II.
The word Chréstos existed ages before Christianity was heard of. It is found used, from the fifth century B.C., by Herodotus, by Æschylus and other classical Greek writers, the meaning of it being applied to both things and persons.
Thus in Æschylus (Cho. 901) we read of Μαντεύματα πυθόχρηστα (_pythochrésta_) the “oracles delivered by a Pythian God” (_Greek-Eng. Lex._) through a pythoness; and _Pythochréstos_ is the nominative singular of an adjective derived from _chrao_ χράω (Eurip. _Ion_, 1, 218). The later meanings coined freely from this primitive application, are numerous and varied. Pagan classics expressed more than one idea by the verb χράομαι “consulting an oracle”; for it also means “fated,” _doomed_ by an oracle, in the sense of a _sacrificial victim to its decree_, or—“to the WORD”; as _chrésterion_ is not only “the seat of an oracle” but also “an offering to, or for, the oracle.”[83] _Chrestés_ χρήστης is one who expounds or explains oracles, “a _prophet_, a _soothsayer_;”[84] and _chrésterios_ χρηστὴριος is one who belongs to, or is in the service of, an oracle, a god, or a “Master”;[85] this Canon Farrar’s efforts notwithstanding.[86]
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Footnote 83:
The word χρεών is explained by Herodotus (7. 11. 7.) as that which an oracle declares, and τὸ χρεών is given by Plutarch (Nic. 14.) as “fate,” “necessity.” _Vide_ Herod, 7. 215; 5. 108; and Sophocles, Phil. 437.
Footnote 84:
See Liddell and Scott’s Greek-Engl. Lex.
Footnote 85:
Hence of a _Guru_, “a teacher,” and _chela_, a “disciple,” in their mutual relations.
Footnote 86:
In his recent work—“The Early Days of Christianity,” Canon Farrar remarks:—“Some have supposed a pleasant play of words founded on it, as ... between _Chréstos_ (‘sweet’ Ps. xxx., iv., 8) and Christos (Christ)” (I. p. 158, _foot-note_). But there is nothing to suppose, since it began by a “play of words,” indeed. The name _Christus_ was _not_ “distorted into Chrestus,” as the learned author would make his readers believe (p. 19), but it was the adjective and noun _Chréstos_ which became distorted into _Christus_, and applied to Jesus. In a foot-note on the word “Chrestian,” occurring in the First Epistle of Peter (chap. iv., 16), in which in the _revised_ later MSS. the word was changed into _Christian_, Canon Farrar remarks again, “Perhaps we should read the ignorant heathen distortion, _Chréstian_.” Most decidedly we should; for the eloquent writer should remember his Master’s command to render unto Cæsar that which is Cæsar’s. His dislike notwithstanding, Mr. Farrar is obliged to admit that the name _Christian_ was first INVENTED, by the sneering, mocking Antiochians, as early as A.D. 44, but had not come into general use before the persecution by Nero. “Tacitus,” he says, “uses the word Christians with something of apology. It is well known that in the N. T. it only occurs three times, and always involves a hostile sense (_Acts_ xi. 26, xxvi. 28, as it does in iv. 16).” It was not Claudius alone who looked with alarm and suspicion on the Christians, so nicknamed in derision for their carnalizing a subjective principle or attribute, but all the pagan nations. For Tacitus, speaking of those whom the masses called “Christians,” describes them as a set of men _detested for their enormities_ and crimes. No wonder, for history repeats itself. There are, no doubt, thousands of noble, sincere, and virtuous _Christian-born_ men and women now. But we have only to look at the viciousness of Christian “heathen” converts; at the _morality_ of those proselytes in India, whom the missionaries themselves decline to take into their service, to draw a parallel between the converts of 1,800 years ago, and the modern heathens “touched _by grace_.”
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All this is evidence that the terms Christ and Christians, spelt originally _Chrést_ and _Chréstians_ χρηστιανοὶ[87] were directly borrowed from the Temple terminology of the Pagans, and meant the same thing. The God of the Jews was now substituted for the Oracle and the other gods; the generic designation “Chréstos” became a noun applied to one special personage; and new terms such as _Chréstianoï_ and _Chréstodoulos_ “a follower or servant of Chrestos”—were coined out of the old material. This is shown by Philo Judæus, a monotheist, assuredly, using already the same term for monotheistic purposes. For he speaks of θεόχρηστος (_théochréstos_) “God-declared,” or one who is declared by god, and of λόγια θεόχρηστα (_logia théochrésta_) “sayings delivered by God”—which proves that he wrote at a time (between the first century B.C., and the first A.D.) when neither Christians nor Chrestians were yet known under these names, but still called themselves the Nazarenes. The notable difference between the two words χράω—“consulting or obtaining response from a god or oracle” (χρεω being the Ionic earlier form of it), and χριω (_chrio_) “to rub, to anoint” (from which the name Christos), have not prevented the ecclesiastical adoption and coinage from Philo’s expression θεόχρηστος of that other term θεόχριστος “anointed by God.” Thus the quiet substitution of the letter ι for η for dogmatic purposes, was achieved in the easiest way, as we now see.
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Footnote 87:
Justin Martyr, Tertullian, Lactantius, Clemens Alexandrinus, and others spelt it in this way.
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The secular meaning of _Chréstos_ runs throughout the classical Greek literature _pari passu_ with that given to it in the mysteries. Demosthenes’ saying ω χρηστέ (330, 27), means by it simply “you nice fellow”; Plato (in Phaed. 264 B) has χρηστός ει ὅτι ἣγεῖ—“you are an excellent fellow to think....” But in the esoteric phraseology of the temples “chrestos,”[88] a word which, like the
## participle _chréstheis_, is formed under the same rule, and conveys
the same sense—from the verb χράομαι(“to consult a god”)—answers to what we would call an adept, also a high _chela_, a disciple. It is in this sense that it is used by Euripides (Ion. 1320) and by Æschylus (1 C). This qualification was applied to those whom the god, oracle, or any superior had proclaimed this, that, or anything else. An instance may be given in this case.
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Footnote 88:
_Vide_ Liddell and Scott’s Greek and English Lexicon. _Chréstos_ is really one who is continually warned, advised, guided, whether by oracle or prophet. Mr. G. Massey is not correct in saying that “... The Gnostic form of the name Chrest, or Chrestos, denotes the _Good God_, not a human original,” for it denoted the latter, _i.e._, a good, holy man; but he is quite right when he adds that “_Chrestianus_ signifies ... ‘Sweetness and Light.’” “The _Chrestoi_, as the _Good People_, were pre-extant. Numerous Greek inscriptions show that the departed, the hero, the saintly one—that is, the ‘Good’—was styled _Chrestos_, or the Christ; and from this meaning of the ‘Good’ does Justin, the primal apologist, derive the Christian name. This identifies it with the Gnostic source, and with the ‘Good God’ who revealed himself according to Marcion—that is, the Un-Nefer or Good-opener of the Egyptian theology.”—(_Agnostic Annual._)
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The words χρῆσεν οικιστῆρα used by Pindar (p. 4-10) mean “the oracle _proclaimed_ him the coloniser.” In this case the genius of the Greek language permits that the man so proclaimed should be called χρήστος (_Chréstos_). Hence this term was applied to every Disciple recognised by a Master, as also to every good man. Now, the Greek language affords strange etymologies. Christian theology has chosen and decreed that the name Christos should be taken as derived from χρίΩ, χρίσω (Chriso), “anointed with scented unguents or oil.” But this word has several significances. It is used by Homer, certainly, as applied to the rubbing with oil of the body after bathing (_Il._ 23, 186; also in _Od._ 4, 252) as other ancient writers do. Yet the word χρίστης (_Christes_) means rather a _white-washer_, while the word Chrestes (χρήστης) means priest and prophet, a term far more applicable to Jesus, than that of the “Anointed,” since, as Nork shows on the authority of the Gospels, he never was anointed, either as king or priest. In short, there is a deep mystery underlying all this scheme, which, as I maintain, only a thorough knowledge of the Pagan mysteries is capable of unveiling.[89] It is not what the early Fathers, who had an object to achieve, may affirm or deny, that is the important point, but rather what is now the evidence for the real significance given to the two terms _Chréstos_ and _Christos_ by the ancients in the pre-Christian ages. For the latter had no object to achieve, therefore nothing to conceal or disfigure, and their evidence is naturally the more reliable of the two. This evidence can be obtained by first studying the meaning given to these words by the classics, and then their correct significance searched for in mystic symbology.
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Footnote 89:
Again I must bring forward what Mr. G. Massey says (whom I quote repeatedly because he has studied this subject so thoroughly and so conscientiously).
“My contention, or rather explanation,” he says, “is that the author of the Christian name is the Mummy-Christ of Egypt, called the _Karest_, which was a type of the immortal spirit in man, the Christ within (as Paul has it), the divine offspring incarnated, the Logos, the Word of Truth, the _Makheru_ of Egypt. It did not originate as a mere type! The preserved mummy was the _dead body of any one_ that was _Karest_, or mummified, to be kept by the living; and, through constant repetition, this became a type of the resurrection from (not of!) the dead.” See the explanation of this further on.
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Now _Chrestos_, as already said, is a term applied in various senses. It qualifies both Deity and Man. It is used in the former sense in the Gospels, and in Luke (vi., 35), where it means “kind,” and “merciful.” “χρηστός ἑστιν επι τους,” in 1 Peter (ii, 3), where it is said, “Kind is the Lord,” χρηστός ὁ κύριος. On the other hand, it is explained by Clemens Alexandrinus as simply meaning a good man; _i.e._ “All who believe in _Chrést_ (a good man) both _are_, and _are called Chréstians_, that is good men.” (Strom. lib. ii.) The reticence of Clemens, whose Christianity, as King truly remarks in his “_Gnostics_,” was no more than a graft upon the congenial stock of his original Platonism, is quite natural. He was an Initiate, a new Platonist, before he became a Christian, which fact, however much he may have fallen off from his earlier views, could not exonerate him from his pledge of secrecy. And as a Theosophist and a _Gnostic_, one who _knew_, Clemens must have known that _Christos_ was “the WAY,” while _Chréstos_ was the lonely traveller journeying on to reach the ultimate goal through that “Path,” which goal was _Christos_, the glorified Spirit of “TRUTH,” the reunion with which makes the soul (the Son) ONE with the (Father) Spirit. That Paul knew it, is certain, for his own expressions prove it. For what do the words πάλιν ὠδίνω, ἅχρις οὕ μορφωθῆ χριστὸς ἐνὺμῖν, or, as given in the authorised translations, “I am again in travail until _Christ be formed in you_” mean, but what we give in its esoteric rendering, _i.e._ “until you find _the_ Christos within yourselves as your only ‘way.’” (_vide_ Galatians iv., 19 and 20.)
Thus Jesus, whether of Nazareth or Lüd,[90] was a Chréstos, as undeniably as that he never was entitled to the appellation of _Christos_, during his life-time and before his last trial. It may have been as Higgins thinks, who surmises that the first name of Jesus was, perhaps, χρεισος the second χρησος, and the third χρισος. “The word χρεισος was in use before the H (cap. _eta_) was in the language.” But Taylor (in his answer to Pye Smith, p. 113) is quoted saying “The complimentary epithet Chrest ... signified nothing more than a good man.”
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Footnote 90:
Or Lydda. Reference is made here to the Rabbinical tradition in the Babylonian Gemara, called _Sepher Toledoth Jeshu_, about Jesus being the son of one named Pandira, and having lived a century earlier than the era called Christian, namely, during the reign of the Jewish king Alexander Jannæus and his wife Salome, who reigned from the year 106 to 79 B.C. Accused by the Jews of having learned the magic art in Egypt, and of having stolen from the Holy of Holies the Incommunicable Name, Jehoshua (Jesus) was put to death by the Sanhedrin at Lud. He was stoned and then crucified on a tree, on the eve of Passover. The narrative is ascribed to the Talmudistic authors of “Sota” and “Sanhedrin,” p. 19, Book of Zechiel. See “Isis Unveiled,” II. 201; Arnobius; Elephas Levi’s “_Science des Esprits_,” and “The Historical Jesus and Mythical Christ,” a lecture by G. Massey.
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Here again a number of ancient writers may be brought forward to testify that _Christos_ (or _Chreistos_, rather) was, along with χρησος = Hrésos, an adjective applied to Gentiles before the Christian era. In _Philopatris_ it is said ει τυχοι χρηστος και εν εθνεσιν, _i.e._ “if chrestos chance to be even among the Gentiles,” etc.
Tertullian denounces in the 3rd chapter of his _Apologia_ the word “_Christianus_” as derived by “crafty interpretation;”[91] Dr. Jones, on the other hand, letting out the information, corroborated by good sources, that _Hrésos_ χρησός was the name given to Christ by the Gnostics, and even by unbelievers,” assures us that the real name ought to be χρισος or Chrisos—thus repeating and supporting the original “pious fraud” of the early Fathers, a fraud which led to the carnalizing of the whole Christian system.[92] But I propose to show as much of the real meaning of all these terms as lies within my humble powers and knowledge. Christos, or the “Christ-condition,” was ever the synonym of the “Mahatmic-condition,” _i.e._, the union of the man with the divine principle in him. As Paul says (Ephes. iii. 17) “κατοικησαι τον χριστον δια της πιστεως εν ταις καρδιαις ὑμωι.” “That you may find Christos in your _inner_ man through _knowledge_” not faith, as translated; for _Pistis_ is “knowledge,” as will be shown further on.
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Footnote 91:
“Christianus quantum interpretatione de unctione deducitas. Sed ut cum perferam Chrestianus pronunciatus a vobis (nam nec nominis certa est notitia penes vos) de suavitate vel benignitate compositum est.” Canon Farrar makes a great effort to show such _lapsus calami_ by various Fathers as the results of disgust and fear. “There can be little doubt,” he says (in _The Early Days of Christianity_) “that the ... name Christian ... was a nick-name due to the wit of the Antiochians.... It is clear that the sacred writers avoided the name (Christians) because it was employed by their enemies (Tac. Ann. xv. 44). It only became familiar when the virtues of Christians had shed lustre upon it....” This is a very lame excuse, and a poor explanation to give for so eminent a thinker as Canon Farrar. As to the “virtues of Christians” ever shedding _lustre_ upon the name, let us hope that the writer had in his mind’s eye neither Bishop Cyril, of Alexandria, nor Eusebius, nor the Emperor Constantine, of murderous fame, nor yet the Popes Borgia and the Holy Inquisition.
Footnote 92:
Quoted by G. Higgins. (See Vol. I., pp. 569-573.)
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There is still another and far more weighty proof that the name _Christos_ is pre-Christian. The evidence for it is found in the prophecy of the Erythrean Sybil. We read in it ἹΗΣΟΥΣ ΧΡΕΙΣΤΟΣΘΕΟΝ ὙΙΟΣ ΣΩΤΗΡ ΣΤΑΥΡΟΣ. Read esoterically, this string of meaningless detached nouns, which has no sense to the profane, contains a real prophecy—only not referring to Jesus—and a verse from the mystic catechism of the Initiate. The prophecy relates to the coming down upon the Earth of the Spirit of Truth (Christos), after which advent—that has once more nought to do with Jesus—will begin the Golden Age; the verse refers to the necessity before reaching that blessed condition of inner (or subjective) theophany and theopneusty, to pass through the crucifixion of flesh or matter. Read exoterically, the words “_Iesous Chreistos theou yios soter stauros_,” meaning literally “Iesus, Christos, God, Son, Saviour, Cross,” are most excellent handles to hang a Christian prophecy on, but they are _pagan_, not Christian.
If called upon to explain the names IESOUS CHREISTOS, the answer is: study mythology, the so-called “fictions” of the ancients, and they will give you the key. Ponder over Apollo, the solar god, and the “Healer,” and the allegory about his son Janus (or Ion), his priest at Delphos, through whom alone could prayers reach the immortal gods, and his other son Asclepios, called the _Soter_, or Saviour. Here is a leaflet from esoteric history written in symbolical phraseology by the old Grecian poets.
The city of Chrisa[93] (now spelt Crisa), was built in memory of Kreusa (or Creusa), daughter of King Erechtheus and mother of Janus (or Ion) by Apollo, in memory of the danger which Janus escaped.[94] We learn that Janus, abandoned by his mother in a grotto “to hide the shame of the virgin who bore a son,” was found by Hermes, who brought the infant to Delphi, nurtured him by his father’s sanctuary and oracle, where, under the name of Chresis (χρησις) Janus became first a _Chrestis_ (a priest, soothsayer, or Initiate), and then very nearly a _Chresterion_, “a sacrificial victim,”[95] ready to be poisoned by his own mother, who knew him not, and who, in her jealousy, mistook him, on the hazy intimation of the oracle, for a son of her husband. He pursued her to the very altar with the intention of killing her—when she was saved through the pythoness, who divulged to both the secret of their relationship. In memory of this narrow escape, Creusa, the mother, built the city of Chrisa, or Krisa. Such is the allegory, and it symbolizes simply the trials of Initiation.[96]
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Footnote 93:
In the days of Homer, we find this city, once celebrated for its mysteries, the chief seat of Initiation, and the name of _Chrestos_ used as a title during the mysteries. It is mentioned in the _Iliad_, ii., 520 as “Chrisa” (χρῖσα). Dr. Clarke suspected its ruins under the present site of _Krestona_, a small town, or village rather, in Phocis, near the Crissæan Bay. (See E. D. Clarke, 4th ed. Vol. viii. p. 239, “Delphi.”)
Footnote 94:
The root of χρητός (_Chretos_) and χρηστος (_Chrestos_) is one and the same; χράω which means “consulting the oracle,” in one sense, but in another one “consecrated,” _set apart_, belonging to some temple, or oracle, or devoted to oracular services. On the other hand, the word χρε (χρεω) means “obligation,” a “bond, duty,” or one who is under the obligation of pledges, or vows taken.
Footnote 95:
The adjective χρηστὸς was also used as an adjective before proper names as a compliment, as in Plat. Theact. p. 166A, “Ὁυτος ὁ Σωκράτης ὁ χρηστός;” (here Socrates is the _Chréstos_), and also as a surname, as shown by Plutarch (V. Phocion), who wonders how such a rough and dull fellow as Phocion could be surnamed _Chréstos_.
Footnote 96:
There are strange features, quite suggestive, for an Occultist, in the myth (if one) of Janus. Some make of him the personification of _Kosmos_, others, of _Cælus_ (heaven), hence he is “two-faced” because of his two characters of spirit and matter; and he is not only “Janus _Bifrons_” (two-faced), but also _Quadrifrons_—the perfect square, the emblem of the Kabbalistic Deity. His temples were built with _four_ equal sides, with a door and _three_ windows on each side. Mythologists explain it as an emblem of the _four_ seasons of the year, and _three_ months in each season, and in all of the twelve months of the year. During the mysteries of Initiation, however, he became the Day-Sun and the Night-Sun. Hence he is often represented with the number 300 in one hand, and in the other 65, or the number of days of the Solar year. Now _Chanoch_ (Kanoch and _Enosh_ in the Bible) is, as may be shown on Kabalistic authority, whether son of Cain, son of Seth, or the son of Methuselah, one and the same personage. As _Chanoch_ (according to Fuerst), he is the _Initiator_, _Instructor_—of the astronomical circle and solar year,” as son of Methuselah, who is said to have lived 365 years and been taken to heaven alive, as the representative of the Sun (or god). (See Book of Enoch.) This patriarch has many features in common with Janus, who, exoterically, is Ion but IAO cabalistically, or Jehovah, the “Lord God of Generations,” the mysterious Yodh, or ONE (a phallic number). For Janus or Ion is also _Consivius, a conserendo_, because he presided over generations. He is shown giving hospitality to Saturn (_Chronos_ “time”), and is the _Initiator_ of the year, or time divided into 365.
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Finding then that Janus, the solar God, and son of Apollo, the Sun, means the “Initiator” and the “Opener of the Gate of Light,” or secret wisdom of the mysteries; that he is born from Krisa (esoterically _Chris_), and that he was a _Chrestos_ through whom spoke the God; that he was finally Ion, the father of the Ionians, and, some say, an _aspect_ of Asclepios, another son of Apollo, it is easy to get hold of the thread of Ariadne in this labyrinth of allegories. It is not the place here to prove side issues in mythology, however. It suffices to show the connection between the mythical characters of hoary antiquity and the later fables that marked the beginning of our era of civilization. Asclepios (Esculapius) was the divine physician, the “Healer,” the “Saviour,” Σωτηρ as he was called, a title also given to Janus of Delphi; and IASO, the daughter of Asclepios was the goddess of healing, under whose patronage were all the candidates for initiation in her father’s temple, the novices or _chrestoi_, called “the sons of Iaso.” (_Vide_ for name, “Plutus,” by Aristoph. 701).
Now, if we remember, firstly, that the names of IESUS in their different forms, such as Iasius, Iasion, Jason and Iasus, were very common in ancient Greece, especially among the descendants of Jasius (the Jasides), as also the number of the “sons of Iaso,” the _Mystoï_ and future Epoptai (Initiates), why should not the enigmatical words in the Sibylline Book be read in their legitimate light, one that had nought to do with a Christian prophecy? The secret doctrine teaches that the first two words ΙΗΣΟΥΣ ΧΡΕΙΣΤΟΣ mean simply “son of Iaso, a Chrestos,” or servant of the oracular God. Indeed IASO (Ιασω) _is in the Ionic dialect IESO_ (Ἱησὼ), and the expression Ιησους (_Iesous_)—in its archaic form, ΙΗΣΟΥΣ—simply means “the son of Iaso or _Ieso_, the healer,” _i.e._ ο Ιησοῦς (υῖος). No objection, assuredly, can be taken to such rendering, or to the name being written _Ieso_ instead of _Iaso_, since the first form is _attic_, therefore incorrect, for the name is _Ionic_. “Ieso” from which “O’ Iesous” (son of Ieso)—_i.e._ a genitive, not a nominative—_is Ionic and cannot_ be anything else, if the age of the Sibylline book is taken into consideration. Nor could the Sibyl of Erythrea have spelt it originally otherwise, as Erythrea, her very residence, was a town in Ionia (from Ion or Janus) opposite Chios; and that the _Ionic_ preceded the _attic_ form.
Leaving aside in this case the mystical signification of the now famous Sibylline sentence, and giving its literal interpretation only, on the authority of all that has been said, the hitherto mysterious words would stand; “Son of IASO, CHRESTOS (the priest or servant) (of the) SON of (the) GOD (Apollo) the SAVIOUR from the CROSS”—(of flesh or matter).[97] Truly, Christianity can never hope to be understood until every trace of dogmatism is swept away from it, and the dead letter sacrificed to the eternal Spirit of Truth, which is Horus, which is Crishna, which is Buddha, as much as it is the Gnostic Christos and the true Christ of Paul.
In the _Travels_ of Dr. Clarke, the author describes a heathen monument found by him.
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Footnote 97:
_Stauros_ became the cross, the instrument of crucifixion, far later, when it began to be represented as a Christian symbol and with the Greek letter T, the Tau. (Luc. Jud. Voc.) Its primitive meaning was phallic, a symbol for the male and female elements; the great serpent of temptation, the body which had to be killed or subdued by the dragon of wisdom, the seven-vowelled solar chnouphis or Spirit of Christos of the Gnostics, or, again, Apollo killing Python.
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“Within the sanctuary, behind the altar, we saw the fragments of a _marble cathedra_, upon the back of which we found the following inscription, exactly as it is here written, no part of it having been injured or obliterated, affording perhaps the only instance known of a sepulchral inscription upon a monument of this remarkable form.”
The inscription ran thus: ΧΡΗΣΤΟΣ ΠΡΩΤΟΥ ΘΕΣΣΑΛΟΣ ΛΑΡΙΣΣΑΙΟΣ ΠΕΛΑΣΓΙΟΤΗΣ ΕΤΩΝ ΙΗ or, “Chrestos, the first, a Thessalonian from Larissa, Pelasgiot 18 years old Hero,” Chrestos the _first_ (_protoo_), why? Read literally the inscription has little sense; interpreted esoterically, it is pregnant with meaning. As Dr. Clarke shows, the word Chrestos is found on the epitaphs of almost all the ancient Larissians; but it is preceded always by a proper name. Had the adjective Chrestos stood after a name, it would only mean “a good man,” a posthumous compliment paid to the defunct, the same being often found on our own modern tumular epitaphs. But the word Chrestos, standing alone and the other word, “protoo,” following it, gives it quite another meaning, especially when the deceased is specified as a “hero.” To the mind of an Occultist, the defunct was a neophyte, who had died in his 18th year _of neophytism_,[98] and stood in the first or highest class of discipleship, having passed his preliminary trials as a “hero;” but had died before the last mystery, which would have made of him a “Christos,” an _anointed_, one with the spirit of Christos or Truth in him. He had not reached the end of the “Way,” though he had heroically conquered the horrors of the preliminary theurgic trials.
