lives, and it would be strange if these cycles were not related to various natural cycles. Herein we touch the mystery of astrology, that ancient and revered science of which so few fragments have come down to us. Astrology, as practiced today, is more likely to mislead and enslave the mind than to help it on; it is mostly mere fortune-telling. One can scarcely speak of the law of cycles without being reminded of the law of Karma: what a man sows, that shall he also reap. But the time of reaping may be far removed from the time of sowing - especially if we were to sow the seed on a passing comet (!) And this is really what we often do, in a sense. A man may commit a crime in one country, and escape punishment as long as he keeps out of that country; he may injure another man, and avoid retribution until he meets that man again. Often we commit

acts at a time not seasonable for reaping the consequence; we may commit an act at a certain period of life, and not be ripe to receive the consequence until that particular point is reached in another life. For in a lifetime there are many phases which occur but once. We all know that thoughts, moods, and habits will recur at various unknown periods; they have their cycles, long or short. It is as though we sent them off on orbits which carry them afar and lead them back to us again; or as if we ourselves traveled a circular course that brought us back to the same regions we were in before. Much in the way of self-help can be done by studying these cyclic recurrences in ourselves. The evil effect of old cycles can be counteracted by starting fresh cycles of an opposite tendency. We can always sow seeds of betterment with confidence in the inevitable results. A lifetime is a day in the Soul's life; and there are times when we almost seem to grasp this fact, so short does life seem. It is this deeper consciousness of a greater life that makes our lesser life seem so strange and inexplicable; we are unconsciously contrasting the lesser life with the greater. Let us strive to live more in the greater life. (Vol. 7, pp. 407-12) -----------------Why Do Theosophists Oppose Capital Punishment? - Gertrude W. van Pelt, M. D. Theosophists oppose capital punishment because it is at variance with the laws of moral nature, because it is injurious not only to those who suffer it, not only to all other criminals, but to the race at large. Its results are evil and not good, and it is to the interest of the whole of humanity that it should be abolished. This position is taken not in the interest of sentiment, or from vague feelings of a moral injustice; but the conviction is the outcome of a rational philosophy of life, and knowledge of the constitution of man. As the world is beginning to understand, Theosophy is comprehensive, allembracing. In its philosophical aspect, it meets life from every standpoint, showing unity in infinite diversity. It is not the product of the human brain, but existed before the human brain was evolved. It is the expression of the wisdom of the ages, as old as time, the basis of every religion and philosophy which has ever been formulated. One who is fully illuminated by it is able to look at any subject from the center, from the surface, from any point between, or from any side light, and see it in its true relations. In examining capital punishment from any standpoint whatsoever with the assistance of Theosophy, it is revealed as contrary to the law of nature. It has no place in a social system which is a real social system - that is, one which is based on the facts of nature, and is not simply incoherent, thrown together at haphazard, and chaotic. To a Theosophist the institution of capital punishment is not only cruel, barbarous, and an outrage to all the finer sentiments of humanity, but it is senseless. It has no real meaning. It is not the outcome of intelligence, and can never accomplish anything that it is intended to accomplish. Perhaps there is no other one thing which so stamps in history the place of modern civilization as our treatment of public offenders. It is an index of our lack of the sense of responsibility; of our indifference to the fate of our neighbors; of our selfishness, of our unwillingness to examine unpleasant truths, and it will in future ages, undoubtedly be recognized as an evidence of ignorance and stupidity. Our motives - that is our surface motives, the ones we are, on the surface, conscious of - are, punishment for the offender, the furnishing of examples for possible future offenders, and the protection of society. That none of these points is gained is abundantly proved.

Crime is not diminishing under the present treatment of it, and one asks, why should it? What is there in much of our present methods which could possibly regenerate, or transmute the evil into good? What is there to inspire, to uplift, to help one who has almost lost himself in the mire of sin, to find his way again? On the contrary, one who has looked into the system, might very pertinently ask whether it has not been constructed for the unique purpose of creating criminals? And this is in spite of the noble efforts of many; in spite of the enormous work, and untiring labor. The system still remains, a terrible expression of our social life. It seems to ignore the most obvious facts of existence. Man is surely not his body, but is essentially a thinker. He is made of thought, and as a thinker is temporarily inhabiting a body. The criminal, being a man, is essentially a thinker, and his thoughts so far as he is a criminal have an evil potency which is far-reaching. Man is dual in nature, having the potentialities of a demon or a god. The desperate criminal is a man, and is dual in nature - and is under the sway of the lower tendencies. Man is eternal, and every man or woman is a member of the human family. The criminal is a man or woman, and is a member of the human family, an integral part of it, inseparably bound to its fortunes; influencing it just as much as one of the cells of the physical body affects its condition. A cancer spot in the one instance, is just as vital as in the other. For the human family really is one. Whether certain members are for the time being in or out of physical bodies, is but an incident, so to speak. This is something constantly shifting. Under the cyclic law, affecting all life, they come and go, but neither the coming nor the going touches in the least their solidarity. The destinies of all are bound together. Together they must finally rise or fall. And although in such various stages of development, no one can beyond a definite point transcend his race. Each is held down or lifted up by the others. And it is by the character of the thought-life that this influence is exerted. "As man thinketh, so is he." And being what he is, he creates about himself an atmosphere which is either an inspiration to noble endeavor, or, it may be, one which is the opposite. Many a one, just starting on the evil road, has grown to be a confirmed and old traveler in this environment. And when one finally, under the various influences of life, arrives at the point of committing a capital offense, what is it that we do? In the first place, we quite ignore that nature has placed this being in his body for a purpose. We assume that nature is wrong in this instance, and decide to remove from him his outer shell. And so, with the "enemy of society" in the full vigor of his violent passions, in the iron grip of his impulses, cursing with every breath the mankind which he believes is hounding him, we put the last touch to his hatred of his fellows by taking his life. We think we have disposed of him, that he is gone, that we have one less malefactor to deal with. But, according to the Theosophical philosophy we have but set him at liberty - perhaps actually to prey upon society. Freed from the limitations of his body, he is now (if a really corrupt soul) a more subtle and real menace to mankind than ever. Ourselves we have placed at an absolute disadvantage. For he is now beyond our reach to control, yet free to contaminate our thought-atmosphere; to roam at large, a social vampire; to inject into the minds of those who are receptive, suggestions to crime, and to become a constant source of pollution. I speak here, of course, of the rare cases of thoroughly depraved natures. Is it just, in view of the general ignorance of man's nature, to suppose that because we have demolished the outer covering of a man, we have disposed of his influence upon society? Such an idea is born of the idle thought of a materialistic age. Theosophy, in revealing the nature of man, shows very clearly that this cannot be the case. There is a natural life-cycle in every instance, at the end of which the soul normally retires to rest which it is impossible to cut short by violent death. One removed in this way is merely in a different relation to the outer life from one who has passed out naturally and normally. So from the Theosophical standpoint, capital punishment does not decrease, but may positively increase crime; and it does not protect society.

Of course, what we should desire to kill is not the body of an offender, but the evil passions which are using that body as a vehicle. We are helpless to deal with the situation until the man again incarnates, as Theosophy teaches he must inevitably do, and we must then discover that the issue we evaded, has become, at least, no easier to meet. The criminal will come back to earth-life again and again. We must recognize that we cannot drive him out of the human family, but that we are bound to help him to transmute his evil into good. It is also because of the lack of the sense of responsibility, which this penalty implies, that Theosophy opposes it. What would one think of a father, who, having a vicious son, called a family council and decided to be rid of him by killing. The father would promptly be handed over to the law. But the law itself should stand in the relation of father to the members of the community it is supposed to govern. And a Higher Law will certainly judge it if it fails in its duty and responsibility. As just said, it seems reasonable that a man removed violently from his body, shall continue to live in the earth-atmosphere, until the time elapses, during which, under cyclic law, he was born to remain in that relation. Nature's purposes are not easily thwarted, though they may be interfered with. The mighty force of the universe, by which each and every event, as part of the majestic plan, is brought about, cannot be overcome by the ignorance of man. But supposing for a moment that he could stem the mighty tide of eternal momentum, supposing that he could drive a human soul out of the human family by the simple method of destroying the most external of its coverings, where then does he think to send it? On what possible theory can justification for the act be found? If an oldtype Christian acquiesces in this law, he must imagine that he has condemned a fellowman to eternal hell. And is he going to rest comfortably after, with this on his conscience? Materialists are growing fewer, so probably there are not many left who will not recognize that this violent ushering of a man out of his body has not ended things for him. He must continue to live somewhere. Even the true scientist with broad-minded searching of thought, consents to leave the matter open, for he, according to his own processes of reasoning, with his understanding of the law of momentum, cannot but believe that the terrible forces of hatred, and anger and bitterness, must go on to their legitimate end, until overcome or dissipated by other forces. For no one, it would seem, who uses his mind to any purpose, could deny that there are real and very powerful forces pent up in the makeup of every active human being. But the average man, perhaps, would neither in imagination put the dead man in hell, nor have him exterminated. Where then have we put him? What have we done with him? We have got him out of sight, to be sure. The problem of his existence has not been solved, or even met, and we are endeavoring to throw elsewhere the burden of dealing with this evil. What terrible selfishness! The habit of letting thought stop at the grave has become so confirmed; the ignorance as to man's compound nature has become so dense; the whole subject of the meaning of life has become so enshrouded in mystery - that we drop the main issues of life, as if they did not concern us. As in the days of old, we still strain at gnats while we swallow camels. When will it be learned that to evade responsibilities is impossible? They may be dodged. They may be postponed, possibly for many lives, but it is illogical, as well as contrary to all higher teachings, to think that they may be escaped. The very fact that one is placed in a relation of any sort to a subject, shows that to the extent of that relationship it belongs to him; that he is linked to it by the law of cause and effect. And under this law the cycle of history must bring it forth again and again, probably each time with added complications, until that which was begun, be finished. All are responsible for our present conditions. We have created and shaped them out of the thoughts and feelings and acts of innumerable past lives. Together we have woven the pattern of our social fabric, and together we must reconstruct it until it becomes a reflection of the divine plan. To invade our blackest spot - the region of crime - and purify

it, is the task before us, and there are hosts of earnest souls scattered all over our globe, who are eager to do this, many working, and perhaps many more holding back, feeling themselves not properly armed to undertake a task so herculean. The public conscience too, is awakening. And with the possession of Theosophy our weapons are at hand. The time is surely ripe to move forward, and achieve that which we have never before touched. And we must begin by ceasing to place some of our problems beyond our reach; we must begin by abolishing punishment by death. (Vol. 2, pp. 290-94) -----------------Punishment and Capital Punishment A Plea on the Grounds of Justice, Mercy, and Intelligence - H. T. Edge "It seems hard that when we have just started to learn our lessons on earth, we will not have the chance to benefit by them." These words are from a letter received from two prisoners just before their execution. They had been visited by some of the prison workers of the Universal Brotherhood and Theosophical Society, who had explained to them the simple truths as to the divine nature of man, and how the real Man is immortal and does not perish with the body; that divine justice does not requite us for our sufferings on earth by condemning us to greater sufferings in the next world. Their lost self-respect had been regained and they now saw clearly before them the way in which they could make a new start and begin to undo their past mistakes. Thus these men, who never before had had the help of wise and kindly advice, and whose mistakes in life had been due to this neglect, now for the first time realized their position and were put on their feet. Yet our obsolete and barbarous law ran its course and the men were ruthlessly thrust out of this world of their fellow-men into another world, where it is to be hoped that the God whose mercy we crave will be more merciful to them than we were. No words could better convey the wrong inflicted by capital punishment than those which stand at the head of this paper. The death penalty proves that we have no confidence in our power to successfully cope with the murderer. The custom, already abolished by many governments, survives by mere force of inertia; for it is quite out of keeping with the enlightenment of the times. It is neither reasonable nor humane; it offends at once our feelings and our judgment. The arguments offered in its favor are flimsy, sentimental, and of the nature of excuses. It does not act as a deterrent; and the reason is not far to seek. Men commit murder in the heat of passion or temporary madness. Murders are single acts, and murder is not a career; so that execution prevents a man from doing what he is not likely to do again, and still leaves other potential murderers alive. If capital punishment protects society, society could be just as well protected by keeping the criminal in confinement. Thus the argument from deterrence and the argument from protection alike fail. We cannot, even if we would, plead our fears in justification. Revenge is not now considered as a tenable reason for punishment, even when we call it retributive justice or by any other fine name. This can be left to eternal justice. There remains the reformative side of punishment; and this, as so well shown above, is out of the question altogether in the case of capital punishment. A strong reason against the death penalty is the extreme uncertainty and capriciousness of the complex processes by which finally certain particular men are sifted

out for this visitation. Why these particular men should be so treated, when there are so many more who are as bad and worse than they, but who have succeeded in evading the hands of the law - this must often have struck us as past comprehension. Take a man condemned to death, and you may find some citizen with nothing worse than a violent and uncontrolled temper, whom fate seems to have driven into the commission of a hasty act, regretted directly it was done. Why should this man be killed? Or perhaps he is a highwayman; and in this case he is but one out of hundreds of people who might equally well be executed if the law had chanced to get its hands upon them. Criminals should be regarded as patients. That does not mean that we must treat them with unwise leniency. Such a course would not be kindness; instead of reforming them it would make them worse. There need be no coddling. But there is such a thing as strong and wise discipline. Those who argue that mercy would be a mistake do not show much confidence in our power to help one another. Nor do they show any practical wisdom. It is surely within the powers of the present civilization to isolate criminals and care for them and use all reformative efforts upon them. What in any case are the alternatives? We must either turn them loose again on society, unreformed, or made worse than ever, as so often happens; or we must confine them for life; or we must execute them. The best way to protect society against criminals is to reform the criminals. Therefore the reforms in our penal system must go hand in hand with reforms in the treatment of people before they get to prison. We must stop the manufacture of criminals. But, having manufactured them, to treat them in a way which does not reform them, or petulantly to execute them - this does not show the wisdom which we so often boast of as an ornament of our civilization. We can do better. When we execute a man we take no account whatever of his soul. This seems to argue that we do not believe in souls. In this case our religion is a cynical sham, since it does not influence our public polity but on the contrary is flouted by it. Or how can we reconcile this polity with our religion? What principle of mercy or justice, such as we assign to God, or of wisdom, such as we arrogate to ourselves, does it contain? A man is first and foremost an immortal soul, and only secondarily a body. The body is the tenement of the Soul, and the Soul is the real man. Do we destroy the man when we destroy his body? No, nor do we even destroy his lower nature. We merely liberate his passions, and the evil thoughts go forth to infest the haunts of the living and obsess other weak natures, thus giving rise to mysterious epidemics of crime, homicidal mania, and unaccountable impulses, such as puzzle our magistrates and alienists. How is this for the protection of society? The simple fact is we have committed a stupid blunder, like that of a naughty child which strikes the chair which has bruised it. We have committed an act of violence, outraged the laws of nature, and set in motion a new set of evil forces. We have deprived our fellow-man of his opportunity for learning the lessons of life and for amending his ways. Divine law will doubtless step in to remedy this wrong as far as may be, but its consequences must react on the perpetrators. And how is society replenished? By the birth of new Souls into our midst. And whence come they? And to what do they come? As long as we make bad conditions for them to incarnate into, the breed of criminals will continue; nor will any amount of eugenics stop it, so long as we continue to people the air with evil thoughts and the aroma of evil deeds. But it is on our own self-righteousness that we need to reflect. Who among us is worthy to cast the first stone? The plea of justice is sufficiently well answered in Portia's well-known pleading in The Merchant of Venice. "Earthly power doth then show likest God's when mercy seasons justice." The words of the Master also bid us judge not, that we be not judged. The plea of severity, as against undue leniency, that is so often advanced by those who assume the pose of stern justice, might better be made on the other side of the question. For to treat criminals as we do amounts to pampering them,

since the treatment fosters their criminal propensities. Cannot we find a way to take care of them and reform them without pampering them, or is this beyond the reach of our wisdom? The time is rapidly coming when we shall have to change all our ideas of punishment and criminal procedure, so as to bring them into line with the age. We shall have to realize that the appeal is always to our mercy and dutifulness. The criminal needs our help. How long is it since the insane were treated as criminals? And what difficulty there was in changing that! It was the arduous work of determined and patient humanitarian reformers. But public sentiment was changed, as it will be on this criminal question. The particular enormity of the capital sentence serves well to bring the general question into prominence. And when we begin to protest against the death sentence, we begin to ask ourselves what leg we have left to stand on as regards punishment in general. We are all sinners together, in varying degrees and kinds, and need one another's help. If men could only band themselves together in mutual help as ably as they do in mutual repression, what results might not be achieved. On the grounds of Justice, of Mercy, and of Intelligence, we plead for such a change of opinion. The injustice of our punishments is matter of general comment, and the above is an attempt to show some of the reasons for this injustice. We could be juster, if we really tried. The plea for mercy is one that can never fall unheeded upon those who feel their own need for mercy and who have any sense of common interest or impersonal intelligence. As for intelligence, it is sufficiently plain to thoughtful people in this age that capital punishment and many other punishments are not in keeping with the intellectual advances we have made. And Justice, Mercy, and Intelligence find their common foe in Prejudice and Self-satisfaction. (Vol. 7, pp. 117-20) ----------------Count Cagliostro and His Enemies - P.A.M. Surely a sensitive, well-born, and educated man, the friend of rulers, who never took a penny from any one, never had such bitter trials as those suffered by Count Cagliostro on his arrival in England in July, 1776 (the year of American Independence). He knew no English and was obliged to take an interpreter. As he was engaged in chemical and ultra-chemical experiments, he accepted a man who had some chemical knowledge. But this man saw one or two experiments which so startled him that he promptly spread abroad the report that the Count was a man capable of miracles. As his landlady, Madame Blevary, and his wife's companion and interpreter had already decided to bleed the Count of every penny of the three thousand pounds he had in jewels, plate, and money, the ground was prepared for a goodly crop of trouble. The result of the blazing indiscretion of the chemist-interpreter was a horde of visitors of every rank. To many of these the Count was obliged to deny admittance to his lodgings in Whitcomb Street, and thus he made enemies. Balked curiosity makes enemies about as fast as any other thwarted vice. We need hardly go into the miserable, sordid details of the plucking of this helpless foreigner in London. If for no other reason, one's national pride revolts at repeating the wretched tale of fraud and meanness, to say nothing of the law that actually allowed his bloodsucking friends to put him in prison for witchcraft! Later on, during his second visit to London, there was an equally base plot formed

against him, this time expressing itself in journalism of the society-scandal type. A French journalist for whom none has yet been found to say a single good word, was forced on account of his devious ways to leave France. He came to London, and soon became editor of a journal describing the life of London and especially the foreign and political life of the capital, in such a way as to be a perfect spy organ for the French police. It was said that the journal was worth so many regiments or ships to the enemies of England. The Government tried to impede its circulation by taxing the paper on which it was printed, but this was easily evaded by publishing it simultaneously in France. This was the kind of paper that Morande, the most consummate blackmailer unhanged, began to use for the persecution of Cagliostro. Morande made thousands of pounds by his libels and enjoyed a rare freedom in his career of calumny. For awhile he proved a bitter enemy of Cagliostro, and then the latter stopped the war by ridicule, cleverly catching his enemy in a witty trap which made everybody laugh. But the harm already done was enormous, and Cagliostro was obliged to issue a refutation of much that had been printed. Even so, these lies are popularly extant today, in many cases. Poor Carlyle sadly lost his judgment when he foolishly repeated them and gave them added weight by his reputation. It was perhaps the great mistake of Carlyle's literary career. Cagliostro had a rare compassion even for his enemies. Even though, publicly at least, he said nothing about his knowledge of the now familiar doctrine of Karma or natural adjustment of causes to effects, otherwise expressed in the famous maxim, "What a man sows that shall he also reap," he clearly indicates his belief in the Law which needs no man to do its work. Four years after his persecution in England by the money-suckers, he has occasion to call attention to the curious fate of all who persecuted him. He says he will not attack Morande, who has a wife and children, and so inevitably ruin him. "I leave my vengeance in the hands of him who does not visit the crime of their father upon the children; it will perhaps be slower, but it will be none the less sure. My trust in that Supreme Being has never been deceived; I have always seen his justice manifested sooner or later, and the wicked end miserably. "If the Sieur de Morande can for an instant doubt this truth so terrible for them, but consoling for good men, let him reflect upon the fate of those whose cause he has defended and whose horrors he has exceeded. "Madame Blevary (the landlady) in payment for my benefactions delivered me into the hands of two scoundrels. "She is dead. "Miss Fry, my implacable enemy (an adventuress), has not enjoyed the fortune she owed to me. After having devoted the whole of it to suborning witnesses, and corrupting the officers of justice, she fell into the most terrible misery. "She is dead. "Mr. Broad, the friend, the spy, the witness for Miss Fry, was in the flower of his age. "He is dead. "Mr. Dunning, Miss Fry's lawyer, instead of defending me, had been chosen to make a manifestly unjust cause triumph. "He is dead. "Mr. Wallace, my lawyer, instead of defending me, has delivered me up to the mercy of the arbitrator chosen by Miss Fry. "He is dead. "Mr. Howarth (a magistrate) gave an iniquitous judgment against me, which condemned innocence and left the perjurer unpunished. "He is dead.

