Henry T. Edge - Theosophical Articles

The Theosophical Forum January 1941
A RIGHT PHILOSOPHY H. T. Edge

Some people say they are so occupied with daily cares that they have no time for Theosophy.
But this is nonsense and shows that they have not grasped what Theosophy is. It is true that it
includes deep studies which demand much time; but apart from this, Theosophy is a way of
looking at life. However preoccupied we may be with the daily task, we cannot help thinking;
everybody has some philosophy of life, though he may not call it by that name; and surely it
is better to have a right philosophy which will help you to face life than a wrong one which
will make life more difficult. The advantage of Theosophy is that it explains the problems of
life instead of teaching doctrines that do not agree with our experience.
Take the question of the duality of human nature. That is a fact which everyone knows well
enough from his own experience, both in his own character and in the characters of his
associates. This fact cannot be explained away and must be faced; but if we can understand
the reason for it we shall be better able to grapple with it. Sometimes it has been called the
angel and the demon in man, or man's higher self and lower self.
We all know that our mind is a battle-ground of opposing forces those that make for peace
and happiness, and those that make for trouble. But what too many do not realize is that every
man has within him the power to determine his own destiny. We have in our nature
unfathomable depths, and this is a fact which not all the dogmas of science or religion can do
away with. Who has sounded the depths of human nature? Who dare set limits to the power
of the human spirit? This is a time when each man is called upon to stand on his own feet and
manfully assert the power of his own individuality against any doctrines which may teach
him that he is only an improved animal or that he is a helpless miserable sinner.
There are various movements of self-culture, New Thought, etc., which teach the calling
forth of our innate powers, but there is no definite body of scientific teachings behind.
Theosophy, with its teachings as to the sevenfold constitution of man, gives the clue to the
problem. Man is not a mere collection of instincts and desires and fancies; he is not merely an
improved animal; nor is he the plaything of indifferent cosmic forces, or a poor helpless
creature doomed by deity to play a sorry and incomprehensible part. Man is essentially a
divine being, a god dwelling in a tabernacle of clay. There are "humanist" movements, which
concentrate on making human nature the chief thing; and they are right so far, but they do not
know enough about human nature and its possibilities. The essential divinity of man, the
sevenfold nature of man, Reincarnation, the doctrine of Karman: these are some of the things
which must be understood if we are to understand human nature. And Theosophy explains
them all.
The Theosophical Forum

THEOSOPHICAL UNIVERSITY PRESS ONLINE
The Theosophical Forum July 1939
ABOUT THESE "HORMONES" H. T. Edge

What are "hormones'? Some mysterious and marvelous agent in our body, that we hear about.
According to an eminent man of science, the well-being of our body depends on the influence
of these things these chemicals or whatever they are. They are found in certain glands,
which pour them into the blood and thus produce various effects on our body and our health.
But here comes the serious difficulty: for the same man, in the same article, says that the
body manufactures these hormones. Now is not this very like saying that an engine
manufactures its own steam, or that a dynamo is driven by the current which it generates? We
are reminded of a joke in an old number of the London Punch. A rustic is contemplating the
newly-erected telegraph wires, and asks, "What be they postes for"? The answer is, "Why to
hold up the wires, of course." "Then what be the wires for"? "Why to hold up the postes,
certainly, Jarge." It is what the logicians call a "vicious circle."
The same thing was found in physics. What is a "force'? Force is what moves matter; also,
force is generated by matter in motion. Obviously there are two kinds of force: one which
sets matter in motion, and one which is generated when matter moves. The latter is the kind
that engineers use; the former is a subject of speculation.
Again, the same difficulty as regards "life." Does life drive the body, or does the body make
life? Is life the cause or the effect of our activity? Or are there two kinds of life, one driving
the body and the other generated by the body?