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Footnote 98:
Even to this day in India, the candidate loses his name and, as also in Masonry, his age (monks and nuns also changing their Christian names at their taking the order or veil), and begins counting his years from the day he is accepted a chela and enters upon the cycle of initiations. Thus Saul was “a child of one year,” when he began to reign, though a grown-up adult. See 1 Samuel ch. xiii. 1, and Hebrew scrolls, about his initiation by Samuel.
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We are quite warranted in reading it in this manner, after learning the place where Dr. Clarke discovered the tablet, which was, as Godfrey Higgins remarks, there, where “I should expect to find it, at Delphi, in the temple of the God IE.,” who, with the Christians became Jah, or Jehovah, one with Christ Jesus. It was at the foot of Parnassus, in a gymnasium, “adjoining the Castalian fountain, which flowed by the ruins of Crisa, probably the town called Crestona,” etc. And again. “In the first part of its course from the (Castalian) fountain, it (the river) separates the remains of the gymnasium ... from the valley of Castro,” as it probably did from the old city of Delphi—the seat of the great oracle of Apollo, of the town of Krisa (or Kreusa) the great centre of initiations and of the _Chrestoi_ of the decrees of the oracles, where the candidates for the last _labour_ were anointed with sacred oils[99] before being plunged into their last trance of forty-nine hours’ duration (as to this day, in the East), from which they arose as glorified adepts or _Christoi_.”
“In the Clementine Recognitions it is announced that the father anointed his son with ‘oil that was taken from the wood of the Tree of Life, and from this anointing he is called the Christ:’ whence the Christian name. This again is Egyptian. Horus was the anointed son of the father. The mode of anointing him from the Tree of Life, portrayed on the monuments, is very primitive indeed; and the Horus of Egypt was continued in the Gnostic Christ, who is reproduced upon the Gnostic stones as the intermediate link betwixt the _Karest_ and the Christ, also as the Horus of both sexes.” (“_The name and nature of the Christ._”—GERALD MASSEY.)
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Footnote 99:
Demosthenes, “De Corona,” 313, declares that the candidates for initiation into the Greek mysteries were anointed with oil. So they are now in India, even in the initiation into the _Yogi_ mysteries—various ointments or unguents being used.
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Mr. G. Massey connects the Greek Christos or Christ with the Egyptian _Karest_, the “mummy type of immortality,” and proves it very thoroughly. He begins by saying that in Egyptian the “Word of Truth” is _Ma-Kheru_, and that it is the title of Horus. Thus, as he shows, Horus preceded Christ as the Messenger of the Word of Truth, the Logos or the manifestor of the divine nature in humanity. In the same paper he writes as follows:
The Gnosis had three phases—astronomical, spiritual, and doctrinal, and all three can be identified with the Christ of Egypt. In the astronomical phase the constellation Orion is called the _Sahu_ or _mummy_. The soul of Horus was represented as rising from the dead and ascending to heaven in the stars of Orion. The mummy-image was the preserved one, the saved, therefore a portrait of the Saviour, as a type of immortality. This was the figure of a dead man, which, as Plutarch and Herodotus tell us, was carried round at an Egyptian banquet, when the guests were invited to look on it and eat and drink and be happy, because, when they died, they would become what the image symbolised—that is, they also would be immortal! This type of immortality was called the _Karest_, or _Karust_, and it _was_ the Egyptian Christ. To _Kares_ means to embalm, anoint, to make the Mummy as a type of the eternal; and, when made, it was called the _Karest_; so that this is not merely a matter of name for name, the _Karest_ for the _Christ_.
This image of the _Karest_ was bound up in a woof without a seam, the proper vesture of the Christ! No matter what the length of the bandage might be, and some of the mummy-swathes have been unwound that were 1,000 yards in length, the woof was from beginning to end without a seam.... Now, this seamless robe of the Egyptian _Karest_ is a very tell-tale type of the mystical Christ, who becomes historic in the Gospels as the wearer of a coat or chiton, made without a seam, which neither the Greek nor the Hebrew fully explains, but which is explained by the Egyptian _Ketu_ for the woof, and by the seamless robe or swathing without seam that was made for eternal wear, and worn by the Mummy-Christ, the image of immortality in the tombs of Egypt.
Further, Jesus is put to death in accordance with the instructions given for making the _Karest_. Not a bone must be broken. The true _Karest_ must be perfect in every member. “This is he who comes out sound; whom men know not is his name.”
In the Gospels Jesus rises again with every member sound, like the perfectly-preserved _Karest_, to demonstrate the physical resurrection of the mummy. But, in the Egyptian original, the mummy transforms. The deceased says: “I am spiritualised. I am become a soul. I rise as a God.” This transformation into the spiritual image, the _Ka_, has been omitted in the Gospel.
This spelling of the name as Chrest or Chrést in Latin is supremely important, because it enables me to prove the identity with the Egyptian _Karest_ or _Karust_, the name of the Christ as the embalmed mummy, which was the image of the resurrection in Egyptian tombs, the type of immortality, the likeness of the Horus, who rose again and made the pathway out of the sepulchre for those who were his disciples or followers. _Moreover, this type of the Karest or Mummy-Christ is reproduced in the Catacombs of Rome._ No representation of the supposed historic resurrection of Jesus has been found on any of the early Christian monuments. But, instead of the missing fact, we find the scene of Lazarus being raised from the dead. This is depicted over and over again as the typical resurrection where there is no real one! The scene is not exactly in accordance with the rising from the grave in the Gospel. It is purely Egyptian, and Lazarus is an Egyptian mummy! Thus Lazarus, in each representation, _is_ the mummy-type of the resurrection; Lazarus _is_ the Karest, who was the Egyptian Christ, and who is reproduced by Gnostic art in the Catacombs of Rome as a form of the Gnostic Christ, who _was not and could not become an historical character_.
Further, as the thing is Egyptian, it is probable that the name is derived from Egyptian. If so, Laz (equal to Ras) means to be raised up, while _aru is_ the mummy by name. With the Greek terminal _s_ this becomes Lazarus. In the course of humanising the mythos the typical representation of the resurrection found in the tombs of Rome and Egypt would become the story of Lazarus being raised from the dead. This Karast type of the Christ in the Catacombs is not limited to Lazarus.
By means of the _Karest_ type the Christ and the Christians can both be traced in the ancient tombs of Egypt. The mummy was made in this likeness of the Christ. It was the Christ by name, identical with the _Chrestoi_ of the Greek Inscriptions. Thus the honoured dead, who rose again as the followers of Horus-Makheru, the Word of Truth, are found to be the Christians οι χρηστοι, on the Egyptian monuments. _Ma-Kheru_ is the term that is always applied to the faithful ones who win the crown of life and wear it at the festival which is designated ‘Come thou to me’—an invitation by Horus the Justifier to those who are the ‘Blessed ones of his father, Osiris’—they who, having made the Word of Truth the law of their lives, were the Justified—οι χρηστοι, the Christians, on earth.
In a fifth century representation of the Madonna and child from the cemetery of St. Valentinus, the new-born babe lying in a box or crib _is_ also the _Karest_, or mummy-type, further identified as the divine babe of the solar mythos by the disk of the sun and the cross of the equinox at the back of the infant’s head. Thus the child-Christ of the historic faith is born, and visibly begins in the _Karest_ image of the dead Christ, which was the mummy-type of the resurrection in Egypt for thousands of years before the Christian era. This doubles the proof that the Christ of the Christian Catacombs was a survival of the _Karest_ of Egypt.
Moreover, as Didron shows, there was a portrait of the Christ who had his body _painted red_![100] It was a popular tradition that the Christ _was_ of a red complexion. This, too, may be explained as a survival of the Mummy-Christ. It was an aboriginal mode of rendering things _tapu_ by colouring them red. The dead corpse was coated with red ochre—a very primitive mode of making the mummy, or the anointed one. Thus the God Ptah tells Rameses II. that he has “_re-fashioned his flesh in vermilion_.” This anointing with red ochre is called _Kura_ by the Maori, who likewise made the Karest or Christ.
We see the mummy-image continued on another line of descent when we learn that among other pernicious heresies and deadly sins with which the Knights Templars were charged, was the impious custom of adoring a Mummy that had red eyes. Their Idol, called Baphomet, is also thought to have been a mummy.... The Mummy was the earliest human image of the Christ.
I do not doubt that the ancient Roman festivals called the _Charistia_ were connected in their origin with the _Karest_ and the _Eucharist_ as a celebration in honour of the manes of their departed kith and kin, for whose sakes they became reconciled at the friendly gathering once a year.... It is here, then, we have to seek the essential connection between the Egyptian Christ, the Christians, and the Roman Catacombs. These Christian Mysteries, ignorantly explained to be inexplicable, can be explained by Gnosticism and Mythology, but in no other way. It is not that they are insoluble by human reason, as their incompetent, howsoever highly paid, expounders now-a-days pretend. That is but the puerile apology of the unqualified for their own helpless ignorance—they who have never been in possession of the gnosis or science of the Mysteries by which alone these things can be explained in accordance with their natural genesis. In Egypt only can we read the matter to the root, or identify the origin of the Christ by nature and by name, to find at last that the Christ was the Mummy-type, and that our Christology is mummified mythology.—(_Agnostic Annual._)
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Footnote 100:
_Because he is cabalistically the new Adam, the “celestial man,” and Adam was made of red earth._
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The above is an explanation on purely scientific evidence, but, perhaps, a little too _materialistic_, just because of that science, notwithstanding that the author is a well-known Spiritualist. Occultism pure and simple finds the same mystic elements in the Christian as in other faiths, though it rejects as emphatically its dogmatic and _historic_ character. It is a fact that in the terms Ιησοῦς ὁ χριστος (See _Acts_ v. 42, ix. 14; 1 Corinth. iii. 17, etc.), the article ὁ designating “Christos,” proves it simply a surname, like that of Phocion, who is referred to as Φωκίων ὁ χρηστός (Plut. v.). Still, the personage (Jesus) so addressed—whenever he lived—was a great Initiate and a “Son of God.”
For, we say it again, the surname Christos is based on, and the story of the Crucifixion derived from, events that preceded it. Everywhere, in India as in Egypt, in Chaldea as in Greece, all these legends were built upon one and the same primitive type; the voluntary sacrifice of the _logoï_—the _rays_ of the one LOGOS, the direct manifested emanation from the One ever-concealed Infinite and Unknown—whose _rays_ incarnated in mankind. They consented to _fall into matter_, and are, therefore, called the “Fallen Ones.” This is one of those great mysteries which can hardly be touched upon in a magazine article, but shall be noticed in a separate work of mine, _The Secret Doctrine_, very fully.
Having said so much, a few more facts may be added to the etymology of the two terms. Χριστος being the verbal adjective in Greek of χρίω “to be rubbed on,” _as ointment_ or salve, and the word being finally brought to mean “the Anointed One,” in Christian theology; and _Kri_, in Sanskrit, the first syllable in the name of Krishna, meaning “to pour out, or rub over, to cover with,”[101] among many other things, this may lead one as easily to make of Krishna, “the anointed one.” Christian philologists try to limit the meaning of Krishna’s name to its derivation from _Krish_, “black”; but if the analogy and comparison of the Sanskrit with the Greek roots contained in the names of Chrestos, Christos, and _Ch_rishna, are analyzed more carefully, it will be found that they are all of the same origin.[102]
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Footnote 101:
Hence the memorialising of the doctrine during the MYSTERIES. The pure monad, the “god” incarnating and becoming _Chrestos_, or man, on his trial of life, a series of those trials led him to the _crucifixion of flesh_, and finally into the Christos condition.
Footnote 102:
On the best authority the derivation of the Greek _Christos_ is shown from the Sanskrit root _ghársh_ = “rub”; thus: _ghársh-ā-mi-to_, “to rub,” and ghársh-tá-s “flayed, sore.” Moreover, Krish, which means in one sense to plough and make furrows, means also to cause pain, “to torture to torment,” and ghrsh-tā-s “rubbing”—all these terms relating to Chrestos and Christos conditions. One has _to die in Chrestos_, _i.e._, kill one’s personality and its passions, to blot out every idea of separateness from one’s “Father,” the Divine Spirit in man; to become one with the eternal and absolute _Life_ and _Light_ (SAT) before one can reach the glorious state of _Christos_, the regenerated man, the man in spiritual freedom.
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“In Bockh’s ‘Christian Inscriptions,’ numbering 1,287, there is no single instance of an earlier date than the third century, wherein the name is not written _Chrest_ or _Chreist_.” (_The Name and Nature of the Christ_, by G. Massey, “The Agnostic Annual.”)
Yet none of these names can be unriddled, as some Orientalists imagine, merely with the help of astronomy and the knowledge of zodiacal signs in conjunction with phallic symbols. Because, while the sidereal symbols of the mystic characters or personifications in Puranâs or Bible, fulfil astronomical functions, their spiritual anti-types rule invisibly, but very effectively, the world. They exist as abstractions on the higher plane, as manifested ideas on the astral, and become males, females and androgyne powers on this lower plane of ours. _Scorpio_, as _Chrestos-Meshiac_, and Leo, as _Christos-Messiah_ antedated by far the Christian era in the trials and triumphs of Initiation during the Mysteries, Scorpio standing as symbol for the latter, Leo for the glorified triumph of the “sun” of truth. The mystic philosophy of the allegory is well understood by the author of the “Source of Measures”; who writes: “One (Chrestos) causing himself to go down into the pit (of Scorpio, or incarnation in the womb) for the salvation of the world; this was the Sun, shorn of his _golden rays_, and _crowned with blackened_[103] _ones_ (symbolizing this loss) as the thorns; _the other_ was the triumphant _Messiah_, mounted up to the _summit of the arch of heaven_, personated as the _Lion of the tribe of Judah_. In both instances he had the Cross; once in humiliation (as the son of copulation), and once holding it in his control, as the law of creation, he being Jehovah”—in the scheme of the authors of dogmatic Christianity. For, as the same author shows further, John, Jesus and even Apollonius of Tyana were but epitomizers of the history of the Sun “under differences of aspect or condition.”[104] The explanation, he says, “is simple enough, when it is considered that the names _Jesus_, Hebrew יש and Apollonius, or Apollo, are alike names of the _Sun in the heavens_, and, necessarily, the history of the one, as to his travels through _the signs_, with the personifications of his sufferings, triumphs and miracles, could be but the _history of the other_, where there was a wide-spread, common method of describing those travels by personification.” The fact that the Secular Church was founded by Constantine, and that it was a part of his decree “that the venerable day of the _Sun_ should be the day set apart for the worship of Jesus Christ as _Sun_-day,” shows that they knew well in that “Secular Church” “that the allegory rested upon an astronomical basis,” as the author affirms. Yet, again, the circumstance that both Purânas and Bible are full of solar and astronomical allegories, does not militate against that other fact that all such scriptures in addition to these two are _closed_ books to the scholars “having authority.”(!) Nor does it affect that other truth, that all those systems are _not the work of mortal man_, nor are they his invention in their origin and basis.
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Footnote 103:
The Orientalists and Theologians are invited to read over and study the allegory of Viswakarman, the “Omnificent,” the Vedic God, the architect of the world, who sacrificed himself _to himself_ or the world, after having offered up all worlds, _which are himself_, in a “Sarva Madha” (general sacrifice)—and ponder over it. In the Purânic allegory, his daughter _Yoga-siddha_ “Spiritual consciousness,” the wife of _Surya_, the Sun, complains to him of the too great effulgence of her husband; and Viswakarmâ, in his character of _Takshaka_, “wood cutter and carpenter,” placing the Sun upon his lathe cuts away a part of his brightness. Surya looks, after this, crowned with dark thorns instead of rays, and becomes Vikarttana (“shorn of his rays”). All these names are terms which were used by the candidates when going through the trials of Initiation. The Hierophant-Initiator personated Viswakarman; the father, and the general _artificer_ of the gods (the adepts on earth), and the candidate-Surya, the Sun, who had to kill all his fiery passions and wear the crown of thorns _while crucifying his body_ before he could rise and be re-born into a new life as the glorified “Light of the World”—Christos. No Orientalist seems to have ever perceived the suggestive analogy, let alone to apply it!
Footnote 104:
The author of the “Source of Measures” thinks that this “serves to explain why it has been that the _Life of Apollonius of Tyana, by Philostratus_ has been so carefully kept back from translation and popular reading.” Those who have studied it in the original have been forced to the comment that either the “_Life of Apollonius_ has been taken from the New Testament, or that New Testament narratives have been taken from the _Life of Apollonius_, because of the manifest sameness of the _means of construction_ of the narrative.” (p. 260).
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Thus “Christos,” under whatever name, means more than _Karest_, a mummy, or even the “anointed” and the _elect_ of theology. Both of the latter apply to _Chréstos_, the man of sorrow and tribulation, in his physical, mental, and psychic conditions, and both relate to the Hebrew _Mashiac_ (from whence Messiah) condition, as the word is etymologised[105] by Fuerst, and the author of “The Source of Measures,” p. 255. Christos is the crown of glory of the suffering Chréstos of the mysteries, as of the candidate to the final UNION, of whatever race and creed. To the true follower of the SPIRIT OF TRUTH, it matters little, therefore, whether Jesus, as man and Chrestos, lived during the era called Christian, or before, or never lived at all. The Adepts, who lived and died for humanity, have existed in many and all the ages, and many were the good and holy men in antiquity who bore the surname or title of Chrestos before Jesus of Nazareth, otherwise Jesus (or Jehoshua) Ben Pandira was born.[106] Therefore, one may be permitted to conclude, with good reason, that Jesus, or Jehoshua, was like Socrates, like Phocian, like Theodorus, and so many others surnamed _Chréstos_, _i.e._, the “good, the excellent,” the gentle, and the holy Initiate, who showed the “way” to the Christos condition, and thus became himself “the Way” in the hearts of his enthusiastic admirers. The Christians, as all the “Hero-worshippers” have tried to throw into the background all the other Chréstoï, who have appeared to them as rivals of _their_ Man-God. But if the voice of the MYSTERIES has become silent for many ages in the West, if Eleusis, Memphis, Antium, Delphi, and Crèsa have long ago been made the tombs of a Science once as colossal in the West as it is yet in the East, there are successors now being prepared for them. We are in 1887 and the nineteenth century is close to its death. The twentieth century has strange developments in store for humanity, and may even be the last of its name.
H. P. B.
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Footnote 105:
The word שיה _shiac_, is in Hebrew the same word as a verbal, signifying _to go down into the pit_. As a noun, _place of thorns, pit_. The _hifil_ participle of this word is [Hebrew] or Messiach, or the Greek _Messias_, _Christ_, and means “he who causes to go down into the pit” (or hell, in dogmatism). In esoteric philosophy, this going down _into the pit_ has the most mysterious significance. The Spirit “Christos” or rather the “Logos” (_read_ Logoï), is said to “go down into the pit,” when it incarnates in flesh, _is born as a man_. After having robbed the _Elohim_ (or gods) of their secret, the _pro-creating_ “fire of life,” the Angels of Light are shown cast down into the pit or abyss of matter, called _Hell_, or the bottomless pit, by the kind theologians. This, in Cosmogony and Anthropology. During the Mysteries, however, it is the _Chréstos_, _neophyte_, (as man), etc., who had to descend into the crypts of Initiation and trials; and finally, during the “Sleep of Siloam” or the final _trance_ condition, during the hours of which the new Initiate has the last and final mysteries of being divulged to him. Hades, Schéol, or Patala, are all one. The same takes place in the East now, as took place 2,000 years ago in the West, during the MYSTERIES.
Footnote 106:
Several classics bear testimony to this fact. Lucian, c. 16, says Φωκίων ὁ χρηστὸς, and Φωκίων ὁ ἐπὶκλην (“λεγόμενος,” surnamed “χρηστος.”) In Phædr. p. 226 E, it is written, “you mean Theodorus the Chrestos.” “Τὸν χρηστὸν λεγεις Θεὸδωρον”. Plutarch shows the same; and Χρηστος—Chrestus, is the proper name (see the word in _Thesaur._ Steph.) of an orator and disciple of Herodes Atticus.
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(_To be continued._)
[Illustration: decorative separator]
SIMILITUDES OF DEMOPHILUS.
It is the business of a musician to harmonize every instrument, but of a well educated man to adapt himself harmoniously to every fortune.
It is necessary that a well educated man should depart from life elegantly, as from a banquet.
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GOLDEN SENTENCES OF DEMOCRITUS.
It is beautiful to impede an unjust man; but if this be not possible, it is beautiful not to act in conjunction with him.
Sin should be abstained from, not through fear, but, for the sake of the becoming.
Many who have not learnt to argue rationally, still live according to reason.
Vehement desires about any one thing render the soul blind with respect to other things.
The equal is beautiful in everything, but excess and defect to me do not appear to be so.
It is the property of a divine intellect to be always intently thinking about the beautiful.
=Correspondence.=
A LAW OF LIFE: KARMA.
[The following letter has been received by the editors, in criticism on Mr. Keightley’s article on “Karma”; and as it raises many rather important points, an attempt has been made to answer them. Mr. Beatty’s letter is somewhat difficult to deal with, for though it asks many questions, they are so inextricably mingled with its author’s thoughts that it would be unfair to disentangle them from the context. It is a pity that Mr. Beatty, in his haste to criticize, did not wait for the conclusion of the article, as he might have saved himself some trouble. If his real desire is to learn, it would be well that he should approach the endeavour in a less flippant spirit and evolve the critic out of the criticaster. In many of his arguments he has, so to say, “given himself away,” but, in the interests of space and of the readers of LUCIFER, only those questions and arguments which bear directly on the points at issue have been selected for answer. The point which Mr. Beatty does “not care to discuss,” and which refers to the mystery of Godliness, has been omitted. Perhaps, if Mr. Beatty continues to read, mark, learn, _and inwardly digest_, he may in some _future incarnation_ solve the mystery.]
In an article in LUCIFER, under the above heading, Mr. Keightley declares it to be “very difficult, if not well-nigh impossible,” to understand Karma, and I grant him that his essay is a practical demonstration of his allegation. The difficulty (1.) does not, however, hinder him from attempting to define the refractory term. “Karma,” he says, “is the working of the great law which governs reincarnation,” or “a manifestation of the One, Universal, Divine Principle in the phenomenal world,” or again, “the great law of harmony which governs the universe.” Now, waiving altogether the question of reincarnations, I shall proceed to examine whether Mr. Keightley makes good his contention that “harmony,” in his sense of the word, “governs the Universe.” He says, “the man who denies the existence of harmony in the universe has transgressed the law and is experiencing punishment. He does this unconsciously to himself, because the law of harmony forms an unconscious impulse to its readjustment when it has been broken.” Here there are several things to be considered. In the first place, it may be asked: (2.) Does a man, by merely denying the existence of a law of Nature or the universe, transgress that law? I think not.[107] Secondly. Can a law of the universe be “broken”? Here again I must reply in the negative; for who is going to contend that the law of gravitation has ever been “broken,”[108] has ever ceased to act, has ever required “re-adjustment”? A man can break no law of Nature in the sense of bringing that law into abeyance. If then, a law of harmony governs the universe there can be no such thing as discord. (3.) Yet Mr. Keightley admits that there _is_ discord, that the law of harmony has been “broken” and needs “readjustment” This is a surrendering of his position and a patent admission that harmony is not constant or universal. He then proceeds to draw an illustration from music. “In musical chords, the composing notes, if taken by twos and threes, will be found in discord, but, when taken together, produce a harmony.” This is a particularly unfortunate subject of illustration. For does it not show that discord is an element in the universe as well as harmony? Why are discords introduced into music? Simply to make the harmony more effective. The reason for this, however, does not lie in any so-called universal law of harmony, but rather in the constitution of animate existences. Fundamentally, sensation is the consciousness of difference. Where the difference is great the feeling is great. If we wish to have the keenest sensation of sweetness we must first taste something bitter. Thus it is that occasional discords heighten harmony. But are the discords any less real on that account? Certainly not; for there can no more be harmony without discord, than there can be an up without a down. This, moreover, is only another illustration of the fact that human knowledge is merely relative. Must we, however, admit that the universal law may be harmony while our experience tells us that there are discords without number? Unless ignorance be considered as superior to positive knowledge, I see no room for the admission. If a man’s house tumbles about his ears, does it become any less a fact by trying to persuade himself and his neighbours that it is still standing? This seems to be the method of Mr. Keightley. He has, however, yet another argument “The universe ... is essentially an evidence of harmony; otherwise it could not exist, for it would fall to pieces.” This is a palpable begging of the question, and, besides, very absurd. The universe is a harmony, because a universe must be a harmony! “Otherwise it could not exist.” Now how does our harmonist know whether it could exist or not? Of what other universe has he experience or knowledge? “It would fall to pieces.” Where, I wonder, would it fall to? Perhaps it is even now fast falling to pieces, and who can tell us differently? As far as ordinary people can judge, it seems, as regards the parts we are acquainted with, to be falling into more or less concrete masses, but not many sane people believe it can fall into nothingness. After all this vain contention for universal harmony we find Mr. Keightley settling down like ordinary mortals to the conviction that the world is far from harmonious or perfect. One unfortunate individual who cannot be persuaded that all is harmony, is told that “he is incapable of understanding it because his attention is solely devoted to that which produces discord.” How comes it that the universe does not fall to pieces as a result of this discord? Surely we are in a precarious condition, if every obstinate fool who persists in crying out when he has been hurt, endangers the stability of the universe. Did ever anyone meet with a universe where there is less evidence of harmony? One brute force ever in conflict with another. Infernal forces piling up mountain on the top of mountain; supernal forces blasting, rending, excoriating and tumbling these mountains down again into the valleys; the oak struggling against the inwarping ivy, the fawn attempting vainly to escape from the claws of the tiger, the child agonising while parasites eat slowly and mercilessly into its lungs, liver, or brain; the strong everywhere victorious over the weak; each sect and each party exerting itself ferociously to scoop out the viscera of its rival. Such is the world, such all records declare it to have been, and such it gives ample promise of continuing. But if the world is not really so, and on the contrary is one immensity of joyous harmony, who can tell us why the evidence is so deceptive? Here again, Mr. Keightley introduces to us a most remarkable statement. “The one Divine principle is divided by man’s actions into two opposing forces of good and evil, and man’s progress depends on the exertion of his will to preserve harmony and prevent deviation to one side or the other.” Give us by all means in preference to this for common sense, for rationality and for every other quality that makes it digestible, the childish story of Eve, the apple and the fall.