(Note. He was drowned crossing the Thames.) "The Justice of the Peace at Hammersmith issued a warrant against my wife and myself for an imaginary crime; he was dismissed in disgrace. "He is dead. "Mr. Crisp, Marshal of the King's Bench Prison, in connivance with Aylett, swindled me out of fifty guineas worth of plate; he lost the lucrative position he enjoyed. Reduced to beggary, he retired to a charity-house. "He died there. "Vitellini too (the chemist interpreter assistant) betrayed my confidence; his culpable indiscretion made him accomplice in a robbery of which he expected one day to enjoy the proceeds. He was thrown into a vagabonds' prison. "He died there. "Four years after my departure, there scarcely existed a single one of the persons I have just named. Of all my persecutors of that time there remain today only four individuals, whose manner of existence is such that death would be a benefit for them. "Raynold, the Attorney of Miss Fry, and the accomplice of the theft from me committed by Scott, has suffered the infamous punishment of the pillory for the crime of perjury. "The Attorney Aylett who cheated me out of 80 guineas under pretext of my pretended identity with Balsamo of London has just suffered the same punishment as Raynold, also for the crime of perjury. And this is the man who swore an affidavit against me! And this is the man whom Mr. Morande consults, and whose friend he is! "The bailiff Saunders was involved in the plot against me. He delivered me into the hands of the Attorney Priddle. His fortune was dissipated in a very short time; he was imprisoned for prevarication; he has been in prison several years. "As for Scott, if I am not mistaken, he is living at this moment alone, without relatives and without friends, in the heart of Scotland. There a prey to remorse, undergoing at the same time the anxieties of wealth and the miseries of poverty, he is tormented by the enjoyment of a fortune which continually escapes him, until at last he is perishing of inanition beside the object of his cupidity, which has become the instrument of his suffering. "Such has been the destiny of the fourteen individuals who have been united against me and who have violated against me the sacred rights of hospitality. A portion of my readers will only see in the series of these events a combination of chance; as for me, I recognize in them the Divine Providence which has sometimes permitted me to be the victim of the wiles of the wicked, but which has always broken the instruments which it has used to try me. "Now my enemies think I am crushed. They have said to one another, 'Let us trample under foot this man who knows us too well'; ....they rejoice in the wounds they have inflicted upon me; and these foolish people in their mad joy do not see hovering overhead the cloud from which the lightning will dart. "Might the truly terrible example I have just put before their eyes, provoking in their hearts a salutary repentance, save me from the grief of having to moan over their fate! Let them recognize their error, let them make one step towards justice, and my mouth will only open to bless them. "(Signed) Le Comte Cagliostro" We may add that de Launay, who treated Cagliostro so badly when taking him to the Bastille where he lingered an innocent man for nine months under de Launay's care, also perished miserably in the attack on the Bastille. So also with others of Cagliostro's persecutors. On the other hand, it has been shrewdly remarked that even if St. Germain and

Cagliostro were only speaking figuratively when they talked of the possession of the elixir of life, their friends and pupils are noted for their remarkable average of longevity. There seems to be some analogy here between the old Eastern saying of honor of ancestors conducing to long life and some law or coincidence little observed in the West as a rule. Is it possible that these are men who in another sense have found the elixir of life, in that they can crowd the feelings and experiences of ages into a few mortal years and so normally hurry their evolution? And that those who have much to do with them also increase their rate of living through experiences? To use a homely simile in the language of the science of 1912: are they people who can put the cinematographic films of which we are told all life consists into an immensely accelerated rapidity of motion? It should be noted that Cagliostro is obliged to talk down to the intelligence of his age, and so, speaking of Divine Providence, appears to make the action of the Law as depending on a Great Big Man. And as a consequence he is obliged to appear to hope for revenge upon his persecutors when he is only stating the inexorable law of Karma that man cannot escape the consequences of his actions. Only in this case they are so obvious as to be remarkable, instead of (as sometimes) waiting for ages to come about or balance themselves. He himself gave away on one or two points which would in the ordinary man be considered scarcely worth remark, much less "sins." But his suffering as a consequence was swift and terrible. His account with nature was not one of long credits, if we are to judge from his known history.* (Vol. 4, pp. 239-43) * The last known of Cagliostro was in the dungeon prison of the Inquisition, still in effect then in Rome. He is presumed to have died there. Blavatsky says he broke his vows of chastity for the Occult School he was a member of by becoming married. - dig. ed. ------------------"De Mortuis - " - Kenneth Morris "The evil that men do, lives after them; The good is oft interred with their bones." This is true, in one sense, as W.Q. Judge states somewhere: the effluvia, psychically speaking, of evil deeds, being grosser and heavier, hangs about longer in the inner atmosphere than does the effluvia of good deeds; and thus it is easier to put a curse upon a place than to bequeathe it any real benediction; but there is another sense also, and perhaps a more important one, in which this passage may be read. Oh that the rightminded among mankind would fight as intelligently and persistently to uphold the good that is so often interred, as the wrong-minded fight to make the evil that men do persist! Behind all the events of life a mighty warfare is stirring; the rise of states, the fall of dynasties, treaties and battles and arbitrations - all these things are the shouts of victory heard by us from afar off, dimly; or they are the flashing of the swords and helmets of the gods moving battleward, that we catch glimpses of through the smoke and confusion of the conflict; or they are the glare and echoes of the lurid fires and thunders of the demons. The story of man is the most wonderful and enthralling of all stories; because it is a cipher, beneath which may be read all the secrets of the universe. Great Camlan endures; every day "the noise of battle rolls among the mountains by the wintry sea"; every day, perhaps, it is given to us to interpose a shield between the helm of Arthur and the traitor's sword; or

again, at any time we may be lending our strength to Medrod, and speeding the blow whereby the King is wounded again and again. Not of old only, but always and now, Odin opposes the demons: who will wait to see which army is victorious? Or who will fight for Odin whether he win or lose? Who then are the Gods and demons that wage this warfare of the world? Small need to inquire, perhaps; so evident, will we but look for them, are their footprints and the marks of their battling through all human affairs. Are men souls, sparks of the Flame of flames; or are they mere clay impassioned and made crafty? Is their proper motion ascent, or to take the downward road towards hell? May we call for heroic deeds, compassionate lives, flaming aspirations; or must we only expect selfishness and mean ignoble mediocrity? Is it to be soaring or crawling with us? Where the bright conception is maintained, there behold the glint of the wings of the Dragon, the banner of the Gods; where they preach and insinuate the other, look for footprints of the hellions. These thoughts invade one, in contemplating the fate of earth's heroes and teachers. It is a sore thing for the demons, that the champions of their opponents here in the world should have a shining reputation unsullied. A great hero stands before mankind as an object-lesson in the divinity of the human soul: the grand and central truth of things, so far as concerns us souls embodied. Of such and such a one history says that he did great deeds: he flamed over half a continent, and broke the bondage of five nascent nations. Transcendent genius was there, surely, some lightning power that shone down from above, and was never evolved of the passions and the selfish thought that schemes for self-advancement. Now mark the rumors that are to rise and go the rounds of the scandal-lovers, before a century or two shall have rolled over his grave. A hero indeed? Divine light of the Soul? - he was a very ordinary human man, let me tell you! Why, all the world knows what he spent on scent - how many affairs of a certain nature he had - just why he went to such a place on such an occasion! And the baser levels of our minds love to hear these things, and believe them eagerly; no proof is asked for; we will not examine or trace the thing to its source; glittering generalities (a putrescent glitter) shall serve us better than facts; of course it was so with him - are not we ourselves - ? The meanest side of human nature is that which will not allow any one to have been better than oneself. There is no heroism in the ranks of the demons; their warfare is wholly inglorious, a matter of backbiting, of throwing mud at everything bright, unsmirched, and splendid; of offering base, tasty explanations for noble deeds and lives; of libeling where there is no danger of prosecution: libeling the great living, and libeling the great dead. Anything and everything, so as to cast doubt upon the divinity of the soul of man. Immortal Voices spoke to Joan the Maid, and she went forth obedient and did the impossible - impossible, unless there be that great wizard, the Soul, utterly transcending all our petty possibilities. The whole world is indebted to Joan for saving France to the world; but infinitely more because she, of all historic persons, did so triumphantly flaunt the proof of our human divinity in the face of the world. If you can believe in Joan, then also you can believe in Baldur, Alawn, or Apollo; Hercules with all his labors will be but a trifle to you, and you may even conceive of some flamy, unstainable godhood slumbering within yourself. So the great thing will be at all costs to keep you from believing in Joan. You do not believe in witchcraft, having been born a little late for it; in her own time, however, witchcraft was a cry that would serve well enough. Now, being scientific, we say hysteria, or we say epilepsy; we care not what far-fetched fools we make of ourselves, so we may but account for the Glory of God, as if it were one of our own diseases. Witchcraft then, hysteria now; yet it is always the same voice that is speaking, the same charge that is made. It matters not what she was, so long as her story shall suggest nothing hopeful to us, nothing to set the imagination free and soaring, to cut the mind from its moorings to drab, trumpery, unlovely, and commonplace things. Always some new Barabbas of a theory shall be let loose, so that Christ the Soul may be again and again crucified.

Then there is Shakespeare: about him we do know practically nothing, but may know this much: within that personality the divine soul, stirring, found some responsive element; seized upon the mind (with its very moderate education) and utterly transcended it; giving out through that intellect more than many intellects might contain; tapping, you may say, the ocean. Here the man counts for almost nothing, the work counts for all. Let the latter have come from Shakespeare, the modest, unostentatious, businesslike, not over-intellectual nor highly educated, and you are bound to posit that it came through him from sources universal. Do but shout long enough, and tease texts with sufficient patience and ingenuity, and you shall get many to believe that it came not through or from Shakespeare at all, but had its whole source in the mere gigantic intellect of Bacon. And as we cannot yoke together the influences of the soul and meanness, peculation, and the accepting of bribes, behold what great work has been accomplished! We have insulted and degraded the grand dramas; we have accounted for the lightning of heaven with the flame of a farthing dip; we have blasphemed Poetry by fathering on it a merely clever mind; we have said Tush! there is no ocean! All water is from the kitchen tap. Genius is the shining of the soul, the fruition of many lives of effort. Who would approach the soul, must travel on the road of stern morality with the ardent love of mankind to urge him onward. There are black imitations of genius; there are the incandescences of putrefaction; of these we do not speak. But where you find the true and splendid thing, there the effort, the love, and the purity have been. If they are not there any longer, then the light of genius in that man is destined to extinction - and that too happens often enough. The soul that has labored so long comes into a new body; before it has made its link with the young brain and flesh complete, before it has impressed upon these its mastery, they - sensitive, or that soul could never have chosen them - may have gone rioting after delight and satisfaction in strange quarters, and set up habits that the soul will never succeed in quelling. Intermittently it may capture the brain, and speak out a few words of its message for awhile; but in the end it must conquer and drive out the devils, or go. Such souls are Promethean: chained upon the Caucasus of the flesh, and preyed on by vultures of passion. They defied Zeus the tyrant of old, and brought down fire from heaven for the sake of man. But they shall not bring more fire until Herakles has unbound them; and we shall not qualify ourselves to be fire-bringers, by giving ourselves up to be torn by the vultures. Sometimes we talk as if it were these very vultures that brought the fire. This fact that some geniuses - many - have quenched their light with evil-living; that men have found the soul, and then fallen - is the molehill whereof the enemies of man have made their mountain. The reputation of no Helper of Humanity is safe from them; heaven knows how history may be twisted. By their fruits ye shall know these Helpers; that is the only safe criterion. If one has risen up and spent his life fighting on the side of the angels; if humanity is freer and nobler because of his toil and suffering, there surely will be whispered rumors against him; ten to one, specious evidence will be at hand to show that he was a blackguard. There is but one decent and gentlemanly course to take: scout the whole of it with contempt and indignation. We owe that much to the heroes. (Vol. 5, pp 156-60) ------------------The Esoteric Philosophy of Unselfishness - C. Woodhead In The Crest Jewel of Wisdom, written by the great teacher Sankaracharya about a

century after the death of Gautama the Buddha, occurs the following passage: "Self-assertion is to be known as the cause of this false attribution of selfhood, as doer and enjoyer. "When sensuous things have affinity with it, it is happy; when the contrary, unhappy. So happiness and unhappiness are properties of this, and not of the Self which is perpetual bliss. "Sensuous things are dear for the sake of the self, and not for their own sake; and therefore the Self itself is dearest of all. "Hence the Self itself is perpetual bliss; not its, are happiness and unhappiness; as in dreamless life, where are no sensuous things, the Self that is bliss - is enjoyed, so in waking life, it is enjoyed through the word, through intuition, teaching and deduction." In these words of the great teacher Sankaracharya, one seems to see outlined the whole philosophy of altruism. So great is the world-glamor, the illusion in which we live, that it is with difficulty we can trace the beginnings of that Reality which is the Eternal. And yet we know that this is the real Occultism towards the realization of which we are all striving more or less consciously. It is the path pursued by every human soul, whether under the Law or by individual volition, or both. Again and again we find reiterated in all the sacred texts the statement that there is no real separateness amongst existing beings; that all is one; that behind every appearance is a reality which is independent of all else, includes all else, and is eternally the same. This is that which is spoken of in the sacred books of the East as utterly indescribable, yet the very essence of Being, Consciousness, Bliss, the Higher Self. In the passage quoted Sankaracharya shows how these qualities of the Supreme Self produce illusion in the reflected selfhood of the human lower self. A man falsely imagines himself to be a separate being with a separate consciousness of his own and a happiness which depends upon his own separated selfhood. The sensuous things which are of the body are pleasing to this reflected and incomplete selfhood. They produce a pleasure which is a reflection of the harmony of the Higher Self. Do we not know how temporary and unsatisfying are these experiences of the lower self? They disappear and give place to pain and disappointment. The events of life teach us that the lower self is of no account. Then, if we are wise, we learn our lesson. Says Sankara: "Self-assertion is to be known as the cause of this false attribution of selfhood as doer and enjoyer. "When sensuous things have affinity with it, it is happy; when the contrary, unhappy. So happiness and unhappiness are properties of this, and not of the Self which is perpetual bliss." Then he goes on to say: "Sensuous things are dear for the sake of the self and not for their own sake, and therefore the Self itself is dearest of all." If we ponder over this statement of the great sage, it seems to imply that every sort of happiness is due to the feeling of self-consciousness, and so, that the false selfconsciousness of reflected self-assertion is the cause of all the misery and unhappiness in the world, from its unstable and illusive character, and from the contrasts of temporary pleasure and pain which we suffer when we allow our self-consciousness to limit itself to

the four walls of our personality. And when Sankara says that "the Self itself is dearest of all," he implies that the highest peace, contentment, and happiness, are to be found in fixing our gaze upon that which is forever outside our ken, but towards which we are ever advancing, on the path to perfection. And he thus concludes: "Hence the Self itself is perpetual bliss - not its, are happiness and unhappiness; as in dreamless life where are no sensuous things, the Self that is bliss is enjoyed, so in waking life it is enjoyed through the word, through intuition, teaching and deduction." Sooner or later, therefore, we must realize and be entirely convinced that there is actually no separateness in the world, except, as H.P. Blavatsky said, "in motive." The false self-assertion which is the cause of so much misery and sorrow, choking up the avenues of wisdom and darkening the Sun which gives life and light - this false selfassertion also leads us to misinterpret and misuse the Law which would otherwise reveal the Truth. For as said by H.P. Blavatsky, "In the active laws of Karma - absolute Equity - based on the Universal Harmony, there is neither foresight nor desire. It is our own actions, thoughts, and deeds which guide that law instead of being guided by it." If then we would find true harmony and peace within ourselves we must follow the Law of Harmony, which is the expression in action of the Universal Self. If on the other hand by self-assertion we make a law unto ourselves, we must take the consequences for "whatsoever a man soweth that shall he also reap," that harmony may be restored. "But [says Sankara] he who goes onward through the word of the good Teacher, who is friendly to all beings, and himself well controlled, he gains the fruit and the reward, and his reward is the Real. "If the love of freedom is yours, then put sensuous things far away from you like poison. But Iove as the food of the gods, serenity, pity, pardon, rectitude, peacefulness, and self-control, love them and honor them for ever." (Vol. 6, pp 84-86) -----------------A New Fragment of a Lost Gospel - F. S. Darrow, A.M., Ph.D. (Harv.) The recent discovery in Egypt near Oxyrhynchus of a new fragment from a lost Gospel, originally composed probably before 200 A.D., is of great interest. There is no distinct evidence to prove that this Gospel was heretical - that is, produced by one of those circles of early Christian believers later denounced as heretics by the politico-ecclesiastical "Christianity" established as the state religion by Constantine and his successors. But it is noteworthy that in this fragment Jesus is spoken of as the Savior, a title, which though very common among the early Gnostics, occurs but two or three times in the four Canonical Gospels. The papyrus recently discovered, consists, if the description in the New York Times [8-6-1911] is authentic, merely of a single closely written leaf, which commences with a denunciation of hypocrisy by Jesus, while the main part consists of a dialog between Jesus and the chief priest, a Pharisee, who stops Jesus and his disciples as they enter within the Temple at Jerusalem, and rebukes them for not first performing the

ceremonial rites of purification. The fragment closes with the answer of Jesus. It begins in the middle of the first speech of Jesus and breaks off as abruptly within his second speech. The following translation has been published: "....before he does wrong makes all manner of subtle excuse. But give heed lest ye also suffer the same things as they: for the evil-doers among men receive their reward not among the living only but also await punishment and much torment. "And he took them and brought them into the very place of purification and was walking in the Temple. "And a certain Pharisee, a chief priest, whose name was Levi [?] met them and said to the Savior, Who gave thee leave to walk in this place of purification and to see the holy vessels, when thou hast not washed nor yet have thy disciples bathed their feet? But defiled thou hast walked in this Temple, which is a pure place, wherein no other man walks except he has washed himself and changed his garments, neither does he venture to see these holy vessels. "And the Savior straightway stood still with his disciples and answered him, Art thou, then, being in this Temple, clean? "He said unto him, I am clean; for I washed in the pool of David, and having descended by one staircase I ascended by another, and I put on white and clean garments, and then I came and looked upon these holy vessels. "The Savior answered him and said unto him, Woe, ye blind who see not. Thou hast washed in these running waters wherein dogs and swine have been cast night and day, and hast cleansed and wiped the outside skin which also the harlots and flute girls anoint and wash and wipe and beautify for the lust of men: but within they are full of scorpions and all wickedness. But I and my disciples, who thou sayest have not bathed, have been dipped in the Waters of Eternal Life which come from.... But woe unto the...." Most instructive is the statement of the Pharisee "having descended by one staircase I ascended by another." The context makes it not improbable that this refers to a Pharisaical ceremonial of purification, consisting actually in the ascending and descending of a staircase. But surely, such a rite must have originated in religious symbology and its significance may very probably be seen by comparing the Vision of Jacob with its allegorical interpretation as given by Philo Judaeus, and Origen, the Early Christian Father. "And Jacob went out from Beersheba and went toward Haran. And he lighted upon a certain place and tarried there all night because the sun was set; and he took of the stones of that place and put them for his pillows and lay down in that place to sleep. And he dreamed and behold a ladder set upon the earth and the top of it reached to Heaven; and behold the angels of God ascending and descending on it.... And Jacob awaked out of his sleep, and he said, Surely the Lord is in this place: this is no other but the house of God and this is the Gate of Heaven." 1 Of this Ladder or staircase seen by Jacob in his dream, Philo Judaeus says: "It symbolizes the air; which, reaching from earth to heaven, is the home of unembodied souls, the image of a populous city having for its citizens immortal souls, some of which descend into mortal bodies, but soon return aloft, calling the body a sepulchre from which they hasten." 2 Furthermore Origen says in reference to the descent of souls from Heaven to life upon earth:

"This descent was described in a symbolical manner, by a ladder which was represented as reaching from Heaven to earth, and divided into seven stages, at each of which was figured a Gate; the Eighth Gate was at the top of the ladder, which belonged to the Sphere of the Celestial." 3 These quotations should be further compared with the following words of Josephus: "The Pharisees believe that souls have an immortal strength in them, and that in the Underworld they will experience rewards or punishments according as they lived well or ill in this life. The righteous shall have power to live again 4 but sinners shall be detained in an everlasting prison." 5 Therefore, whatever the outward ceremonial form may have been, the descending and ascending of the staircases was presumably symbolic of the descent from and the ascent to Heaven of the souls of the righteous, and their rebirth upon this earth, as currently believed among the Pharisees at the time of Jesus. Thus, this new fragment affords further evidence as to the commonness of the belief in the preexistence and rebirth of the human soul among the Jews at the beginning of our Era. Notes 1. Genesis, xxviii, 10-19 2. Mangey's Ed. Philo, Vol. I, pp. 641-642. 3. Origen, Contra Celsum, vi, 22 4. That is, shall both descend and ascend, the Staircase or Ladder of Jacob's dream. 5. Josephus, Antiq. xviii, 1. (Vol. 2, pp. 11-13) ---------------The Gods of the Ancient World - Kenneth Morris [abridged] "No doubt but we are the people, and wisdom began with us." Certainly a most comfortable doctrine - for a fool. But if it is a decent self-respect that we need, and not the blind, bumptious egotism so characteristic of our age and civilization, we should do well to exalt humanity, and not merely our own little section of it: we should seek for godhood wherever we come on the human; and take pride in belonging to the line whose fount and origin was divinity, and whose destiny it is to become again divine. You know the story of the farmer in the Middle West who was contemplating the sky one night at the time of the presidential election? "Say," he said, "Is it true that all those millions of stars up there are suns like our own?" "Yes," said the astronomer, "they are suns, and many of them a thousand times vaster than our sun." "And every one of them the center of a solar system, with planets, worlds like ours?" "Every one of them has its planets." "And the planets, are they inhabited worlds?" "Undoubtedly," said the other, "thousands of them must be inhabited worlds." "Say," said the farmer, "I don't see that it matters so much after all whether Taft or Wilson becomes president."

We have our cities, our states and nations, our business and politics, science, inventions, and money - everlastingly our money; and all these things so crowd our consciousness, that we forget the universe we live in. The mountains, the sky, the stars, the solitary places of the ocean, the two vast defiant desolations of the North and South Poles; old Earth herself and the consciousness that animates her; the abounding life in the vegetable world - what are all these things to us? We are cut off from them by our petty concerns, and make no excursions into the largeness of life. Our passions, our greed, our miserable personal thinking and feeling hedge us round from the Infinite and keep us from our heritage of divine life. Sons of this mighty and divine universe, how mighty, how divine might we not be, were the mess of pottage not always more tempting to us than our birthright of divinity! For we live in a vast sea of life, and its waters wash us through and through, and there is extension infinite on all sides of us; and within, inward and inward, there is infinite extension too - distances that stretch from here, from the next little thought that comes unbidden into your mind, right up to the Central Spiritual Sun; right up, in theological language, to the Throne of God; and whatever consciousness exists, even to omniscience and infinity, that too we might come to share in. Up from earth's center through the seventh gate I rose, and on the throne of Saturn sate, And many a knot unraveled on the road, But not the Master Knot of Human Fate. There was the door to which I found no key, There was the veil through which I might not see; Some little talk awhile of Me and Thee There was, and then no more of Thee and Me. Then of the Thee in Me who works behind The Veil, I lifted up my hands to find A lamp amid the darkness, and I heard As from without: "The Me within thee blind." And there Omar found the key to the door, and vision through the veil: blind the me, the personal self within thee; stifle the voices of the flesh; still the insistent clamor of the brain-mind, the personality, the sense of separate selfhood, and the path to the divine is made known to you; the world of the Gods is open before you; the greater Self, which is the Self of the Universe, becomes the only self of you. When we speak of the ancients, we mean commonly the humanity that lived in preChristian times; and the term brings before our mental vision, as a rule, perhaps, indistinct pictures of Greek and Roman vices and corruption - as if we had no vices and corruption of our own; of Egyptian "superstition," as we are pleased to call it - as if we ourselves were freed from all ignorance and erroneous belief; of Gothic and Northern savagery - as if we had long since quite abolished war. But we ought to remember that the race of man is old, old, old: that Egypt had her millenniums where Europe has had but her centuries; and that there were long civilizations before Egypt, and other long civilizations before them. Egyptian religion, that now we connote with divine crocodiles and mummified cats, had fallen to decay many times, and had many times been renewed, before Cambyses came; there were, indeed, many religions there, rising one after another, and in their turn withering and falling; so that to speak of the religion of ancient Egypt would be like speaking of the religion of Europe, and including under that term our modern Christianity, and old Greek, Roman, Celtic, and Gothic Paganism.

In Greece, too, successive waves of religion rose and fell before the coming of Christianity: Homer stands not at the dawn, but in the twilight of Greek glory; before him were the great ages of Crete and Mycenae, compared with which the Hellas of history was but a bagatelle, a waning splendor, the sunset flush of a long day. Before Homer and Hesiod had recorded the Olympic mythologies, Orpheus - a name perhaps almost as remote and mysterious to the Athenian mob of the days of Pericles and Cleon as to ourselves: a name that stands, perhaps, not only for a Teacher, but for a whole vast hierarchy and literature - had established the Mysteries of an older and purer religion; and that religion had grown ancient, and its origin wrapt in myth. And in Rome, the old Religion of Numa, the pure, antique Italian religion, had practically vanished, except in remote places, before Christianity had made any great headway. And everywhere, Paganism gave place to Christianity because it had lost its hold on the people; because it no longer taught vital truth; because it had grown old, senile, and corrupt, and had to combat with a force that was young and vigorous; but we do a huge injustice to antiquity when we confound the thought and aspiration of all its ages with the cynical, frivolous systems of its declining years; or when we judge Paganism not by its Plato, Socrates, Julian, or Marcus Aurelius, who sought to restore its purity, but by such men as Alcibiades, Nero, Vitellius, and their like, who hastened its fall. Menes is reputed the first king of Egypt, and heaven knows what vast antiquity must be assigned to him; but we find one of his successors speaking of him as having been the first corrupter of Egyptian manners, the initiator of the decadence of Egypt, after the long ages of her grandeur and truth and simplicity; and again we find Plato blaming Homer for obscuring the ancient truths about the Gods of Greece, where we consider him almost as the creator of those Gods ....the decay of Egypt, Greece, and Rome, the vices and corruption that we read of, were not due to Paganism, not to the religion of the Gods; but to the fact that people no longer held to Paganism: no longer understood, as once they had understood, the great bright Gods of the Ancient World. It was for lack of Paganism, the sublime Paganism of her Mysteries, the Wisdom of the ages, that Egypt fell under the heels of the priests, the Persians, the Macedonians, and the Romans. It was for lack of Paganism - the old, bright, luminous, beautiful Paganism of her Orpheus and her Plato, her pre-Homeric poets and pre-Phidian sculptors - that Greece became ridden with graft, treachery, and foul vices. It was for lack of her austere, duty-worshiping Paganism, so closely in touch with the forces of nature and the wide, free life of the universe, that Rome went down in an orgy of debauchery, the easy prey of the barbarians. Everywhere, in order to understand Paganism and reap the harvest of its glorious ideas, you must treat it as you would have Christianity treated: you must go back and back, seeking its origins; you must realize that it began as the expression of certain eternal truths, just as Christianity did, just as all religions do; that it was first proclaimed by men who had insight into - nay, sure knowledge of - the hidden things of this universe, the mysteries of life and death and eternity; that its mission was, as that of Christianity was at its inception, to bring mankind nearer to the heart of things, to make human life after the fashion of, and very close to, divine life. Or, as the grand old Pagans would have said, to bring men nearer to the Gods. That is a conception that we have lost, that of the Gods; and I think it has been a loss indeed. For now we consecrate Sunday to divine things; but then, each day in the week was sacred to its God, to its aspect of divinity: the Sun's day; the Moon's day; Mars' day; Mercury's day; Jove's day; Venus' day; Saturn's day. And now we consecrate religion alone, of all the departments and activities of our life, to the divine; but then, every department, every activity, was linked on to divinity by its presiding God. The man who painted a picture, or who carved a statue, wrote a drama, a poem, or a history; the merchant, the husbandman, the soldier or the sailor; each, in engaging on his own duty, entered thereby into the service of a God as surely as the priest did, and consecrated

himself and his work to the divine. Where we see the sea, the mountains, or the trees and flowers, they saw the palaces of grand, mysterious and beautiful beings, aspects again of the divine: the primrose on the river's brim, that to us is a simple primrose and nothing more, was to them a gateway into the dwelling-place of God. Beauty, that divine thing, that Star of Bethlehem to lead us to the birthplace of the Eternal, our religion has too often and too easily banned and banished; but their's made it the aroma and exhalation of the Gods, a potent incentive, a mainspring of human progress. Art and music, that to us are luxuries and the ministers of our pleasure, to them were a religion and the ministers of the Supreme. Commerce, which we have made the servant of and panderer to our greed, they made an act of service to the Divinity, and therefore to humanity. Agriculture was religion; and this old, green, beautiful Earth, to whose voices we are so deaf, whose pleadings we so pitilessly ignore, was for them instinct with living fire, divine, conscious, linked with humanity by the closest community of interests. Try to imagine the richness and fulness of such a life; contrast it with the barren poverty of our own. And were they not justified? Who of you is mountain-born and nurtured, and after long dwelling in the plains and the cities, comes again among the mountains; does there not rise up something within you, indefinable but most potent, an emotion too deep to be called emotion merely? What is it? A mere bringing back to memory of old times, of the joys of your childhood? Here is what the Pagan would have said: In me too is a spark and seed of Godhood: a fragment of the life of those Divine Ones, whose body and outward being are yonder mountains; and that which rises within me now, is consciousness of that exalted kinship. I think it was Huxley who said - whoever it was, he said it very truly - that if evolution be a truth, then there must be beings in this universe, as far evolved above man, as man is above the humble bacillus or the blackbeetle of our kitchens. In this statement you have the scientific justification of the Pagan Gods. Evolution is a truth; but a far more mighty truth than our scientifics and Darwinians imagine. You must not dream for an instant that Theosophy indorses exoteric paganism - or any exoteric religion. But it does uphold truth everywhere; it does proclaim the Divine everywhere, and the soul of man, and the spiritual nature of the universe, and that the universe exists for divine purposes, and is the field of an eternal progress towards divinity, an eternal warfare of the Hosts of Light against Chaos and Darkness and Evil. Evolution is a truth; but it is not merely matter and our bodies that evolve; spirit also breathes itself down into matter, informing it, acquiring experience and self-consciousness in it; and it is this involution, this coming in of spirit and consciousness to mold and work upon material forms, that is the cause of evolution. Your materialist fondly imagines that when he has said Evolution, Natural Selection, Survival of the Fittest, and the like, he has conveniently explained the universe, and left no place in it for God or Gods or the Soul of Man. Here is your amoeba; there is your man: evolution has done it, et voila! To which we reply: Here is your war-canoe, there is your Super-dreadnaught; here your coracle, there your Mauretania: Evolution has done it, and it would be absurd to suppose that there are such things as men, dockyards, shipbuilders, or arsenals. But evolution is the name of a law, a method of working; and we know very well that Laws do not build houses or navies; they do not write books or make men; has a law hands and feet, that it should go here and do this? Has it a tongue in its head, that it should speak? Men, working under the laws of architecture, of naval construction, of literature, do these things; without agents, no law could accomplish anything. So the ancients saw that the universe was under the reign of Law; and being a thousand times more logical and careful in their thinking than we are, posited Agents of the Law. They beheld the marvelous architecture of the universe, and they knew there would be a great Architect; but they knew very well that it is not the Architect who mixes the mortar, and carries the bricks on a hod, or chips the stones to shape and lays them in their

places. There would be builders; in the Law they recognized the Universal Will, as we say, the Will of God; but they held that there would be agents to carry out that Will. So, under the Great Architect of the Universe, they posited the Gods: beings of all grades of divinity and power, from the fairy of the daffodil bloom, to the Cosmocratores and Regents of the Stars. They beheld divinity everywhere, divine law and order everywhere. They did not imagine omnipotence as a quality of their Gods; they saw evil and oppression in the world, and were logical. Oh, no doubt in the exoteric tales of the later mythologies, truth was confounded, and the Gods were represented as living apart, selfish and sensual, letting the world go hang, so they should have their own pleasures. But I am speaking of the original, the esoteric side of Paganism; of the spiritual basis and rationale of it, if you prefer it put that way. And then too we must remember that those very exoteric tales of the mythologies began by having their inward meaning; they were symbolic, just as our pictures of the Lamb of God, and of the Dove, the Paraclete, are symbolic. Whoso would search deeply into them would find in them portrayings of recondite laws, the images of truths concerning the natural and spiritual worlds; and it was when men forgot to look for these inner meanings, made light of the concealed truth and lived no longer by the law, that paganism grew corrupt and ceased to be an efficient aid to human evolution. That the Gods should be worshiped? No, not in any sense that we give to the word nowadays. Honored, aided in their grand mission, communed with and brought into men's lives - there you have the inward objective of the old Pagan rituals, before they were defiled. We must think what the philosopher would mean, when he made sacrifice to this deity or that. He descried spiritual potency in the sun; he knew of a light, beautiful with flashing and gentle colors, that might illumine the soul, and run, a flame of inspiration through the imagination; dwelling upon and evoking this light, he paid his tribute to Apollo. He knew of a Warrior and heroic quality within the heart, one sworded and invincible against evil, who, let it be awakened into activity in our consciousness, makes us invulnerable to all temptation; intent upon so awakening this Warrior, he made his sacrifice to Mars. He held that there was an outer and an inner side to every action; that all the duties of life were sacramental, an outward and visible sign, and an inward and spiritual grace. You might go to your seed sowing, or your following the plow; and according to what was in your heart and mind at the time, so would the harvest be merely material, or there would be certain elements in it to nourish the spiritual sanity and wellbeing of the people. If the sower and the plowman sacrificed to Ceres or to Proserpine, it was that they might go spiritually to their work, evoking the divine side of things in it; doing it, as we say, as unto the Lord. Ah me! the richness that might come into a life so nourished, so deflected from personal, trumpery, and selfish ends, to a consideration perpetual of the beautiful, the grandiose, the divine and quickening! Would the harvest be no better - dare you say it would be no better? Dare you say that the life of the people would be inspired by no diviner ichor, were the plowman to follow his oxen, not dully brooding on his dinner, his gains, his desires indifferent or bad; but alert with a consciousness of flaming and beautiful being in the air that he breathed, in the sky over his head; of Apollo shining upon him, of Proserpine and august Ceres breathing up through the broken clods that his plowshare might be cleaving? Shall we do evil in the Temple of the Lord? Shall we stand before the Burning Bush, and concern ourselves with the pride of the eye, the sinful lusts of the flesh? Take off thy shoes from off thy feet, for the place whereon thou standest is holy ground. There you have the attitude of the Pagan: the dome of whose place of worship was the infinite blue; and its floor, the continents and islanded seas of the world. There is a divine quality in and beyond human consciousness, called heroism; bring that into your life, and you are worshiping the Immortals; you are invoking an Immortal; you are making sacrifice to that God who is the Heartener of Heroes. There is compassion: let your heart flame with it, and you cannot choose but be invoking that

brooding, mother-hearted divinity, that quality, that conscious quality of Godhood. Why, how shall you doubt that these be the Immortals? Consider Joan of Arc at the stake, the flames leaping up around her; and she suddenly concerned and anxious - for what? For her soul's safety? No, but lest the priest, holding up the cross to her, should be hurt by the flame. She is to die; she cannot die; she is immortal; she is united with the Immortals through that compassion, that care for others that flames up in her to light immortal ages, a thousand times more brilliant than the flame that is to destroy her bodily form. Consider the patriot of the Italian War of Independence, the Garibaldian taken prisoner. He is on the gallows, the rope about his neck, the Austrian soldiers and executioners and priests are around him. What is his word for the priest who is bothering him about his soul? For the soldiers, the executioners, the hushed, mourning crowd in the little square? Just this: Viva Italia! Good heavens, what's Italy to him, or he to Italy - he that, as you believe, is either to be a senseless clod in a minute or two, or to have parted company with Earth and her nations forever? This is what Italy is to him: the Goddess, the Immortality to which, in his devotion, in his utter forgetfulness of self at that supreme moment, he has united himself, attaining immortality, attaining God-being; because making himself, his personal consciousness, one with the divine consciousness that was always within him; that is always within every one of us, but commonly slumbering - commonly obscured beneath the turmoil and fuss of our personal thinking. So death is nothing to him; he is already immortal, and lives on in the life of his race. ....an old druidic conception, held in ancient times by the bards of Wales. They taught that at the dawn of the world the Host of Souls, Sons of Gods and Morning Stars of Glory, woke in the World of Bliss at the sound of the Chanted Name of God, which called the Universe from sleep and latency into manifested being. Then those Blessed Ones, as they were called - those Blessed Ones who were ourselves - looked forth over the vast deep of Chaos and beheld afar beyond that howling darkness the Peaks of White Infinity and the dwelling-place of the Lone One, the Eternal; and they said: Evil upon us if we remain content with less than that. Their Chieftains sounded the Hai Atton upon their horns, the bugle-call of the gathering of the Immortals; and they rode forth singing in their chariots of fire to take Infinity by storm, to batter down the Gates of the Castle of God, and dwell therein forever, united with absolute Deity. But before they could come to that consummation, they had to conquer the Chaos that lay between; they had to wage vast warfare through the abysm of night; and until the whole waste of matter was conquered, they could not go on to the heights. And in the passage of that deep, they could not withstand the foes that assailed them; they fell, succumbing to the dreadful snares and temptations of the material world. They fell into incarnation: passing through slow ages through the mineral, vegetable, and animal worlds, until at last they reached the state of humanity; in which, gaining self-consciousness and the knowledge of good and evil, we have the opportunity of remembering again our ancient mission and purpose: of sounding again the Hai Atton of the Gods, and taking arms mightily against Chaos and evil.... (Vol. 6, pp. 171-82) ----------------------An Hour on Olympus - A. W. H. Great Jove looked down from Olympus upon man, man warring, cruel, vain, wisdomless and unhappy. And the All-father mused:

"Man hath made of his mind, which I gave him to understand nature with, and me with, an instrument of torture and offence: torture to himself, offence to others. He sees all things awry. Refusing to know aught of me, to see my power in nature, he declares that I have no existence and nature no purpose. He girds at his fellows, making ill images of them in his thought and seeing nothing better in them than the images of his making. His mind is filled with the pleasures he will enjoy and the pains he would vainly try to avoid, so that the image and knowledge of his own soul can find no place. His face is lined and marred by the lust and bitterness of his thought. And by his thought and his deeds he hath created death and given it power over his life so that he moves always in the shadow of fear. He is as an eagle that hath bound his wings over eyes that had power to mirror the sun. "Shall I take away that gift of mind wherethrough all good might have come to him and wherethrough all ill has come? Speak, O Immortals!" Then stood forth gold-gleaming Hermes and said: "Truly, O All-father, hast thou spoken. But thou hast appointed that out of evil itself, good shall be born. Pain and despair and misfortune come upon men according to their sins. Ofttimes they see the binding link; oftener not. "But what matters? The pains thicken about them; the pleasures are ever briefer. In the night-time they cry out, and every cry I answer with some of the light thou hast given me. For I dwell in every heart, and some few, here and there, now know me. In the secret places of thought they have learned that unbrotherliness is the unhappiness of him that cherishes it, the unhappiness, the darkening of his mind, the destruction of his health. Thou hast made men by nature searchers after happiness. They have searched it in all ways save love of each other and service of each other. Therefore they have known naught but brief gleams of pleasure passing through heavy and enduring clouds of pain. "Day by day some few awake and try the path of brotherhood. Scattered over the earth are they, but I am in their lives and their message is going forth. As the idea comes suddenly to the brain of the toiler, as the song of the poet comes suddenly to his soul, as the musician suddenly seizes his lyre for a melody that floats unsummoned upon his inner ear, so in all men some day, will awake the compelling knowledge of the power of brotherhood. In a day, in a moment of time, the clouds shall be riven, peace shall descend upon earth, and with her, joy. Then shall true life begin. Then shall men's minds become clear and shall know thee and each other and all thy purposes for them, purposes born of thy beneficence." There was silence upon Olympus, and all the Immortals knew that it would soon be even as Hermes had said. And then there was a great light which went forth from them over the wide fields of earth and mingled itself with the thought of men and began to prevail, even as the sound of a silver bell prevails at last in a noisy concourse so that all stay their talk to listen of it and none so much as breathe. (Vol. 4, pp. 210-11) -----------------The Intelligence Behind Evolution - Magister Artium R. Alred Russel Wallace, who is ninety years old, was some months ago the subject of an appreciation in Nature by Henry Fairfield Osborn, Professor of Zoology in Columbia University. Professor Osborn writes:

"We have ourselves experienced a loss of confidence with advancing years, an increasing humility in the face of transformations which become more and more mysterious the more we study them, although we may not join with this master in his appeal to an organizing and directing principle. Younger men than Wallace, both among the zoologists and philosophers of our own time, have given a somewhat similar metaphysical solution of the eternal problem of adaptation, which still baffles and transcends our powers of experiment and reasoning." The allusion is to Dr. Wallace's expression of his ripened views in his recent book, wherein he so strongly maintains that the more we study Nature the more do we need to postulate intelligence and directive power everywhere. Dr. Wallace has also criticized the views of Professor Schafer, who had delivered a Presidential Address to the British Association, on the nature and origin of life; pointing out that the additional details discovered by biologists merely intensify the problem of life instead of solving it; and that a mere description of the processes we see at work leaves us as far as ever from an understanding of their causes. The more closely we study Nature, the more must we discern intelligence in her workings. Those who have most closely studied the functions and structures of plants are the most convinced of the need for postulating intelligence. The rootlets of plants are able to select what food they require, and to reject what they do not need, by means that defy alike chemical and mechanical explanation. Plants growing in arid climates adopt the most ingenious schemes for extracting every particle of moisture from the air while at the same time preventing all evaporation from their own leaves. If they are not intelligent, they are a very good imitation. If we do not postulate intelligence, we must postulate its equivalent; and if there is no purpose behind the actions of these plants, there is something as good as purpose. We cannot get along without a metaphysical explanation; for, to find the origins and causes of anything, we must seek beyond that thing, and that which actuates matter cannot itself be matter (in the same sense of the word). If evolution be true, that is all the more reason for studying its causes as well as its effects. It has been well said that all the scientific discoveries about Nature have left us more than ever in need of inherent intelligence in order to account for them. But this does not mean that we must go back to a crude doctrinal conception of Deity. Nor need we invent new systems of demonology or take refuge in an abstract pantheism. Instead of ignoring the facts and then devising new explanations in place of those we shirk, let us look the facts in the face. Why not regard a cell as a small being, engaged, like other beings, in fulfilling the purposes of its life? (And talking of small beings, do we not find that their structure is still infinitely complex; and that the more we magnify, the more details we find?) Sooner or later science will have to come to the conclusion that even so-called inorganic matter is made up of tiny lives or animate beings, whose activities are directed by purpose. Instead of taking for the basis of their philosophy an abstract conception - rudimentary matter - of which no one has any experience, they will decide to take mind as that basis; and everybody has experience of mind. Instead of regarding the universe as an outcome of matter, we shall look upon it as a manifestation of mind. In evolution we see a dual process: a spirit or life, unfolding itself in forms. Professor Schafer seems anxious to identify life with matter, thus uniting cause and effect into one. He will not hear of anything immaterial; he calls it supernatural. But we cannot get along without something immaterial (or, at least, not physically material); and this brings us to a consideration of the meaning of the word "spirit." Spirit may be roughly defined as that which not being itself material, is the energic or informing principle in or behind matter. This definition reduces both spirit and matter to

abstractions and constitutes a crude and undetailed dualism. But why need we jump at one bound from physical matter to spirit? Doubtless that which immediately actuates physical matter is a subtler and more energic kind of matter. Steam actuates an engine, but steam is still matter, though of a higher grade than that of the engine. Again, the steam itself is rendered potent by heat, of which it is the carrier; and this heat may be a still finer grade of matter. Professor Schafer and those who think with him would be able to get along better if they had two or more grades of matter at their disposal instead of only one. This idea, then, is equivalent to defining spirit (within certain limits of meaning) as a finer kind of matter. Evidently we can go on supposing finer and finer grades of matter indefinitely, bringing our system to an ideal philosophical consummation by supposing an original unity and an original duality. The duality of Spirit-Matter is discernible everywhere; it is an eternal fact. We cannot perceive, or even conceive, anything which is not both spirit and matter. Science may talk of energy and mass, but these are simply alternative terms for spirit and matter the one active, the other passive; the one energic, the other formative. When it comes to actual scrutiny of Nature we cannot discover anything which is pure energy or anything which is pure inertia. The two are always inseparably united; they cannot even be thought of apart. The question whether light, heat, electricity, etc., are forms of matter or modes of energy, has no logical meaning. All we can say is that electricity, though not ordinary physical matter, is still some kind of matter; that light, though not a physical corpus, is yet a corpus; that heat is not pure spirit, nor ponderable matter either, and must therefore be a grade of matter so much subtler than physical matter as to stand in the relation of a spirit towards the latter. The above might be mathematically illustrated by taking the odd numbers to represent spirit and the even numbers matter. Call the number One the original Spirit, and the number Two the primordial Matter. One and Two make Three, their Son, and Three is the highest form of Spirit after the Absolute. The matter corresponding to this Spirit is represented by the number Four. Three and Four make Seven, and Seven stands for another grade of Spirit. The number Eight is the Matter that pairs off with this Spirit. And so on. It will be observed that the odd numbers, Three, Seven, etc., are each made up of an odd number joined to an even number; thus illustrating the fact that both spirit and matter are subdivisible into spirit and matter. This illustration shows that neither matter nor spirit are independent realities, and that it is their union that constitutes a real existence. For this we need another name, and the word "life" will serve the purpose. The union of spirit and matter constitutes life; or life can be defined as spirit-matter. Now what does science find when it explores matter with its instruments? Not pure matter, not pure spirit, but everywhere life, whether it be quivering cells or vibrating atoms or darting specks of fire. It would seem that we can get no further in our physical analysis. Life is the basis of Nature, the one omnipresent reality. If we try to analyse it further we fail; an ideal analysis reduces it to abstractions. And back of life stands mind or consciousness. Mind is, as it were, embodied in life; and life is embodied in a physical form. This reminds one of the use made of the three words, Spirit, Soul, Matter, in The Secret Doctrine. Soul is said to be the vehicle of spirit, and matter the vehicle of soul. The word evolution needs to be accompanied by a correlative word - involution: spirit descending into matter, and matter ascending towards spirit. In order that a material organism may grow, something must enter into it. In evolution we see not only the ascent of matter but the descent of spirit. Just as the parent organisms yield the whole or a part of their life to the offspring, as leaven enters into dough, as electricity enters into the inert filament of a lamp, so the living power enters into the cell or organism and causes it to expand and increase. What of the evolution of life, the evolution of soul, the evolution of mind, the

evolution of that which is beyond even mind? All these phases of the question have to be considered; the question is much more complex and intricate than many people seem to think that it is. When H.P. Blavatsky said that biology was one of the magicians of the future, she must have foreseen for that science possibilities to which it has not yet attained. Yet we can trace its future path by present signs. Biology is revealing the fact that intelligent life is everywhere. So long as observers are true to their program of accurate observation and impartial judgment, their researches can only lead to the correcting of past errors and the revelation of the truth. Fantastic theories will disappear with new generations of biologists, free from the old molds of mind. One of the old prejudices to be overcome is the desire to emphasize the animal nature of man - a desire which seems to be a perfect obsession. Picture papers seem to gloat over the idea that man has been an ape and therefore contains ape-like characteristics. Who doubts that man has ape-like characteristics in him, as well as the characteristics of the pig, the hyena, the donkey, and other creatures? But why need we emphasize and gloat over this part of our nature? Is it perchance to excuse ourselves? Well, we cannot at the same time enjoy the guiltlessness of the animal and the sense of the man. Some people are fond of explaining that man is nothing but a brute or a primordial savage with a coating on top; and yet at the same time they assume airs of wisdom as though they thought themselves gods. Who will tell us about the origin of man's intelligence, conscience, aspirations, enthusiasms? Is there not a scientific way of studying these questions? Dr. Wallace said recently: "I think we have got to recognize that between man and the ultimate God there is an almost infinite multitude of beings working in the universe at large, at tasks as definite and important as any that we have to perform on earth. I imagine that the universe is peopled with spirits - that is, with intelligent beings - with powers and duties akin to our own, but vaster. I think there is a gradual ascent from man upward." And he might have added - should have added - "from man downward." He recognizes that deeds are done by doers, actions by actors. Motion is the expression of intent, and intent is the attribute of a being. The only alternative to this reasoning is to put abstractions in place of realities and to talk about forces and tendencies and laws. Yet there is some risk about advocating the above view, on account of the fallacies and superstitions to which it might give rise in some minds. Some imagine that to people the universe with spirits would be like adding something to that which is already full; in short, they would regard the spirits as something extra. This class of people, though claiming to believe in spirits, are really materialists; they are believers in the "supernatural" and "miraculous." They imagine little spirits getting in among the hard round particles of matter and pushing them to and fro. They believe in "phenomena" - occasional events brought about in a supernatural manner. But the real meaning of the doctrine is that the intelligences in the universe act in a natural manner, that the forces of nature are their actions, and that there could not be any nature or any natural phenomena at all without them. A "phenomenon" is merely a less usual and more striking manifestation of some natural law; if I make a book come across the room to me without visible means (thus performing an "occult phenomenon"), I have merely used one of my own natural powers and availed myself of certain natural powers of nature. The only difference between me and other people is that I know how to do it and they don't. If nature is indeed informed by intelligent beings, then it must be possible for man to enter into a closer communion with nature and to obtain from her more intimate responses to his appeals for knowledge. And this might account for many things related of ancient

times, which do not seem to apply to the present day. For our attitude towards nature has not been so sympathetic as it might have been; too often we have been ruthless despoilers or dissectors. The fairies, nymphs, and genii locorum, have probably emigrated to more congenial surroundings! One almost fears to speak of such things at all in this superstitious age, for fear some new and foolish cult may be started. But knowledge is for the serious, and the hidden mysteries are revealed to the pure. This is no arbitrary law of a personal God, but a mere manifestation of cause and effect; for only the pure have eyes clear enough to see with. True Science really reduces itself to the knowledge of how to live harmoniously, in consonance with natural laws. (Vol. 4, pp. 303-8) -------------Linnaeus and the Divining-Rod (contributed by P. F.) Linnaeus in one of his works relates an experience he had in the finding of noble metals by means of the divining-rod, and does it in the simple good-humored way that marks all his writings and makes them such delightful reading. He says: "The divining-rod is a curious contrivance, and people will have us believe that the rod can tell where metals are hidden. Now and again my secretary would take a twig of hazel forked evenly at one end and would amuse the company with it. This happened also at this place, one person concealing his silver snuff-box, another his watch, here and there in the bushes, and in most cases the secretary found them. Now I had never believed in the divining-rod and did not like to hear it mentioned. It provoked me that it should be recommended in this way, and I imagined that my friends and my secretary were in collusion to deceive the company. So going to a large field north of the barn, I cut out a piece of turf, placed my little purse in the hole, and covered it up so carefully that nobody could see the least trace of it. My own mark was a great ranunculus growing near the place, and there was no other tall flower in the whole field. When all was arranged I went back to the company, told them that I had concealed my purse in the field, and asked the secretary to find it with the help of his divining-rod. If he found it, then I would believe in the rod, so sure was I that no mortal but myself knew the place where the money was. "The secretary was delighted with such an opportunity to make me think better of the rod which I used always to ridicule; and the company too were most anxious to watch this master-test. The secretary searched for a long while, a full hour at least, and my host and hostess and I had the pleasure of seeing the rod work in vain; and as we did not get the money back, the rod was held up to ridicule. "At last I repaired to the spot with the intention of recovering my purse, but only to find that our rod-walkers had trampled down all the grass by their perambulations. Not a trace was left of my ranunculus, and I was compelled to search for my money with the same uncertainty as the rod. I felt no inclination to bet a hundred crowns on the rod, for all of us were engaged in a vain search which provoked both irritation and amusement. Finally I had to give it up, but the baron and the secretary asked me to tell them the place approximately, which I did. The wicked rod, however, refused to strike and pointed to a place right opposite. Finally, when all of us were tired of it, and I most of all, the secretary stopped at a place quite far from the one I had indicated, saying that if the purse was not there it would be useless to try to tell the place. I did not care to seek, as it was not at all

in this direction that I had (as I thought) placed the purse. But Baron Oxenstjerna lay down upon the ground and put his fingers around the little piece of turf where the money was lying! "Thus the rod was right that time, and gave me back the money I should otherwise have lost. This is fact. If I see more such instances, I suppose I must believe what I do not want to believe. For it is quite different from the magnet and attraction between iron and iron; that a hazel twig can tell me the place where noble metals are - to that neither our outer nor our inner senses consent. Still I am not settled as to the divining-rod; yet I will not venture to bet as many crowns on it another time. (Vol. 1, pp. 154-55) ---------------Man's Greater Self - H. T. Edge Every man, whatever his beliefs or professed beliefs, is compelled to fulfil the laws of his own being, just as much as the animals and plants and even the chemical elements and compounds fulfil the laws of their own being. And the law of a Man's being compels him to speculate and aspire, to search restlessly for knowledge and self-realization. And surely the greatest of the mysteries upon which he desires knowledge is the question, "What am I?" Nor can any man above the level of a clodhopper avoid speculating on this question at least sometimes. The personality of a man is a very small thing compared with the vastness of its surroundings; a mere flash on the rolling screen of time, a mere point both in time and space, so that the great majority of personalities are born and die without the world ever knowing of their bare existence and without leaving the faintest memory behind. Yet we feel that we are something more than this; the very power to speculate on the question at all seems to prove that we are greater than our personality. Every man is a partaker in the universal life, just as much as an animal, a tree, or a stone; and if he is nothing in himself, he is great enough in his family and kinship. The question arises, How is each man related to that universal life? Does he for ever lose all share in it when the time comes for him to execute the natural function of dying? And did he have no share in the universal life before that equally natural, yet mysterious, event called "birth"? Theosophy answers the intuitions of the heart by declaring that the Soul existed before birth and exists after death. But what is the Soul? It is the real "I." For that which we habitually call "I" is but a phantasmagoria at best, an uncertain, shifting thing, that knows not what it is, whence it came, or whither it goes. It cannot be the real Self; it thirsts after a knowledge which it cannot reach. It is evident that the self in man is of a dual character; it is compact of ignorance and knowledge. If it were entirely ignorant, man would be like the animals, who do not speculate about their nature and origin; or he would be an idiot. Therefore man has in him the germ of knowledge. But he has not knowledge itself; it is there as a seed, as a possibility. Man cannot be entirely mortal or entirely immortal. One part of his self must be temporary, belonging to his period of life on earth, but the other part must be superior to this and must survive death and be independent of corporeal existence and its limitations of time and space. Eastern philosophy speaks of the real Self of man as the "Knower." We all have this Knower in ourselves; we are conscious of something deep within that knows and to

which we vainly strive to reach. But we are also painfully conscious that we are restricted to the use of an as yet imperfect mental faculty. It is a commonplace that man can enlarge his sense of life by sharing in the life of others - not on a thieving principle, of course, but on the usual give-and-take principle of mutual intercourse. And the converse of this is equally familiar; namely, that a man, in proportion as he becomes selfish and self-centered, contracts his sphere of conscious life. It is a fact that in proportion as we thus expand the sphere of our life by moving away from the center of selfishness, so do we begin to share in the universal life of which we are a part. To this extent we have actually achieved immortality, for immortality is not merely a question of after death - it can have but little to do with what we call "time." Such reflections as the above are getting to be more common today, for the raceconsciousness is deepening and men are everywhere moving on toward a new level of attainment. But there is great need for an arranging and methodizing of these reflections; men need something that can interpret to them their own intuitions. And this is where Theosophy proves so helpful. There are everywhere people who are just ready and waiting for Theosophy, but have never heard of it, or else have been put off by meeting with some travesty of Theosophy. It is right that everybody should know of the existence of the original teachings of Theosophy, which H.P. Blavatsky brought to the attention of the world in 1875, and which are still taught and promulgated by the "Universal Brotherhood and Theosophical Society." It is all the more important in view of the regrettable fact that various futile doctrines are being promulgated under the name of Theosophy, thus misleading inquirers and keeping them from that which would help them. The teachings of Theosophy are not new, but are as old as man himself. It teaches the Path of Self-Knowledge - the Great Quest that has always engaged the attention of man. But Self-Knowledge does not consist in listening to the lectures or reading the books of some self-appointed teacher or adept, who claims mysterious knowledge and offers to show us how to develop our psychic powers, etc. Neither does it consist in isolated selfcontemplation. The book of life has to be studied among living men, and no man can know himself except by seeing himself reflected in the mirror of other men. This is why the Path of Self-Knowledge, as taught by Theosophy, involves a life of active and useful endeavor. To overcome the limitations of personality we must get away from self, and that can only be done by becoming interested in something impersonal. One of the ancient teachings taught by Theosophy is that Knowledge comes from unselfishness. This was the teaching of Jesus, as it was also of the other World-Saviors. It was the teaching of Plato and his school, who held that the Soul was a Divine prisoner in the body, and that it possessed innate Knowledge, which was obscured by incarnation. In short, this is a universal teaching - one of the fundamental truths. But Theosophy renders this teaching more serviceable and practical. The teaching of Jesus, that Knowledge comes from unselfishness, has been overlaid by dogma and stale custom until it has lost its force, and few if any really believe that they will attain Knowledge by practicing the teachings of their religion. The answer to our original question, "What am I?" might run as follows: "Something very great and glorious, beyond your utmost expectations." But how to realize it? We cannot jump to Self-knowledge at a bound, but we can start on the way, and we shall meet encouragement at every step. Such a teaching as that ancient one of Reincarnation can do much to remove from men's minds the obstacles that stand in the way of their realizing their possibilities. For want of this ancient truth, we have the most unsatisfactory ideas as to the nature and destiny of man, and are accustomed to view every problem in the light of a single earthly existence. But what if the mind of man had been accustomed for unnumbered generations to think of itself as an eternal existence, and to regard the present life as only an episode in a great drama? Then the teachings of Theosophy would come far easier than they do