We know for a fact that our thoughts and emotions influence the production of hormones in
our body. So then, our thoughts produce hormones, and hormones drive the body; and this is
understandable; the hormones may be an intermediate link between mind and body. People
have speculated endlessly on how mind can act on matter, and have never been able to
imagine a connecting link between them. But as long as we begin by imagining mind and
matter to be separate, we shall never be able to explain how the one acts on the other. The
fact is they are not separate; mind and matter is an artificial distinction which we have made
for convenience, but the distinction is not real. The only real thing in nature is spirit-matter,
life. The most recent science has discovered that matter, when deeply probed, vanishes into
nothing but radiating centers of energy or fire or electricity. Our thought is a form of energy,
which transmutes itself into one form after another and finally manifests itself as physical or
bodily energy. Also, it is equally true to say that our thoughts are a form of matter, which
becomes denser until it is manifested as the matter of our body. Thus the thoughts and the
hormones and the bodily functions and tissues form a continuous chain.
There are action and interaction between mind and body; each influences the other. By
injecting hormones into the blood with a syringe, you can produce various effects on the body
and hence on the mind. But however useful this may be in emergencies, it is not to be
commended as a way of living. Thought comes first. Let us rule our thoughts by our will, and
the hormones will take care of themselves.
The Theosophical Forum August 1945
CARLYLE ON KARMA Henry T. Edge

The Beginning holds in it the End, and all that leads thereto, as the acorn does
the oak and its fortunes. There thou canst begin, the Beginning is for thee, but
where, and of what sort, and for whom will the end be? Carlyle, French
Revolution, III, 2
If you stand up a row of dominoes and push the end one, each one strikes the next until the
whole row lies flat. That is one idea of Karma, and this kind of Karma has an irreconcilable
quarrel with Freewill. But this is not the kind of Karma envisaged by the seer quoted above.
For him every act and thought is a seed, which, beginning as a scarce visible speck, may
spread to who knows what umbrageousness. Or it is a vibration which thrills forth into all
immensities of time and space. Nor is the seer concerned as to whether or not the energy
recoils on the original starter; nay, he would seem rather to be the more concerned that it may
fall on somebody else. We know that in the long run our deeds recoil on the doer; but do we
give sufficient thought to their effect on others? No doubt matters will in the long run be
squared up for these others, but does that quiet our conscience or free us from responsibility?
Read further in the same place:
The word that is spoken, as we know, flies irrevocable not less, but more, the
action that is done. "The gods themselves," sings Pindar, "cannot annihilate
the action that is done." No this, once done, is always done, cast forth into
endless Time, and, long conspicuous or soon hidden, must verily work and
grow forever there, an indestructible new element in the Infinite of Things. Or,
indeed what is this Infinite of Things itself, which men name Universe, but an
Action, a sum-total of Actions and Activities. The living ready-made sum-total
of these three, which Calculation cannot add, cannot bring on its tablets;
yet the sum, we say, is wntten visible: All that has been done, All that is doing,
All that will be done! Understand it well, the Thing thou beholdest, that Thing
is an Action, the product and expression of exerted Force: the All of Things is
an infinite conjugation of the verb To do.
"An indestructible element"; man then is creator, one of the architectones of the universe; as
traditional Wisdom assures us he is by heritage. Great is his responsibility, great his power
for good, for ill. He can create little universes, sand-built; until they are swept away by the
Laws of Nature or the Will of God names for the working of other and better
architectones, higher in the scale than mere man, nearer the throne of the Real, the True.
The Universe "an Action, a sum-total of Actions." And Karma, we say, means Action. Well,
the Universe is doubtless Spirit energizing Matter, and Matter ensouled by Spirit and
providing vehicles for Spirit's manifestation. But are we not also told that the communion of
Spirit and Matter generates Action? Or is the idea changed if we choose to say Fohat or
Cosmic Vitality? Technical terms are necessary, but, like other coinage or fiscal paper, liable
to depreciation; so it refreshes the mind to have our cherished ideas expressed in other
language. Man, in this case, is Action and a sum of Actions. No doubt some higher
stereoscopic vision could present to our illumined eye man as a whole; but for the present we
have to view him in sections ('aspects'). So he is now a string of Principles and anon a many-
clothed Monad; give him another turn and we may see him as a bundle of actions. When
anything ceases to act, it ceases to be.