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Footnote 107:
Mr. Keightley’s meaning (and it is difficult for the words to bear any other interpretation) was that the denial of harmony is evidence that, at some previous time, the man who denies has set himself in opposition to the law, in virtue of those very desires and instincts of his animal personality to which Mr. Beatty alludes later on. In this sense, Mr. Beatty is right in saying that a law of the universe cannot be broken; but its limits may be transgressed, and consequently an attempt made by man to make himself into a small, but rival universe. It is the old story of the china pot and the iron kettle, and the fact that china gets the worst of it is conclusive that the china is struggling _against_ Nature.
Footnote 108:
Will Mr. Beatty explain the phenomenon of a comet flirting its tail round the sun in defiance of the “_law_ of gravitation”?
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Beyond doubt, Mr. Keightley has a profound faith in man as a power in the universe and an instrument for evil. By a most singular process of metaphysical alchemy man decomposes the “Divine principle” into “two opposing forces of good and evil.” It seems from this revised version of an old story that man introduced evil into the universe. Why is man so important that a universe should be polluted for his sake? Surely man did not make himself, and whatever powers were in him for evil or for good must have been potential in that from which he sprang. Man can create nothing, neither evil nor good, neither a tendency to do right nor an inclination to do wrong. “Man’s will” is always a tremendous force for good or evil in the hands of theologians and metaphysicians. Did man make his own “will?” If not, how can he be responsible for what he does? Everybody knows that man can act according to his likes or dislikes. But does anybody imagine that he can make his own likes or dislikes? (4.) He can do as he wishes, but he wishes according to his nature, and this he cannot transcend, consequently he is not responsible to the Author of his nature for what his nature inclines him to do. But what are we to understand by the rest of the sentence? Man’s will is “to preserve harmony and prevent deviation to one side or the other.” First the will brings about evil in the “Divine principle,” destroying harmony, then it is to reproduce harmony and at the same time to maintain a balance between good and evil, and “prevent deviation to the one side or the other.” This to Mahatmas and possessors of the “sixth sense” may seem plain logic, but it far surpasses my comprehension.[109] I am, perhaps, as averse to “the pernicious doctrine of reward and punishment after death, in heaven or in hell” as Mr. Keightley can be, but I can by no means deduce from it the results which to him appear so inevitable. “Nothing,” he says, “could have been found more calculated to circumscribe the view of life as a whole, and concentrate man’s attention on temporary matters.... He either rejected the idea of soul as altogether worthless, or else he transferred his interest to the soul’s welfare in heaven—in either case concentrating his attention on what is inevitably transient.” How the idea of never-ending existence in heaven or in hell can have the effect of circumscribing “the view of life as a whole,” and of concentrating “man’s attention on temporary matters,” is to me an insolvable puzzle. That it should have quite the opposite effect, does not seem to require proof. Why, in the name of mystery, should he “reject the idea of soul as worthless,” and how can transferring “his interest to the soul’s welfare in heaven” be called a concentrating of “his attention on what is inevitably transient?” Truly this Karma is a bewildering subject![110]
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Footnote 109:
Very little doubt that it does. Mankind is only very gradually developing its fifth sense on the intellectual plane. Intuition might have carried our critic over the difficulty, but in some parts of his criticism he seems hardly to have begun to evolute the intellectual sense.
Footnote 110:
“This Karma,” as Mr. Beatty expresses it, would not be quite so bewildering a subject if critics would bear in mind the context and not fall foul of a detached expression—not even a sentence. The “interest of the soul’s welfare in heaven” is concentrated by John Smith on John Smith as John Smith in heaven, and in order that the said John Smith may go on enjoying the things he loved on earth. As his earth life has ended, John Smith has changed and is “transient.” If he were not transient a very natural inference would follow, that progress, evolution, &c., on whatever plane of being does not prevail.
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Do plants and animals come under the law of Karma? is the next question discussed by Mr. Keightley. An extract from the _Theosophist_ seems to discountenance such a thing. But are its arguments really conclusive against it? I do not think so. It says, “A piece of iron is attracted to a magnet without having any desire in the matter.” Now, in the first place, this is pure assumption, and has its origin in vainglorious human egotism.[111] It is evident that from objective data alone we cannot decide what is the subjective state of the molecules of the attracted iron. In the second place, we are only acquainted with the iron as a cause producing changes in us. No matter how we interpret these changes, they cannot even tell us the real nature of iron, merely considered objectively. Again the extract proceeds: “An animal usually follows the instincts of its nature without any merit or demerit for so doing; a child or an idiot may smilingly kick over a lamp, which may set a whole city on fire.... A person can only be held responsible according to his ability to perceive justice, and to distinguish between good and evil.” According to this doctrine, man is not an “animal,” and does not follow his instincts. To those who are acquainted, even slightly, with the method and regularity of Nature, this contention will appear, on the face of it, untenable. For why should there be an exception in the case of man?[112] Has man instincts, desires, and inclinations, or has he not? If he has, why should he have them if he is not to follow them? And if in any case he does not follow them, is it not with him as with the “animals”? Is it not because he is deterred by influences from without, or hereditary influences from within? And of all these instincts, desires and influences, how is he to know which to obey, to know which is of Divine sanction? He has conscience, of course, but conscience is a very variable quantity, and indeed, it might not be too much to say that there is hardly a crime in the world that has not, at one time or another, been commended by conscience. Conscience is only one phase of the man’s mental activity, and was no more created by him than was his power of vision. We talk of “children and idiots,” and their being irresponsible, but are not untamed savages also irresponsible? And if we admit that there may be beings as much higher than we, as we are higher than children, idiots, and savages, will they not, with reason and justice, regard us as irresponsible? The truth is, there never was a greater chimera conjured up by unreasoning fancy than that one of man’s responsibility to a Supreme Power. Man is responsible only to man, and man’s conduct is without merit except from a human view-point. We are good or bad by reason of all the forces that act on and through us.
My object in writing what I have written is to show to Theosophists the dense darkness in which I wander. Will some God-illumined mind not take pity upon, and draw me up from the labyrinthian gloom, where illusions mislead me at every step? My “sixth sense” seems wholly dormant, and Nirvana, that haven of rest, seems distant, by many a weary league of rocky path and burning desert. Pity me.
Adyar, 17th October, 1887. H. S. OLCOTT, P.T.S.
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Footnote 111:
Mr. Beatty hardly maintains his position of consistent materialism here; and it is at least as vainglorious to deny as to assert.
Footnote 112:
Man has the “animal” in him of course, but he has also the power of judgment or discrimination. Mr. Beatty’s wish to be critically pessimistic seems here to run away with his power of discrimination.
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(1.) The difficulty experienced in fathoming the mysteries of Karmic Law arises from the conditions of our present intellectual environment and general evolutionary status. It has been, also, frequently stated that a _complete_ comprehension of its workings is reserved for the Initiate who has transcended the domain of terrestrial activity—viz., the necessity for soul-evolution through successive births. But, passing over this consideration, it is evident that, in the process of bringing down fragments of the Divine Truth on to the plane of mere intellectual interpretation, an inevitable distortion must ensue. The rays of spiritual light will be split up and refracted as they pass through the prism of the brain. Mr. Beatty will recognise this fact more clearly owing to his belief “that _human_ knowledge is _merely relative_.” Surely, when that most familiar fact of our experience, the “perception of matter,” is, metaphysically speaking, an illusion, the relativity of _mental_ conceptions of spiritual truths would appear to be a necessity. According to Huxley, Spencer, Du Bois Reymond, and all leading thinkers, we know nothing of things as they are even on this plane, which to the materialist is “All in all.” The essence of the thing “perceived” escapes us; all we really grasp is its presentation in consciousness. It is, therefore, clear that in interpreting realities on the superphysical plane, we cannot advance beyond word-symbols and adumbrations. The intuition of the individual must effect the rest.
Such considerations, however, in no way militate against the successful defence of Esoteric philosophy on purely intellectual lines. Translated into terms of human thought, its metaphysics must be shown to blend intimately with the _facts_ of science and psychology, and its ability to solve the enigmas of life demonstrated. “Philosophy is chaos,” remarks the author of “Absolute Relativism,” referring to modern thought. If we are to avoid the spectacle of a future “moral chaos,” also, as the fruit of the materialistic Upas tree, some fresh impulse must be infused into the dry bones of Western metaphysics—some _raison d’être_ assigned to life, and an ideal worthy of man’s noblest efforts presented to the multitude of _laissez-faire_ pessimists. Such is an aspect of the work now before us.
(2.) A man may certainly injure himself[113] by shutting his eyes to a spiritual interpretation of the Universe and its workings. The only acquisition he can carry with him after physical death is the _aroma_ of the vast aggregate of mental states generated in one incarnation. The _personality_ or brain-consciousness of the physical man is, after all, a mere feeler projected into this objective plane to harvest experience for its individual Self. It does not at all follow that any experience may be acquired which the Monad is enabled to assimilate. Abstract thinking, religious aspirations, scientific lore; poetry, the nobler emotions, and all such efflorescences of human consciousness, furnish the “material” which go to build up the _transcendental individuality_ of the Ego progressing towards the Nirvana. The materialist presents a frequent instance of soul-death—so far as the fruitage of the personality is concerned. His knowledge may be enormous, but being unspiritualised, a mere creature of the physical brain, it cannot blossom into luxuriance in the Devachanic interim between successive births. Consequently, as the True Self—the “transcendental subject” of the neo-Kantian German school—only assimilates experience suitable to its own exalted nature, it becomes evident that, ideals apart, the philosophy of a man is of very great importance. At the same time, it need not be said that sectarian “religion” is almost more pernicious than materialism, inasmuch as it combines the two factors of crass ignorance and spiritual torpor.
Footnote 113:
No law of Nature can be set aside, but a man _transgresses_ a law of his [mental] being when he deliberately places himself under the sway of certain “evil” forces. The gist of Mr. Beatty’s criticism is not quite evident here.
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(3.) Harmony _is_ essentially the law of the Universe. The contrasted aspects of Nature come into being subsequently to the differentiation of matter from its several _protyles_ in the commencement of a cycle of becoming, or Manwantara, and can have no reality except in the experience of conscious Egos.[114] For beneath the surface of the great ocean of cosmic illusion—beneath the clash of apparently clashing forces—lies the Eternal Harmony. The semblance of discord is but a ripple on the stream of Maya, or illusion. One aspect of esoteric solution of apparent evils is dealt with in the last issue of LUCIFER (_vide_ art., “Origin of Evil”). But Mr. Beatty will not find himself in a position to accept its validity so long as he continues to “waive the question of reincarnation,” the acceptance of that doctrine lying at the root of the real explanation.
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Footnote 114:
The _phenomenal_ contrast is not denied, but it is representative of no fundamental want of harmony. In the same way the contrast of Subject and Object is essential to our present finite consciousness, although it has no basis of reality beyond the limits of conditional being. Moreover, even in this phenomenal Universe, equilibrium (harmony) is most certainly maintained by the very conflict of the contrasted forces alluded to.
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The Universe must, at bottom, be a Harmony. Why?[115] The equilibrating action of the forces around us is a sufficient proof of the fact; the apparent discord existing, as argued by Spinoza, solely in the sensations of conscious beings. The matter in reality involves the re-opening of the much debated question as to whether an optimistic or pessimistic pantheism is the creed of the true philosopher. Can we with von Hartmann postulate the strange contradiction of an absolutely wise (though from our standpoint unconscious) cause behind phenomena confronted with a “worthless universe?” Obviously not. Moreover, as pantheists necessarily regard the individual mind as only a rushlight compared with the blazing sun of the Universal Mind, its source, how is a final conclusion as to the “unfathomable folly” of manifested being possible? On the other hand, a non-recognition of the Maya of appearances is a tacit impeachment of the wisdom of the Absolute. The pantheist—and pantheism alone accounts for consciousness itself—is, at least, logically driven into the admission that the “nature of things” is sound and that, probably, apparent flaws in the mechanicism of the Universe would, if viewed from a wider standpoint than the human, altogether vanish.
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Footnote 115:
Mr. Beatty asks how the Universe would come to a stand-still, if the law of Harmony was suspended. Now suppose, for instance, the law of “gravity” was not _counterbalanced_ by the action of other “forces,” what would happen? Science assures us that everything would have long before gravitated to a common centre, and a universal dead-lock have ensued! _Vice versa_, if “gravity” were to lapse. _Verb. Sap._
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If, however, the Spinozistic axiom that evil _exists only in us_, is true—and it is not for a relativist of our critic’s type to deny the fact—pessimism is rooted in the recognition of the equilibrating
## action of the law of Karma. The examples cited by Mr. Beatty of
brute forces “one in conflict with another;” of the sufferings of animals in the struggle for existence; and more especially of human suffering in no way controvert the views of the “Harmonists.” The first group is representative of those forces which balance one another by oscillating about a common centre of equilibrium, producing harmony by conflict, just as in the case of the so-called centripetal and centrifugal forces, which regulate the earth’s orbital journey. The second group is, undoubtedly, characterised by the infliction of much incidental pain. But in all instances where Nature immolates the individual organism on the altar of natural selection, she does it for the benefit of the species or the “survival of the fittest”—the individuals borne down by violence in the struggle, reaping, one and all, the results of a compensatory Karma. In the domain of _human_ suffering, moral debasement, etc., an entirely new factor supervenes—the equilibrating influence of a _positive_ Karma, which in biblical language demands “an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.”
(4). “Why,” asks our critic, “is man so important that the Universe was polluted for his sake?” In the first place, Humanity is, by no means, unimportant; the panorama of evolution only existing in order to evolve the Ego from the animal stage up to that of a conscious God. The designation of nature as divided into “good” and “evil” principles, has been taken by Mr. Beatty in its absolute, as opposed to its relative, aspect. Man pollutes only himself and his fellows by “sin”; nature remaining constant _per se_. “How can he be responsible for what he does?” he continues. He is only so within certain wide limits defined by his previous Karma—the tendencies moral, mental and spiritual, generated in previous lives, continually driving him on to certain lines of action. The “Free Will absolute” of the theologians is as unpsychological and worthless a concept as it is possible to formulate. Not so the doctrine that the Ego is able to _mould_ its tendencies of thought and emotion within “constitutional limits.” It was the recognition of this fact which led John Stuart Mill to take up a midway position between the equally absurd extremes of Free Will and Necessarianism. The same conviction led the prophet of Materialism, Dr. Louis Büchner, to contradict his whole system by admitting human liberty within a certain area mapped out by “Heredity” and Environment, and Professor Clifford to invest the “conscious, automaton” Man with the power to control his own ideas!! Responsibility varies enormously, and is, perhaps, almost wanting in the savage (who, however, is in all cases the degraded relic of primæval civilisation). In all cases, the human Ego must be held to be the evolver of the group of tendencies which make up the personality of each re-birth. The sensualist is the victim of a “Frankenstein’s monster,” into which he has infused strength through many lives. We really cannot follow Mr. Beatty when he writes: “Has man instincts, desires, and inclinations, or has he not? If he has, _why should he have them if he is not to follow them_?” He has them because they are the heritage handed down to him from past lives, and also because his Karma as an individual is bound up with that of the race to which he belongs. It rests with him as to how far he chooses to _modify_ them “for weal or woe,” for every moment the exhaustion of past Karma runs parallel with the creation of new. It is certainly a strange doctrine here enunciated by Mr. Beatty, that the possession of certain “instincts, etc,” justifies their gratification. Crime, debauchery and cruelty would be difficult to deal with on this hypothesis! It is certainly true—to some extent—that “we are good or bad by reason of all the forces that act on or through us.” These latter are the stimuli to action (_subject to the control of the will_), but are in their turn the resultant of previous Karma. Judging from the general tone of his criticism, it would appear that his first acquaintance with the esoteric philosophy does not date back to a very remote antiquity.
A. K.
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“THE LATEST ATTACK ON CHRISTIANITY.”
In the July number of the _Quarterly Review_ there is an article reviewing the recent book of J. C. Morrison upon “The Service of Man or the Future Religion.” And although Mr. Morrison, in his book, writes to urge that the chief and primary principle of religion is “to promote the spirit of self-sacrifice, and to direct men’s energies to the service of their fellow creatures,” yet the _Quarterly Review_ pours every kind of insult and obloquy on Mr. Morrison.
But herein is the gross contradiction, that the _Quarterly Review_ admits that the primary principle of Christianity has the very same objects in view, as Mr. Morrison urges the future religion should have. And yet the _Quarterly Review_ ridicules Mr. Morrison, and describes his book as an attack upon Christianity.
Then, surely, when two persons thus fall out with one another, whilst both advocate the same lofty and noble principles, there must be some gross misunderstanding between them!
The error thus which they both labour under, is one and the same; for the _Quarterly Review_ errs, in assuming that the teaching or doctrine of the Church is indisputably, and infallibly, the teaching or doctrine of Christ. And Mr. Morrison errs in assuming that the teaching or doctrine of Christ is the same as the doctrine of the Church.
So that if the teaching of the Church is not the teaching of Christ, then Mr. Morrison in attacking the supposed Christianity of the Church is not really attacking Christianity, but only attacking the spurious doctrine of the Church, which has passed current as Christianity; _ex gr._, Isaiah, Jeremiah and Elijah, in denouncing the religion of the priests, did not attack true religion (as the priests would assert), but only their adulterated and spurious religion.
And Christ tells us that the Priests and Pharisees made the word of God of none effect by their traditions. And St Paul tells us that, with the authority of the Chief Priest, he had, before conversion, imprisoned and put men to death, and made them blaspheme (Acts xxvi., 11) against God and the Church.
Therefore, before we accept the Church and Christianity to be synonymous terms, and not only signifying but being actually the Church of Christ, and so, verily, Christianity, we must have a clear and definite understanding as to what we mean, and wish others to understand what we mean, by “the Church.”
For the world, outside of Christianity, and often inside, is at its wits’ end to know which of the numerous churches and sects, which all claim to be the Church of Christ, is really and truly the Church of Christ; because the World witnesses that they all reject one another.
Then surely, whilst the world witnesses rival and hostile churches all claiming to be “the Church” and Christianity, Mr. Morrison is not at all necessarily attacking the Church of Christ, or true Christianity, when he attacks the doctrine, or the Christianity of the churches.
And this proposition of course, opens and raises the question as to what is Christianity, which the _Quarterly Review_ either avoids or assumes to be established, as being “_a sound belief in the merits of the Saviour_,” which of course means belief in the Atonement as commonly taught. But how can the truth of Christianity be possibly established, whilst to this day the doctrine of Atonement taught by the Church as Christianity, cannot be reconciled as either good or true; and is moreover a mystery to the leaders of it, a stumbling block to the Jews, and foolishness to the world, making the preaching of the Church as Canon Liddon admits, utterly powerless? The _Quarterly Review_ assumes that the doctrine of the Church has been taught as Christianity for 1,800 years; and that 1,800 years’ teaching of it has proved it to be Christianity, because the _Quarterly Review_ assumes that there has been liberty for 1,800 years to disprove the doctrine of the Church, and that the doctrine of the Church, not having been disproved, is a proof that it cannot be disproved. But the fact that to this very day there is no liberty allowed in the pulpits of the National Churches to discuss the doctrine of the Church (it being a law with the rulers of the Church that “the doctrine of the Church may not be touched”), utterly refutes all the assumptions of the _Quarterly Review_.
For whilst there is no liberty, even for fair and candid criticism in the pulpit, on the doctrine of the Church, even in this age of liberty and education, there could have been none when the Church, for centuries, had power to imprison, slay, and excommunicate or boycott; and used it against those who even questioned the doctrine of the Church.
But we are told, by the great Bishop Butler, in his “Analogy of Religion” (and whom the _Quarterly Review_ admits to be an authority of the very highest class), that the doctrine of Atonement is positively immoral, excepting for the supposed divine authority; and the Bishop himself looked forward to the day, when the progress of liberty and education should throw greater light upon this doctrine of the Church, and indisputably determine whether or no it has the divine authority, it was then supposed or asserted to have.
So great has been our progress in education and liberty that _The Guardian_ of the 3rd August, in its review of this book of Mr. Morrison’s, says, if Christianity is Calvinism with its doctrine of substitution and justification, then it is _madness_ any longer to attempt defending the morality of Christianity.
It is true that it is one thing to make this admission in the review of a book, and another thing to publish it from the pulpit; and it is true that the admission would be withdrawn or crucified by silence; but the _Quarterly Review_ itself, in its argument by analogy of the human and divine mind, admits that this doctrine of Atonement is immoral, because it admits that no authority could be divine which called immorality morality, as it asserts that _whatever is moral humanly speaking, is also moral divinely speaking, only in an infinitely greater degree_, and the converse. So that an attack on an immoral doctrine of the Church is not an attack on Christianity, if the doctrine of the Church is not the teaching of Christ, as it can be shown that it is not, as soon as liberty is allowed in the pulpits of the National Churches, for explaining the truth of a _Crucified Christ_, and removing the mystery that has been created, which causes it to be a stumbling block to the Jews, and foolishness to the world.
We are told that the late Archbishop Whately said, that if the Christian Religion did not come from God, miraculously (in the sense commonly taught), yet the religion, nevertheless, exists, and therefore the phenomenon has to be explained how it could have arisen and been propagated without miracles.
But the _Quarterly Review_ asserts that for 1,800 years all the attempts to explain it, without the aid of miracles, have utterly failed, and therefore it must be assumed to be miraculous.
But before there can be any justification for such a bold assumption, as that what is taught as Christianity is infallibly, and indisputably, the teaching of Jesus Christ, what is meant by the term Christianity, or Christian religion must be clearly defined: for the Roman Catholic Church denounces the Protestant, and the Protestant denounces the Roman Church, as having naught to do with Christianity; so that even if there is anything held in common between these Churches (as “the faith of the Primitive Church,” or “the faith once delivered to the Saints,” or any other faith), yet whatever it is, or is called, it would seem to be of not the slightest value whatever, in saving them from rejecting one another absolutely.
Canon Liddon, however, asserts that all the doctrine and teaching of the Church derives its authority from a miraculous resurrection of Jesus, with a material and physical body of flesh, blood, and bones, in direct defiance of the teaching of Jesus, that the flesh profiteth nothing, and that it was the words which He spoke, “_They were_ spirit, _they_ were life.” (John vi., 63.)
And if we believe that the Holy Spirit of God could speak without the aid of a material body, composed of flesh, blood, and bones, in a still small voice to the conscience or soul of Moses and Elijah (1 Kings xix., 12); and if we believe that the same Holy Spirit is _present_ even now (where two or three are gathered together—Matt, xvii., 23), why should not the presence of the still small voice of the Holy Spirit, speaking to the conscience or soul of the Apostles, be of itself deemed sufficient, without needing the aid of a material body?