to people who have been born and bred in ignorance of the nature and destiny of man; then the facts of life as we find them would not seem to contradict our beliefs. Theosophy may thus claim to be a reasonable interpretation of the facts of life, and its appeal can rest on the conviction which it brings to our reason, and not upon dogmatic authority. Man's instinct to act unselfishly is explained by the fact that his real Self is not shut up in his personality; his unselfish acts may be described as acts performed in the interest of his real Self. It is the feeling of oneness with his fellow men that prompts him to act so. In the same way a man of fine feeling will not wantonly destroy a flower or play the vandal in Nature's domain, because he instinctively feels the unity of the life in which he shares. The question, to what extent can we develop the sense of oneness and of immortality, is but a question of degree. A selfish man can become more and more selfish until his sphere contracts to an unendurable degree of narrowness; and on the other hand it is possible to enlarge our sphere and increase the scope of our conscious existence by attaching our interests to things impersonal and universal. It is therefore evident that the self can grow large or small within certain recognized limits, and there is a reason for fixing the limits. The idea that man is an imprisoned God becomes easier to understand, for we see how great is the power of self-delusion. The awakening to knowledge is a phrase that fitly describes the aspiration which man feels; he knows that he is under delusion, he know that the delusion cannot last for ever. At death, the "great release," veils will be removed; but it is man's destiny to remove those veils while on earth - in this or a future incarnation. Who shall say how often this has been achieved before? We are all destined by our nature to seek satisfaction in personal delights, and to find it not; and thus we are ultimately driven to seek it where alone it can be found, and duty becomes the law of our life. Man fails to understand the contradictions and frustrations of life because he imagines that it is his personality that is leading the life; whereas it is the Soul, the real Self, that is leading the life, and its purposes are wiser and more far-reaching than those which the deluded mind entertains. Following desires, we pursue purposes that are not in conformity with the purpose of the Soul; and so we meet frustration. But we should try to understand the purposes of the Soul and to fall in with them. We should say: "Thus have I willed." The practical summing-up of these somewhat discursive reflections is this: that any man can from this moment face about and take a new attitude towards life, an attitude of greater confidence in himself, greater confidence in the good that is in him. If he has been brought up in the atmosphere of religious or scientific pessimism, he can step out from that atmosphere. He can know that within him lies a power ready to unfold if encouraged, a power that will bring light and the power to be of use. And in thus seeking to render his life more worthy he will find the Theosophical teachings very helpful; and in any case. they are only offered on approval. (Vol. 5, 255-59) -----------------"The Music of the Spheres" - H. Coryn Hegel, commenting upon the Pythagorean doctrine of number as the basis of all things says: "Numbers have been much used as the expression of ideas. This, on one side, has a look of depth. For, that another meaning is implied in them than they immediately present, is seen at once; but how much is implied in them is known neither to him who

proposes, nor by him who tries to understand.... The more obscure the thoughts, the deeper they seem; the thing is, that what is most essential, but also what is hardest, namely, the expression of one's self in definite notions - is precisely what the proposer spares himself." Upon which Stirling remarks: "But the curious point is that Hegel himself adopts this very numerical symbolism, so far as it suits the system! It is only, indeed, when that agreement fails, that the agreement of Hegel fails also. The moment it does fail, however, his impatience breaks out. The one, the two, the three, he contentedly, even warmly and admiringly accepts, nay, 'as far as five,' he says, 'there may well be something like a thought in numbers, but on from six there are simply arbitrary determinations!'" Especially, said Hegel, there is meaning in three, the Trinity. The Trinity is only unintelligible when considered as three separate units; its divine meaning appears when we take it as a whole. "I would be a strange thing if there were no sense in what for two thousand years has been the holiest Christian idea." It would be stranger if one of the profoundest thinkers that ever lived, a teacher whose grandeur of character made him almost an object of worship to his pupils, had selected his symbols to "spare himself" the labor of clear conception (or had let them conceal from himself the confusion of his own thought.) According to Hegel we must respectfully see philosophy in the Christian Trinity; in the Pythagorean Dekad, none. Pythagoras wrote nothing. And his teaching was esoteric, delivered under the pledge of secrecy. The essence of the echoes that reach us amounts to this: that numbers and ratio are the soul of things; that the soul itself is a number and a harmony. Is there any possible reading of this from which it might appear profoundly true and illuminating? We sometimes estimate savage intelligence by the power of counting, of adding units. From one point of view the power does not seem to go very far with ourselves. We cannot in one act of perception count more than a very few dots irregularly placed on a sheet of paper. If more than that few they must have some arrangement. Nine must be perhaps in three threes, twelve in four threes or three fours. But even before twenty is reached, no arrangement will permit one act of perception to accomplish the numbering. There is merely a considerable number, and actual unitary counting - of units or groups - is necessary to know how large it is. But now let there be a sufficient number of dots to suggest to the eye say a flower form or a frieze pattern, and let them be so arranged. Before that arrangement they were a mere horde of ones; in their definite arrangement they have a meaning, excite an idea, a state of consciousness. Is not the advent of this meaning, the perception of this form as a whole, a new and transcendental kind of counting? Number in this sense, is form; and the form is form and not inchoateness, chaos, just because of its meaning; that is, because of the state of consciousness it excites in us. You can count the ticks of the clock - as ones. If they were four times as fast you could perhaps still count them. As they became more rapid than that they would pass beyond the power of counting. As they became still more rapid they would presently cease to be units at all and become a musical note. Now they excite what might be called an idea, a state of feeling peculiar to that number per second. Is not the perception of that number as a note a kind of counting? Let the number per second be now suddenly

doubled. Are we aware of the ratio of this new number to the previous one? Yes, but as a rise of an octave in the note, not as a counted doubling. To this corresponds another state of feeling, partly due to the new note as it is, partly due to its relation to the old one. It is a perception of ratio appearing in consciousness as aesthetic feeling. Set this clock to beat twice as fast again, and having listened a moment so as to get the sense of the new note, stop it. Set a second clock to beat five for the first one's four. Listen so as to get the sense of it and then stop that clock also. Set a third to beat six for the first one's four and do the same. Now start them all at once. You cannot by counting ascertain that whilst one beats six the other two are respectively beating five and four. But your appreciation of the fact takes the form of hearing the musical chord do, mi, sol, C, E, G, the common chord in its first position. Is not the perception of that chord, the acceptation of that state of feeling, really a recognition of the ratio, a highly transcendental counting? In the feeling you have the meaning of the numbers and of the ratios between them. It is those numbers themselves viewed from a high standpoint. The same might be said of every other chord. Listening to music is perceiving ratios of vibratory speed between the successive notes and chords, transcendental counting. The feelings aroused are what those ratios mean. The meaning, the feeling, of the composer gets out into expression through those numbers and ratios. Number in the ordinary one-plus-one sense is the body of music; number in the transcendental sense is its soul. We cannot in the ordinary sense count ether-touches on the optic nerve. But when they reach a certain number of trillions per second we suddenly perceive the meaning of that number - which we call the color red or the sensation of redness. When the rapidity is seven-fourths as many we get the sensation violet. But there is more than a sensation; the colors have an aesthetic and emotional value. And when colors, that is rates, are juxtaposited in certain ways we get art and the value may become spiritual. But no two people are affected in exactly the same way by the same piece of music or of art work, though the souls of both may be touched. Since, as we have seen, the highest aspect of number and ratio is spiritual meaning, we can already see something in the Pythagorean saying that the soul is a number and a ratio or harmony. In its selfconsciousness it has a spiritual meaning for itself; it means something to itself; it understands itself. And so each soul, each with its own special nature or meaning, reacts a little differently to the spiritual meaning of numbers and ratios coming to it from without. Nature herself, thought the Pythagoreans, is instinct with spiritual meanings. Whilst the soul is embodied and limited by the senses she cannot ordinarily or easily get these meanings direct. They have to be clothed or bodied in those masses of units and ratios that are color, sound, and form. She touches these ordered aggregations (numbers them, understands them) on three planes: first as sensation; then as aesthetic feeling; then, perhaps, in their spiritual meaning. The musician, as he composes, does receive direct a bit of nature's spiritual meaning and then aggregates such numbers and ratios of vibration as will express it. And if his music, carrying this meaning, be so sounded as to affect plates of sand or other fine powder, forms will result such as nature herself makes perhaps in the same way, though we cannot hear the sound for its subtlety - forms of flowers, trees, groves, and what not. For any of nature's meanings may get out along the ways of sound, color, or form. We can conceive that the whole of evolution is guided by number, ordered number, ratio. The electrons in an atom and the atoms in a molecule and the molecules in a cell or crystal are not only so many in number but definite in arrangement, in form. They mean something; they express in arrangement and in successive changes in arrangement a unitary spiritual idea of nature's, and in that is the force of evolution. If the units disintegrate and scatter so that we speak of death, the idea, the real life, remains and embodies again in a new harmonized mass of units. The idea is

the magnet that attracts and arranges them and incarnates among them. It is their spiritual number, the cause of their countable number and scientifically ascertainable arrangement. Number, therefore, in the highest sense, is not the same as a heap, a mass, an any-howness; it is an order expressive of a spiritual meaning. In the highest sense it is that spiritual meaning itself even before expression in an ordered mass of items or vibrations. And in this sense the soul is a number and nature the synthesis of numbers; both finding expression, the one in the soul's several garments (one only known to science) and works; the other in what we call "nature." Pythagoras will yet find his full vindication in philosophy. He is of the future, not the past. (Vol. 1, pp. 258-61) ---------------------The Red Men - H. Travers [1912] "My heart is filled with a great sorrow that the race of Red Indians is departing to the setting sun of lost hopes, beyond a horizon which closes darkly upon them. Were they not to most of us symbols of nursery romance?" laments a writer in T. P.'s Weekly, reviewing a book called The Great North Trail. Races are subject to the same cyclic law of birth, growth, decline, and death, as individual men. And as, with individual men, the physical earthly tenement alone dies, while the Soul passes to its home to await the return of the cycle of incarnation; so, in the case of races, it is merely the visible organism that passes away, while the Soul of the race continues to live and must one day reappear, clothed in a new form. Likewise each individual Soul in that race has its own history and destiny, and must return to earth in some other race. We regret the passing away of a simple noble people. But, in our collective capacity, we have no just complaint; for how have we treated them? Is it inconceivable that conditions might have been made such as to prolong the life of that people? To quote again from this writer: "The Red Indian was the aristocrat of America, whose ways now are darkened and his nobility clouded by the illusion of progress. "The once powerful confederation of the Blackfeet or Siksikaua Indians is of Algonquin origin. A hundred years ago they were a race of warriors faithful to the religion of their tribe, handsome and unspoiled in vigor. Their great quality lay in their acceptance of a wider ideal than that of the family. "I have been told by a clergyman who worked among them that there was nothing evil or cruel in their religion. Before they became contaminated by civilization, by cheap alcohol, and the vices from which as savages they were free, no nobler people ever lived.... Take this example of a religious chant: "'Great Sun-god! Continue to give us your light that the leaves and grass may grow so that our cattle will increase and our children may live to be old. "'Our mother (the Moon), give us sleep that we may rise again like our father (the Sun). May our lives be strong and may our hearts feel good towards our white brothers, as we are all your children.'" An Indian said to the writer of the book:

"We fast and pray that we may be able to live good lives and to act more kindly towards each other. If they deprive us of our religion, we have nothing left. We do not understand the White Man's religion." To which the reviewer adds that the White Man would understand his religion better himself if he had more of the simple faith of his red brother. The story of relentless greed, satisfied by violence, treachery, and broken faith, is too familiar to need repeating. We have sown seeds that must bring us a harvest of affliction. But that affliction is a trifle in comparison with what we must suffer one day when our hearts are opened so that we realize the full horror of the crime against truth, love, and trust. A heart so wrung by remorse can only hope to heal itself by the daily and hourly practice of deeds of mercy and honor. Our duty towards ancient races is simple. In this, as in all other dealings, must we not follow the laws of honor and chivalry? Does not right action require that the actor should fling aside motives of self-interest in full confidence that he can never suffer so long as he follows the right - that any apparent blessing gained at the expense of honor must prove a curse? Let us waste no time discussing what ought to be done with native races; for it is a problem of benevolence, not of policy. Such discussions are apt to be discussions as to how to reconcile our desires with our conscience - a fruitless task. The truth is that we have to learn to behave. It is not how can we behave like gentlemen, but how can we become gentlemen; then we shall behave right without difficulty. Our race has a living spirit in it that promises better things in the future; but if we do not hearken thereto, we too may perish and be blotted out even from memory. (Vol. 3, pp. 264-66) ---------------A Study of Contrast - Percy Leonard Peace after war, port after stormy seas Ease after toil, death after life Doth greatly please. - Edmund Spenser According to Theosophy as promulgated in the last quarter of the nineteenth century by H.P. Blavatsky, as soon as the universe issued forth into manifestation from its obscure and to the mortal mind unfathomable abyss, it split up into two contrasting poles: Spirit and Matter, Good and Evil, Light and Darkness, God and Devil, Life and Death. In the dogmatic scheme God is represented as planning a universe to be populated by somewhat colorless, insipid individuals, blindly obedient to his decrees. And on this earth he formed a paradise where he intended men should multiply in happy innocence, ignorant of the knowledge of good and evil, and so to continue in a blameless (but haply somewhat bovine) state of irresponsible innocent bliss, until at the age of Methusaleh they died and were ushered into an eternal state of transcendent rapture in the New Jerusalem where they would remain for evermore "All rapture through and through in God's most holy sight." Satan, however, a traitor in the angelic camp, interfered, and "brought death into the

world and all our woes," thus upsetting the benevolent designs of the Creator. Surely the Theosophical conception of the fundamental necessity of contrast as being part of the Divine plan is more dignified and worthy than the notion that omnipotence and omniscience could be circumvented, and the original intentions of Divinity be thwarted by the machinations of a meddlesome demon! Yet even in the Bible we find that Satan is not so black as he is usually painted. In the Book of Job he is represented as a Son of God, and was directly commissioned by the Almighty to try the patience of Job. From the loss of his family and cattle down to his loathsome skin-disease, every disaster that befell him was in strict accordance with the instructions received by Satan the agent of God. In an old Hindu book we are told that "for the sake of the Soul alone the Universe exists," and as the universe is composed of pairs of opposites we must assume that these contrasts are necessary for the education and evolution of man. "It takes all sorts to make a world," says an old proverb, and when the novelist wishes to enlist our interest in his story, his little epitome of life, he invariably presents to our view two contrasting poles, the hero and the villain, and on the varying fortunes of these two pairs of opposites, against the background of the lesser characters, the interest of the whole narrative revolves. For some reason best known to himself, Thackeray described his novel Vanity Fair as a novel without a hero, but every reader with any penetration must recognize in the faithful Dobbin the Good Principle in that little cosmos, to offset and serve as contrast to the infamous Becky. Even Thackeray's genius could not succeed in holding the interest of the reading public had he not bowed to the inevitable necessity of making his little universe bi-polar. Theosophy teaches that the soul of man swings like a pendulum between the world of matter and the world of spirit. A life is lived on earth among the disappointments and the limitations of a bodily existence and this is followed by a time of rest and peace, spent in the heaven-world where all his garnered experience is assimilated, his wounds healed, his ideals realized, his confidence restored, and after which he once again descends, enters a new body, and sets himself to learn his lessons in the hard but necessary school of human life. An indefinite sojourn in Devachan, or the spiritual world, would cloy him with its unrelieved monotony of ease and sweetness. An interminable conflict on the battlefield of material life would blast the soul by its too-long-continued strain. We need the alternating contrasts, the interchange of states, to complete our experience and emphasize the lessons taught by each. The necessity of contrast has even impressed some theologians when they have treated upon the Saints' Eternal Rest in Heaven. After walking through the golden streets for untold ages and participating in an interminable concert of sacred music, can we wonder that the theologians have seen the need of some opposing contrast to relieve the unrelieved monotony of celestial bliss? The Rev. Richard Baxter has suggested that the saints in glory are permitted to enjoy a contrast by proxy, as it were. They may, he thinks, sometimes steal away to the verge of the Elysian Fields, lean over the battlements, and look into the furnace on the further side of the Great Gulf fixed between. There they may see their former friends who suffer in the quenchless flames, and having let the contrast sink into their minds, they will participate in the concert with an added zest, a heightened realization of their own blessedness, and strike their harp-strings and raise their voices with redoubled thankfulness and joy. Thus in the dogmatic scheme "All things work together for good to them that love God," and the very tortures of the damned are overruled to subserve and enhance the pleasure of just men made perfect! We are bound to assume that any compassion the saints may have developed during their earthly existence has been removed from their constitution by some transcendental surgical operation. A mother who could see her first-born quiver in the

flames and then participate in a concert with any satisfaction is happily a rarity upon our earth. Jesus Christ said, "the poor ye have always with you," and indeed it is hard to conceive of life without the two opposing poles of poverty and wealth. Supposing reincarnation to be true, then, I ask you to imagine a man who devotes his whole time to the accumulation of an enormous fortune. Lapped in luxury he grows self-indulgent. Never knowing hunger he is incapable of sympathizing with the distress of the starving. May it not be required for his education that in some future life on earth he will himself be situated so that he will physically experience the poverty which he successfully avoided in his previous earth-life? If a man exerts his utmost will to swing his pendulum to extreme wealth, will it not of necessity oscillate to the other pole as a direct consequence and a necessary result? This would not be a blind mechanical adjustment merely; but a merciful provision in the divine order of things for the experience of the soul and the symmetrical development of his character. Middle lines are best, and the Theosophist believes that by a life of unselfish labor for others he will find that the Law will follow him through his earthly pilgrimage and provide for his moderate necessities without the need of his devoting his thought and effort merely to the absorbing question as to what he shall eat and drink and wherewithal shall he be clothed. Contrast is the great schoolmaster to teach us the lessons of life. One of the first mistakes humanity made when endowed with the Promethean fire of mind was to suppose that pleasure was the great goal and that our lasting satisfaction lay in an infinite series of agreeable sensations. Therefore we flung ourselves into a mad pursuit of pleasure only to find our course continually checked and thwarted by the operation of the Law of Contrast which enacts that every orgy of the senses must be followed by a reaction of dulled sensation and an ebbing of the tides of life. Gaiety pushed to its extreme merges into depression, and they who drain the cup of pleasure to the bottom are the ones who taste the bitter dregs of keenest pain. In playing see-saw on a balanced plank it is well known that the higher you rise into the air the lower you dip towards earth, and those who teeter up and down upon the see-saw of sensation, trying to win their happiness by making a permanent home in pleasure, are slowly being taught the hopeless folly of their enterprise. The writer once went on a pleasure excursion with a companion who seized every opportunity to get a laugh. A joke was squeezed to yield its last drop of merriment. Every laugh was so prolonged that it died of sheer exhaustion, and every opportunity to tell a funny story was eagerly seized and made the most of. Later on he learned that his merry companion was subject to fits of melancholy, the natural reaction of extreme and boisterous hilarity. Here is a suggestion which, though merely a speculation put forward to illustrate the subject and entirely unauthorized, is yet I think to be supported by the teaching of the Law of Contrast. Religions in all ages have been discredited and injured by the practice of extreme asceticism on the part of some of their adherents. An attempt has been made to crush out the natural, innocent pleasures of moderation by a fierce determined will. Yogins have sequestered themselves in solitudes and supported life on a few grains of rice a day. They have lain on cold stones without coverings, they have swung on hooks which pierced their backs, and deprived themselves of necessary sleep. If in some succeeding earth-life (I speak as a believer in reincarnation) you wanted to find one of these extremists, where should you look for him? I would not inquire at the monasteries or search the lonely cells of desert anchorites, but wherever in the whirl of great cities the mad pursuit of pleasure was most madly followed up, there I should look, and I believe that foremost among the revelers would be found the stern ascetics of a former age, obeying the recurrent swing of the pendulum pushed too far to the opposite extreme in some past life of self-inflicted torture. The votaries of pleasure in one life will by a natural reaction be the inmates of