"The sum, we say, is written visible." In the Astral Light? By the Lipikas, the Recording
Angel? To each his word; the idea remains. We proclaim our doctrine of the divinity of man,
but it is hard to shake off our leading-strings, to stop wondering what outside powers are
going to do to us, whether of Saturn in the tenth or of a Karma that, like God, "moves in a
mysterious way its wonders to perform." We fear the loss of our freewill and do not know
what to do with what we've got.
It is a relief to hear our cherished beliefs from the mouth of a great thinker unfettered by
formulas and whether overshadowed and inspired by some august and invisible Presence or
simply from his own Higher Self.

The Theosophical Forum October 1945
COMMON SENSE ABOUT KARMA Henry T. Edge

This word has now crept so much into public use that it does not need much definition.
Broadly stated, it is the doctrine that our experiences are determined by our acts; that the law
of cause and effect prevails in the moral world, just as it does in the physical world studied by
science. If this is not so, then what theory must we accept in its place? We must either say
that our fortune is determined by the will and wisdom of Deity, or else that it is the result of
mere chance. But chance is a word used to cover ignorance, and if we use it we are simply
side-stepping the question. No thinking person can believe that the universe and the life of
men are without law and order and purpose.
One wonders why people have given so little attention to studying the laws of cause and
effect in the moral world, when science has worked out these laws so successfully in the
physical world. It is partly due to the influence of long-held religious teachings, which often
encourage a man to look upon himself as a helpless being, dependent on divine intercession;
instead of realizing the teachings of Jesus and Paul, that man is made in the divine likeness
and has within him spiritual resources which he can summon to his aid. Then again, science
has concentrated attention too much on the surface of things, and has even gone so far as to
represent man as merely an improved animal. It has sought to explain everything by the laws
of mechanics and chemistry. But we live much more in our minds and emotions than we do
in our senses, so that science has left out the most important part of human life.
Again, to understand the law of Karma properly, we must accept the doctrine of
Reincarnation. It is obvious that we enter this life with a ready-formed character; children of
the same parents differ greatly, and the innate character of each child soon asserts itself. This
character is what we have brought over from previous lives on earth; and it is the fruit of our
own actions. In short, we make our own destiny; we have made ourselves what we are, and
can make our future by our own present thoughts and acts.
Still we can learn very much about Karma without taking Reincarnation into account. For,
once you get the idea into your head you acquire a new sense of observation and begin to
study the connexion between your thoughts, emotions, actions, and your experiences; so that
the truth of the law begins to prove itself.
There is apt to be a tendency to regard Karma as a kind of supernatural agency, interfering
with the course of Nature by poking in an arbitrary finger. This is an idea we have inherited
from theology, and it may linger in our minds after we think we have discarded it. It is quite
wrong. Karma is simply the working of Nature; effect follows cause as truly in the moral
world as in the physical world. We sometimes hear people ask: "Was this event due to natural
causes or to the operation of Karma?" An absurd question; every event is under the operation
of Karma, and at the same time every event is due to natural causes. Theosophists do not
believe in supernaturalism. If an experience seems the result of chance, that only means that
we have been unable to trace the connexions; when we can see the connexions we call it law;
when we cannot we call it chance. Is that reasonable?
The real teachings of Jesus tell us that every man has within himself, by virtue of his divine
birth, the power to achieve his own salvation; for Jesus assures his disciples that, if they will
but follow his behests, they can have the same powers as himself. Paul also in his Epistles
insists constantly on the same theme; for him, the Christ is the immortal part of man,
incarnate or "crucified" in an earthly body; but capable of being invoked so that a "new birth"
takes place and the old Adam is mastered by the new. Theosophy, so far from being hostile to
the teachings of Christ, champions them; and in so doing, Theosophy merely follows in the
footsteps of many divines and Christian laymen who now take much broader views as to the
meaning of the Christian Gospel. Many of these Christians are close to Theosophy in their
beliefs, the main point of difference being that Theosophy recognises also the same truths as
found in other religions.