Again, if the _presence_ of the still small voice of the Holy Spirit, speaking to the soul of man, has been deemed sufficient by the world both before the crucifixion of Christ, and since the crucifixion of Christ, why should it be deemed necessary to raise up the crucified One, with a body of flesh, blood and bones, only to teach what the still small voice of the Holy Spirit was able, willing, and _present_ to teach, and to doubt which would be Atheism? And, moreover, whilst such teaching was sufficient, it would be a contradiction to vouchsafe more.
Therefore, if the still small voice of the Holy Spirit is sufficient and _present_ to guide us into all truth, it must have been sufficient for the Apostles also (John xvi., 13); and, therefore, Christ’s religion is not dependent upon a material resurrection of the body, with flesh, blood and bones.
Here, once more, we see the necessity of liberty being allowed in the pulpit, for fair and candid criticism on the doctrine of the Church, for the purpose of eliminating error and eliciting truth; so that it may be clearly seen and known what is Christ’s religion, as it might indeed be possible that a material resurrection would seem necessary to support the doctrine of the Church, though wholly unnecessary for the support of Christ’s religion, or gospel.
Although the _Quarterly Review_ asserts that men have failed for 1,800 years to account for the existence of Christianity, unless it had a miraculous resurrection to support it, yet it by no means follows that, because a miracle is supposed to be needed to support a doctrine of the Church, therefore a miracle is needed for supporting the doctrine, gospel, or religion of Christ; which exists, and will continue to exist, without needing the aid of belief in a miraculous resurrection of the material body, to support it. And it only needs that there should be liberty allowed in the pulpits of the National Churches to show the deficiency of faith in Christ’s spiritual resurrection, to see there is no need for belief in that carnal, gross, and material resurrection of the body, with flesh, blood and bones.
Then, let there be liberty allowed in the pulpits of the National Churches; because it is not true that there has ever been liberty for 1,800 years to explain the Mystery of a Crucified Christ; for, it is refused to the present day. If any man, on behalf of the Church, contradicts this, and asserts there is liberty to explain, in the Church, the truth of a crucified Christ, let him mention one Church, or one clergyman that will allow it, and I will test its truth by asking for the same permission that the rulers of the Synagogue accorded to St Paul at Antioch, Acts xiii., 15.
The _Quarterly Review_ says the clergy have no objection to free discussion—that it is the very air they breathe, and that it has been the life of Christian Truth. These are bold and brave words, but where is there even one clergyman that will endorse them, and act upon them? Where?
Isaiah says, “Open ye the gates that the truth may enter in” (xxvi., 2). But instead of reverencing the just and righteous “Son of Man,” the chief priests and rulers of the Ancient Church condemned “the Just One,” to be slain as a blasphemer, whose blood ought to be shed for an Atonement. And the chief priests of our Church have combined that this doctrine should not be touched, so that by their practice they make their statement of the _Quarterly Review_ utterly untrue. For if there is one clergyman, A.D. 1887, who will support the _Quarterly Review’s_ statement, and open his pulpit for explaining the truth of “Christ crucified” and proclaiming Christian truth, as taught by Christ—Where is he? and who is he?
And if there is not one, then need the Church be surprised that men attack, not the Christianity of Jesus Christ, but only an erroneous doctrine of the Church, miscalled Christianity?
(REV.) T. G. HEADLEY.
_Manor House, Petersham, S. W._
P.S.—Although the _Quarterly Review_ admits that Mr. Morrison has established a high position in literature, and that he seeks to promote the same lofty and noble principles as true Christianity inculcates; yet it speaks of Mr. Morrison’s book as bad and incomplete; feeble and illogical; full of perversities, monstrosities, misrepresentations, and misquotations; adding, that it is bitter, unscrupulous, ignorant, inconsistent, offensive, bullying, brow-beating, overbearing, absurd, and ridiculous, as well as indecent and false; insulting and flagrant; inconsecutive and unjust; full of jugglery and a disgrace.
Is this an exhibition of how theologians, or the clergy, as the reviewer is most probably a clergyman, love free discussion, and crucify those from whom they differ by damning them in this gross manner?
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ISLAM AND CHRISTIANITY.
_To the Editors of_ LUCIFER.
In the numerous letters that have repeatedly appeared recently in the _Times_ opposing the statements of the Rev. Canon Isaac Taylor, in his speech at the late Church Congress, on the very great progress of Islam, and the comparative failure of Christianity (as taught), in India and Africa, it is frequently asserted that _“Islam is the only religion that has laid an immutable barrier on human progress;”_ and that _“no system could have been devised with more consummate skill (than the Koran of Islam) for shutting out the light of truth, from the Nations over which Islam has sway.”_
But surely this is equally as true of our Church, whilst it also makes it an immutable law, as it has done to this day, that “_the doctrine of the Church may not be touched_”? For how could any system have been devised with more consummate skill for shutting out the light of truth, than to delude the people to crucify “the Just One,” as a blasphemer whose blood ought to be shed for an atonement, and afterwards to quote Scripture in support of this doctrine (as necessary to be believed in order to escape being cursed here and damned hereafter), and stamp out and boycott all who doubted it?
And yet this is the present state of things.
And therefore, whilst the clergy have power to say that “_the doctrine of the Church may not be touched_,” how is the mystery of a Crucified Christ to be explained and translated, so that it may be seen to be “_a light to lighten the Gentiles, and also the glory of Israel_,” instead of being, as it is now, a stumbling block to the Jews, foolishness to the world, and a mystery to the teachers of it, making those who accept it, in India and Africa, worse than they were before?
Then is there not a cause for demanding that liberty should be allowed in the Church, for explaining, in the pulpit, the mystery of a Crucified Christ, so that it may no longer remain a mystery for want only of this liberty?
(REV.) T. G. HEADLEY.
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HYLO-IDEALISM.—AN APOLOGY.
My attention has been directed to a somewhat slighting notice of the above theory of human nature, on pages 72 and 75 of your issue for September, the contents of which are, doubtless, most suggestive of the _nouvelles couches mentales_ at the basis of all _nouvelles couches sociales_, and which Physical Science, in its vulgar realism, has altogether missed.
My main position, to which all else is but subsidiary, is that the worlds both of thought and thing, which thus become identified and unified, _must_ be a product of _our own_ personality or Egoity, which thus constitutes each Ego Protagonist and Demiurge, from whose tribunal there can be no possible appeal. This being granted, and even Max Müller, in his “Science of Thought,” considers the position _impregnable_, it matters not one jot, at least in the first line and as far as my main object is concerned, whether the Ego be a Body or a “Spirit.” Our own individuality, as sum and substance of all “things,” is the only essential point of the question. So that it may be argued either on the somatic (hylozoic) or “Spiritual” hypothesis of life and mind. I have always contended that Hylo-Idealism, or Auto-centricism, is the only thorough and legitimate outcome of the phenomenal world theory—this representative _Weltanschanung_ having been, for some generations past, the accredited creed both of physical science and philosophy. It is well summed up in Kant’s negation of “_Das Ding an sich_.$1“$2”$3 Vulgar Physical Science, as interpreted by its greatest hierophants, from Newton to Huxley and Darwin, from its incarnate dualism, is fatally handicapped in its search after the _final_ “good, beautiful, and true.” Even Cardinal Newman is in a similar case, when he predicates _two_ luminous spectra, God and Self, as the sole entities. The former Spectrum, on the Hylo-ideal, or visional, or phenomenal hypothesis, _must_ be only the functional _imago_ of the latter; Self being thus proved to be “Alpha and Omega, beginning and ending, first and last.” Beyond Self, it is manifest, mortal mind can never range. Whether Self be body or “spirit” is, I repeat, for my chief contention, quite immaterial—I sit on both sides of the stile, facing both ways.
ROBERT LEWINS, M.D.
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HYLO-IDEAISM.
_To the Editors of_ LUCIFER.
As a hostile notice of the above philosophy has appeared in your columns, will you kindly permit me to say a few words in its defence? Not, of course, that I can hope in these few lines to really make clear to the casual reader the greatest change in human thought ever witnessed on earth (a change not merely as regards the form or matter of existence, but as regards its very nature)—yet I may hope that a few seasonable words may be the means of inducing at least a few to enquire further into a theory, the self-evident simplicity of which is so great, that, I am convinced, it needs but to be understood to command universal acceptance.
The term Hylo-Ideaism is no self-contradiction, but undeniable verity, based on the first two facts of all existence; viz., the assumption of the material on the one hand, and the actuality of the ideal on the other. The primary, undeniable and necessary assumption of the “reality” of existence supplies us with the first half of our designation, and the recognition of the correlative truism that this existence—based on our own assumption—is, therefore, only our own idea, completes our title, and amply vindicates the self-sufficiency of Hylo-Ideaistic philosophy. For here is not a mere unended argument, leaving us at both ends stranded on mere metaphysical speculation, but a self-sustaining circle[116] where both ends meet, and materiality and ideality are blended as one, and indissoluble.
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Footnote 116:
Yet, unless _metaphysical_ speculation comes to the rescue of the new philosophy, and, completing, explains it on the old Vedantic lines, the “circle,” instead of being a “self-sustaining” one, is more than likely to become a—“vicious circle.”—ED.
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It matters not on what basis we proceed, whether we speak of existence as material or ideal, or “spiritual” or anything else—a moment’s reflection is sufficient to establish us in a position of consistent monism. For all thought or knowledge is but sensation, and sensation is and must be purely subjective, existing in, and by, the ego itself. As now we cannot outstrip our own sensations (only a madman could controvert this proposition—which includes _everything_)—therefore are we absolutely, and for ever, limited to self-existence, and the same holds good of all possible or imaginary existence whatsoever. For the first essential of any conscious existence—that which indeed constitutes it—is a sentient subject, and inasmuch as all connected with this subject—thought, knowledge, feeling, fancy, sentiment—are all _purely subjective_, _i.e._, in the subject itself, so must the subject be to itself the sum of all things, and objective existence only its own fancy by which it realises itself. This then utterly disposes of all fancied objective dualism by reducing all existence within the ring-fence of the ego itself, and this not as mere speculative theory but as positive fact, which, whether we recognise it or not, remains fact still—we _are_ limited to Self, whether we know it or not.
Then finally, _in self_, we harmonise the antithesis between the material and the ideal by recognising the two as absolutely inter-dependent, each upon the other, and therefore one consistent and indivisible whole. The ideal (thought, fancy, sentiment) is, and must be, but the property and outcome of the material (the nominal reality), which, on the other hand, is itself (and can be) but the assumption of the ideal. Destroy reality and thought is dead, blind thought and reality is a blank; and thus are the ideal and the material but the two sides of one and the self-same shield, and the line of our argument joins itself in one consistent circle, which constitutes the existence of the Ego—He who creates light and darkness, heaven and earth, pleasure and pain, God and devil—who is, in Himself, the sum of all things, (viz. “thinks”) beyond which is naught, naught, naught, for the fancy of His own which imagines a “beyond” is, itself, but fancy—self-contained in Self.
Thou Unity of force sublime, Th’ eternal mystery of thy time Runs on unstay’d for ever; Yet, self-containing God of all, As raptur’d at thy feet I fall In thee myself I worship. HERBERT L. COURTNEY.
Cambridge, November, 1887.
[EDITOR’S NOTE.—In reference to the supposed “slighting remark” of which Dr. Lewins speaks, and the no less supposed “hostile notice,” as Mr. Herbert L. Courtney puts it—contained in our September number—we demur to the accusation. Both gentlemen will find it, however, fully answered in the “Literary Jottings” of this number; where, also, their respective pamphlets “AUTO-CENTRICISM,” “HUMANISM _versus_ THEISM,” and “The New Gospel of Hylo-Idealism”—are amply noticed by the “Adversary.”]
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ANSWERS TO QUERIES.
A CORRESPONDENT from New York writes:
.... “The Editors of LUCIFER would confer a great benefit on those who are attracted to the movement which they advocate, if they would state:
“(1.) Whether a would-be-theosophist-occultist is required to abandon his worldly ties and duties such as family affection, love of parents, wife, children, friends, etc.?
“I ask this question because it is rumoured here that some theosophical publications have so stated, and would wish to know whether such a _sine quâ non_ condition really exists in your Rules? The same, however, is found in the New Testament. ‘He that loveth father or mother more than Me, is not worthy of Me; and he that loveth son or daughter more than Me is not worthy of Me, etc., etc.,’ is said in Matthew (x. 37). Do the MASTERS of Theosophy demand as much?
“Yours in the Search of Light, “L. M. C.”
This is an old, old question, and a still older charge against theosophy, started first by its enemies. We emphatically answer, NO; adding that no _theosophical_ publication could have rendered itself guilty of such a FALSEHOOD and calumny. No follower of theosophy, least of all a disciple of the “Masters of Theosophy” (the _chela_ of a _guru_), would ever be accepted on such conditions. Many were the candidates, but “few the chosen.” Dozens were refused, simply because married and having a sacred duty to perform to wife and children.[117] None have ever been asked to forsake father or mother; for he who, being necessary to his parent for his support, leaves him or her to gratify his own selfish consideration or thirst for knowledge, however great and sincere, _is “unworthy”_ of the Science of Sciences, “or ever to approach a holy MASTER.”
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Footnote 117:
We know but two cases of _married_ “chelas” being accepted; but both these were Brahmins and had _child-wives_, according to Hindu custom, and they were _Reformers_ more than _chelas_, trying to abrogate child-marriage and slavery. Others had to obtain the consent of their wives before entering the “Path,” as is usual in India since long ages.
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Our correspondent must surely have confused in his mind Theosophy with Roman Catholicism, and Occultism with the dead-letter teachings of the Bible. For it is only in the Latin Church that it has become a meritorious action, which is called serving God and Christ, to “abandon father and mother, wife and children,” and every duty of an honest man and citizen, in order to become a monk. And it is in St. Luke’s Gospel that one reads the terrible words, put in the mouth of Jesus: “If any _man_ come to me, and _hate not his father, and mother, and wife, and children, and brethren, and sisters_, yea, _his own life_ also, HE CANNOT BE MY DISCIPLE.” (xiv. 26.)
_Saint_ (?) Jerome teaches, in one of his writings, “If thy father lies down across thy threshold, if thy mother uncovers to thine eyes the bosom which suckled thee, _trample on thy father’s lifeless body_, TRAMPLE ON THY MOTHER’S BOSOM, and _with eyes unmoistened and dry, fly to the Lord, who calleth thee_!”
Surely then, it is not from any _theosophical_ publication that our correspondent could have learnt such an infamous charge against theosophy and its MASTERS—but rather in some _anti-Christian_, or _too_ dogmatically “Christian” paper.
Our society has never been “more Catholic than the Pope.” It has done its best to follow out the path prescribed by the Masters; and if it has failed in more than one respect to fulfil its arduous task, the blame is certainly not to be thrown on either Theosophy, nor its Masters, but on the limitations of human nature. The _Rules_, however, of _chelaship_, or discipleship, are there, in many a Sanskrit and Tibetan volume. In Book IV. of _Kiu-ti_, in the chapter on “_the Laws of Upasans_” (disciples), the qualifications expected in a “regular _chela_” are: (1.) Perfect physical health.[118] (2.) Absolute mental and physical purity. (3.) Unselfishness of purpose; universal charity; pity for all animate beings. (4.) Truthfulness and unswerving faith in the laws of Karma. (5.) A courage undaunted in the support of truth, even in face of peril to life. (6.) An intuitive perception of one’s being the vehicle of the manifested divine _Atman_ (spirit). (7.) Calm indifference for, but a just appreciation of, everything that constitutes the objective and transitory world. (8.) Blessing of both parents[119] and _their permission to become an Upasan_ (chela); and (9.) Celibacy, and freedom from any obligatory duty.
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Footnote 118:
This rule 1. applies only to the “temple chelas,” who must be _perfect_.
Footnote 119:
Or one, if the other is dead.
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The two last rules are most strictly enforced. No man _convicted of disrespect to his father or mother_, or _unjust abandonment of his wife_, can ever be accepted even as a _lay chela_.
This is sufficient, it is hoped. We have heard of chelas who, having _failed_, perhaps in consequence of the neglect of some such duty, for one or another reason, have invariably thrown the blame and responsibility for it on the teaching of the Masters. This is but natural in poor and weak human beings who have not even the courage to recognise their own mistakes, or the rare nobility of publicly confessing them, but are always trying to find a scapegoat. Such we pity, and leave to the Law of Retribution, or Karma. It is not these weak creatures, who can ever be expected to have the best of the enemy described by the wise Kirátárjuniya of Bharavi:—
“The enemies which rise within the body. Hard to be overcome—the evil passions— Should manfully be fought, _who conquers these Is equal to the conqueror of worlds_.” (xi. 32.)
[ED.]
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We have received several communications for publication, bearing on the subjects discussed in the editorial of our last issue, “Let every man prove his own work.” A few brief remarks may be made, not in reply to any of the letters—_which, being anonymous, and containing no card from the writers, cannot be published_ (nor are such noticed, as a general rule)—but to the ideas and accusations contained in one of them, a letter signed “M.” Its author takes up the cudgels on behalf of the Church. He objects to the statement that this institution lacks the enlightenment necessary to carry out a true system of philanthropy. He appears, also, to demur to the view that “the practical people either go on doing good unintentionally and often do harm,” and points to the workers amid our slums as a vindication of Christianity—which, by-the-bye, was in no sense attacked in the editorial so criticized.
To this, repeating what was said, we maintain that more mischief has been done by emotional charity than sentimentalists care to face. Any student of political economy is familiar with this fact, which passes for a truism with all those who have devoted attention to the problem. No nobler sentiment than that which animates the unselfish philanthropist is conceivable; but the question at issue is not summed up in the recognition of this truth. The practical results of his labours have to be examined. We have to see whether he does not sow the seeds of a greater—while relieving a lesser—evil.
The fact that “thousands are making great efforts in all the cities throughout our land” to meet want, reflects immense credit on the character of such workers. It does not affect their creed, for such natures would remain the same, whatever the prevailing dogmas chanced to be. It is certainly a very poor illustration of the fruits of centuries of dogmatic Christianity that England should be so honeycombed with misery and poverty as she is—especially on the biblical ground that a tree must be judged by its fruits! It might, also, be argued, that the past history of the Churches, stained as it is with persecutions, the suppression of knowledge, crime and brutality, necessitates the turning over of a new leaf. The difficulties in the way are insuperable. “Churchianity” has, indeed, done its best to keep up with the age by assimilating the teachings of, and making veiled truces with, science, but it is incapable of affording a true spiritual ideal to the world.
The same Church-Christianity assails with fruitlesss pertinacity, the ever-growing host of Agnostics and Materialists, but is _as absolutely ignorant, as the latter, of the mysteries beyond the tomb_. The great necessity for the Church, according to Professor Flint, is to keep the leaders of European thought within its fold. By such men it is, however, regarded as an anachronism. The Church is eaten up with scepticism within its own walls; free-thinking clergymen being now very common. This constant drain of vitality has reduced the true religion to a very low ebb, and it is to infuse a new current of ideas and aspirations into modern thought, in short, to supply a logical basis for an elevated morality, a science and philosophy which is suited to the knowledge of the day, that Theosophy comes before the world. Mere physical philanthropy, apart from the infusion of new influences and ennobling conceptions of life into the minds of the masses, is worthless. The gradual assimilation by mankind of great spiritual truths will alone revolutionize the face of civilization, and ultimately result in a far more effective panacea for evil, than the mere tinkering of superficial misery. Prevention is better than cure. Society creates its own outcasts, criminals, and profligates, and then condemns and punishes its own Frankensteins, sentencing its own progeny, the “bone of its bone, and the flesh of its flesh,” to a life of damnation on earth. Yet that society recognises and enforces most hypocritically Christianity—_i.e._ “Churchianity.” Shall we then, or shall we not, infer that the latter is unequal to the requirements of mankind? Evidently the former, and most painfully and obviously so, in its present dogmatic form, which makes of the beautiful ethics preached on the Mount, a Dead Sea fruit, a whitened sepulchre, and no better.
Furthermore, the same “M.,” alluding to Jesus as one with regard to whom there could be only two alternatives, writes that he “was either the Son of God or the vilest impostor who ever trod this earth.” We answer, not at all. Whether the Jesus of the New Testament ever lived or not, whether he existed as an historical personage, or was simply a lay figure around which the Bible allegories clustered—the Jesus of Nazareth of Matthew and John, is the ideal for every would-be sage and Western candidate Theosophist to follow. That such an one as he, was _a_ “Son of God,” is as undeniable as that he was neither the _only_ “Son of God,” nor the first one, nor even the last who closed the series of the “Sons of God,” or the children of Divine Wisdom, on this earth. Nor is that other statement that in “His life he (Jesus) has ever spoken of himself as co-existent with Jehovah, the Supreme, the Centre of the Universe,” correct, whether in in its dead letter, or hidden mystic sense. In no place does Jesus ever allude to “_Jehovah_”; but, on the contrary, attacking the Mosaic laws and the alleged Commandments given on Mount Sinai, he disconnects himself and his “Father” most distinctly and emphatically from the Sinaitic tribal God. The whole of Chapter V., in the Gospel of Matthew, is a passionate protest of the “man of peace, love and charity,” against the cruel, stern, and selfish commandments of “the man of war,” the “Lord” of Moses (Exod. xv., 3). “Ye have heard that it was said by them of old times,”—so and so—“But I say unto you,” quite the reverse. Christians who still hold to the Old Testament and the Jehovah of the Israelites, are at best _schismatic Jews_. Let them be that, by all means, if they will so have it; but they have no right to call themselves even _Chréstians_, let alone _Christians_.[120]
It is a gross injustice and untruth to assert, as our anonymous correspondent does, that “the freethinkers are notoriously unholy in their lives.” Some of the noblest characters, as well as deepest thinkers of the day, adorn the ranks of Agnosticism, Positivism and Materialism. The latter are the worst enemies of Theosophy and Mysticism; but this is no reason why strict justice should not be done unto them. Colonel Ingersoll, a rank materialist, and the leader of freethought in America, is recognised, even by his enemies, as an ideal husband, father, friend and citizen, one of the noblest characters that grace the United States. Count Tolstoi is a freethinker who has long parted with the orthodox Church, yet his whole life is an exemplar of Christ-like altruism and self-sacrifice. Would to goodness every “Christian” should take those two “_infidels_” as his models in private and public life. The munificence of many freethinking philanthropists stands out in startling contrast with the apathy of the monied dignitaries of the Church. The above fling at the “enemies of the Church,” is as absurd as it is contemptible.
“What can you offer to the dying woman who fears to tread alone the DARK UNKNOWN?” we are asked. Our Christian critic here frankly confesses (_a._) that Christian dogmas have only developed _fear_ of death, and (_b._) the _agnosticism_ of the _orthodox believer_ in Christian theology as to the future _post-mortem_ state. It is, indeed, difficult to appreciate the peculiar type of bliss which orthodoxy offers its believers in—_damnation_.
The dying man—the average Christian—with a _dark_ retrospect in life can scarcely appreciate this boon; while the Calvinist or the Predestinarian, who is brought up in the idea that God may have pre-assigned him from eternity to everlasting misery, through no fault of that man, but simply because he is God, is more than justified in regarding the latter as ten times worse than any devil or fiend that unclean human fancy could evolve.
Theosophy, on the contrary, teaches that _perfect, absolute justice_ reigns in nature, though short-sighted man fails to see it in its details on the material and even psychic plane, and that every man determines his own future. The true Hell is life on Earth, as an effect of Karmic punishment following the preceding life during which the evil causes were produced. The Theosophist fears _no hell_, but confidently expects rest and bliss during the _interim_ between two incarnations, as a reward for all the unmerited suffering he has endured in an existence into which he was ushered by Karma, and during which he is, in most cases, as helpless as a torn-off leaf whirled about by the conflicting winds of social and private life. Enough has been given out at various times regarding the conditions of post-mortem existence, to furnish a solid block of information on this point. Christian theology has nothing to say on this burning question, except where it veils its ignorance by mystery and dogma; but Occultism, unveiling the symbology of the Bible, explains it thoroughly.—[ED.]
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Footnote 120:
See “The Esoteric Character of the Gospels,” in this number.
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=LITERARY JOTTINGS=
HYLO-IDEALISM _versus_ “LUCIFER,” and the “ADVERSARY.”
Under the head of CORRESPONDENCE in the present number, two remarkable letters are published. (See Text.) Both come from fervent Hylo-Idealists—a Master and Disciple, if we mistake not—and both charge the “Adversary,” one, of a “slighting,” the other, of a “hostile notice” of Hylo-Idealism, in the September number of “_Lucifer_.”