hermit caves in a succeeding life, and thus the poor unfortunates will oscillate between these two extremes until they learn their lesson and keep to the middle of the road. Were we continually obliged to watch these tragedies of oscillation and see our brothers perpetually beating their heads against the stone walls that border the middle of the pathway of our life, the spectacle would be sad enough to all who had any feeling of compassion; but as Shakespeare so often introduced fools and clowns into his most harrowing tragedies to relieve the strain upon our minds, so life abounds with comic interludes, and humorous "asides" that mitigate the sadness and render existence supportable in what would otherwise be indeed a vale of tears. True Theosophy advises that we should turn our gaze inward - that the dawn of the spiritual consciousness be found and its radiance shed upon our daily life. That the song of the soul should be recognized first in the depths of our own being and then be sounded forth to still the noisy discords of the world outside. Contrast is necessary everywhere. Existence depends upon the balance of opposites. Some people in their enthusiasm for living the Higher Life wish to destroy their passional nature and thus get rid of strife and temptation, which they regard as hostile to their progress. Our lower nature is indeed antagonistic to the higher, but yet it is useful. Good would not be good without evil as a contrast. It is the animal passions that furnish us with the necessary force for working on this plane when once subdued, and they can only be subdued by struggle and temptation with of course the possibility of our defeat. I believe that we may fairly deduce from the teachings of Theosophy that as a man nears the completion of his education the violence of contrasts in his life will gradually subside. No longer snatching at extremes of pleasure he will avoid the sharp antithesis of pain. His course will become more temperate and equable. The crude vibration of pleasure will appear as much a disturbing and unwelcome factor in his life as the vibrations of pain. No longer fascinated by these two poles of sensation, man prepares to leave the battlefield and schoolroom. He has fought his fight and learned his lesson: why tarry further in the halls of learning? For his own sake there is no need to remain; but can a compassionate onlooker retire if his presence would help the younger scholars and shorten and render easier their painful tasks? The great Teachers have made a deep resolve never to retire until the last learner has done with his lessons and the old schoolroom of contrasted poles has dissolved and melted into its original unity, because "for the sake of the soul alone the universe exists." (Vol. 6, pp. 105-9) ---------------------Tibetan Mss. and Books [Review] "Tibetan Manuscripts and Books, etc., Collected during the Younghusband Mission to Lhasa;" is the title of an important paper in The Asiatic Quarterly Review for July [1912.] It is by Dr. L.A. Waddell, the archaeologist to that mission, by whose initiative and labors the collection was made. Such scholars as are sufficiently free from prejudice to study all accessible sources of information and estimate them by the rules of fair judgment alone, must have found that the writings of H.P. Blavatsky contain much that is worthy of their attention. Whatever may be our views regarding Theosophy, the fact stands proven by H.P. Blavatsky's works that she possessed a wonderful power both of interpreting the past and of forecasting the

future. Archaeology and scholarship have, since she wrote, progressed along the lines she predicted for them, and have thereby confirmed many of her statements concerning the true interpretation of ancient history. As yet, however, we look in vain for acknowledgment. The promulgation of Theosophy excited strong opposition in conservative ranks, and calumny and misrepresentation have provided excuses for those in search of them. It is to a day still in the future that we must look for the acknowledgment of the indebtedness of modern progress to H.P. Blavatsky; an acknowledgment which will as surely come as has the previous neglect and misrepresentation. In The Secret Doctrine (Vol. I, Introduction) it is maintained that a vast area in Central Asia, including Tibet, was in ancient times the seat of a mighty civilization, of great knowledge, whose secrets lie buried beneath the sands of the deserts and in monasteries and crypts where records are safety guarded. This is one of the directions in which archaeology has been progressing since H.P. Blavatsky wrote. Another thing maintained by H.P. Blavatsky is that all the numerous religious sects and philosophical schools of Buddhism, Hinduism, etc., have emanated from a single and uniform parent doctrine, which she calls the "Secret Doctrine"; and that treatises on this doctrine are extant, which when they become accessible, will prove what she maintains regarding the nature and universality of the Secret Doctrine. The Secret Doctrine, (her principal work) is based on certain "Stanzas from the Book of Dzyan," which she quotes at the beginning of each volume. This book is originally in the Senzar Language, but has been translated into Chinese and Tibetan. H.P. Blavatsky has also written The Voice of the Silence, being "Chosen Fragments from the Book of the Golden Precepts"; a book placed in the hands of mystic students in the East, and derived also from an ancient Senzar and Tibetan source not yet accessible to scholarship in general. In view of the above facts, the article mentioned above is of peculiar interest. To begin with, our last words, "not yet accessible to scholarship in general," find their commentary in the fact that Dr. Waddell has added over 300 mule-loads of volumes to the previously existing collections of Tibetan books. These latter were very slight. The India Office had its Tibetan collection confined almost entirely to the copies of the Kanjur and Tanjur presented by Brian H. Hodgson. The British Museum possessed "little more than a few leaves torn from some of the larger texts"; whilst the libraries of Oxford, Cambridge, and the Royal Asiatic Society have still less. Dr. Waddell gives a catalog of his collection, numbered from 1 to 464, many of these items comprising sets of volumes. Evidently it is not assuming too much to say that H.P. Blavatsky, during her travels, may have had access to sources not yet accessible to all. Other military expeditions may be made to Tibet, and other favorable opportunities for the acquisition of books may occur; yet authorities are ever prone to dogmatize on the basis of knowledge up-to-date, instead of allowing for probable future information. It will be a source of satisfaction to those who, protesting against the sordidness of the age, uphold the virtues of disinterested work, to know that Dr. Waddell, had he merely been faithful to his hire, would have provided quinine and bandages for the military expedition he attended; but that he went out of his way, first to agitate and wake up the powers-that-be to an interest in the matter, next to undertake to be himself the collector, and finally to be his own manager, workman, and mule in the execution of a laborious task additional to the duties of medical attendance and the hardships of a campaign. It is to such disinterested enterprise that the world owes most. The labor of collecting was great. The books are very large and heavy - bundles of large sheets bound in wooden boards. Some had to be rescued from burning buildings, set on fire by fleeing natives, and at the risk of being blown up by exploding powder. All these books had to be conveyed about on mules, protected during the marches, sorted, and finally transported over the mountains home. Dr. Waddell tells us that his enormous collection has been broken up and dispersed

over several libraries, and that the public has no list of the books or their whereabouts; wherefore he yields to entreaties and here provides the information. Tibetan is the great literary language of Central Asia, like what Latin was to medieval Europe. It is the vehicle that has preserved much of the early history of India. It has preserved for us early Sanskrit Buddhist texts, whose originals have been nearly lost in India. The Tibetan translations, as tested by surviving Sanskrit fragments, "display such scrupulous literal accuracy, even down to the smallest etymological detail, as to excite the admiration of all modern scholars who have examined them." Thus their authoritativeness is beyond dispute. The collection includes much besides religious and doctrinal treatises; a classification is as follows: "Buddhist books, manuscript and printed, including the canonical scriptures, commentary scripture classics, various separate texts translated from the Indian, Sanskrit, and Tibetan indigenous compositions. Bon (or pre-Buddhist religious cult) books. Histories, secular and religious; biographies of kings and great lamas. Science - medicine, mathematics, astrology, geography, and topography. Lexicons and grammar, logic, rhetoric, and music." The printed books are from engraved wooden plates in accordance with the ancient art of printing at a time when movable types were not used. The manuscripts are in many cases fine specimens of calligraphy and illumination. A musical score for chanting sacred airs exhibits a notation by means of a succession of wavy lines of varying depth and width of curvature to mark the rise and fall and duration of the notes. We conclude with a few of the titles as specimens: "Dispelling the Darkness of the Ten Directions of the World; The Peak of Bliss; The Diamond Cutter (aphorisms on transcendental wisdom); Heart Essence of the Paramita; The Shining Gold; Stairway to Clearness of Mind; Lion's Roar of Wisdom; Moonlight for removing the Darkness of Sin; Rainfall of Ocean of Virtue; Prayer to the Great Compassionate Vanquisher." Some of these titles remind the student of Theosophy of H.P. Blavatsky's insistence on the point that the Heart-Doctrine - Compassion - is the basis of all religion; and that, however much we may find accretions of dogma and ritual and head-learning, if we go back to the source we shall always arrive at the Heart-Doctrine. This distinction between the Doctrine of the Heart and the Doctrine of the Head is fundamental. It forms the motive of The Voice of the Silence and is a touchstone to distinguish true Theosophy from its imitations. The attempt to gain Wisdom apart from conscience, compassion, and duty is futile; the knowledge achieved apart from these prime conditions, if knowledge it can be called, is a snare. (H.T. Edge) (Theosophical Path, vol. 4, pp. 70-72) ----------------"Vivisection" in a Dictionary - Walter J. Renshaw Happening upon the word "Vivisection" in one of the standard dictionaries, the writer with his feeling for words, which is expanded and gladdened by some words, and contracted and saddened by others, "vivisection" being one of the latter - wondered how

the dictionary treated it, and read as follows: "Dissection of a living body; the practice of anatomizing alive, or of experimenting upon living animals, for the purpose of investigating some physiological function or pathological process which cannot well be otherwise determined. Vivisection strictly includes only cutting operations; but the term is extended to any physiological experimentation upon living animals, as compression of parts by ligatures, subjection of the creature to special conditions of atmospheric pressure, temperature, and food, exhibitions of poisons, or other drugs, inoculation of disease, etc. Vivisection in competent and humane hands, under proper and reasonable restrictions, is fruitful of good results to the sciences of physiology and pathology." It was very depressing to read such a statement - unqualified save for the implications in an extract from the Encyclopaedia Britannica: "The Vivisection Act of 1876.... is intended for the protection of vertebrate animals liable to be employed alive in physiological experiments." For in the definition of "vivisection" not only is the whole question begged by the words "process which cannot well be otherwise determined"; but we know what the "special conditions" mean, in the scope of the previous words: "any physiological experimentation upon living animals." What do these "special conditions" include? Anything. Of atmosphere: intense pressure or vacuum, prolonged or alterternated; suffocation, partial or complete, by poisonous gases. Of temperature: baking, freezing, or boiling (alive). Of food: starvation or repletion (to death if desired); ingenious and outrageous mixtures, etc. Exhibitions of poisons. Inoculation of disease: loathsome or painful, swift or lingering, often the products of man's worst vices. The "etc." which follows this horrible list suggests - as is alas! only too true - "not fit for publication." And this, we read, is fruitful of good results to the sciences of physiology and pathology. Alas for a science in whose name such criminal practices are permitted and gloried in. One wonders if it were the non-scientific who caused the Act to be passed "for the protection of animals liable to be employed alive"; and who interprets and enforces it; and how far it is effectual; in short, where the line is drawn. Thus far the dictionary on the word "vivisection" - the essential nature of which is indicated by the fact that specifically "painless vivisection" is given another name altogether. The first thought of the reader was: It is curious if a dictionary should decide a question going to the roots of morality in man's relation to his dumb brothers of the lower kingdoms, in such an offhand manner; ignoring not only the unvoiced plea of the victims, but the moral effect on the vivisector himself (as set forth in "The Plight of the Vivisector," The Theosophical Path, Vol. p. 341, Nov.); especially when "doctors differ" as they do so fundamentally and vehemently upon even the scientific fruitfulness of the practice. However, having merely defined the word itself, the dictionary lets daylight on its results in the definitions or illustrations of its derivatives. "Vivisectionist" being defined, the usual quotation displaying its use is thus given (italics the writer's): "Physiology, it is said, can scarcely be called a science as yet, and the contributions

of vivisectionists to the understanding and amelioration of human suffering have been almost nothing." - G. S. Hall, German Culture, p. 20 The quotation following the definition of "vivisector" is: "A judge or jury might have opinions as to the comparative value of the results obtained which would differ widely from those of the vivisector himself." - Buck's Handbook of Medical Sciences, viii, 682 And in illustration of the use of "vivisectorium" we read: "Students have turned away sickened not only from the vivisectorium, but from the study of medicine." - G. S. Hall, German Culture, p. 20 While making these notes the writer received a letter from an English friend in which occurred the following: "There must be something seriously wrong with anyone who cannot feel the wrong of vivisection. Surely the best part of such a man has not yet awakened! I'm thinking of ---- " [mentioning two prominent men who have recently spoken in favor of vivisection]. Doctors themselves differ, as we have seen, and the quotation from the letter represents the unspoiled, instinctive feeling of the lay (unprofessional or non-technical) student of life and its problems - the intuitive revolt of the soul against practices admittedly cruel and painful; of doubtful and disputed scientific value; degrading to the operator; and which H.P. Blavatsky, with her profound knowledge of life and its laws, inner as well as outer, stigmatized in the name of Theosophy as "Black Magic." (Vol. 2, Feb., 1912, pp. 139-41) ------------------The Vivisector's Understated Claims - Lydia Ross, M.D. The vivisectionists, in asking the legislatures to uphold them with laws and the laity to support them by public opinion, have been accused of other things than too much modesty in presenting their case. With the weight and carrying-power of position and numbers, they have aggressively defended their position against the active antivivisectionists. From the standpoint of the Theosophical philosophy, however, the question remains unsettled in many minds because both sides understate their claims, as to the rights of man and of the brutes, and as to the results of vivisection. It is also paradoxically true that if the advocates and the opponents of vivisection had more knowledge of the subject, it would unite rather than separate them. As it is, they are traveling in opposite directions, without either going entirely around, and thus comprehending, the subject. There has been much intemperate talk by the partisans on both sides. The opponents seem to feel a repugnance and horror which extravagant language still leaves unsaid. The advocates - especially professional men - maintain a desperate and abnormal resistance beyond their own logic to justify. Psycho-analysis, however, would show this attitude to be the subconscious sign of a hidden, if not unrecognized wrong and weakness.

It is an open secret that with all the modern marvels performed by an improved diagnostic and surgical technique, the treatment of disease has by no means kept pace in medical evolution. The facility with which new remedies, however bizarre, are presented, adopted and rejected for the next promising product, shows that treatment is the weak point in the dominant school, which leads in scientific fads by force of their numbers. The intolerance inherited from theologic forbears has prevented investigation of the drug methods which have been worked out by the newer schools of practice. This concealed and avoided weakness in equipment for a business of healing, reacts upon the physician's psychic status, and influences his gravitation to morbid methods. In fact, both the advocates and opponents of vivisection seem impelled to defend their positions by a powerful urge, the full meaning of which neither of them evidently can understand or explain. Why question their sincerity? The opinions of most men are usually sincere and quite consistent with their own viewpoint. Here both sides are arguing for the welfare of humanity; and the arguments hinge mainly upon two points: First, has man the moral right to sacrifice the brute race to the human, regardless of the former's suffering? Second, has humanity been materially benefitted by vivisection? Certainly this is no case for sentimentality; rather does it call for a broad scientific survey of the relation of humanity to the lower animals, and of the results of animal experimentation. Whatever stand is taken regarding man's right to experiment upon animals, there can be no division of opinion as to whether the subjects suffer or not, with or without anaesthesia. To bake, or boil, or starve, or poison, or infect, or partially dissect or otherwise mutilate any living creature will hurt him, whether it be a willing human martyr in a good cause, or a shrinking monkey, ignorant of the purpose. Nothing could daunt the heroic soul of Joan of Arc, but the girl's tender body shrank at the thought of the flames. Animals will take a positive stand and face pain and even death to defend their young; but in the laboratory they are negative victims, with no sustaining action or interest. The natural instinct of a sick or wounded creature is to crawl out of sight, and to chew some healing herb, or lick the sore place well again, or to die in peace; the following of this natural instinct is denied them. They are forced into man's strange world, made to drain the dregs of his worst diseases, helplessly to endure pain, disability and death, in the limelight of unfeeling inspection and under the hand that hurts them. Their instinctive distrust and fear of man is intensified. Their spirit is so broken, or the whole venom and passion of their nature is so aroused, that the very quality of their blood and tissues must be changed. The unnatural physical and emotional conditions present certainly must affect their reaction to the experiments, even if the difference between the conscious quality of their body-cells and that of man's did not already make the reading of results unreliable data for his case. The "irritability" active in the single cell collectively makes up a conscious body of sensation and desire, interwoven, fiber for fiber, with the more material but less vital and enduring physical body. Theosophy demonstrates - to logical minds - that this conscious mold for the fleshly form dictates the growth of all creatures. It is this animating body which changes nutrition into physical cells, stimulates them to functional action, to growth, and to disintegration, and then initiates and repeats the process. That it is unrecognized by the physiology of materialistic science no more affects its vital reality and its wireless messages than the average man's ignorance of his sympathetic nervous system prevents its existence, reflexes, and important functions. The astral mold - the conscious body - is as evident and as invisible as the mysterious motor and sensory nerve currents which no skill of scalpel or vision of microscope can ever detect. H.P. Blavatsky restored to Physiology a knowledge of this lost but illuminating clue to many present mysteries of heredity, pathology, etc. It is this subconscious aggregate of impulses and sensations which dictates the special characteristics of form and of feeling, the type of constitution, and the average length of