As to science, it is surprising to see what great steps are now being taken by its leading minds
towards a more logical view of Nature. This new view has been forced upon them by the
recent discoveries, which cannot be explained on the old principles of physics. It is seen to be
necessary to postulate a causal Nature behind the external physical Nature; and that the real
secrets of natural law are hidden beyond the veil of the bodily senses, and must therefore be
correlated with finer senses which men in general have not yet learned to use. We can trace
the action of light-waves up to the retina, and beyond to certain chambers in the back of the
brain; or we can trace sound-waves to the tympanum and beyond; but after that, all is
mystery. How these mechanical actions become translated into vision and hearing, we cannot
tell. Yet so all-important a part of experience can hardly be left unexplored by science which
pretends to explain Nature.
How does Karma operate from one life to another across the gap of death and of rebirth in
another body? The details of such a process we can hardly expect to know in the present
limited state of our knowledge; but they are not unknowable. It is all a question of patient
study in regions to which we have not so far given our attention. If we are willing to concede
the existence of forms of matter other than the physical, the question becomes easier; and
science has to admit such a possibility, for it is familiar with some ultra-physical form of
matter which can transmit ether waves all over the earth and beyond. If it is said, therefore,
that our actions, thoughts, feelings are somehow stored up in one of Nature's repositories
the Astral Light, let us say it does not seem so marvelous after all. We cannot enter more
fully into this question here, but any earnest student will find much in the Theosophical books
that will convince him, if he enjoys an open and unprejudiced mind.
It is often thought that the law of Karma implies fatalism and that it rules out freewill, but this
objection is due merely to confusion of thought. Karma determines our experiences, but does
not dictate how we shall react to them. As sung in The Light of Asia:
If ye lay bound upon the wheel of change,
And no way were of breaking from the chain,
The Heart of boundless Being is a curse,
The Soul of Things fell pain. Ye are not bound!
The Soul of Things is sweet,
The Heart of Being is celestial rest;
Stronger than woe is Will: that which was Good
Doth pass to better Best.
The delusion is based on a wrong idea of what is meant by cause and effect, based on notions
derived from physics. In the first place we have no right to apply the principles of mechanics
to a domain of conscious living beings. The links in the chain of causation are no longer
masses of inert physical matter, but minds; and minds are endowed with choice and volition
of their own, so that the chain of cause and effect cannot be rigid. But prominent men of
science themselves are questioning the validity of cause and effect as a rigid process
"determinism," as they call it. In fact, it is seen that the law of cause and effect does not deny
the action of freewill. Eddington says:
The relation of cause and effect involves a flow of power from the cause to the
effect, and therefore a certain freedom on the part of the cause. But if every
event is completely and necessarily determined, then how can any event be
regarded as a cause, since it is absolutely determined from the start by prior
events? It is not in that case the cause, but the cause is shifted back, and there
is an infinite regress.
Christopher Caudwell says:
Into every effect all the previous events of the universe flow as a cause, and,
lacking any one of them, the effect would be in some measures slightly
different.
In fact, the law of cause and effect not only does not deny freewill but positively necessitates
it. The idea that there is any such opposition is due to confusion of thought, and has no
support either from science or logic.
As to human nature, its essence is the Divine Monad, a spark of Cosmic Light; and this
manifests itself through a series of vehicles, so that its presence and influence are always
active in greater or less degree. Man's real will (and destiny, which amounts to the same
thing) is to fulfil the laws of Universal Harmony, and he achieves the highest freedom by
self-identification with the SELF. Every moment is a beginning. Let us throw off this
nightmare of determinism; let us act.
There is no such thing as dead matter anywhere: the universe is composed exclusively of
living beings. It is common enough to say that plants are alive; but minerals are alive also,
though not in the same degree as the kingdoms above them. In fact, the very atoms and
electrons are instinct with life and movement, so that they also are living beings. In every
living being there is some degree of intelligence and freewill, however small. Thus we find
freewill at every point in the universe. All these countless wills and intelligences act in
accordance with the eternal laws of the universe, just as our own wills must also act. Thus we
find order in diversity.
Karma is the preserver of equilibrium, the restorer of disturbed balance. The ancient Greeks
spoke of Nemesis as a deity who punishes excess in any individual or community. But he is
not a punisher merely an adjuster, calling to order whoever has wandered too far off the
path of justice. Thus we bring penalty upon ourselves by over-indulgence, physical or mental,
in pleasure; for our life is guided by a power wiser than our personal will; it is guided by our
own Higher Self, and this will bring us back into order again for our own good.