* *
Such an accusation is better met and answered in all sincerity; and, therefore, the reply is, a flat denial of the charge. No _slight_—nor _hostility_ either, could be shown to “Hylo-Idealism,” as the “little stranger” in the happy family of philosophies was hitherto as good as unknown to “Lucifer’s” household gods. It was _chaff_, if anything, but surely no hostility; and even that was concerned with only some dreadful words and sentences, with reference to the new teaching, and had nothing whatever to do with Hylo-Idealism proper—a _terra incognita_ for the writer at the time. But now that three pamphlets from the pens of our two correspondents have been received in our office, for review, and carefully read, Hylo-Idealism begins to assume a more tangible form before the reviewer’s eye. It becomes easier to separate the grain from the chaff, the theory from the (no doubt) scientific, nevertheless, most irritating, words in which it is presented to the reader.
* *
This is meant in all truth and sincerity. The remarks which our two correspondents have mistaken for expressions of hostility, were as justified _then_, as they are _now_. What ordinary mortal, we ask, before he had time (to use Dr. Lewins’ happiest expressions) to “_asself_ or _cognose_”—let alone _intercranialise_[121] (!!)—the hylo-idealistic theories, however profound and philosophical these may be, who, having so far come into direct contact with only the _images_ thereof “subjected by his own _egoity_” (_i.e._ as words and sentences), who could avoid feeling his hair standing on end, over “_his organs of mentation_,” while spelling out such terrible words as “_vesiculo-neurosis_ in conjunction with _medico-psychological symptomatology_,” “_auto-centricism_,” and the like? Such interminable, outlandish, multisyllabled and multicipital, newly-coined compound terms and whole sentences, maybe, and no doubt are, highly learned and scientific. They may be most expressive of true, real meaning, to a specialist of Dr. Lewins’ powers of thought; nevertheless, I make bold to say, that they are far more calculated to obscure than to enlighten the ordinary reader. In our modern day, when new philosophies spring out from the spawn of human overworked intellect like mushrooms from their mycelium after a rainy morning, the human brain and its capacities ought to be taken into a certain thoughtful consideration, and spared useless labour. Notwithstanding Dr. Lewins’ praiseworthy efforts to prove that brain (as far as we understand his aspirations and teachings) is the only reality in the whole kosmos, its limitations are painfully evident, on the whole. As philanthropists and theosophists, we entreat the founder of Hylo-Idealism and his disciples to be merciful to their new god, the “Ego-Brain,” and not tax too heavily its powers, if they would see it happily reign. For otherwise, it is sure to collapse before the new theory—or, let us call it philosophy—is even half appreciated by that “Ego-Brain.”
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Footnote 121:
“AUTO-CENTRICISM, or, _The Brain Theory of Life and Mind_,” p. 41.
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* *
By speaking as we do, we are only pursuing a life-long policy. We have criticized and opposed the coinage of hard Greek and Latin words by the New York Pantarchists; laughed at Hæckel’s pompous tendency to invent thirty-three syllabled terms, and speak of the _perigenesis_ of _plastidules_, instead of honest whirling atoms—or whatever he means; and derided the modern psychists for calling simple thought transference “telepathic impact.” And now, we tearfully beg Dr. Lewins, in the interests of humanity, to have pity on his poor readers: for, unless he hearkens to our advice, we shall be compelled, in dire self-defence, to declare an open war to his newly-coined words. We shall fight the usurper “Solipsism” in favour of the legitimate king of the Universe—EGOISM—to our last breath.
* *
At the same time, as we have hitherto been ignorant of the latest philosophy, described by Mr. H. L. Courtney as “the greatest change in human thought,” may we be permitted to enquire whether it is spelt as its Founder spells it, namely, “Hylo-Idealism,” or as his disciple, Mr. Courtney does, who writes Hylo-Ideaism? Is the latter a _schism_, an improvement on the original name, a _lapsus calami_, or what? And now, having disburdened our heart of a heavy weight, we may proceed to give an opinion (so far very superficial), on the three Hylo-Idealistic (or _Ideaistic_) pamphlets.
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_Under the extraordinary title of_ “AUTO-CENTRICISM” and “HUMANISM _versus_ THEISM,” or “Solipsism (Egoism)=Atheism” (W. Stewart & Co., 41, Farringdon Street, E.C.; and Freethought Publishing Co., 63, Fleet Street, E.C.)—Dr. Lewins publishes a series of letters on the subject of the philosophy of which he is the founder. It is impossible not to feel admiration for the manner in which these letters are written. They show a great deal of sincere conviction and deep thought, and give evidence of a most wide and varied reading. However his readers may dissent from the writer’s conclusions, the research with which he has strengthened his theory, cannot fail to attract their attention, and smooth their way through the somewhat tortuous labyrinth of arguments before them. But—
Dr. Lewins is among those who regard consciousness as a function of the nerve-tissue; and in this aspect, he is an uncompromising materialist. Yet, on the other hand, he holds that the Universe, God, and thought, have no reality whatever, apart from the individual Ego. The Ego is again resolvable into brain-process. We thus arrive at the doctrine that Brain is the workshop in which all our ideas of external things are originated. Apart from brain there is no Ego, no external world. What, then, is the Brain itself—this solitary object in a void universe? Hylo-Idealism does not say. Thus, the author cannot escape the confusion of thought which his unique working-union of materialism and idealism involves. The _oscillation_ between these two poles is strikingly apparent in the subjoined quotations. At one point Matter is discussed as if it were an objective reality; at another, it is regarded as a mere “phantasm of the Ego.” The Brain alone survives throughout in solitary state. We quote from the two pamphlets—
MATTER ASSERTED.
“_Matter_, organic and inorganic, is now fully known ... to perform all _material_ operations.”
—_Auto-Centricism_, p. 40.
“Man is _all body and matter_.”
—_Do_, p. 40.
“Abstract thought [is] _neuropathy_ ... disease of the _nervous centres_.”
—_Humanism versus Theism_, p. 25.
“What we call mind ... is a function of certain _nerve structures in the organism_.”
—_Humanism v. Theism_, p. 24.
MATTER DENIED.
“_All discovery_ is ... a _subjective phenomenon_.”
—_Humanism v. Theism_, p. 17.
“_All things_ are for us but _modes of perception_.”—[Mental figments].
The “celestial vault and garniture of Earth,” are “a _mere projection of our own inner consciousness_.”
—_Humanism v. Theism_, p. 17.
“We _get rid of Matter altogether_.”
—_Humanism v. Theism_, p. 17.
“The whole objective world ... is _phenomenal or ideal_.”
—_Auto-Centricism_, p. 9.
“_Everything_ is spectral” (_i.e._, unreal).
—_Ibid_, p. 13.
Matter is at one time credited with a real being, and again resolved into a mere mental figment as _circumstances demand_. If Matter is, as the author frequently states, unreal, it is, at least clear that the brain, one of its many phases, goes with it!!
As to the learned doctor’s assertion that perception is relative, a theory which runs through his whole work, we have but one answer. This conception is, in no sense whatever, a monopoly of Hylo-Idealists, as Dr. Lewins appears to think. The illusory nature of the phenomenal world—of the things of sense—is not only a belief common to the old Brahminical metaphysics, and to the majority of modern psychologists, but it is also a vital tenet of Theosophy. The latter distinctly realises matter as a “bundle of attributes,” ultimately resolvable into the subjective sensations of a “percipient.” The connection of this simple truth with the hylo-idealistic denial of soul is not apparent. Its acceptance has, also, no bearing on the problem as to whether there may not exist a duality—_within the limits of manifested being_—or contrast between Mind and the Substance of matter. This Cosmic Duality is symbolised by the Vedantins in the relations between the Logos and Mulaprakriti—_i.e._, the Universal Spirit and the “material” basis (or root) of the objective planes of nature. The _Monism_, then, of Dr. Lewins and other negative thinkers of the day, is evidently at fault, when applied to unify the contrast of mental and material facts in the conditioned universe. Beyond the latter, it is indeed valid, but that is scarcely a question for practical philosophy.
To close with a reference this once to Dr. Lewins’ letter (see “Correspondence” in the text), in which he makes his subsequent assertion to the effect that God is the “functional (_sic_) image,” of the Ego, we should prefer to suggest that all individual “selves” are but dim reflections of the universal soul of the Kosmos. The orthodox concept of God is not, as he contends, a myth or phantasm of the brain; it is rather an expression of a vague consciousness of the universal, all-pervading Logos. It is because SELF pinions man within a narrow sphere “beyond which mortal mind can never range,” that the destruction of the personal sense of separateness is indispensable to the Occultist.
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“THE NEW GOSPEL OF HYLO-IDEALISM, _or Positive Agnosticism_,” (Freethought Publishing Co., 73, Fleet Street, E. C. Price 3d.), is another pamphlet on the same subject, in which Mr. Herbert L. Courtney contributes his quota to the discussion of the “Brain Theory of mind and matter.” He is, if we mistake not, an avowed disciple of Dr. Lewins, and, perhaps, identical with the “C. N.,” who watched over the cradle of the “new philosophy.” The whole gist of the latter may be summed up as an attempt to frame a working-union of Materialism and Idealism. This result is effected on two lines (1) in the acceptance of the idealistic theorem, that the so-called external world only exists in our consciousness; and (2) in the designation of that consciousness, in its turn, as a mere function of Brain. The first of these contentions is unquestionably valid, in so far as it concerns the world of appearances, or _Maya_; it is, however, as “old as the hills,” and incorporated into the Hylo-Ideal argument from anterior sources. The second is untenable, for the simple reason that on the premises of the new creed itself, the brain, as an object of perception, can possess no reality outside of the Ego. Hegelians might reply that Brain is but an _i.e._ of the Ego, and cannot hence determine the existence of the latter—its creator.
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Metaphysicism will, however, find much to interest them in Mr. Courtney’s brochure, representative, as it is, of the new and more subtle phase into which modern scepticism is entering. Some expressions we may demur to—_e.g._, “That which we see is not Sirius, but the light-wave.” So far from the light-wave being “seen,” it is a mere working hypothesis of Science. All we experience is the retinal sensation, the objective counterpart to which is a matter of pure inference. So far as we can learn, Hylo-Idealism is chiefly based upon gigantic paradoxes, and even contradictions in terms. For, with regard to the speculations anent the Noumenon (p. 8.) what justification can be found for terming it “MATTER,” especially as it is said to be “unknowable”? Obviously it may be of the nature of mind, or—_something_ HIGHER. How is the Hylo-Idealist to know?
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“LAYS OF ROMANCE AND CHIVALRY,” by Mr. W. Stewart Ross. (Stewart and Co., Farringdon Street.) In this neat little volume the author presents to the reader a collection of vigorous verse, mostly of chivalrous character. Some of these pieces, such as the “Raid of Vikings” and “Glencoe,” are of merit, despite an occasional echo of Walter Scott, whose style seems to have had a considerable modifying influence on the author’s diction. It is in the “Bride of Steel” that this feature is most noticeable—
“I love thee with a warrior’s love, My Sword, my Life, my Bride! Dear, dear as ever knighthood bore, Though yet no gout of battle-gore Thy virgin blade hath dyed!”
Apart from this unconscious influence of the great Scottish bard, the ring of originality and feeling which characterises Mr. Stewart Ross’s poetry is most refreshing. The little volume sparkles with the vein of romance, and after perusing it, in spite of occasional anachronisms and other literary errors, we are not surprised to hear of the favourable reception hitherto accorded to it.
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In the _Secular Review_ for November 26th, Mr. Beatty makes an attack upon a former article in LUCIFER, entitled “The Origin of Evil.” We find, however, Mr. Beatty exhibiting crass ignorance of the ideas he criticises, as when, for instance, he speaks of the “_Buddhistic_” Parabram (_sic_). To begin with, every tyro in Oriental philosophy knows that “Parabrahm” is a Hindu Vedantic idea, and has no connection whatever with Buddhist thought. If Mr. Beatty wishes to become a serious critic, he must first learn the _a_, _b_, _c_, of the subject with which he professes to deal. His article is unfinished, but it seems only fair at the present stage to call his attention to so glaring an error.
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THE GNOSTICS AND THEIR REMAINS, ANCIENT AND MEDIÆVAL. By C. W. King, M.A. Second Edition. David Nutt, 270 Strand, London, 1887. pp. 466, 8vo.
It would be unfair to the erudite and painstaking author of “_The Gnostics and Their Remains_” for a reviewer to take the title of his book as altogether appropriate, for it suggests too high a standard of criticism. Mr. King says in the introduction that his book is intended to be subsidiary to the valuable treatise of M. Matter, adding: “I refer the reader to him for the more complete elucidation of the _philosophy_ of Gnosticism, and give my full attention to its _Archæological_ side.” The italics are the author’s, and they disarm criticism as far as the philosophical side of Gnosticism is concerned; for thus italicised, this passage is, at the outset, as plain a confession as could, in conscience, be expected of an author of a fact which the reader would probably have found out for himself, before he closed the volume: namely, that the work is chiefly valuable as an Archæological compendium of “Gnostic Remains.” Unfortunately, the most interesting point about the Gnostics is their philosophy, of which their Archæological remains are, properly speaking, little more than illustrations. But the fact is, that the hard-shelled Archæologist is the last man in the world to appreciate the real esoteric signification of symbolism. All true symbols have many meanings, and for the purposes of descriptive Archæology the more superficial of these meanings are sufficient. Ignorance of the deeper meaning may indeed be bliss for the Archæologist, for it necessitates an amount of ingenuity in the fitting together of “remains,” that commands the admiration of the public, and is productive in the Archæological bosom of that agreeable sensation known as “fancying oneself.” As a laborious collector and compiler, and an ingenious worker-up of materials into interesting reading, too much can hardly be said in Mr. King’s praise, and had he a greater intuitional power, and a knowledge of esoteric religion, his great industry and erudition would make his writings valuable even to students of Occultism.
Since the publication of the former edition of his work, twenty-three years ago, Mr. King has come across and read the _Pistis Sophia_. The discovery of this, the only remaining Gnostic Gospel, or rather, Gospel fragment, is attributed to Schwartze, and the Latin translation to Petermann (in 1853). But Mr. King does not seem to be aware that as far back as 1843, another and ampler copy than that in the British Museum was in the hands of a Russian Raskolnik (dissident), a Cossack, who lived and married in Abyssinia; and another is in the possession of an Englishman, an Occultist, now in the United States, who brought it from Syria. It seems a pity that in the interim Mr. King did not also read _Isis Unveiled_, by H. P. Blavatsky, published by Bouton in New York in 1876, as its perusal would have saved him a somewhat absurd and ludicrous blunder. In his _Preface_, Mr. King says:—“There seems to be reason for suspecting that the Sibyl of Esoteric Buddhism drew the first notions of her new religion from the analysis of the _inner man_, as set forth in my first edition.”[122] The only person to whom this passage could apply is one of the Editors, the author of _Isis Unveiled_. And this, her first publication, contains the same and only doctrine she has always, or ever, promulgated. _Isis Unveiled_ has passed through eight editions, and has been read by many thousands of persons; and not only they, but everyone who is not strangely ignorant of the very literature with which it was Mr. King’s business to make himself conversant, are perfectly aware that the two large volumes which compose that work are entirely devoted to a defence of the philosophy, science, and religion of the ancients, especially of the old Aryans, whose religion can hardly be called a “new” one, still less—“Esoteric Buddhism.” If properly spelt, however, the latter word, or Buddhism, ought to be written with one “d,” as in this case it means Wisdom. But “Budhism,” or the wisdom-religion of the Aryans, was still less a religion, in the exoteric sense, than is Buddhism, but rather a philosophy. In that part of _Isis Unveiled_ which treats of the Gnostics, Mr. King will find a few quotations from his writings side by side with quotations from other writers on the same subject; but he will find no “new religion” there, or anywhere else, in the works of H. P. Blavatsky. And, if anyone drew the “first notions” of their religion from his “analysis of the inner man,” it must have been the early Aryans, who, unfortunately, have neglected to acknowledge the obligation. What makes Mr. King’s self-complacency the more ridiculous, is that in his preface he himself accuses someone else of “the grave error of representing their (the Gnostics’) doctrines as _novel_, and the pure _inventions_ of the persons who preached them.” And in another place he confesses that he owes to Matter the first idea which has now become a settled conviction with him, that “the seeds of the _gnosis_ were originally of Indian growth.” If Matter “faintly discerned” this truth, on the other hand Bailly, Dupuis, and others had seen it quite clearly, and had declared it most emphatically. So that Mr. King’s “discovery” is neither very new nor very original.
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Footnote 122:
This modest assumption is followed by the generous promise to furnish “investigators of the same order” as the supposed “Sibyl,” with “a still more profound theosophy.” This is extremely considerate and kind. But if it is _Pistis-Sophia_ which the author had in his mind, then he had better apply to Theosophists for the explanation of the most recondite points in that gnostic fragment, while translating it, as he proposes doing from Latin. For though the world of the Orientalists “of the same order” as _himself_, may labour under the mistaken impression that no one except themselves knew or know anything about _Pistis-Sophia_ till 1853—Theosophists know better. Does Mr. King really imagine that no one besides himself knows anything about the Gnostics “and their remains,” or what _he_ knows is the only correct thing to know? Strange delusion, if so; yet quite a harmless one, we confess.
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Mr. King must be aware that of late years immense additions have been made to western knowledge of eastern philosophies and religions—a new region in ancient literature having, in fact, been opened up by the labours of Orientalists, both European and Eastern. A study of these Oriental systems throws a strong though often a false light upon the inner meaning of Gnostic symbolism and ideas generally, which Mr. King acknowledges to have come from Indian sources; and certainly the reader has a right to expect a little more knowledge in that direction from a writer of Mr. King’s pretensions, than is displayed. For example, in the section about Buddhism in the work before us: one is tempted sometimes to ask whether it is flippancy or superficiality that is the matter with the author—when he calls the ancient Indian gymnosophists “fakirs,” and confounds them with Buddhists. Surely he need hardly be told that fakirs are Mahomedans, and that the Gymnosophists he mentions were Brahmin Yogis.
The work, however, is a valuable one in its way; but the reader should not forget that “there seems reason for suspecting” that the author does not always know exactly what he is talking about, whenever he strays too far from Archæology, on which he is no doubt an authority.
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THE JEWISH WORLD enters bravely enough (in its issue of the 11th November 1887) on its new character of professor of symbology and History. It accuses in no measured terms one of the editors of LUCIFER of ignorance; and criticises certain expressions used in our October number, in a foot-note inserted to explain why the “Son of the Morning” LUCIFER is called in Mr. G. Massey’s little poem, “Lady of Light.” The writer objects, we see, to Lucifer-Venus being called in one of its aspects “the Jewish Astoreth;” or to her having ever been offered cakes by the Jews. As explained in a somewhat confused sentence: “There _was no Jewish Astoreth_, though the Syrian goddess, Ashtoreth, or Astarte, often appears in Biblical literature, the moon goddess, the complement of Baal, the Sun God.”
This, no doubt, is extremely learned and conveys quite _new_ information. Yet such an astounding statement as that the whole of the foot-note in LUCIFER is “pure imagination and bad history” is very risky indeed. For it requires no more than a stroke or two of our pen to make the whole edifice of this denial tumble on the _Jewish World_ and mangle it very badly. Our contemporary has evidently forgotten the wise proverb that bids one to let “sleeping dogs lie,” and therefore, it is with the lofty airs of superiority that he informs his readers that though the Jews in Palestine lived surrounded with (? _sic_) this pagan form of worship, and _may, at times_, (?!) have wandered towards it, they HAD NOTHING IN THEIR WORSHIP IN COMMON WITH CHALDEAN OR SYRIAN BELIEFS IN MULTIPLICITY OF DEITIES? (!!)
This is what any impartial reader might really term “bad history,” and every Bible worshipper describe as a _direct lie_ given to the Lord God of Israel. It is more than _suppressio veri suggestio falsi_, for it is simply a cool denial of facts in the face of both Bible and History. We advise our critic of the _Jewish World_ to turn to _his_ own prophets, to Jeremiah, foremost of all. We open “Scripture” and find in it: “the Lord God” while accusing _his_ “backsliding Israel and treacherous Judah” of following in “the ways of Egypt and of Assyria,” of drinking the waters of Sihor, and “serving strange Gods” enumerating his grievances in this wise:
“According _to the number of thy cities_ are thy gods, O Judah, (Jer. ii. 28.).
“Ye have turned back to the iniquities of your forefathers who went after other gods to serve them (xi.) ... _according to the number of the streets of Jerusalem_ have ye set up altars to that shameful thing, even altars unto Baal” (_Ib._).
So much for Jewish _monotheism_. And is it any more “pure imagination” to say that the Jews offered cakes to their Astoreth and called her “Queen of Heaven”? Then the “Lord God” must, indeed, be guilty of more than “a delicate expansion of facts” when thundering to, and through, Jeremiah:—
“Seest thou not what they do in the cities of Judah, and in the streets of Jerusalem? The children gather wood, and the fathers kindle the fire, and the women knead their dough TO MAKE CAKES _to the Queen of Heaven_, and to pour out drink offerings _unto the gods_.” (Jer. vii. 17-18).
“The Jews _may_ AT TIMES” only (?) have wandered towards pagan forms of worship but “had _nothing in common_ in it with Syrian beliefs in multiplicity of deities.” Had they not? Then the ancestors of the editors of the _Jewish World_ must have been the victims of “suggestion,” when, snubbing Jeremiah (and not entirely without good reason),they declared to him:
“As for the word that thou hast spoken unto us in the name of the Lord, we will not hearken unto thee. But we will certainly do whatsoever thing goeth forth out of our own mouth, to burn incense unto the Queen of Heaven[123] ... _as we have done, we_, AND OUR FATHERS, _our kings, and our princes, in the cities of Judah, and in the streets of Jerusalem_, for _then_ had we plenty of victuals, and were well, and saw no evil. But _since we left off to burn incense to the Queen of Heaven_, and to _pour out drink offerings unto her_ ... and (_to_) _make her cakes to worship her ... we have wanted all things_, and have been consumed by the sword and by the famine....” (Jer. xliv. 16, 17, 18, 19).
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Footnote 123:
Astoreth-Diana, Isis, Melita, Venus, etc., etc.
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Thus, according to their own confession, it is not “at times” that the Jews made cakes for, and worshipped Astoreth and the strange gods, but constantly: doing, moreover, _as their forefathers_, kings and princes _did_.
“_Bad_ history”? And what was the “golden calf” but the sacred heifer, the symbol of the “Great Mother,” first the planet Venus, and then the moon? For the esoteric doctrine holds (as the Mexicans held) that Venus, the morning star, was _created before the sun and moon; metaphorically_, of course, not astronomically,[124] the assumption being based upon, and meaning that which the _Nazars_ and the Initiate alone understood among the Jews, but that the writers of the _Jewish World_ are not supposed to know. For the same reason the Chaldeans maintained that the moon was produced before the sun (_see Babylon—Account of Creation, by George Smith_). The morning star, Lucifer-Venus was dedicated to that Great Mother symbolized by the heifer or the “Golden Calf.” For, as says Mr. G. Massey in his lecture on “The Hebrews and their Creations,” “This (the Golden Calf) being of either sex, it supplied a twin-type for Venus, as Hathor or Ishtar (Astoreth), the double star, that was male at rising, and female at sunset” She is the “Celestial Aphrodite,” _Venus Victrix_ νιχηφόρος associated with _Ares_ (see Pausanias i, 8, 4, 11, 25, 1).
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Footnote 124:
Because the stars and planets are the symbols and houses of Angels and Elohim, who were, of course, “created,” or evoluted before the physical or cosmic sun or moon. “The sun god was called the child of the moon god Sin, in Assyria, and the lunar god Taht, is called the father of Osiris, the sun god ‘in Egypt.’” (G. Massey.)