life. It is noted that the well-known fact that dogs dream shows the higher animals, at least, to have a subjective consciousness and existence. If this body of sensations and desires is unnaturally deprived of its physical form in which to function, its impulses to activity still survive for a time in the astral world, which interpenetrates the entire physical sphere, even man's personal handful of the "dust of the earth." This is the medium which conveys the telegraphy of thought and feeling, linking man to man, and humanity to the animals. It is the developing psychic sense of humanity which makes so many persons susceptible to the vague and wandering impulses and ideas which often dominate the disorderly and restless minds of neurasthenic cases. The vital urge to expression - the common purpose of life in all forms, whether brute or human - becomes naturally weakened or exhausted by prolonged sickness or old age. But the characteristic desires, unduly deprived of their familiar vehicle by premature or sudden death, become freed and stimulated by the loss to seek any medium through which to act vicariously. To turn loose into the atmosphere of civilization uncounted entities of depression, of fear, hatred, and strong animal instincts, must result in reacting upon the social mind, health, and morals. Especially susceptible are the thousands of rapidly evolving, sensitized, negative natures, peculiar to the present period of transition along every material, mental, and moral line. The ill effects of vivisection are not limited to the individual operators who, by their cruel objective and subjective linking with the animal kingdom, are thus blunting their own finer sensibilities and beclouding their intuitive perception of truth. By means of serum therapy countless patients are put more closely in touch with the brute world. Society at large, in permitting these things, also reaps the diffused social effects. In these strenuous days the active life forces impel each nature into characteristic activities. Many are practically automata, busily repeating the dominant social note around them. Without the balance of well-defined moral purpose, a self-seeking generation will naturally work out the strongest impulses of the individual body or of the social organization. Of course even a brutal man does not bark or whine, or scratch and bite, as a suffering and terrified dog would do. He expresses his feeling of fear or hatred or resistance in a human way just as he does when threatened by a mad dog, or caught among stampeding cattle, or in defending himself at close range from a wild beast. A strong impulse of primitive fear, seeking expression in him, might easily be correlated into a moral cowardice which would sacrifice any innocent agent to escape the results of self-indulgence or disease. Pari passu with the growth of animal experimentation among civilizees, they have shown, with a decrease in common contagions, a general increase in mental and nervous cases; in degenerative, malignant and venereal diseases; in suicide; in precocious vice; in self-indulgence, sensuality and perversions, and in cruel and inhuman crimes. These conditions, apparent to any thinking mind, and too imperative to be ignored, spring from sources so subtle, unrecognized, and potent, that the best efforts of the specialists and of the public, still leave them uncontrolled. It is the unanalyzed horror of the whole situation, even more than the mere suffering of the animals, which the anti-vivisectionists dimly feel and vainly try to express. They may well agree with their opponents, in the light of the larger truth of the case, that man's welfare has the first claim. But human rights must rest upon their humanity. The higher kingdom cannot evolve out of its psychological errors through the vicarious suffering and death of helpless and irresponsible creatures. Nature will not permit it. It is the exact justice of her laws that protects order from chaos and restores the equilibrium of forces which man disturbs in selfishly "seeking out many inventions." The animals are Nature's younger children, closely in touch with the mother heart which guards them in ways that her self-willed older family rejects. They are as generally strong and healthy as civilized man is weak and diseased. Without man's intelligence, the higher animals surpass him in the psychic sense that often foreknows of storm, disaster,

etc., and instinctively guides them to natural antidotes and healing means and natural living. The serum therapist could learn something of wholesome drugs from them. Balaam's master was not the last well-meaning man to be three times slower than the abused ordinary ass to see a good thing in his path awaiting recognition. Sentiment and science, legend and learning, all agree that cause and effect are equal, that action is balanced by reaction, and everything brings forth fruit after its own kind. The knowledge or protection which is bought by suffering must be paid for in like kind. The growing tide of strong animal impulses and disease quality which is flooding the astral atmosphere with its influence is a peculiar menace to an age where great material and mental evolution precedes a marked development of the latent psychic senses. It is but natural that human consciousness should develop its finer senses, which must meet the more subtle and potent phases of the extended problems of good and evil. But meantime there is the insecure transition stage between the lost foothold on the old ground and the uncertain forward step to the new and unknown consciousness. Unfortunately - and yet consistent with an era of vivisection - the present dangers are supplemented by the practice of hypnotism and by capital punishment. Truly they are a trinity of evils which belie and mock at civilization. Even where the hypnotized subject adopts some specific good habit at the dictation of the operator's will it is at the price of his own. The benefit is more than offset by the negative attitude induced which leaves him a prey to any powerful impulse, embodied or free. The popularity of hypnotic church-parlor clinics shows the medical failure to recognize or to meet the psychic need of the times. And no less do they show the ministerial ignorance, both of man's complex nature and of the sacredness of the individual will, whereby a soul must "work out its own salvation." Closely allied in influence with hypnotism and vivisection is the barbarism of capital punishment, which physically liberates, to prey upon society, the lower impulses of its worst citizens. Here the human desires of expression are more potent and clearly-defined because of the mental powers and the mental pictures which filled the mind of the late murderer. He leaves to society, which has helped to make him the objective criminal, a legacy of his last thoughts and feelings of active hatred, revenge, cruelty, appetite, and lust. In view of this evil trinity of causes, how puerile it sounds to propose, as social remedies, more cancer and lunacy commissions, longer sentences for the wholesale white slave dealers, segregation of vice, sterilization of criminals, and other dealings with effects. Vivisectionists justly claim to have brought forward the whole line of serum therapy. Whether the serums and antitoxins materially affect the mortality rates may be left to the statisticians who have something to say for both sides. The question is, even if the immunity claimed, or lengthened life, depended on such means, whether it is worth the price which just nature is already demanding. Will not a few generations, preserved by vampirizing the physical force of the animals and being vampirized in turn by their impulses, result in practically dehumanizing the race? A study of the essential nature of serum therapy begins with Nature's realms where certain inherent characteristics mark the matter variously used in the forms of minerals, vegetables, animals, and in man's body. The dim sensibility, low in the scale, develops gradually until it becomes individualized in human self-consciousness. The ingestion of minerals and vegetables by man as medicine or as food results in his life-force being affected and supplemented by the force in them. He also takes on something of their distinct though impersonal qualities. So do the crops vary with the soil, and animals with different diets, etc. But in digestion and assimilation, man stamps over the original type of matter the more dominant impress of his own nature. His quality of greater consciousness frees him more or less from its influence, while he uses the force thus furnished for his own activities. The distinctive quality which is generally diffused through whole types of

the lower kingdoms is more concrete and marked in the more conscious animals. Thus the effects of a full meat diet are noticeable, not only physically, but the man's nature is affected, his stronger imprint blurring but not effacing the distinct type characteristics. To separate and select the desired remedial elements from crude mineral and organic drug forms, and to break up food types into more palatable and digestive matter, civilized man prepares his medicines and cooks his foods. There is an instinctive preference for cooked foods, a popular repugnance for raw meat, and a natural abhorrence for cannibalism. The sight of savages devouring pieces torn from the freshly slain animal, or supping on a stew of noble-minded, healthy missionaries, outrages something even in the eager hunter or calloused murderer. The picture does violence to some strong feeling other than the appetite or the aesthetic sense. The most enthusiastic vivisector or serum therapist would revolt at the proposal to present to others or to partake of like menus - as such. The modern scientific vision, however, is so adjusted to fine distinctions of laboratory and microscopic matter, that it is sadly out of focus for viewing the larger issues of life that define the differences between right and wrong. Any one would shrink from close confinement with even healthy animals, always contacting guinea-pigs, rats, cats, vipers, monkeys, etc. Nor would one wish to be in constant, intimate relation with seriously diseased men. Certainly most persons would starve rather than use either kind of flesh for food. Even a debased soul would intuitively feel that its own image would be further defaced by taking on such imprints and would reject such desecration. Yet the process of digestion would afford the eater some chance to stamp this matter with the quality of his own tissue and of his thought. He would be less helpless than the human victim who is injected with the quality of a foreign virus which has been both animalized and potentized by its blood serum attenuation. If diseased uncleanness, in its worst human and animal forms, is repulsive to contact with the protecting skin, and too loathsome to ingest, what of the practice of injecting it directly into the tissues, to be rapidly carried to the heart and from thence, by the vital blood stream, to every cell of its contaminated body? This is the principle and the modus operandi of serum treatment, which no one denies is the legitimate product of vivisection, or need question that it is capable of inducing results! This insane sacrifice of human decency and of the dignity of man's rightful place in planetary evolution engenders conditions which the victims cannot work out of in one life. The most delicate chemical test or the most powerful lens cannot reveal the fact and the phases of thought and feeling which are patent enough to the naked eye, and especially to the sympathetic understanding. Neither the faithful pet dog or the kind master can see the tie of affection and trust which makes of him a better man and helps to humanize the animal in his evolution. So also, the fact of the abnormal ties of cruelty and suffering between man and hundreds of thousands of animals must contribute in the aggregate, something to be seriously reckoned with in the common psychic atmosphere, which transmits the subtleties of feeling. If the co-existing animal world did not interpenetrate the human sphere to a degree, they would not even be available victims for tests of alien and undeserved types of virus. That they sicken, suffer, and prematurely die, from disease, mutilation, or anaesthetics, is not a sentiment to be disposed of by legal juggling. It is a colossal fact under the jurisdiction of the universal law of adjustments which has made man suffer and thereby kept him from making worse mistakes, ever since his first experiment in evading the consequences of tasting good and evil. That which is bought with suffering must be paid for in like kind. The serums bought by carrying the vile potencies of some stranger's disease through the poisoned tissues of a lower animal, entangles the patient with the characteristic qualities of both infected bodies. Subconsciously he is permanently infected with foreign, unclean, and unnatural influences which cannot fail to complicate his whole welfare and evolution. The price is not crudely

paid in broken bones, but in unexplained increase in brain and nervous pathology - wrongs of the most highly organized tissues - and in degenerations and perversions of the whole nature. There is an evident and admitted failure in moral resistance in our civilization. The cause is not some undiscovered microbe, but in the degenerate phases of a materially and intellectually great age that tolerates hypnotism, vivisection, and capital punishment. (Vol. 3, pp. 245-52) ---------------What is Death? - A Student Death is one of the events which serve continually to remind us of the mysterious realities that underlie the veil of appearances. It shows us how inadequate is present knowledge to cope with the essential problems of existence. But nature and actuality cannot be limited by the limits of our knowledge; and it is not surprising that there should be a great gap between what is and what we know, when we consider how slight is the compass of our knowledge. We have our science; but, great as its achievements are within its own sphere, that sphere is restricted in a way that precludes it from throwing light on these deeper questions. And we have theology; which, however, offers us dogmas rather than explanations. Between the two we are therefore left in the dark on such problems as that of death. It is proposed here to illustrate the perplexity of current thought on this by referring to some remarks on the subject of death in a medical journal; and then to show how the Theosophical teachings throw light on the matter. But it must be understood that the Theosophical teachings are not put forward as dogmas; they are offered for what they may be worth as explanations. They are not new inventions, but a restatement of ancient doctrines in modern terms. The writer in the medical journal, in discussing death, has to try to define life. As usual, he uses this word in two senses: first abstractly, to denote the condition of being alive; as an example of which definition he quotes Spencer's well-known description of life as "the continual adjustment of internal conditions to external conditions." This, however, is a mere description and does not tell us what we want. We want a definition of life as a concrete force or power or essence, residing in the atoms or elsewhere, and producing all the phenomena which are above defined as constituting "life." The writer shows that after what we call death has taken place, life still continues in the cells of the body. Thus life cannot be defined as the mere totality of the separate lives of the cells; for it is evident that something has withdrawn. He refers to conditions of trance and anaesthesia, asking what is the condition then. He considers that what we call death is only one stage in a gradual process. A frog goes on living and moving after it is decapitated, so life cannot have its exclusive domain in the brain. In what does the life or death of a seed consist? These are a few of the questions the writer asks himself; and, without quoting more, we may take them as typical instances of the kind of difficulty which modern thought encounters. It is evident that life is of many grades and kinds. At death, after the personal life of the man has withdrawn, the cell-life continues for a time. During sleep and trance, the normal waking-life disappears, but the animal life goes on. Plants have a kind of life which has many things in common with animal life, but in others respects is different. Minerals, again, exhibit another degree of life, sufficient to enable them to grow, assume symmetrical shapes, manifest affinities; and a crystal or a metal may die and crumble to

amorphous dust. Electricity and other such forces may be considered as grades of life; or perhaps it might be better to class these forces together with the life-forces under some third and common term. Briefly, there is a cosmic life-force, whose manifestations are apparent everywhere, assuming manifold forms in accordance with certain conditions. At this point we have to take into account a necessary conception to which modern science is for the most part a stranger - that of the vehicle of life. In animated beings this is what Theosophy calls the linga-sarira or plastic double. It is composed of finer substance and resides within the physical body, its atoms being within the inter-spaces of the physical atoms. Our recent studies in the corpuscular theory of light and electricity may help us to an understanding of this. The linga-sarira is, as it were, a web upon which the life-forces build the physical body, like a warp through which the shuttle weaves the threads that complete the fabric. Without the presence of the linga-sarira the vital force cannot act upon the body. During trance and sleep there is a partial withdrawal of the linga-sarira, and this results in an inhibition of the full waking consciousness, though the connexion still remains close enough to enable the animal functions to continue. At death the linga-sarira wholly withdraws - the "silver thread is broken" and cannot be restored and so the life-forces can no longer act as a whole, but only in the separate cells, and the body begins to fall to pieces. The linga-sarira is only just outside the range of visibility, and recent advances in science give promise of our being able to see it by means of ultra-violet light. Certain of the medieval philosophers give directions how to "raise the spirit of a plant," as they call it, from the ashes (see Zanoni); and this illustrates the fact that even a plant must have such an ethereal double for the life-forces to act through. It is this which makes the difference between a living plant and a mere fabric of petals and leaves glued together; it is the presence or absence of this which makes the difference between a live plant and a dead one. When the model-body withdraws, the life cannot act as a whole, and the plant begins to decay. It is this that lies hid in the seed, enabling it to unfold into the form appropriate to its species. Human death is indeed a gradual process. The linga-sarira withdraws from the body, but remains itself intact for a while longer. The ancients knew this, and that apparent death was not the real end; and they observed certain ceremonials intended to provide for the security of both the defunct and the living. They were aware that under some conditions, the linga-sarira, vitalized by a remnant of the vitality, quickened by strong animal desires, might live on as a spook and haunt the purlieus of the living, drawing a ghoulish vitality perhaps from weak and mediumistic persons. Hence the ceremonies for "laying the ghost"; hence cremation, which, by destroying the body, prevents all possibility of an abnormal rapport between the shade and its abandoned tenement. We can only touch the subject here, but fuller details may be found in The Theosophical Manuals. This will suffice to show that there is much to be gained from a study of Theosophy, and that modern conjecture stands in much need thereof. In considering death we may begin with the death of a crystal or a metal. These will crumble to dust, which shows that the "soul" of the mineral, so to say, has departed. Something has withdrawn which made the mineral a definite whole with characteristic properties, and now merely the inert matter remains. Consistency demands that we grant even the mineral a soul of some sort, apart from the matter, capable of pre-existing and of existing after the death of the mineral; able to reclothe itself with matter, thus producing more of the mineral. But the word "soul" would be misleading so applied; let us call it the "mineral monad." In a plant there can be a vegetable death, causing the plant to crumble into constituent solids, liquids, and gases; and there might afterwards be a mineral death for these mineral constituents. In animals, the animal life will die, and yet the vegetative life of the hair go on. In man, the human life may depart, yet the life in the animal cells go on, as in a trance.

But the question of human death has to be studied in the light of the teachings about the "Seven Principles of Man." The seven consist of the Higher Triad and the Lower Quaternary. The lower quaternary consists of the physical body, the linga-sarira, the vital principle, and the animal soul. Animals have these four principles, and these four constitute the animal part of man. But in man the higher triad plays an essential part. This consist of the Manas, or higher mind, the Buddhi, or Spiritual Soul, and Atman, or Spirit. The nature of these principles and the part they severally play in human life are subjects to be mastered by Theosophical study. The essential point in our present connection is that which concerns death. It is life that holds together all the seven principles in one whole. At death the bond is loosed; it is as though the pin were drawn out and man falls into three parts: the body, which decays; the shade, which also decays, but somewhat later; and the immortal entity, consisting of the higher principles, which departs to its appropriate sphere, as to which further information can be gleaned from Theosophical books. Death claims our attention under two aspects: as a personal prospect, and as a bereavement. With regard to the first, we must cultivate the Soul-life more while we are yet living, if we would know more about its condition after death; but in any case let us regard death as a natural process and repudiate all apprehension with regard to it. As to bereavement, all life is full of shocks, and this is but one of them. Yet the shock is founded more on feelings than on reason; for we outlive it and the bitterness fades with the fading memory. Our human nature clings to existent and familiar associations, whether of home, friends, possession, habits, or what not. But the law of continual change and progress thwarts our desires. The remedy is to fix one's desires on that which changes not - this is an eternal maxim. Here is Peace; here is rest; and Love is immortal. (Vol. 4, pp. 104-7) ---------------"What is this Immortal That Thou Hast?" - H. Coryn, M.D. It is almost a law of mind that if we want to know something thoroughly we must study or consider it at some time every day. Once in twenty-four hours the mind should be tuned to the topic. Then it will become a magnet, attracting to itself day by day and in the between-whiles of the study such casual items of knowledge as will fill all the little gaps. And in its depths it will be steadily generating ideas and intuitions which will afterwards well up into the moments definitely consecrated to the task. Twenty-three hours serve the one hour; the night serves the day; the subconscious becomes servant and feeder to the conscious. It is another law that the more the minds which work upon the same matter the farther will be the penetration into it of each. This follows from the existence of that mindether, universal and connective, of which science as yet knows nothing. In these laws we may have by implication the reason why men know nothing about death, nor "what is this immortal" that they have. Has nature intentionally shut the door against our minds? Or is it merely that we will not open it? Maeterlinck seems to think that if we faced the problem together and kept our faces to it we could solve it. "Death is the one event that counts in our life and in our universe.... But though we think of death incessantly we do so unconsciously, without learning to know death. We compel our attention to turn its back upon it, instead of going to it with uplifted head.... How should we know the one power which we have never looked in the face?"