We should avoid the tendency of always looking at the painful side of Karma, and remember
that our good acts and thoughts bring their consequences, just as do our bad ones. The good
seed which we sow may counteract the bad seed. What seems punitive experience may be
changed into remedial action, if we assume the right attitude of mind towards it. Our
judgments as to what is good for us are short-sighted and erring; there is a wiser law shaping
our life; let us seek to co-operate and accept its decrees. Man has a spiritual will as well as a
personal will.
Is there anything in the doctrine of Karma which stands in the way of our helping our
neighbor in distress? Perish the delusion! It is our duty, our privilege, to help him; and all
decent people, obeying the great law of Compassion, would act at once in a deed of mercy,
without stopping to think about Karma. Besides, it may be part of his Karma that he should
be helped. In refraining from helping him we wrong both ourself and him. We must obey the
law of Compassion, without fear that we shall thereby interfere with Nature's laws.

The Theosophical Forum December 1943
CO-OPERATING WITH KARMA H. T. Edge

The doctrine of reincarnation, and its twin doctrine of the workings of Karma from one
incarnation to another, are of course truths, and there is always need to know of them and to
appreciate them. Nevertheless it remains true that ulterior causes operate through proximate
causes: fire will not bake our bread without the assistance of the baker, nor can Hercules lift
the wagon out of the rut unless the wagoner puts his own shoulder to the wheel. So we must
be careful not to slip into the habit of thinking of Karma as though it were an extraneous and
alternative cause disputing the responsibility with minor causes, and invoked as an
explanation in cases where we fail to discern the proximate cause. Again, it would be wrong
to imagine that, when a more familiar explanation of an occurrence or experience is
suggested, the operation of Karmic law is thereby depreciated; on the contrary such an
explanation supports faith in Karma by showing us some of its ways of working.
If the experiences of people's lives were examined with a more seeing eye, it might become
more evident that such experiences were the natural and inevitable result of their conduct and
character in the present life. Thus, if a person who has so far led a life of ease and comfort
should suddenly be plunged into privation, it is not necessary to call in, by way of
explanation, some avenging or chastening deity or power. For such a result may be attributed
to the effects of satiety. The individual himself, in his inner nature, actually craves such a
change: he has disturbed the natural and all-pervading law of harmony by going to excess in
one direction, and senses the need of an adjustment. And, since this deeper nature of his has
the power to bring about results, the said results are thereupon brought about. The outer or
lower nature, not understanding what has happened, complains, and casts about for some
other explanation of what seems to it unjust and arbitrary. It is well for us that our lives are
not confided to the unchecked guidance of our shortsighted and fatuous lower minds; and that
there is within us a wiser vision and a surer hand to direct our feet on the path which we
secretly know we ought to follow if we are to reap the full fruition of our experiences and to
round out our character on a less petty scale. The chastening hand of affliction has often
brought people to a thankful recognition of its beneficent effect; it has taught them to feel for
others rather than to be so engrossed in self.
Again take the so-called "good" people, of whom we read in first-class romances. Even
though the author of such a romance may fail to see the point, it may become clear to the
reader that the so-called "good" person is in reality selfish and self-indulgent; and there is
such a thing as moral self-indulgence and self-satisfaction. The villain of the story, on the
other hand, may have the virtues lacking in the hero or heroine. He is more sincere and
honest; he is not a humbug. This probably explains the sympathy we so often feel for him,
and our comparatively weak respect for the hero. The reverse of fortune which comes down
on the good person is felt to be a necessary lesson, needed to get him out of his comfortable
and self-approving rut.
In short, we know so little of people's real characters (including our own), that our failure to
discern the justice of an event or experience may be due mostly to our ignorance in that
respect. We know there is an immutable law of readjustment, but, as said, this law must act
through secondary causes, and it is interesting and helpful to examine into these. It might
perhaps be as well to say here, in order to meet probable objections, that neither the present
remarks nor any other reasonable explanations of Karmic law deprives anybody of the
privilege of feeling sympathy and exercising compassion, if so minded. For if on the one
hand it is impossible to interfere with Karma, there is no more to be said; and if, on the other
hand, we can interfere with Karma, then we do it equally whether we withhold our help or
afford it. "Inaction in a deed of mercy becomes an action in a deadly sin."