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We are told that “happily for them (the Jews) there was no Jewish Astoreth.” The _Jewish World_ has yet to learn, we see, that there would have been no Greek Venus Aphrodite; no _Ourania_, her earlier appellation; nor would she have been confounded with the Assyrian Mylitta (Herod, 1, 199; Pausan., 1, 14, 7; Hesiod, Μυληταν την Ουρανιαν Ασσυριοι) had it not been for the Phœnicians and other Semites. We say the “Jewish Astoreth,” and we maintain what we say, on the authority of the Iliad, the Odyssey, of Renan, and many others. Venus Aphrodite is one with the Astarte, Astoreth, etc. of the Phœnicians, and she is one (as a planet) with “Lucifer” the “Morning Star.” So far back as the days of Homer, she was confounded with _Kypris_, an Oriental goddess brought by the Phœnician Semites from their Asiatic travels (_Iliad_, V, 330, 422, 260). Her worship appears first at Cythere, a Phœnician settlement depôt or trade-establishment (_Odys._, VIII. 362.; Walcker, _griech. götterl._ I, 666.) Herodotus shows that the sanctuary of Ascalon, in Syria, was the most ancient of the fanes of Aphrodite Ourania (I, 105): and Decharme tells us in his _Mythologie de la Grèce Antique_, that whenever the Greeks alluded to the origin of Aphrodite they designated her as _Ourania_, an epithet translated from a _semitic word_, as Jupiter _Epouranios_ of the Phœnician inscriptions, was the _Samemroum_ of Philo of Byblos, according to Renan (_Mission de Phenicie_). Astoreth was a goddess of generation, presiding at human birth (as Jehovah was _god of generation_, foremost of all). She was the moon-goddess, and a planet at the same time, whose worship originated with the Phœnicians and Semites. It flourished most in the Phœnician settlements and colonies in Sicily, at Eryax. There hosts of _Hetairae_ were attached to her temples, as hosts of _Kadeshim_, called by a more sincere name in the Bible, were, to the house of the Lord, “where the women wove hangings for the grove” (II. Kings, xxiii, 7). All this shows well the Semitic provenance of Astoreth-Venus in her capacity of “great Mother.” Let us pause. We advise sincerely the _Jewish World_ to abstain from throwing stones at other peoples’ beliefs, so long as its own faith is but a house of glass. And though Jeremy Taylor may think that “to be proud of one’s learning is the greatest ignorance,” yet, in this case it is but simple justice to say that it is really desirable for our friends the Jews that the writer in LUCIFER of the criticised note about Astoreth _should know less_ of history and the Bible, and her unlucky critic in the _Jewish World_ learn a little more about it.
“ADVERSARY.”
=THEOSOPHICAL= <br> =AND MYSTIC PUBLICATIONS=
THE THEOSOPHIST for October opens with the first of a series of articles on the “Elohistic Cosmogony.” The views put forward by the writer are certainly both striking and original, and, although Dr. Pratt diverges very considerably from the recognised standard of kabalistic orthodoxy, his interpretation of the Jewish version of cosmic evolution will assuredly excite considerable interest.
Following on Dr. Pratt’s learned article, come a few—unfortunately, too few—pages of extremely interesting notes on the Folk-lore of the Himalayan tribes, contributed by Captain Banon. The _Theosophist_ has often been indebted to Captain Banon for similar notes respecting such little known tribes and people; and it is much to be regretted that the many members of the Theosophical Society who reside in or visit such out-of-the-way places, do not make it a rule to collect these traditions and send them for publication in the _Theosophist_ or one of the other Theosophical magazines.
Dr. Hartmann continues his series of “Rosicrucian Letters,” with a number of extracts from the papers of Karl von Eckartshausen, who died in 1792. Dr. Hartmann deserves the gratitude of all students for rendering accessible these records and notes of past generations of “seekers after the Truth.”
Dr. Buck contributes a pithy and thoughtful article on “The Soul Problem,” and Mr. Lazarus continues his exposition of the kabalistic doctrine of the Microcosm. Besides these there are further instalments of two valuable translations from Hindu works of great antiquity and authority; the “Crest Jewel of Wisdom,” by Sankaracharya and the “Kaivalyanita.” It is much to be desired that one of our Hindu brothers, who adds to a knowledge of his own mystic literature, an acquaintance with Western modes of thought and expression, would devote a series of articles to the exposition of the fundamental standpoint and ideas of such works as these. Such an article would add enormously to the value of these translations to the Western world.
In the _November_ number, Dr. Pratt takes up the _Jehovistic_ cosmogony, which he contrasts and compares with the _Elohistic_ version already referred to. In his view, the Jehovistic teaching embodies the conception of the world as “created” and “ruled” by an _extra-natural_ and _personal_ deity, as opposed to the more philosophical and pantheistic conception of the earlier Elohistic writers.
Under the title of _An Ancient Weapon_, this issue contains an instructive account of the evocation of certain astral forces according to the ancient Vedic rites. As here described, the _evil intention_, with which the rite is performed, transforms it into a ceremony of _Black Magic_, but this does not render the account any less valuable.
This is followed by the first of a series of articles on _The Allegory of the Zoroastrian Cosmogony_, which promises to furnish much food for thought and study.
_Rosicrucian Letters_ contains this time an extract from an old MS., headed _The Temple of Solomon_, which is well worthy of careful attention.
Besides these we have a sketch of the life and writings of Madvachary, the great teacher of Southern India, and some further testimonies to the fact of “self-levitation” from eye-witnesses. Rama Prasad gives some most valuable details of the “Science of Breathing,” one of the most curious branches of occult physics, while the remainder of the number is occupied by an article on “Tetragrammaton,” which may be interesting to students of the Kabbala, and continuations of the “Kabbala and the Microcosm,” and of the translations from Indian books mentioned in connection with the October number.
These two numbers contain much valuable matter and well maintain the reputation which the _Theosophist_ originally gained for itself.
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In THE PATH for October we notice especially the following articles:
_Nature’s Scholar_, a most poetically-conceived and well-worked-out Idyll, by J. C. Ver Plank, in which the underlying occult truth is presented to the reader in a most attractive form.
Following this is a much needed warning against the dangers of _Astral Intoxication_. Admirably expressed, it points out the true, and indicates the false, path with great clearness; and we desire to call the earnest attention of such of our readers as are engaged in _psychic_ development to its importance.
“Pilgrim” contributes some further _Thoughts in Solitude_, the leading idea of which may be indicated by its concluding lines, which are quoted from Sir Philip Sydney of heroic fame:
“Then farewell, World! thy uttermost I see, Eternal Love, maintain thy life in me!”
_Tea-Table Talk_ is even more interesting and suggestive than usual, and, besides those above mentioned, this well-filled number contains
## Part IV. of the series of articles on _The Poetry of Re-incarnation
in Western Literature_, which deals with the _Platonic Poets_.
The _November_ number opens with an able continuation of Mr. Brehon’s article on _The Bhagavat-Gita_, commenced so long ago as last April, of which we hope to peruse a further instalment. Following this is a short article indicating the term “Medium” from the loathsome connotations which phenomenal spiritualism has attached to it. We then come to a paper on Goethe’s _Faust_, read before one of the branches of the Theosophical Society in America. It is of great interest to students of literature and will furnish a clue to the real meaning of much of the poet’s writing.
Mr. Johnston makes some most suggestive remarks on _Cain and Abel_; Harij speaks in no uncertain tones of _Personalities_ and Truth, while Hadji Erinn points out the _Path of Action_, and warns the members of the T. S. that they must not expect their road to become easier and plainer before them, while yet the society is undergoing the trials of its education.
Zadok gives some able answers to questions on various points of practical occultism and Julius, in _Tea-Table Talk_, points out how many people are really entering on the path of Theosophy—even though unconsciously.
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LE LOTUS, for October and November, is even more interesting than usual. In the October number are contained two very valuable articles. The first of these is a paper on Paracelsus from the pen of Dr. Hartmann, who is especially qualified to handle the subject by his profound study of the work, and especially the manuscripts, of that great occultist. M. “Papus” contributes a most lucid and able exposition of some Kabbalistic doctrines, the _practical_ value of which has been hitherto but little realised even by professed students of mysticism.
The opening article in the November issue is headed, _The Constitution of the Microcosm_. It is written in a clear and attractive style, and contains a most thorough and complete explanation of the various classifications of the principles which enter into the constitution of man.
“Amaravella” has evidently studied the whole subject very deeply, and he shows the relation of these various classifications to one another in a way which will clear up many of the misconceptions which have arisen.
M. “Papus” writes on Alchemy in a manner which shows how conversant he is with this little-understood topic. We therefore look forward with great anticipations to the perusal of his book “_Traité élémentaire de science occulte_,” the fourth chapter of which contains the article referred to.
It is very evident that Theosophy is making great and rapid progress in France, and this is in great measure due to the untiring and unselfish devotion of the editor of _Le Lotus_, M. Gaboriau, whom we congratulate most warmly on the success which has attended his efforts.
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_L’Aurore_ for October contains an article on the so-called “Star of Bethlehem,” which repeats the assurance that the world is entering on a new and happier life-phase.
Unfortunately, it seems more than probable that before this amelioration takes place, the world must pass through the valley of the shadow of Death, and endure calamities far worse than any it has yet seen. Lady Caithness continues her erudite and interesting article on the lost ten tribes of Israel. Her thesis is put forward in admirable language, and supported by a great wealth of biblical quotations. Unfortunately, the task undertaken is an impossible one. There never were twelve tribes of Israel—two only—Judah and the Levites, having had a real existence in the flesh. The remainder are but euhemerizations of the signs of the Zodiac, and were introduced because they were necessary to the Kabalistic scheme on which the “History” of the Jews was written.
Lady Barrogill relates the well-known story of an English bishop and the ghost of a Catholic priest, who haunted his former residence in order to secure the destruction of some notes he had taken (contrary to the rule of the Church) of an important confession which he had heard.
Besides these articles we find the continuation of the serial romance, “L’amour Immortel,” and LUCIFER has to thank the editor for the appreciative notice contained in this number.
LUCIFER
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VOL. I. LONDON, JANUARY 15TH, 1888. NO. 5.
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=1888.=
People usually wish that their friends shall have a happy new year, and sometimes “prosperous” is added to “happy.” It is not likely that much happiness or prosperity can come to those who are living for the truth under such a dark number as 1888; but still the year is heralded by the glorious star Venus-Lucifer, shining so resplendently that it has been mistaken for that still rarer visitor, the star of Bethlehem. This too, is at hand; and surely something of the Christos spirit must be born upon earth under such conditions. Even if happiness and prosperity are absent, it is possible to find something greater than either in this coming year. Venus-Lucifer is the sponsor of our magazine, and as we chose to come to light under its auspices, so do we desire to touch on its nobility. This is possible for us all personally, and instead of wishing our readers a happy or prosperous New Year, we feel more in the vein to pray them to make it one worthy of its brilliant herald. This can be effected by those who are courageous and resolute. Thoreau pointed out that there are artists in life, persons who can change the colour of a day and make it beautiful to those with whom they come in contact. We claim that there are adepts, masters in life who make it divine, as in all other arts. Is it not the greatest art of all, this which affects the very atmosphere in which we live? That it is the most important is seen at once, when we remember that every person who draws the breath of life affects the mental and moral atmosphere of the world, and helps to colour the day for those about him. Those who do not help to elevate the thoughts and lives of others must of necessity either paralyse them by indifference, or actively drag them down. When this point is reached, then the art of life is converted into the science of death; we see the black magician at work. And no one can be quite inactive. Although many bad books and pictures are produced, still not everyone who is incapable of writing or painting well insists on doing so badly. Imagine the result if they were to! Yet so it is in life. Everyone lives, and thinks, and speaks. If all our readers who have any sympathy with LUCIFER endeavoured to learn the art of making life not only beautiful but divine, and vowed no longer to be hampered by disbelief in the possibility of this miracle, but to commence the Herculean task at once, then 1888, however unlucky a year, would have been fitly ushered in by the gleaming star. Neither happiness nor prosperity are always the best of bedfellows for such undeveloped mortals as most of us are; they seldom bring with them peace, which is the only permanent joy. The idea of peace is usually connected with the close of life and a religious state of mind. That kind of peace will however generally be found to contain the element of expectation. The pleasures of this world have been surrendered, and the soul waits contentedly in expectation of the pleasures of the next. The peace of the philosophic mind is very different from this and can be attained to early in life when pleasure has scarcely been tasted, as well as when it has been fully drunk of. The American Transcendentalists discovered that life could be made a sublime thing without any assistance from circumstances or outside sources of pleasure and prosperity. Of course this had been discovered many times before, and Emerson only took up again the cry raised by Epictetus. But every man has to discover this fact freshly for himself, and when once he has realised it he knows that he would be a wretch if he did not endeavour to make the possibility a reality in his own life. The stoic became sublime because he recognised his own absolute responsibility and did not try to evade it; the Transcendentalist was even more, because he had faith in the unknown and untried possibilities which lay within himself. The occultist fully recognises the responsibility and claims his title by having both tried and acquired knowledge of his own possibilities. The Theosophist who is at all in earnest, sees his responsibility and endeavours to find knowledge, living, in the meantime, up to the highest standard of which he is aware. To all such LUCIFER gives greeting! Man’s life is in his own hands, his fate is ordered by himself. Why then should not 1888 be a year of greater spiritual development than any we have lived through? It depends on ourselves to make it so. This is an actual fact, not a religious sentiment. In a garden of sunflowers every flower turns towards the light. Why not so with us?
And let no one imagine that it is a mere fancy, the attaching of importance to the birth of the year. The earth passes through its definite phases and man with it; and as a day can be coloured so can a year. The astral life of the earth is young and strong between Christmas and Easter. Those who form their wishes now will have added strength to fulfil them consistently.
TO THE MORNING STAR.
Lucifer, Lucifer Son of the Morning, Trembling and fair on the opening skies, Heralding, truly, a day that is dawning, Telling the “Light of the World” shall arise.
Lucifer, Lucifer, all through the Ages Weary hearts struggled and watched for the light, Now it is coming, and thou the forerunner, Mystical prophet, the herald of Right.
There in the desert of Night where thou dwellest, Round thee in myriads the feebler lights stand; Lucifer, Lucifer, ever thou tellest The glorious Kingdom of Right is at hand.
Rising and setting, O, Star of the Morning! Strangely prophetic, thou atom of light; Revealing in silence the law of creation. Out from the unseen abyss of the night,
Into a world where the stars, sympathetic, Seem to be fraught with a pulsating breath; Brilliant, yet shining like tear-drops pathetic, But sinking at last in oblivion of death!
Sinking, but wrapped in the shroud of the Morning, Folded in splendour as light shall arise; Lucifer, herald of Truth that is dawning, Ride through thy glorious pathway, the skies!
Soon in the east, with a splendour triumphant, Morning shall break like a great altar-fire, Ignorance, darkness, and gross superstition, Shall melt in its beams, and in silence expire!
HELEN FAGG.
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.... “THE faith that you call sacred—‘sacred as the most delicate or manly or womanly sentiment of love and honour’—is the faith that nearly all of your fellow men are to be lost. Ought an honest man to be restrained from denouncing that faith because those who entertain it say that their feelings are hurt? You say to me: ‘There is a hell. A man advocating the opinions you advocate will go there when he dies.’ I answer: ‘There is no hell, the Bible that teaches it is not true.’ And you say: ‘How can you hurt my feelings?’”—R. G. INGERSOLL.—_Secular Review._
“TO THE READERS OF ‘LUCIFER.’”
Our magazine is only four numbers old, and already its young life is full of cares and trouble. This is all as it should be; _i.e._, like every other publication, it must fail to satisfy _all_ its readers, and this is only in the nature of things and the destiny of every printed organ. But what seems a little strange in a country of culture and freethought is that LUCIFER should receive such a number of _anonymous_, spiteful, and often abusive letters. This, of course, is but a casual remark, the waste-basket in the office being the only addressee and sufferer in this case; yet it suggests strange truths with regard to human nature.[125]
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Footnote 125:
“VERBUM SAP.” It is not our intention to notice anonymous communications, even though they should emanate in a round-about way from Lambeth Palace. The matter “_Verbum Sap_” refers to is not one of taste; the facts must be held responsible for the offence; and, as the Scripture hath it, “Woe to them by whom the offence cometh!”
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Sincerity is true wisdom, it appears, only to the mind of the moral philosopher. It is rudeness and insult to him who regards dissimulation and deceit as culture and politeness, and holds that the shortest, easiest, and safest way to success is to let sleeping dogs and old customs alone. But, if the dogs are obstructing the highway to progress and truth, and Society will, as a rule, reject the wise words of (St.) Augustine, who recommends that “no man should prefer custom before reason and truth,” is it a sufficient cause for the philanthropist to walk out of, or even deviate from, the track of truth, because the selfish egoist chooses to do so? Very true, as remarked somewhere by Sir Thomas Browne that not every man is a proper champion for the truth, nor fit to take up the gauntlet in its cause. Too many of such defenders are apt, from inconsideration and too much zeal, to charge the troops of error so rashly that they “remain themselves as trophies to the enemies of truth.” Nor ought all of us (members of the Theosophical Society) to do so personally, but rather leave it only to those among our numbers who have voluntarily and beforehand sacrificed their personalities for the cause of Truth. Thus teaches us one of the Masters of Wisdom in some fragments of advice which are published further on for the benefit of the Theosophists (see the article that follows this). While enforcing upon such public characters in our ranks as editors, and lecturers, etc., the duty of telling fearlessly “the Truth to the face of LIE,” he yet condemns the habit of private judgment and criticism in every individual Theosophist.
Unfortunately, these are not the ways of the public and readers. Since our journal is entirely unsectarian, since it is neither theistic nor atheistic, Pagan nor Christian, orthodox nor heterodox, therefore, its editors discover eternal verities in the most opposite religious systems and modes of thought. Thus LUCIFER fails to give full satisfaction to either infidel or Christian. In the sight of the former—whether he be an Agnostic, a Secularist, or an Idealist—to find divine or occult lore underlying “the rubbish” in the Jewish Bible and Christian Gospels is sickening; in the opinion of the latter, to recognise the same truth as in the Judeo-Christian Scriptures in the Hindu, Parsi, Buddhist, or Egyptian religious literature, is vexation of spirit and blasphemy. Hence, fierce criticism from both sides, sneers and abuse. Each party would have us on its own sectarian side, recognising as truth, only that which its particular _ism_ does.
But this cannot nor shall it be. Our motto was from the first, and ever shall be: “THERE IS NO RELIGION HIGHER THAN—TRUTH.” Truth we search for, and, once found, we bring it forward before the world, whencesoever it comes. A large majority of our readers is fully satisfied with this our policy, and that is plainly sufficient for our purposes.
It is evident that when toleration is not the outcome of indifference it must arise from wide-spreading charity and large-minded sympathy. Intolerance is preeminently the consequence of ignorance and jealousy. He who fondly believes that he has got the great ocean in his family water-jug is naturally intolerant of his neighbour, who also is pleased to imagine that he has poured the broad expanses of the sea of truth into his own particular pitcher. But anyone who, like the Theosophists knows how infinite is that ocean of eternal wisdom, to be fathomed by no one man, class, or party, and realizes how little the largest vessel made by man contains in comparison to what lies dormant and still unperceived in its dark, bottomless depths, cannot help but be tolerant. For he sees that others have filled their little water-jugs at the same great reservoir in which he has dipped his own, and if the water in the various pitchers seems different to the eye, it can only be because it is discoloured by impurities that were in the vessel before the pure crystalline element—a portion of the one eternal and immutable truth—entered into it.
There is, and can be, but one absolute truth in Kosmos. And little as we, with our present limitations, can understand it in its essence, we still know that if it is absolute it must also be omnipresent and universal; and that in such case, it must be underlying every world-religion—the product of the thought and knowledge of numberless generations of thinking men. Therefore, that a portion of truth, great or small, is found in every religious and philosophical system, and that if we would find it, we have to search for it at the origin and source of every such system, at its roots and first growth, not in its later overgrowth of sects and dogmatism. Our object is not to destroy any religion but rather to help to filter each, thus ridding them of their respective impurities. In this we are opposed by all those who maintain, against evidence, that their particular pitcher alone contains the whole ocean. How is our great work to be done if we are to be impeded and harassed on every side by partisans and zealots? It would be already half accomplished were the intelligent men, at least, of every sect and system, to feel and to confess that the little wee bit of truth they themselves own must necessarily be mingled with error, and that their neighbours' mistakes are, like their own, mixed with truth.
Free discussion, temperate, candid, undefiled by personalities and animosity, is, we think, the most efficacious means of getting rid of error and bringing out the underlying truth; and this applies to publications as well as to persons. It is open to a magazine to be tolerant or intolerant; it is open to it to err in almost every way in which an individual can err; and since every publication of the kind has a responsibility such as falls to the lot of few individuals, it behoves it to be ever on its guard, so that it may advance without fear and without reproach. All this is true in a special degree in the case of a theosophical publication, and LUCIFER feels that it would be unworthy of that designation were it not true to the profession of the broadest tolerance and catholicity, even while pointing out to its brothers and neighbours the errors which they indulge in and follow. While thus keeping strictly, in its editorials, and in articles by its individual editors, to the spirit and teachings of pure theosophy, it nevertheless frequently gives room to articles and letters which diverge widely from the esoteric teachings accepted by the editors, as also by the majority of theosophists. Readers, therefore, who are accustomed to find in magazines and party publications only such opinions and arguments as the editor believes to be unmistakably orthodox—from his peculiar standpoint—must not condemn any article in LUCIFER with which they are not entirely in accord, or in which expressions are used that may be offensive from a sectarian or a _prudish_ point of view, on the ground that such are unfitted for a theosophical magazine. They should remember that precisely because LUCIFER is a theosophical magazine, it opens its columns to writers whose views of life and things may not only slightly differ from its own, but even be diametrically opposed to the opinion of the editors. The object of the latter is to elicit truth, not to advance the interest of any particular _ism_, or to pander to any hobbies, likes or dislikes, of any class of readers. It is only snobs and prigs who, disregarding the truth or error of the idea, cavil and strain merely over the expressions and words it is couched in. Theosophy, if meaning anything, means truth; and truth has to deal indiscriminately and in the same spirit of impartiality with vessels of honour and of dishonour alike. No theosophical publication would ever dream of adopting the coarse—or shall we say terribly sincere—language of a Hosea or a Jeremiah; yet so long as those holy prophets are found in the Christian Bible, and the Bible is in every respectable, pious family, whether aristocratic or plebeian; and so long as the Bible is read with bowed head and in all reverence by young, innocent maidens and school-boys, why should our Christian critics fall foul of any phrase which may have to be used—if truth be spoken at all—in an occasional article upon a scientific subject? It is to be feared that the same sentences now found objectionable, because referring to Biblical subjects, would be loudly praised and applauded had they been directed against any gentile system of faith (_Vide certain missionary organs_). A little charity, gentle readers—charity, and above all—_fairness_ and JUSTICE.
Justice demands that when the reader comes across an article in this magazine which does not immediately approve itself to his mind by chiming in with his own peculiar ideas, he should regard it as a problem to solve rather than as a mere subject of criticism. Let him endeavour to learn the lesson which only opinions differing from his own can teach him. _Let him be tolerant, if not actually charitable_, and postpone his judgment till he extracts from the article the truth it must contain, adding this new acquisition to his store. One ever learns more from one’s enemies than from one’s friends; and it is only when the reader has credited this hidden truth to LUCIFER, that he can fairly presume to put what he believes to be the errors of the article, he does not like, to the debit account.
[Illustration: decorative]
ADAPTATIONS.
We have been asked to give permission for Mr. Gerald Massey’s lines on LUCIFER, Lady of Light, to be “adapted” and sung to the “Lord Jesus Christ” in a chapel. This is flattering for both parties concerned. The editors have no objection, but Mr. Massey is obdurate enough to refuse his permission and sufficiently unfeeling to have called the pretty “adaptation” a PARODY. The “Lady of Light” was to have run in this wise:—
“Star of the Day and the Night, Star of the Dark that is dying, Star of the Dawn that is nighing, Jesu, our Saviour, our Light!” etc.
But how truly appropriate it would be if Mr. Massey’s lines on Shakspeare were also “adapted” and applied to the Lord Buddha.
“FOR HIM NO MARTYR-FIRES HAVE BLAZED, NO RACK BEEN USED, NOR SCAFFOLDS RAISED; FOR HIM NO LIFE WAS EVER SHED TO MAKE THE CONQUEROR’S PATHWAY RED. OUR PRINCE OF PEACE IN GLORY HATH GONE, WITHOUT A SINGLE SWORD BEING DRAWN; WITHOUT ONE BATTLE-FLAG UNFURLED, TO MAKE HIS CONQUEST OF OUR WORLD. AND FOR ALL TIME HE WEARS HIS CROWN OF LASTING, LIMITLESS, RENOWN; HE REIGNS WHATEVER MONARCHS FALL, HIS THRONE IS AT THE HEART OF ALL.”
SOME WORDS ON DAILY LIFE.
(_Written by a Master of Wisdom._)
“It is divine philosophy alone, the spiritual and psychic blending of man with nature, which, by revealing the fundamental truths that lie hidden under the objects of sense and perception, can promote a spirit of unity and harmony in spite of the great diversities of conflicting creeds. Theosophy, therefore, expects and demands from the Fellows of the Society a great mutual toleration and charity for each other’s shortcomings, ungrudging mutual help in the search for truths in every department of nature—moral and physical. And this ethical standard must be unflinchingly applied to daily life.