Contemplation of death is morbid. It is - when done morbidly. To look at it calmly, demanding its secret, is not morbid looking. In that way it has never yet been looked at by the many. And it is by the looking of the many at once that the secret will be solved. There is no secret of the world insoluble to the minds of men enough thinking together for time enough. That is why open popular writing and discussion will begin to do good. A thousand speculators with as many admissions of unillumination would be of infinite service so long as they stimulated thought. Given searchers enough and there shall always at last be one who finds. Given leaves enough and they shall always at last make possible a flower. We have quoted Maeterlinck because he recently opened the discussion on immortality in one of the popular monthlies, a discussion which must mean that there is a considerable public which wants to have immortality discussed. It knows that during the last decade there has been much new thinking in philosophy, much new work in science; and it asks what light there may now be for this very old problem. Is there at last some actual knowledge? Is there at any rate some hope of knowledge? Many years ago Maeterlinck wrote this: "Our consciousness is of more than one degree, and the wisest only concern themselves with that which is almost unconscious because it is on the point of becoming divine." This "degree" is the soul, the inner Ego. "We possess," he says, "an I profounder and more inexhaustible than the I of the passions and of pure thought" - "almost unconscious" therefore with respect to matter only; with respect to what is beyond matter, the possessor of exactly the knowledge we need. "In truth," he goes on, "It is difficult to interrogate one's soul and recognize its small voice amid the futile clamor around it. Yet of how little import are the other efforts of mind, and how far away from us is [then] our ordinary life!.... One should ceaselessly take refuge there. We know all the rest before it has been said; but here we learn what cannot be uttered; and it is at the moment when words and phrases cease that our restless gaze suddenly encounters, across the years and the centuries, another gaze which awaited it patiently upon the divine road.... and we know that we are no longer alone upon the endless path." - Les Disciples a Sais, Introduction So one might hope that in the years since that was written he had interrogated his soul to some purpose and got from it some answer, even if not fully expressible in words, to the great question of men's common minds. But in spite of many fine suggestions the hope is disappointed. At the end we find that everything has been left as open as at the beginning. He can but enumerate for us the various possibilities of our post-mortem future, hardly suggesting even a probability for one over another. He still admits the soul, but it has now become a "stranger," hardly subjectible in that case, one would think, to the "interrogation" whose ceaseless pursuit he enjoined upon us in the earlier writing. And he asks how it shall comfort the lower Ego, the personality, that which joys and sorrows throughout earth-life, fears death and craves immortal life, to know that an "unmoved, unseen stranger," within him possesses immortality: "If I am told that that stranger is myself [my higher self or Ego] I will readily agree; but was that which upon earth felt my joys and sorrows and gave birth to the few memories and thoughts that remain to me - was that this unmoved, unseen stranger who

existed in me without my suspecting it, even as I am probably about to live in him without his concerning himself with a presence that will bring him but the wretched recollection of a thing that is no more? Now that [at death] he has taken my place, while destroying, in order to acquire a greater consciousness, all that formed my small consciousness here below, is not another life commencing, a life whose joys and sorrows will pass above my head, not even brushing with their new wings this which I feel myself to be today?" We must therefore inquire whether this "stranger" be indeed such; whether the soul really is so remote and hedged a sovereign as to be inaccessible to - and, let us add, useless to - its representative on earth, the laborer in the vineyard of life, the personality of sorrows and joys; whether that knowledge which Maeterlinck himself seems once to have had - "that we are no longer [nor ever were] alone upon the endless path" - is possible for the rest of us. One mark of the not-aloneness is conscience. The personal man wants to do something wrong. Conscience does not tell him that it is wrong; he knows that already. But opposing his wish to do it, conscience is the expression of another wish that he should not. Another being, or center of being, within him, desires him not to do what he desires to do, reinforcing with its desire his bare knowledge that the thing is wrong. This other being is therefore not "a stranger," not indifferent to his deeds. It is near enough to him to be awatch of his thoughts, his contemplated and his actual deeds, closely a-watch; and to be able to make its wish directly known by him from within; and it cares enough for him to desire that he should act rightly. But the soul can and does do more than inspire not-doings. As active conscience it also inspires doings. When, in a fire or wreck, the common man suddenly "forgets himself," discards the fierce physical impulse to self-salvation, becomes a hero and risks or gives his life for the others in peril, conscience has passed from do not into do. Under this inspiration the man not only does, but does the right thing. The center of inspiration is near enough to earth to know what needs doing. There are also other kinds of doing, rendered possible by the same help. Whence comes the pulse and light of inspiration which in the man of genius suddenly compel him to suspend his ordinary personal thinking and write down quickly the music, the poem, the thought? His task is now to arrange, to give form to something whose essence he knows was not of his personal creating and cannot be commanded at his time or by his will. In his common life he may be as the rest of us, indistinguishable, trivial. But at that moment of reception he is transformed, rarefied, raised to his highest terms. In some few men the inspiration and transformation have gone much farther, so far that they thought themselves to stand in the immediate presence of absolute deity. What are we to say of this center of consciousness which radiates into the heart what we call conscience and into the brain the light of creative genius? Will it not be possessed of that knowledge of life which the limitations of the personal man seem to deny to him and without which he can at best walk by faith? Immortality may then be found knowable for certain even if it remain undemonstrable along the lines of ordinary reasoning. A man knows himself as an Ego, but he cannot demonstrate it to any other man whose mind should suppose itself to doubt it. Knowledge of immortality will come to him who allies himself sufficiently with that in him which already knows it. Nor is this so hard. For although full union with the soul is the reward only of much effort and sacrifice on the part of the personal man, so much union as may give certainty of immortality is very easy. For most men, for all whose hearts could be reached at all, this measure of union has already been achieved for them by the compassion of that soul which Maeterlinck calls a "stranger." There only needs that the reasoning mind shall be trained to cognize what is beyond its own purview. What remains, then, at death, of the personal man? He himself, but not with the

entirety of his memories. His bondage to the body was, during life, the only cause of his remoteness from the soul. Reunited at death, he carries with him into the full sunlight such memories as belong to that light, as can live in it, memories of such deeds, thoughts, and feelings as it and not the passional body inspired. Then it will be by the cultivation of these deeds, thoughts, and feelings, that certainty of immortality can be perfected during life? Yes; and progress can be made very definite by a daily standing back, as it were, from the personal man. If at night the whole day be gathered together with all its containment of deeds and happenings, looked at for its lessons of failure and success, the limits of this personal man of ours begin to be transcended. It is, so to speak, withdrawn from for better survey from a spiritual standpoint. Then it is understood that that which thus withdraws, which thus looks on and judges and resolves, is not that which death can affect. Death is faced and studied and sounded, in sufficient measure rehearsed, before it actually comes. It is seen that its waves cannot by their very laws of constitution, their function in the scheme, reach up as high as the place on which we now stand. The purpose and meaning of it are, not to cut us short, but to bring other scenes and experiences and fields of consciousness before us - finally, other fields of work. But not until this field has been well tilled. We have made a thousand mistakes, yielded to a thousand forces of passion. The opportunities for the renewal of these makings and yieldings must unfold before us again and again till we have won every victory, strengthened every weak place. Life must follow life. The old temptations must come again - but so also the strength gained by every effort to surmount them; so also the wisdom that is the slowly ripened fruit of bygone pains and failures. The concrete memories of the past can wait. All that are worthy to live do live within the field of the soul's consciousness enough for the personality, now, are the threads they wove into his character. The secret of connection between life and life is this: All those misplaced or missworking energies which we call "weaknesses of character" work out life by life as acts of will compelling the opportunity for their display. They bring about pains and humiliations, which, little by little, becoming at last adequate stimuli, compel the man to readjust himself to the light of his soul. So we move, all too slowly, to that rounded perfection of character which, when attained by all humanity, will permit of the beginning of real life. (Vol. 2, pp. 306-10) -----------------Work Regarded as a Privilege - H. T. Edge The writer of a certain book on technical chemistry expresses the view, shared by many, that science should be studied for its own sake rather than from any motive of gain; and points out that in actual life the desire for gain is not our principal motive for working, but that we work in fulfilment of a law of our nature, whose satisfaction brings content. We all feel that the notion of recompense has become too closely attached to the idea of work in these days, and there is a desire to return to the idea of work as being a privilege and a joy. But the conditions under which we live bind us fast in a network of circumstances that renders well-nigh impossible the realization of this desirable ideal; and these conditions are the accumulated growth of selfish and materialistic principles of conduct. The question, therefore, that concerns us is how to overcome these conditions and bring about the ones we desire.

In the world today there are many people who are obliged to toil for subsistence in such a way that their thoughts are continually centered on the question of remuneration. For such people work can be a pleasure only in a minor degree. Other people go on working for gain long after their needs are supplied, and for them the desire of accumulating swallows up the pleasure of working. Others again seek their happiness in the false notion that work is a thing to be avoided, and try to be happy without working. But work is really a fulfilling of the laws of our nature, and such fulfilling ought to bring a satisfaction that would be an answer to the problem of life. The animals all fulfil the laws of their nature and find thereby the end and aim of their existence. The bird that seems to spend the whole day in the collection of insects or seeds is actually enjoying the use of its limbs and senses; nor is the lizard that basks in the sun and raises himself up and down on his little newly-evolved arms occupied exclusively in meditating on the subject of flies. As to man, we may quote Pope to the effect that: "To be, contents his natural desire, He asks no angel's wing, no seraph's fire." But this applies to the "poor Indian," who, in the poet's vision, lacks those introspective and questioning faculties that trouble the denizen of western civilization. The "untutored mind" has fewer faculties to exercise; but the more complex mind may find its more difficult labor crowned by a richer achievement if it can succeed in profitably exercising its ampler endowments. The idea of work as a privilege, however far from realization, can at least be held before the mind as an ideal; and this will bring nearer the realization. But to what extent is this the ideal of work that is held up by our politicians and social reformers? Do they scheme out ways by which all men may be allowed the privilege of working, or plan to punish the erring by depriving them of work? It is admitted that, with the facilities of modern invention, ample sustenance for all could be insured at the expense of a trifling contribution of labor from each. But suppose that, instead of trying to arrange a compulsory schedule of working hours, we were engaged in a polite scramble for the privilege of contributing to the general maintenance! Visitors to the International Theosophical Headquarters at Loma-land often wonder how the people there can be content to work without remuneration, yet the lack of remuneration is itself one of the principal attractions. All will admit that anxiety about remuneration spoils the joy of work, and that relief therefrom is often found in the indulgence of some hobby. The essence of the hobby is that it consists of some labor that need not be performed; it is a labor of love. There are many people, in all branches of occupation, who would be glad of the opportunity to work from sheer love of work; but they are prevented either by inexorable circumstances or by the hypnotic force of strongly ingrained ideas and fashions. The ability to work in such desirable conditions is esteemed by the workers of Lomaland as a privilege for which they ought to be thankful, seeing how difficult it is to be obtained elsewhere and how many people are unable to share it. And this last consideration should also make them anxious to extend the privilege to as many as possible and to point the way by which it may be secured on a larger scale. It would be easy to go through the list of occupations in which people are engaged, and to point out in the case of each one how desirable it would be if love instead of gain were the inspiring force. But such an enumeration is not necessary, since it can be supplied by each one for himself. The teaching profession is one that might be mentioned specially as being hampered by the question of remuneration; for there is no profession wherein it is more desirable that the worker should be free and unembarrassed. How much better it would be if all teachers could be relieved from anxiety as to sustenance and left free to express to the full the energy with which their noble profession inspires them!

Artists, too, in every field - graphic, musical, literary - are sadly encumbered by the obtrusion of "filthy lucre"; and it is quite needless to expatiate on the advantages of being free from that incubus in their case. And so with all the crafts, constructive, agricultural. Modern conditions turn men into pieces of machinery, executing some simple set of mechanical motions over and over again all day; and the farmer is burdened by anxiety about profit and loss. But, without enlarging on this part of the theme, so familiar to all, let us pass to a consideration of the means of achieving the desired end. And here, leaving aside all devious bypaths of discussion, we may go straight to the only possible answer, an answer whose truth will scarcely be denied. There is one requisite with which all things are possible, without which nothing is possible. There must be more heart-life in the community. Our commonwealth is all on a selfish basis, and that is precisely what is the matter with it, as we are all realizing more clearly every day. This is the one solution to all the vexed social problems of today - we must have more heart-life. Many modern theories regarding man are contrary to his best instincts, for these instincts are chiefly social and give evidence of his possessing a heart all the time. His economic theories are largely based on the assumption that man is an inveterately selfish creature, who will always gratify himself at the expense of his fellows whenever possible. His biological theories are based on more than one curious assumption that man is an animal, that the animals are selfish. The theory that society is a complicated chemical reaction may be very interesting but it will not solve our problems. What we need is a philosophy that will interpret man's instincts, motives and aspirations as we find them. Many writers are declaring that modern civilization needs religion. So in truth it does, but what religion? The only satisfactory answer is, Religion itself - the one eternal and universal Religion that underlies all religions. The name of this Religion is the HeartDoctrine. Seek in yourself for the motives that are broad, impersonal, compassionate, and give them scope; so shall you find your Spiritual nature grow, and light will come. We need more faith in our own Divinity. It is this that Theosophy seeks to implant by its luminous teachings as to the nature of man. Theosophy is the Doctrine of the Heart. (Vol. 4, pp. 4-7) -------------Theosophical History Some Theosophical Plans - P. A. Malpas It is interesting to look back over the years and compare plans with their fulfilment. We were lately reading an old announcement dated some thirty-two years ago. It is a document printed and published in India shortly after the Society had sent its delegates from New York to that country to establish the Theosophical work there. The title is "Theosophical Society or Universal Brotherhood." Mention is made of "the plans of the Society," and these plans are declared, among other things, to be: (a) To keep alive in man his belief that he has a soul.... (b) To oppose and counteract bigotry in every form.... (c) To gather for the Society's Library and to put into written form correct information upon the various philosophies, traditions, and legends....

(d) To seek to obtain knowledge of all the laws of nature and aid in diffusing it, thus to encourage the study of those laws least understood by modern people.... Popular superstition and folklore, however fantastical, when sifted may sometimes lead to the discovery of long-lost but important secrets of Nature. The Society, therefore, aims to pursue that line of inquiry in the hope to widen the field of scientific and philosophical observation. (e) To promote a feeling of Brotherhood among nations, and assist in the international exchange of useful arts and products. (f) To promote in every practicable way, in countries where needed, the spread of non-sectarian Western education, and chiefly, to encourage and assist individual Fellows in self-improvement, intellectual, moral, and spiritual. It is curious to observe in face of the above, that from time to time strange notions have been set afloat as to the aims and plans of the original fountainhead and Founder of the Society, Madame H.P. Blavatsky. Perhaps the strangest part, assuming no malicious misinterpretation, is the way in which a few seemingly sensible people came to believe (or professed to believe) queer ideas, such for instance as that lack of ethics, dogmatism, and an aversion to the practical work of Brotherhood, are compatible with those plans. Those were days of weighing the soul in a chemical balance, of putting the gods in test-tubes, of measuring the Spirit with a twenty-four inch gage. The "hidden mysteries of nature and of science" or even the mere suggestion that there were such were received almost as Socratic heresies deserving of the hemlock. Compare their reception with the daily widening doors of the so-called super-material today, and say if such an object was not amply justified. It is not now easy to realize what a gigantic task the turning of the hose into the Augean stables of the materialism of those days really meant. True to the functions of a Teacher of the hidden mysteries of Nature and of Science, H.P. Blavatsky focused every glimmer of light wherever it might be found, into a bouquet of light-blossoms. To some they seemed to die or to change, and there were weeds that grew up, but those blossoms were the forerunners of the seed-light which today is bringing forth its hundredfold. She was reluctant to give the world any purely new conception in all its details; it might have proved seed on the bare rock. But she seized every particle of soil given by thinkers, authors, philosophers, in which to sow her seeds. She rounded out, corrected, adjusted, suggested, and fanned into life as much as was possible. They were laughed at; she was reviled. But an interesting volume might be compiled today from the various Theosophical publications, of the history of the gradual subsidence of opposition into silence, then into toleration, absorption and emission of those very ideas under the names of great scientists, theologians, academicians, educationalists of today and yesterday. Science and theology and orthodoxy then persecuted bitterly; but now that representative members and authorities have adopted all that they yet care to adopt, it is remarkable that her name is left out - unacknowledged. Perhaps she reckoned with this and made ample provision. The industrial work, and women's work, are distinctly indicated and emphatically the educational work was on the "trestle-board" plan. We know that H.P. Blavatsky and William Q. Judge both knew of the plan for the foundation of "a great seat of learning in the West." The metaphors of building are peculiarly suitable to their work, which was distinctly synthetical, although much breaking up was necessary at first. The emphatic assertion of the importance of the highest moral code to a member of the Society hardly calls for comment. No sane person could ever have questioned the intimate relation of morality with Theosophy. It is interesting to see the educational idea at that early date so clearly defined in public as to include the "mental, moral, and spiritual" - Raja Yoga, in fact. Ordinary

education was then very physical and mental; the "spiritual" was little more than a form, if not almost unknown or actually denied. The document is a remarkable example of a "platform" which has never been abandoned. Few plans nowadays possess such intense vitality. (Theosophical Path, Vol. 2, no. 6, June, 1912, pp. 393-94) ------------------Tingley's Early "Do Good" Mission in New York The Do Good Mission [Written for the International Theosophical Peace Congress by Mrs. Elizabeth C. Mayer-Spalding, President, Women's International Theosophical Humanitarian League.] Previous to the time that our Leader, Katherine Tingley, met William Q. Judge, she had for several years been engaged in practical philanthropic work on the East Side of New York. In 1891 occurred the Cloak Makers' strike in New York, involving many thousands of workers, one of the worst strikes that had occurred in that city; and to help to relieve the terrible distress caused by the strike to families, the Leader organized the Woman's Emergency Relief Association and the Do Good Mission, established soupkitchens, arranged for medical attendance and the distribution of clothing. Committees were also appointed to visit the people in their homes. At the soup-kitchens, as many as six hundred a day, and more, were fed. It was during this time, while the Leader was actively engaged in this work, that William Q. Judge first saw her, without knowing who she was, remaining himself unseen for a long time, watching the work that she was herself actively engaged in. When she met William Q. Judge and took up her work with him, she was obliged to leave this one, but told the people she was helping that "she would see them again." She was unable to renew it until three years later after the death of William Q. Judge, when she had become his successor. A few days before Katherine Tingley departed on her First Theosophical journey around the world, June 13, 1896, she called the Superintendent of the Lotus Groups to her, placed a memorandum book in her hands, and said: "This book contains the names of many poor families I have aided in the past, on the East Side of New York." She wished the worker to take this book, go and see these people personally, speak to them of her, and invite them to join a center which she was about to establish in their district. Her wishes were carried out, nearly all of the parents and children were found, and they bore grateful remembrances of the generous acts of kindness of which they had been recipients from Katherine Tingley in the past. Many of these people attended the Public Farewell Meeting given those going with the Theosophical Leader, at Madison Square Garden Theater, June 13, 1896. During that summer, the headquarters of the "Do Good Mission" were established on East 14th Street, New York City. It comprised the whole lower floor of a large building, the front part of which had been a store, all this being secured for the purpose. Here the "Katherine Tingley Brotherhood Club" was formed as a continuation of the work of the "Do Good Mission." Brotherhood Suppers were given from time to time. Sewing classes for children, and afternoons for mothers, were established. The mothers brought their family sewing and were given practical assistance and advice from competent ladies connected with the work. The central point of the work was a Lotus Group for Children on Sunday mornings. Weekly visits were paid to the parents, and food, clothing, and money were also furnished where needed. After the return of Katherine

Tingley from the Theosophical tour, the name and work of the "Do Good Mission" were revived, and another useful department was established, that of the Medical Dispensary, for which several skillful doctors volunteered their services. There Katherine Tingley, with the assistance of a physician, cured many inebriates and those afflicted with the drug habit, several of whom rendered very efficient assistance later when the Lotus Home was established on the Hudson River. The idea of having a summer home for these children of tenement houses in New York, many of whom had never seen the grass and trees of the country in their lives, first took form at a picnic in the Bronx Park. This picnic was an assembly of all the Lotus Circles in New York, teachers, and friends. With Katherine Tingley quick action follows the idea, and then and there she started a subscription which met with liberal responses. A home with beautiful grounds was secured at Pleasant Valley, N.J., on the banks of the Hudson River. It was opened July 5, with a very unique celebration which continued over the 6th, our Leader's birthday. In addition to Katherine Tingley and her faithful helpers, there were a number of distinguished visitors present; amongst them were Mr. Samuel E. Morse (now deceased), United States Consul-General at Paris, and also Mrs. Morse. In his brilliant address, Mr. Morse gave expression to these forceful words: "A result accomplished, a tangible achievement, is worth all the realms of philosophical abstraction and moralizing ever produced. This Lotus Home, this practical expression of a heavenborn idea, counts for more than all the articles that have been published, and all the sermons that have been preached." There is not space enough here, to tell of all the remarkable results achieved in that summer's work, for it would require volumes. Most of the children were from the "Do Good Mission," and its outlying district - one of the most notorious parts of New York City. When the children first arrived at Lotus Home, they were ragged, dirty, poorly clad, with no idea of proper behavior or cleanliness in any form. They knew of but one way of obtaining what they wanted, and that was to fight and equivocate for it. But under the quieting discipline which was soon established they became transformed creatures. Military drill and exercises were established; classes in the schoolroom, and hours for play and recreation. Every child had some assigned duty, a simple household duty, or else an outside one. Music was a very important factor, and the chorus singing daily. Indeed, one could not listen to the singing of these little waifs, without having tear-filled eyes. They sang their little hearts out, in the joy of singing together. Never have we heard a chorus that sounded sweeter than that of the little city-smothered vagabonds, at Lotus Home. Every morning the flag was hoisted, and every evening the light, just as is done at Point Loma to this day. So well did the children imbibe Katherine Tingley's teaching of Brotherhood, that they made their own Home motto: "Helping and Sharing is what Brotherhood means." Indeed, it was here that the first practical Raja-Yoga work really began. What a rush there was for the schoolroom when the bell was sounded! There the Superintendent would give each of them his or her duties for the day, and officers for the day would be appointed from among the children to see that these rules were carried out. During the summer, meetings were held on the grounds of the home for workingmen and their families. At the close of the season, a play written by the teachers was performed by the children under the trees at night. It was indeed a fairy spectacle. The activity of this work was transferred to E. 14th Street again, and broadened out into many channels, which are reported under the activities of the International Brotherhood League, which Katherine Tingley afterwards organized and has since most efficiently directed. (Vol. 6. pp. 67-68) ---------------------------------

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