To believe in Karma does not prevent us from trying to understand its workings. We do not
need to make it into a personal God, which "moves in a mysterious way, its wonders to
perform," or "hides a smiling providence behind a frowning face." We shall better co-operate
with it when we understand it better.

The Theosophical Forum September 1937
DISSECTING THE UNIVERSE H. T. Edge

We cannot be content as of old to accept a purely objective physical universe, the same for all
observers; but must needs inquire into the nature of objectivity itself, regarding our own
faculties of observation and ratiocination as a component element of objectivity, and
subjecting those faculties to an analysis which we consider a necessary function of the
scientist. Hence the great number of such books now appearing. (1) We concur with the
author that the questions of logic, metaphysic, and epistemology, with which he deals, are old
enough, even as applied to the philosophy of modern science; but writers on this subject did
not command the general attention of the scientific world until the necessities of the situation
compelled an inquiry. The kind of literature now appearing represents innumerable particular
applications of the general principles laid down by the previous philosophers, and as reflected
in many minds of individual scientists. The author's fertile and discursive mind leads him into
much elaboration and detail; so much so that, if we attempt to follow him through, we feel
the qualm of philosophic doubt and scepticism, and reality seems to fade away amid a welter
of ideas that appear and disappear, chasing each other like phantoms. In a world where
everything is a fallacy or an assumption, and nothing will "stay put," we shrink from the
hopeless quest for the ever-fleeing truth and rush back with a grateful sigh to our familiar
world of healthy and comfortable illusions the only realities, as it might seem. In a word,
and to quote from a very ancient philosopher:
The quality of Mind is to doubt;
That of Buddhi is to ascertain. Uttara Gita
The function of the ratiocinative faculty is to analyse, and analysis means taking to pieces;
and from the days when we dissected our sister's doll and found ourselves ruefully
contemplating a heap of sawdust and rags, we have known that the more you dissect, the
further away you get from the simple reality from which you set out. Professor Bridgman
realizes that what science has to study is percepts, and that whether there can be such a thing
as a pure object may be a matter for speculation but can hardly be settled by experience. Now
the percept is a result of the interaction of faculty with some external exciting cause, a
conjunction of what is within us with what is without. Hence it is of vital importance that,
before turning our scrutinizing eye on the physical universe, we should first examine that eye
and see how many motes and beams there may be in it obscuring our vision. This leads the
author to consider the vast accumulation of hard-and-fast notions, unexamined assumptions,
authoritative pronouncements accepted without question, and other such paraphernalia, with
which we enter upon our inquiries. The impression conveyed to the mind of the reader is that
the truth about anything is utterly simple and obvious, and that all obscurity arises from the
confusion of our minds. Can it be that the effect of reasoning is to destroy truth and reality, to
obfuscate the obvious?
But we are saved from despairing and pessimistic conclusions by our reflexion that this
particular aspect of intelligence was not made to ascertain but to analyse (to 'doubt'); and that
intelligence has another aspect whose function is to ascertain. Manas (mind), when it
becomes enmeshed in physical materiality, acquires this dissecting quality. Its true function
then is to arrange and classify, to build an external world in which a mortal man can live and
act. Such a world is an illusion, you may say; well, a house may be found an illusion if we
pull it to pieces, but it is useful to live in just the same.
Professor Bridgman has much to say on the meaning of "theory." It is a device constructed
for the purpose of relating together certain data of observation; one theory may be made for
one set of data, another theory for another, and the two may be inconsistent and need welding
into a more comprehensive one. The truth of theories may be said to be tested by their
workability in practice; but we have the familiar example of the predictability of eclipses by
the Ptolemaic system. If a given theory will explain certain happenings, it is not necessarily
the only theory that will explain them. Further, in view of the now admitted limitation to our
power of exact measurement, a theory may suffice to explain the facts within the limits of our
power of observing them that is, explain them approximately; and yet it may not explain
all the facts, and therefore (according to the criterion) not be true.