“Theosophy should not represent merely a collection of moral verities, a bundle of metaphysical ethics, epitomized in theoretical dissertations. Theosophy _must be made practical_; and it has, therefore, to be disencumbered of useless digressions, in the sense of desultory orations and fine talk. Let every Theosophist only do his duty, that which he can and ought to do, and very soon the sum of human misery, within and around the areas of every Branch of your Society, will be found visibly diminished. Forget SELF in working for others—and the task will become an easy and a light one for you....
“Do not set your pride in the appreciation and acknowledgment of that work by others. Why should any member of the Theosophical Society, striving to become a Theosophist, put any value upon his neighbours’ good or bad opinion of himself and his work, so long as he himself knows it to be useful and beneficent to other people? Human praise and enthusiasm are short-lived at best; the laugh of the scoffer and the condemnation of the indifferent looker-on are sure to follow, and generally to out-weigh the admiring praise of the friendly. Do not despise the opinion of the world, nor provoke it uselessly to unjust criticism. Remain rather as indifferent to the abuse as to the praise of those who can never know you as you really are, and who ought, therefore, to find you unmoved by either, and ever placing the approval or condemnation of your own _Inner Self_ higher than that of the multitudes.
“Those of you who would know yourselves in the spirit of truth, learn to live alone even amidst the great crowds which may sometimes surround you. Seek communion and intercourse only with the God within your own soul; heed only the praise or blame of that deity which can never be separated from your _true_ self, _as it is verily that God itself_: called the HIGHER CONSCIOUSNESS. Put without delay your good intentions into practice, never leaving a single one to remain only an intention—expecting, meanwhile, neither reward nor even acknowledgment for the good you may have done. Reward and acknowledgment are in yourself and inseparable from you, as it is your Inner Self alone which can appreciate them at their true degree and value. For each one of you contains within the precincts of his inner tabernacle the Supreme Court—prosecutor, defence, jury and judge—whose sentence is the only one without appeal; since none can know you better than you do yourself, when once you have learned to judge that Self by the never wavering light of the inner divinity—your higher CONSCIOUSNESS. Let, therefore, the masses, which can never know your true selves, condemn your outer selves according to their own false lights....
“The majority of the public Areopagus is generally composed of self-appointed judges, who have never made a permanent deity of any idol save their own personalities—their lower selves; for those who try in their walk in life, to follow their _inner light_ will never be found judging, far less condemning, those weaker than themselves. What does it matter then, whether the former condemn or praise, whether they humble you or exalt you on a pinnacle? They will never comprehend you one way or the other. They may make an idol of you, so long as they imagine you a faithful mirror of themselves on the pedestal or altar which they have reared for you, and while you amuse or benefit them. You cannot expect to be anything for them but a temporary _fetish_, succeeding another fetish just overthrown, and followed in your turn by another idol. Let, therefore, those who have created that idol destroy it whenever they like, casting it down with as little cause as they had for setting it up. Your Western Society can no more live without its Khalif of an hour than it can worship one for any longer period; and whenever it breaks an idol and then besmears it with mud, it is not the model, but the disfigured image created by its own foul fancy and which it has endowed with its own vices, that Society dethrones and breaks.
“Theosophy can only find objective expression in an all-embracing code of life, thoroughly impregnated with the spirit of mutual tolerance, charity, and brotherly love. Its Society, as a body, has a task before it which, unless performed with the utmost discretion, will cause the world of the indifferent and the selfish to rise up in arms against it. Theosophy has to fight intolerance, prejudice, ignorance, and selfishness, hidden under the mantle of hypocrisy. It has to throw all the light it can from the torch of Truth, with which its servants are entrusted. It must do this without fear or hesitation, dreading neither reproof nor condemnation. Theosophy, through its mouthpiece, the Society, has to tell the TRUTH to the very face of LIE; to beard the tiger in its den, without thought or fear of evil consequences, and to set at defiance calumny and threats. _As an Association_, it has not only the right, but the duty to uncloak vice and do its best to redress wrongs, whether through the voice of its chosen lecturers or the printed word of its journals and publications—making its accusations, however, as impersonal as possible. But its Fellows, or Members, have _individually_ no such right. Its followers have, first of all, to set the example of a firmly outlined and as firmly applied morality, before they obtain the right to point out, even in a spirit of kindness, the absence of a like ethic unity and singleness of purpose in other associations or individuals. No Theosophist should blame a brother, whether within or outside of the association; neither may he throw a slur upon another’s actions or denounce him, lest he himself lose the right to be considered a Theosophist. For, as such, he has to turn away his gaze from the imperfections of his neighbour, and centre rather his attention upon his own shortcomings, in order to correct them and become wiser. Let him not show the disparity between claim and action in another, but, whether in the case of a brother, a neighbour, or simply a fellow man, let him rather ever help one weaker than himself on the arduous walk of life.
“The problem of true Theosophy and its great mission are, first, the working out of clear unequivocal conceptions of ethic ideas and duties, such as shall best and most fully satisfy the right and altruistic feelings in men; and second, the modelling of these conceptions for their adaptation into such forms of daily life, as shall offer a field where they may be applied with most equitableness.
“Such is the common work placed before all who are willing to act on these principles. It is a laborious task, and will require strenuous and persevering exertion; but it must lead you insensibly to progress, and leave you no room for any selfish aspirations outside the limits traced.... Do not indulge personally in unbrotherly comparison between the task accomplished by yourself and the work left undone by your neighbours or brothers. In the fields of Theosophy _none is held to weed out a larger plot of ground than his strength and capacity will permit him_. Do not be too severe on the merits or demerits of one who seeks admission among your ranks, as the truth about the actual state of the inner man can only be known to Karma, and can be dealt with justly by that all-seeing LAW alone. Even the simple presence amidst you of a well-intentioned and sympathising individual may help you magnetically.... You are the free volunteer workers on the fields of Truth, and as such must leave no obstruction on the paths leading to that field.
. . . . . . . . .
“_The degree of success or failure are the landmarks the masters have to follow, as they will constitute the barriers placed with your own hands between yourselves and those whom you have asked to be your teachers. The nearer your approach to the goal contemplated—the shorter the distance between the student and the Master._”
=THE BLOSSOM AND THE FRUIT=:
_THE TRUE STORY OF A MAGICIAN_.
(_Continued._)
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BY MABEL COLLINS.
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## CHAPTER VII.
The cloud lifted to reveal Fleta’s face. She was bending over him; she was at his side; she was almost leaning her face on his.
“My dear, my dear,” she said in a soft whispering voice, “has the blow been too great? Tell me, Hilary, speak to me? Have you still your senses?”
“And you love that man?” was Hilary’s sole answer, fixing his eyes in a cold strange gaze on her.
“Oh! Hilary, you talk of what is unknown to you! I love him, yes, and with a love so profound it is unimaginable to you.”
“And you tell me this! You tell this to the man who loves you, and who has already devoted his whole life to you! Do you want a madman for your service?”
“A life!” exclaimed Fleta, with a strange tone that had a ring as of scorn in it. “What is a life? I count it nothing. Our great aims lie beyond such considerations.”
Hilary raised himself and looked into her face.
“Then you are mad,” he said, “and if so, a madman in your service is but fit. Nevertheless, my Princess, do not forget with what forces you have to contend. I am but a man; you have accepted my love. Only just now you have made me a murderer at heart—in desire. How soon shall I be one in reality? That depends on you, Fleta. The next time I see your gaze fixed on that man’s face as I saw it but now I will kill him.”
Fleta rose to her full height and lifted her face to the sky; as she stood there a sort of shiver passed through her, a shiver as of pain. Instantly Hilary’s humour changed. “You are ill,” he exclaimed. She turned her eyes on him.
“When that murderous mood is on you, it will not be Father Ivan that you kill, but me, whom you profess to love. Do you understand that?”
“Ah!” cried Hilary, uttering a sound as if his heart was bursting under the torture, “that is because you love him so! Well, I can only long and serve. I have no power to protest. Yet I ask you, oh! Princess, is it fit to use a man’s heart to play at your queenly coquetries with? A king, your betrothed—a mysterious priest, the man you love—are not these enough but that you must take a boy, obscure and untaught in such misfortunes, and trample on his love? It is unlike the nobility I have seen in you. Good-bye, for this, Princess! I am never your lover again as I was before. I can never believe in your pure sweet heart—only this morning it seemed to me as a pearl, as a drop of limpid water. Good-bye, my idol! Yet I am your servant to obey always, for I gave you my life to do with as you would. Call me, and I come, like your dog; but I will not stay by you, for no longer is it anything but pain to do so.”
With these wild, fierce reproaches, which seemed to stir the quiet air of the woodland, and make it seethe and burn with passion and despair, he turned and went from her. Fleta stood motionless, and her eyes drooped heavily; only she murmured, “We were born under the same star!”
Her voice was very low, yet it reached Hilary’s ear. The words seemed to lash his heart.
“Under the same star!” he repeated, in a voice of agony, standing suddenly still. “No, Fleta. You are the queen, I the subject. Not only so, but you know it, and use your power to the full. Did you not promise yourself utterly to me to be mine?”
“I promised to give you my love for yours; I promised to give you all that you can take of me. My love is greater than you can even imagine, else I would not have listened to one word of your reproaches. They have humbled me, but I have borne it.”
“Ah, Fleta! you talk enigmas,” exclaimed Hilary, moving rapidly back to her side; “you are enough to madden a man; yet I cannot but love you. Why is this? Every act of yours proves you heartless, faithless, and yet I love you! Why is this? Oh, that I could read the riddle of your existence! Who are you?—What is this mysterious place?—Who is that priest whose rule you acknowledge? I _will_ know!”
Fleta turned on him a sudden sweet smile, that seemed to light up his inner being as the flame of a lamp illumines a dusky room.
“Yes,” she said, “find out. I cannot tell you, yet I desire you—oh! indeed, I desire you to know. Compel the secret—force it. Yes, yes, Hilary!”
She spoke eagerly, with a bright ring in her voice that thrilled his soul. He forgot the Princess, the conspirator, the religieuse—he only remembered the girl he loved—young, fresh, flower-like, with the fair sweet face close to his own. With an unutterable cry of love he held out his arms to her.
“Oh, my dear, my love, come!” he said, in trembling tones that vibrated with his passion. But Fleta turned away without a word and walked through the tall ferns, her robe trailing on the ground. No backward glance, no turn of the head, not even a movement of those white statuesque hands which hung at her sides. In one was a long grass which she had plucked before she came to him. Even that, though it fluttered in the wind, had a strangely stiff air, as if it had become a part of that statue which but a moment since was a woman. Hilary stood gazing after this retreating figure, powerless to move, powerless to rouse in his mind any thought but one; and that was not a thought. It was knowledge—consciousness. He knew, he felt, that he dared not follow Fleta and address her as men address the women they love; he dared not woo her with the fever on his lips that burned there. And why? Not because of her royal birth, or her beauty, or her power. He knew not why—he could not understand himself. It was as though a spell were cast on him that held him silent and motionless.
When at last she was out of sight a sudden reaction took place. The whole burning force of the strong young man’s nature broke loose and raged wildly through his whole system; he no longer was capable of thought, he only felt the blood that rushed to his head and made his brain reel as though he had drunk strong wine. He suddenly became aware that he had aged, grown, become a new creature in these last moments of experience. He had called himself a man five minutes ago; but now he knew that when he had uttered those words, he was only a boy. Across a great gulf of feeling he looked back at the love that was in him when he had so spoken. Now his passion burned like a fire on the altar of life; every instant the flames grew stronger and mounted more fiercely to his inflamed brain.
The savage had burst forth. The savage untamed man, which smoulders within, and hides behind the cultivated faces of a gentle age. One strong touch on the chord of passion, and Hilary Estanol, a chivalric and courteous product of a refined time, knew himself to be a man, and knew that man to be a savage. A savage, full of desire, of personal longing, thinking of nothing but his own needs. And to Hilary this sudden starting forth of the nature within him seemed like a splendid unfolding. He remained standing, erect, strong, resolute. His seething mind hastily went over his whole position and Fleta’s. Everything suddenly bore a new, vivid, stirring aspect.
“This is a nest of conspirators!” he exclaimed to himself. “That man, Ivan, is a conspirator or worse, else he would not hide here. What crowned head is it that he threatens? He is a criminal. I will discover his secret; I will rescue Fleta from him; by the strength of my love I will win her love from him; I will make her my own. Come, I must calm myself—I must be sober, for I have to find out the meaning of this mysterious place.”
He walked slowly through the wood, trying to still the throbbing in his brain, to check the fierce pulsations of his heart and blood. He knew that now he needed all his instincts, all his natural intelligence, all his power of defence; for, in his present humour, he walked as an enemy to all men; by his new tide of feeling he had made every man his enemy. The young King Otto had a prior right to the Fleta whom he desired to make his own; King Otto was indeed his enemy. Ivan had her love; how bitterly did Hilary hate that priest! And Adine, the false Fleta—what was she but a mere tool of the priest’s, a creature used to baffle and blind him? She was the one most likely to trip his steps, for she defied even the knowledge which his love gave him of Fleta’s face!
He was full of energy and activity, and his blood desired to be stilled by action. He had quickly decided that he must immediately do two things: inspect the whole exterior of the house, so as to get some notion of what rooms were in it, and what their uses; and explore the outer circle of the grounds, to see if there was any difficulty about leaving them. As the latter task involved most exercise, he chose to undertake it first, and swiftly, with long strides, made his way through the woodlands in the direction where the boundaries must lie. It did not take him long to traverse a considerable distance; for he felt stronger than ever in his life before. He had been a delicate lad, now he knew himself to be a strong man, as if new blood ran in his veins. The moon was high in the heavens, it was nearly full, and its light was strong. By it he soon discovered that the strange place in which he was had a more cunning and effective defence than any high wall or iron barrier. It was surrounded by tangled virgin woodland growth, where, as it seemed, no man’s foot could have ever trodden.
Hilary found it hard to believe that such wild land existed within a drive of the city. But it was there, and there was no passing through it, unless he worked his way with a wood-axe, inch by inch, as men do when they make a clearing. Such a task was hopeless, even if he had the tools, for it was impossible to tell in what direction to move.
He returned at last, after many fruitless efforts; there seemed to be no vestige of a path. He had discovered the gate by which their entrance had been made; and discovered also that it was guarded. A figure moved slowly to and fro in the shadow of the trees; not with the air of one strolling for pleasure, but with the regular movements of a sentry. It was an unfamiliar figure, but dressed in the garb of the order.
Hilary went quietly along by the side of the path that led to the house. It was useless to waste more time on this investigation; quite clearly he was a prisoner. And it seemed to him equally clear that unless he could escape, no information would be of any use to him. He must be able to carry it to the city, where he would be free to take it to Fleta’s father, or even to other crowned heads in other countries, according to its nature. As he walked quietly on, revolving his position, he saw that the task he had set himself was no light one, even for a strong man possessed by love. These monks belonged to an extraordinarily powerful order, and were men of great ability.
Here he was, in the very heart of one of their secret centres, which was, presumably, political. Fleta and King Otto were under their influence. And they were magicians; very certain he felt that they knew some of Nature’s secrets, and had trained Fleta in her mysterious powers. And from this hidden and carefully guarded place he was determined to escape, taking with him its secret—and Fleta! Fleta, his love, his own, yet whom he had to win by his strength.
## CHAPTER VIII.
In the long corridor through which Fleta had led Hilary to Father Ivan’s room there was another door, which was fastened in a very different manner. It was held in its place by iron clamps which would puzzle the beholder, for they fastened on the outside as though they secured the door of a prison instead of being any protection for the inhabitant of the room beyond. It was inside this door that Fleta was now lying down to rest for the night. Had Hilary known this what agony would have torn him! He would have felt that he must break those bars and release the prisoner within them, however supernatural the strength might be which would be needed. He was spared the sharp pain of knowing this, however, and he was not likely to learn it, for a strange sentinel patrolled the long corridor with even step—Father Ivan himself. Without any pause he went steadily to and fro.
It was about midnight that Father Ivan went into his room and glanced at a clock on the chimney-piece; not quite midnight, but very nearly. Hilary was lying awake in his room, tossing to and fro on a very luxurious and tempting bed, which gave him, however, no hope of rest. He had wandered round and round the house a dozen times, only to find himself bewildered by its strange shape, and the shrubberies which grew up close to the walls, and disheartened by the solid barricading of those windows which it was easy to approach. And yet at last he found a window wide open, and a room brightly lit; a lamp stood on the table and showed the pleasant room, well-furnished, and with a bed in it, dressed in fine linen and soft laces such as perhaps only members of an ascetic order know how to offer to their guests. Hilary stood a moment on the threshold, and then suddenly recognised it as his own room. It gave him an odd feeling, this, as if he had been watched and arranged for; treated like a prisoner. Well, it was useless to evade that dark fact—a prisoner he was. Recognising defeat for the moment, Hilary determined to accept it as gracefully as might be. He entered, closed his window and the strong shutters which folded over it, and then quickly laid himself down with intent to sleep. But sleep would not come, and he found all his thoughts and all his interest centred on Father Ivan. He tried to prevent this but could not; he chased Fleta’s image in vain—he could scarcely remember her beautiful face! What was its shape and colour? He tortured himself in trying to recall the face he loved so dearly. But always Father Ivan’s figure was before his eyes; and suddenly it struck him that this vision was almost real, for he saw Ivan raise his hand in a commanding gesture which seemed to be directed towards himself. A moment later and he fell fast asleep, like a tired child. At this moment Ivan was standing in his own room, looking for an instant at the clock. He stood, perhaps, a little longer than was needed in order to see the time; and a frown came on his fine clear forehead which drew the arched eyebrows together. Then he turned quickly, left his room, and closed its door behind him. He went to the door which was so strongly barred, and noiselessly loosened its fastenings, which swung heavily yet quite softly away from it. He opened the door and went in.
In a sort of curtained recess was a low divan, which quite filled it, rising hardly a foot from the ground. This was covered with great rugs made of bear and wolf skin. Fleta lay stretched upon them, wrapped in a long cloak of some thick white material, which was bordered all round with white fur, and, indeed, lined with it, too. And yet when Ivan stooped and touched her hand it was cold as ice.
“Come,” he said; and turning, went slowly away from her. Fleta rose and followed him. Her eyes were half-closed, and had something of the appearance of a sleep-walker’s, and yet not altogether, for though they appeared dim and unseeing yet there was purpose, and consciousness, and resolution in them. No one who had not seen Fleta before in this state could have recognised those eyes, so set and strange were they. Ivan approached a large curtained archway, and drawing the curtain aside he motioned to Fleta to pass through. As she did so he touched one of her hands, as it hung at her side. Immediately she raised it, and throwing the cloak aside showed that she held a white silk mask. Her dress beneath the cloak was of white silk. Slowly she raised the mask to her face and was about to put it on when a change of state came so suddenly upon her that it was like a tropical tornado. She opened her starry eyes wide and vivid light flashed from them; she flung the mask away upon the floor and clasped her hands violently together, while her whole frame shook with emotion.
“Why must I mask myself?” she exclaimed. “You have not told me why.”
“I have,” said Ivan, very quietly. “No woman has ever entered there till now.”
“What then?” cried Fleta, fiercely. “There is no shame in being a woman! Have I not assailed that door in vain in a different character? Now, a woman, I demand entrance. Master, I will not disguise myself.”
“Be it so,” said Ivan, “yet take the mask with you lest your mood should change again. You were willing, you remember, but a while since.”
Fleta stood motionless regarding the mask as it lay on the floor. Then she lifted her head suddenly and looked Ivan straight in the eyes.
“I will cast my sex from me, and mask my womanhood without any such help as that.”
Immediately that she had spoken Ivan walked on. They were in a long corridor, lit, and with the walls faintly coloured in pale pink on which shone some silver stars. Yet, bright though it was, this corridor seemed strangely solemn. Why was it so? Fleta looked from side to side, and could not discover. There was something new to her which she did not understand. Though she had been instructed in so many of the mysteries, and so much of the knowledge of the order, she had never entered this corridor, nor indeed had she before known of its existence. They slowly neared the end of it where was a high door made of oak, and seemingly very solidly fastened; but Father Ivan opened it easily enough.
“My God!” cried Fleta instantly, in a low voice of deep amazement. “Where am I? What country am I in? Father, was that corridor a magic place? This is no longer my own country! How far have you carried me in this short time?”
“A long way my daughter; come, do not delay.”
A vast plain, prairie-like, stretched before them, encircled on the right by the narrowing end of a huge arm of mountains which disappeared upon the far horizon. Upon the plain was one spot, was one place, where a livid flame-like light burned, and could be seen, though the whole scene was bathed in strong moonlight. Ivan commenced to rapidly take his way down a steep path which lay before them. And then Fleta became aware that they were themselves upon a height and had to descend into the plain. She did not look back; all her thoughts were centred on that vivid light which she now saw came from the windows of a great building. Then she suddenly saw that a number of persons were in the plain; although it was so large yet there were enough people to look like a crowd, which was gathering together from different directions. All were approaching the building.
“Father,” she said to Ivan, who was leading the way rapidly. “Will they go in?”
“Into the Temple? Those on the plain? Indeed no. They are outside worshippers; that crowd is in the world and of it, and yet has courage to come here often when there is no light, and the icy winds blow keen across the plain.”
“And they never enter. Why, my master, they can have no strength.”
Ivan glanced back for an instant, a curious look in his eyes.
“It is not always strength that is needed,” he said in a low voice. Fleta did not seem to hear him; her eyes were fixed on the temple windows. Suddenly she stopped and cried out:
“Is this a dream?”
“You are not asleep,” said Ivan with a smile.
“Asleep! no,” she answered, and went on her way with increased rapidity.
Very soon they stood on the plain and advanced with great speed towards the temple. Fleta was naturally hardy; but now it seemed to her that the very idea of fatigue was absurd. She could scale mountains in order to reach that light. And yet what was it in it that drew her so? None but herself could have told. But Fleta’s heart beat passionately with longing at the sight of it. Ivan turned on her a glance of compassion.
“Keep quiet,” he said.
He was answered with a look and tone of fervour.
“Yes: if it is in human power,” she replied.
The great crowds were slowly gathering towards the temple and formed themselves into masses of silent and scarcely moving figures. Fleta was now among them and though so absorbed by the idea of the goal before her, she was attracted by the strange appearance of these people. They were of all ages and nationalities, but more than two-thirds of them were men; they one and all had the appearance of sleep-walkers, seeming perfectly unconscious of the scene in which they moved and of their object in reaching it. Their whole nature was turned inwards; so it appeared to Fleta. Why then had they come to this strange place, so difficult of access, if when come they could neither see nor hear? Fleta considered these things rapidly in her mind and would again have asked an explanation of Father Ivan but that while her steps slackened a little, his had hastened. He had already reached the door of the temple—when Fleta reached it he was not there. Of course he had entered, and Fleta, without fear or hesitation, put her hand on the great bar which held the door and lifted it. It was not difficult to lift; it seemed to yield to her touch, and swung back smoothly. With a slight push the great door opened a little before her—not wide; only as far as she had pushed it. Ah! there was the light! There, in her eyes! It was like life and joy to Fleta. She turned her eyes up to gaze on it, and stood an instant with her hands clasped, in ecstacy.
Someone brushed lightly by, and, passing her, went straight in. That reminded her that she, too, desired to go straight in. She nerved herself for the supreme effort. For she was learned enough to know that only the initiate in her faith could enter that door; and she had not, in any outward form, passed the initiation. But she believed she had passed it in her soul; she had tested her emotions on every side and found the world was nothing to her; she had flung her mask away believing her woman’s shape and face to be the merest outward appearance, which would be unseen at the great moment. And now it hardly seemed as if she were a woman—she stood transfigured by the nobility of her aspirations—and some who stood on the step outside remained there awestruck by her majestic beauty. By a supreme effort she resolved to face all—and to conquer all. She boldly entered the door and went up the white marble steps within it. A great hall was before her, flooded with the clear, soft light she loved; an innumerable number of objects presented themselves to her amazed eyes, but she did not pause to look at them—she guessed that the walls were jewelled from their sparkling—she guessed that the floor was covered with flowers, which lay on a polished silver surface, from the gleaming and the colour—and who were these, the figures in silver dresses with a jewel like an eye that saw, clasped at the neck? A number came towards her. She would not allow herself to feel too exultant—she tried to steady herself—and yet joy came wildly into her heart, for she felt that she was already one of this august company. But their faces, as they gathered nearer, were all strange and unfamiliar. She looked from one to another.
“Where is Ivan?” she murmured.
Suddenly all was changed. The white figures grew in numbers till there seemed thousands—with outstretched hands they pushed Fleta down the steps—down, down, down, resist how she might. She did more! She fought, she battled, she cried aloud, first for justice, then for pity. But there was no relenting, no softening in these superhuman faces. Fleta fled at last from their overpowering numbers and inexorable cruelty, and then there came a great cry of voices, all uttering the same words;
“You love him! Go!”
Fleta fell, stunned and broken, at the foot of the outer step, and the great door closed behind her. But she was not unconscious for more than a few minutes. She opened her eyes and looked at the starry sky. Then she felt suddenly that she could not endure even that light and that the stars were reading her soul. She rose and hurried away, blindly following in any path that her feet found. It did not take her to any familiar place. She found herself in a dark wood. The moss was soft and fragrant and violets scented it. She lay down upon it, drawing her white cloak round her and hiding her eyes from the light.
## CHAPTER IX.
It seemed to her that for long ages she was alone. Her mind achieved great strides of thought which at another time would have appeared impossible to her. She saw before her clearly her own folly, her own mistake. Yesterday she would not have credited it—yesterday it would have been unmeaning to her. But now she understood it, and understood too how heavy and terrible was her punishment; for it was already upon her. She lay helpless, her eyes shut, her whole body nerveless. Her punishment was here. She had lost all hope, all faith.
A gentle touch on her hand roused her consciousness, but she was too indifferent to open her eyes. It mattered little to her what or who was near her. The battle of her soul was now the only real thing in life to her.
A voice that seemed strangely familiar fell on her ears; yet last time she had heard it it was loud, fierce, arrogant; now it was tender and soft, and full of an overwhelming wonder and pity.
“You, Princess Fleta, here? My God! what can have happened? Surely she is not dead? No! What is it, then?”
Fleta slowly opened her eyes. It was Hilary who knelt beside her; she was lying on the dewy grass, and Hilary knelt there, the morning sun shining on his head and lighting up his beautiful boy’s face. And Fleta as she lay and looked dully at him felt herself to be immeasurably older than he was; to be possessed of knowledge and experience which seemed immense by his ignorance. And yet she lay here, nerveless, hopeless.
“What is it?” again asked Hilary, growing momently more distressed.
“Do you want to know?” she said gently, and yet with an accent of pity that was almost contempt in her tone. “You would not understand.”
“Oh, tell me!” said Hilary. “I love you—let me serve you!”
She hardly seemed to hear his words, but his voice of entreaty made her go on speaking in answer:
“I have tried,” she said, “and failed.”
“Tried what?” exclaimed Hilary, “and how failed? Oh, my Princess, I believe these devils of priests have given you some fever—you do not know what you are saying!”
“I know very well,” replied Fleta; “I am in no fever. I am all but dead—that is no strange thing, for I am stricken.” Hilary looked at her as she lay, and saw that her words were true. How strange a figure she looked, lying there so immovably, as if crushed or dead, upon the dewy grass; wrapped in her white robes. And her face was white with a terrible whiteness; the great eyes looked out from the white face with a sad, smileless gaze; and would those pale drawn lips never smile again? Was the radiant, brilliant Fleta changed for ever into this paralysed white creature? Hilary knew that even if it was so he loved her more passionately and devotedly than before. His soul yearned towards her.
“Tell me, explain to me, what has done this?” he cried out, growing almost incoherent in his passionate distress. “I demand to know by my love for you. What have you tried to do in this awful past night?”
Fleta opened her eyes, the lids of which had drooped heavily, and looked straight into his as she answered:
“I have tried for the Mark of the White Brotherhood. I have tried to pass the first initiation of the Great Order. I did not dream I could fail, for I have passed through many initiations which men regard with fear. But I have failed.”
“I cannot believe,” said Hilary, “that you could fail in anything. You are—dreaming—you are feverish. Let me lift you, let me carry you into the house.”
“Yes, I have failed,” answered Fleta dully; “failed, because I had not measured the strength of my humanity. It is in me—in me still! I am the same as any other woman in this land. I, who thought myself supreme—I, who thought myself capable of great deeds! Ah, Hilary, the first simple lesson is yet unlearned. I have failed because I loved—because I love like any other fond and foolish woman! And yet no spark of any part of love but devotion is in my soul. That is too gross. Is it possible to purge even that away? Yes, those of the White Brotherhood have done it. I will do it even if it take me a thousand years, a dozen lifetimes!”
She had raised herself from the ground as she spoke, for a new fierce passion had taken the place of the dull despair in her manner; she had raised herself to her feet, and then unable to stand had fallen on to her knees. Hilary listened yet hardly heard; only some of her words hurried into his mind. He bent down till his face touched her white cloak where it lay on the grass, and kissed it a dozen times.
“You have failed because of love? Oh, my Princess, then it is not failure! Men live for love, men die for love! It is the golden power of life. Oh, my Princess, let me take you from this terrible place—come back with me to the world where men and women know love to be the one great joy for which all else is well lost. Fleta, while I doubted that you loved me I was as wax; but now that I know you do, and with a love so great that it has power to check the career of your soul, now I am strong, I am able to do all that a strong man can do. Come, let me raise you and take you away from here to a place of peace and delight!”
He had risen to his feet and stood before her, looking magnificent in the morning sunshine. He was slight of build, yet that slightness was really indicative of strength; when Hilary Estanol had been effeminate it was because he had not cared to be anything else. He stood grandly now, his hands stretched towards her; a man, lofty, transformed by the power of love. Fleta looking at him saw in his brilliant eyes the gleam of the conquering savage. She rose suddenly and confronted him.
“You are mistaken,” she said abruptly. “It is not you that I love.”
Then, as suddenly as Fleta had moved and spoken, the man before her vanished, with his nobility, and left the savage only, unvarnished, unhumanised.
“My God,” gasped Hilary, almost breathless from the sudden blow, “then it is that accursed priest?”
“Yes,” answered Fleta, her eyes on his, her voice dull, her whole form like that of a statue, so emotionless did she seem, “it is that accursed priest.”
She moved away from him and looked about her. The spot was familiar. She was in the woodland about the monastery. She could find her way home now without difficulty. And yet how weak she was, and how hard it was to take each footstep! After moving a few paces she stood still and tried to rouse herself, tried to use her powerful will.
“Where are my servants?” she said in a low voice. “Where are those who do my bidding?”
She closed her eyes, and standing there in the sunlight, used all her power to call the forces into action which she had learned to control. For she was a sufficiently learned magician to be the mistress of some of the secrets of Nature. But now it seemed she was helpless—her old powers were gone. A low, bitter cry of anguish escaped from her lips as she realised this awful fact. Hilary, terrified by the strange sound of her voice, hastily approached her and looked into her face. Those dark eyes, once so full of power, were now full of an agony such as one sees in the eyes of a hunted and dying creature. Yet Fleta did not faint or fail, or cling to the strong man who stood by her side. After a moment she spoke, with a faint yet steady voice.
“Do you know the way to the gate?” she asked.
“Yes,” replied Hilary; who indeed had but recently explored the whole demesne.
“Take my hand,” she said, “and lead me there.”
She used her natural power of royal command now; feeble though she was, she was the princess. Hilary did not dream of disobeying her. He took the cold and lifeless hand she extended to him, and led her as quickly as was possible over the grass, through the trees and flowering shrubs, to the gateway. As they neared it she spoke:
“You are to go back to the city,” she said. “Do not ask why—you must go; yet I will tell you this—it is for your own safety. I have lost my power—I can no longer protect you, and there are both angels and devils in this place. I have lost all! all! And I have no right to risk your sanity as well as my own. You must go.”
“And leave you here?” said Hilary, bewildered.
“I am safe,” she answered proudly. “No power in heaven or earth can hurt me now, for I have cast my all on one stake. Know this, Hilary, before we part; I shall never yield or surrender. I shall cast out that love that kills me from my heart—I shall enter the White Brotherhood. And, Hilary, you too will enter it. But, oh! not yet! Bitter lessons have you yet to learn! Good-bye, my brother.”
The sentinel who guarded the gate now approached them in his walk; Fleta moved quickly towards him. After a few words had passed between them he blew a shrill, fine whistle. Then he approached Hilary.
“Come,” he said, “I will show you the way for some distance and will then obtain you a horse and a guide to the city.”
Hilary did not hesitate in obeying Fleta’s commands; he knew he must go. But he turned to look once more into her mysterious face. She was no longer there. He bowed his head, and silently followed the monk through the gate into the outer freedom of the forest.
Fleta meantime crept back to the house through the shelter of the trees. Her figure looked like that of an aged woman, for she was bowed almost double and her limbs trembled as she moved. She did not go to the centre door of the house, but approached a window which opened to the ground and now stood wide. It was the window of Fleta’s own room; she hurried towards it with feeble, uncertain steps. “Rest! Rest! I must rest!” she kept murmuring to herself. But on the very threshold she stumbled and fell. Someone came immediately to her and tried to raise her. It was Father Ivan. Fleta disengaged herself, tremblingly yet resolutely. She rose with difficulty to her feet and gazed very earnestly into his face.
“And you knew why I should fail?” she said.
“Yes,” he answered, “I knew. You are not strong enough to stand alone amid the spirit of humanity. I knew you clung to me. Well have you suffered from it. I know that very soon you will stand alone.”
“Of what use would that mask have been?” demanded Fleta, pursuing her own thoughts.
“None. If you had obeyed me and worn it you would have been of so craven a spirit you could never have reached the temple, never have seen the White Brotherhood. You have done these things, which are more than any other woman has accomplished.”
“I will do yet more,” said Fleta. “I will be one of them.”
“Be it so,” answered Ivan. “To do so you must suffer as no woman has yet had strength to suffer. The humanity in you must be crushed out as we crush a viper beneath our feet.”
“It shall be. I may die, but I will not pause. Good-bye, my master. As I am a queen in the world of men and women, so you are king in the world of soul, and to you I have done homage; that homage they call love. It is so, perhaps. I am blind yet, and know not. But no more may you be my king. I am alone, and all knowledge I gain I must now gain myself.”
Ivan bowed his head as if in obedience to an unanswerable decree, and in a moment had walked away among the trees. Fleta watched him stonily till he was out of sight, then dragged herself within the window to fall helplessly upon the ground, shaken by sobs and strong shudders of despair.
---
## CHAPTER X.
It was late in the day before Fleta again came out of her room. She seemed to have recovered her natural manner and appearance; and yet there was a change in her which anyone who knew her well must see. She had not been into the general rooms, or greeted the other guests; nor did she do so now. Her face was full of resolution, but she was calm, at all events externally. Without going near the guest rooms or the great entrance hall, she made her way round the house to where a very small door stood almost hidden in an angle of the wall. It was such a door as might lead to the cellars of a house, and when Hilary had explored the night before he had scarcely noticed it. But it was exceedingly solid and well fastened. Fleta gave a peculiar knock upon it with a fan which she carried in her hand. It was immediately opened, and Father Amyot appeared.
“Do you want me?” he asked.
“Yes; I want you to go on an errand for me.”
“Where am I to go?”
“I do not know; probably you will know. I must speak to one of the White Brotherhood.”
Amyot’s face clouded and he looked doubtfully at her.
“What is there you can ask that Ivan cannot answer?”
“Does it matter to you?” said Fleta imperiously. “You are my messenger, that is all.”
“You cannot command me as before,” said Father Amyot.
“What! do you know that I have failed? Does all the world know it?”
“The world?” echoed Amyot, contemptuously. “No; but all the Brotherhood does, and all its servants do. No one has told me, but I know it.”
“Of course,” said Fleta to herself. “I am foolish.” She turned away and walked up and down on the grass, apparently buried in deep thought. Presently she raised her head suddenly, and quickly moved towards Amyot, who still stood motionless in the dim shadow of the little doorway. She fixed her eyes on him; they were blazing with an intense fire. Her whole attitude was one of command.
“Go,” she said.
Father Amyot stood but for a moment; and then he came out slowly from the doorway, shutting it behind him.
“You have picked up a lost treasure,” he said. “You have found your will again. I obey. Have you told me all your command?”
“Yes. I must speak to one of the White Brothers. What more can I say? I do not know one from another. Only be quick!”
Instantly Amyot strode away over the grass and disappeared. Fleta moved slowly away, thinking so deeply that she did not know any one was near her till a hand was put gently on her arm. She looked up, and saw before her the young king, Otto.
“Have you been ill,” he asked, looking closely into her face.
“No,” she answered. “I have only been living fast—a century of experience in a single night! Shall I talk to you about it, my friend?”
“I think not,” answered Otto, who now was walking quietly by her side. “I may not readily understand you. I am anxious above all to advance slowly and grasp each truth as it comes to me. I have been talking a long time to-day to Father Ivan; and I feel that I cannot yet understand the doctrines of the order except as interpreted through religion.”
“Through religion?” said Fleta. “But that is a mere externality.”
“True, and intellectually I see that. But I am not strong enough to stand without any external form to cling to. The precepts of religion, the duty of each towards humanity, the principle of sacrifice one for another, these things I can understand. Beyond that I cannot yet go. Are you disappointed with me?”
“No, indeed,” answered Fleta. “Why should I be.”
Otto gave a slight sigh as of relief. “I feared you might be,” he answered; “but I preferred to be honest. I am ready, Fleta, to be a member of the order, a devout member of the external Brotherhood. How far does that place me from you who claim a place among the wise ones of the inner Brotherhood.”
Fleta looked at him very seriously and gravely.
“I claim it,” she said; “but is it mine? Yet I will win it, Otto; even at the uttermost price, I will make it mine.”
“And at what cost?” said Otto. “What is that uttermost price?”
“I think,” she said slowly, “I already feel what it is. I must learn to live in the plain as contentedly as on the mountain tops. I have hungered to leave my place in the world, to go to those haunts where only a few great ones of the earth dwell, and from them learn the secret of how to finally escape from the life of earth altogether. That has been my dream, Otto, put into simple words; the old dream of the Rosicrucian and those hungerers after the occult who have always haunted the world like ghosts, unsatisfied, homeless. Because I am a strong-willed creature, because I have learned how to use my will, because I have been taught a few tricks of magic I fancied myself fitted to be one of the White Brotherhood. Well, it is not so. I have failed. I shall be your queen, Otto.”
The young king turned on her a sudden look full of mingled emotions. “Is that to be, Fleta? Then may I be worthy of your companionship.”
Fleta had spoken bitterly, though not ungently. Otto’s reply had been in a strange tone, that had exultation, reverence, gladness, in it; but not any of the passion which is called love. A coquette would have been provoked by a manner so entirely that of friendship.
“Otto,” said Fleta, after a moment’s pause, during which they had walked on side by side. “I am going to test your generosity. Will you leave me now?”
“My generosity?” exclaimed Otto. “How is it possible for you to address me in that way?” Without any further word of explanation he turned on his heel and walked quickly away. Fleta understood his meaning very well; she smiled softly as she looked for a moment after him. Then, as he vanished, her whole face changed, her whole expression of attitude, too. For a little while she stood quite still, seemingly wrapt in thought. Then steadily and swiftly she began to move across the grass and afterwards to thread her way through the trees. Having once commenced to move, she seemed to have no hesitation as to the direction in which she was going. And, indeed, if you had been able to ask her how she knew what path to take, she would have answered that it was very easy to know. For she was guided by a direct call from Amyot, as plainly heard as any human voice, though audible only to her inner hearing. To Fleta, the consciousness of the double life—the spiritual and the natural—was a matter of constant experience, and, therefore, there was no need for the darkness of midnight to enable her to hear a voice from what ordinary men and women call the unseen world. To Fleta it was no more unseen than unheard. She saw at once, conquering time and space, the spot where she would find Father Amyot at the end of her rapid walk; and more, the state she would find him in. The sun streamed in its full power and splendour straight on the strange figure of the monk, lying rigidly upon the grass. Fleta stood beside him and looked down on his face, upturned to the sky. For a little while she did nothing, but stood there with a frown upon her forehead and her dark eyes full of fierce and changing feeling. Amyot was in one of his profound trances, when, though not dead, yet he was as one dead.
“Already my difficulties crowd around me,” exclaimed Fleta aloud. “What folly shall I unknowingly commit next? My poor servant—dare I even try to restore you—or will Nature be a safer friend?”
Full of doubt and hesitation, she turned slowly away and began to pace up and down the grass beside the figure of the priest. Presently she became aware that she was not alone—some one was near her. She started and turned quickly. Ivan stood but a pace from her, and his eyes were fixed very earnestly upon her.
He was not dressed as a priest, but wore a simple hunting dress, such as an ordinary sportsman or the king incognito might wear. Simple it was, and made of coarse materials; but its easy make showed a magnificent figure which the monkish robes had disguised. His face had on it a deep and almost pathetic seriousness; and yet it was so handsome, so nobly cut, and made so brilliant by the deep blue eyes, which were bluer than their wont now, even in the full blaze of the sun—that in fact as a man merely, here stood one who might make any woman’s heart, queen or no queen, beat fiercely with admiration. Fleta had never seen him like this before; to her he had always been the master, the adept in mysterious knowledge, the recluse who hid his love of solitude under a monkish veil. This was Ivan! Young, superb, a man who must be loved. Fleta stood still and silent, answering the gaze of those questioning, serious blue eyes, with the purposeful, rebellious look which was just now burning in her own. The two stood facing each other for some moments, without speaking—without, as it seemed, desiring to speak. But in these moments of silence a measuring of strength was made. Fleta spoke first.
“Why have you come?” she demanded. “I did not desire your presence.”
“You have questions to ask which I alone can answer.”
“You are the one person who cannot answer them, for I cannot ask them of you.”
“It is of me that you must ask them,” was all Ivan’s reply. Then he added: “It is of me you have to learn these answers. Learn them by experience if you like, and blindly. If you care to speak, you shall be answered in words. This will spare you some pain, and save you years of wasted time. Are you too proud?”
There was a pause. Then Fleta replied deliberately:
“Yes, I am too proud.”
Ivan bowed his head and turned away. He stooped over Father Amyot, and taking a flask from his pocket, rubbed some liquid on the monk’s white and rigid lips.
“I forbid you,” said Ivan, “to use your power over Amyot again.”
“You forbid me?” repeated Fleta in a tone of profound amazement. Evidently this tone was entirely new to her.
“Yes, and you dare not disobey me. If you do, you will suffer instantly.”
Fleta looked the amazement which was evidently beyond her power to express in words. Ivan’s manner was cold, almost harsh. Never had he addressed her without gentleness before. Hastily she recovered herself, and without pausing to address to him any other word she turned away and went quickly through the trees and back to the house. Otto was standing at one of the windows; she went straight to him.
“I wish to go back to the city at once,” she said, “will you order my horses?”
“May I come with you?”
“No, but you may follow me to-morrow if you like.”
(_To be continued._)
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SPECULATION.
Man’s reasoning faith can outlive and can ride O’er countless speculations. Navies float On changeful waves, and for this ark-like boat Winds from all quarters, every swelling tide Will serve. By all the virgin spheres that glide Like timid guests across sky-floor we note Where lies the pole-star. Those who only quote Their compass, fail, and antique charts must slide To error, in this shifting sand of thought And _new-found science_, where sweet isles of palm And olive sink, that were as land-marks sought, While others rise from Ocean’s fertile bed. No storm, nor heat, nor cold I fear; my dread Is lest the ship should meet a death-like calm.
REVOLUTION.
Ah! wondrous happy rounding universe Where suns and moons alike as tears e’er mould Themselves to beauteous circles! He that rolled The planets, curved their paths; though seas immerse Both shattered ship and shell, naught _shall escape_ Th’ inevitable wheel that must restore The seeming lost. The potent buried lore Of saint and sage revives to melt and shape Our thoughts to comeliness, and souls that leave Earth’s shores float back as craft that cruising sails; Each blessed gift that hourly from us flies, God will rain down albeit in other guise;— And e’en the very dew-drop _noon exhales_ May find again the self-same rose at eve.
MARY W. GALE.
TWILIGHT VISIONS.
“At evening time there shall be light.” —ZECH. xiv., 7.
The day’s work done, I cast my pen aside And rose, with aching eye and troubled brain, Thinking how oft my fellow workers here Have suffered in the flesh for labours wrought In love to all mankind; and how the world Cares nought for words which teach not of itself; For to the world, itself is all in all, And nought outside it can the world conceive As real and true. And yet this earth must cease To be for ever to each mortal, when The Spirit casts off earth, and, in new life Will feel and know the world to be the vale Of deathly shadows compass’d round about With ignorance and error, sin and crime, With yearnings, longings, miseries, and griefs, And all that makes the “Breath of Lives” to seem As Angels wrestling with the powers of hell.
* * * *
A gentle Spirit with the twilight came And rested on my soul; then hope with peace, Long since to me as strangers, touched my heart, And, sitting at the organ, soft and sweet There streamed a flow of harmony, tho’ I Scarce seemed to touch the keys, yet simple hymns Called forth a train of Spirits bright and young, Amongst them saw I all that I had known And loved in days when life seem’d sweet to me. I was a child again, and saw myself As such—no aching eye—no troubled brain Had that young being who in faith and hope Sang songs of holiness, of peace and truth— There, resting on his Mother’s breast, with arms Clasped round her neck, with loving eyes that watched The loving face, whereon a parent’s smile Was ever present in the days now past, Now buried in the dust with former things.
* * * *
In saddened notes swelled forth “Thy will be done!” And then appeared a radiant spirit form Of one who, as a babe, was called away, From out this world of wretchedness and sin. An infant—which scarce breathed upon the earth Ere God, in His great mercy, took her home To dwell with Him, and she, an Angel bless’d, Now looks in pity on her parents here, A weeping witness of the vacant lives Which in the world their souls are forced to pass As, hung’ring for the love of One in heaven They stagger on from day to day in doubt— In misery, which none but they can know.
* * * *
Some cursed bonds can ne’er be snapped in twain, Save death or sin alone be brought to bear To shatter human customs hard and vile, And false and horrible as hell itself. For man exists in darkness, bound by laws Which curse and damn his very soul on earth; Mankind will not accept the Master’s words Or listen to His cry within the soul. And so the world in falsehood wanders on And dooms the inner Man of Light again To suffer crucifixion in the flesh; The Trinity—of Wisdom, Love and Truth— The Christ, is absent from this “Christian” World And ignorance with hatred lies and sin Reign rampant in their infidel abode.
* * * *
“Abide with me, fast falls the eventide.” O Lord! we suff’ring mortals here on earth Have nought but Thee, Thou Guide of all mankind To lead us in our wand’rings, and to turn Our falt’ring footsteps from the way of death; Thy Angels true are sent to fainting souls, And lovingly their voices soft are heard Peace! troubled hearts, hereafter all shall be Made up in heaven. Know that sufferings Are sent in love that we may minister, To all your needs, and bear you safely home To that good land ordained for all mankind— The kingdom bright—of happiness and love, Whereon your lives shall ever be a rest In one long summer day of light and joy. No mortal e’er can comprehend the peace Of God, which shall be yours, when, from the world Your glorious inner beings stand apart For ever! Soon shall you know all that we Would tell you now—yet hope and struggle on. “At evening time there shall be Light! and then— The Living Light shall lead you home to God, Home to the place which He hath made,—’tis yours For ever! We are sent to tell you this And by the Mighty One we do not lie!
* * * *
“O Glorious Angels of our Loving God! Pray tell us if this land, we fain would know, Contains the dear ones we have loved on earth? For what were heaven e’en to us, if we Could nevermore be all in all to those Who when on earth were all in all to us!” A voice replied—’twas one I oft have heard And learned to love with more than mortal love, “Look up, my own! and see me with thee now For ever on this earth. If then ’tis so, How canst thou think that I shall ever be Apart from thee in heav’n—the land of love Wherein alone life’s consummation finds A fullness in its own eternal self? For God is all—thus He is life and love And love eternal is the power that welds Each atom in the universal chain Of infinite expanse throughout the skies— Which ever shows to godly men on earth The Power of powers that reigneth over all!”
* * * *
Then in the gloom a glorious form appeared, And, standing by my side, it pressed its lips Upon the troubled brow which none could calm On earth, save she who was beside me then. And so an Angel from our loving God Came down to comfort, in the eventide— To show, by light of love, God’s holy truth, Which from the world—in darkness—hath been hid Because the world in darkness will exist, And, living thus, man sins against himself And so against his loving God of Life. The promised Light appeared at evening time, And by its living rays did I perceive— Mankind to wander on in sin and shame; Thus HELL prevails to-day where heaven should be....
WM. C. ELDON SERJEANT.
London, _6th December, 1887_.
ESOTERICISM OF THE CHRISTIAN DOGMA.
CREATION AS TAUGHT BY MOSES AND THE MAHATMAS.
BY THE ABBÉ ROCA (_Honorary Canon_).
[Extracts translated from the “LOTUS” _Revue des Hautes Etudes Theosophiques_. Journal of “Isis,” the French Branch of The Theosophical Society. December, 1887. Paris, George Carrés, 58, Rue St André des Arts.—VERBAL TRANSLATION.]