Another point made is that, whereas we had physical models of the universe, we are now
making use of mathematical models where physical models fail; but these mathematical
models of course cannot be pictured. But the author finds (after he has dissected deep
enough) that mathematics is an empirical science, based on experience; its fundamental
postulates are accepted as true because we have tried them and they work. The same
disastrous process is applied to logic, which is "a game which we cannot even begin to play
unless we make tacit assumptions which cannot be checked in practice." Induction and
deduction fare equally badly, being structures without visible means of support; in fact all
argument of whatever kind consists in begging the question and blinking our eyes to that fact.
It appears from much that is said in this book that those who seek naked truth about anything
are giving a rather large order. But we knew this before. The naked truth being remarkably
simple, and we being prevented from seeing it on account of the multitude of garments in
which we clothe it, it follows that we must undergo an elaborate process of self-discipline in
order to reach our goal. We are compact of illusions; we must take ourselves all to pieces. We
cannot even report correctly what has happened in the physical world.
A clear-eyed recognition of what actually happens is hindered by most of the mental habits
drilled into us by education. For I think it must be conceded that the major part of education
at present consists in acquiring the intuitive ability to handle the conceptual instruments
which the human race has evolved to meet the situations with which it is confronted, such, for
example, as the all-embracing instrument of language, whereas it is just these conceptual
instruments that enlarged experience is proving are faulty. It is often very difficult indeed to
get away from unconscious verbal implications that we have accepted without analysis all our
lives, particularly when, as in many cases, our success as social beings depends on the
completeness with which these implications are ingrained into our conduct. Not only do
verbal implications hinder us in giving an accurate account of situations, but it is often
difficult to get rid of the inferences with which we unconsciously dress our direct
observation, as an analysis of the circumstantial evidence of many court proceedings would
bring out.
So when we find ourselves in a new situation we need a new set of mental pigeon-holes; and
the ideas which physics has been wont to designate by such words as space, time, force, etc.,
are found no longer adequate. Newton's absolute time, independent of space, has for some
purposes been abandoned; yet it is necessary to assume something as fixed, and one wonders
what it is. The chapter headings are: Operations; Thought, Language; Logic; Mathematics;
Mathematics in Application; Relativity; Mathematical Models and Probability; Wave
Mechanics. In the Conclusion the author says:
The idea that thought is the measure of all things, that there is such a thing as utter logical
rigor, that conclusions can be drawn endowed with inescapable necessity, that mathematics
has an absolute validity and controls experience these are not the ideas of a modest
animal. . . . When will we learn that logic, mathematics, physical theory, are all only our
inventions for formulating in compact and manageable form what we already know?"
And so we return to what was said at the beginning of this review that the function of
ratiocinative thought is not to ascertain but to analyse, and that its exclusive exercise will
necessarily result in the presentment of an imaginary world, based on contradictions and on
concepts which melt away under our lenses. But fortunately it is not by such methods that we
rule our lives; otherwise we should resemble that proverbial centipede which, when asked
how he managed all his legs, found himself unable to walk. It appears from many passages
which we cannot quote that the author realizes how much of error is due to isolating parts of
experience from experience in general and studying these parts as though they were complete
in themselves; or, as Poe says, "The infinite series of mistakes which arise in the path of
Reason through her propensity for seeking truth in detail." The word "physics" itself is
redolent of mischief here, so long as it implies that there is a self-sufficient physical world,
apart from the world in general. This physical world (the one that science has been living in)
is no doubt real enough within its limits, and useful for many practical purposes; but if we
venture beyond it we may have to admit that, from this larger view, it is only an abstraction
from reality. Is Nature external to the observer, or is it part of the observer's mind; and if it is
in part both of these, what are the proportions between the two components? Again, whose is
the mind, mine or yours, or a kind of collective mind of humanity?
Self-knowledge is the key to all knowledge: behind percepts lie senses, and behind the senses
lies mind, and behind mind lies buddhi or direct intuitive perception. And all of these are
functions or organs of what? The real Self. And knowledge which does not express itself
in conduct is like science without a laboratory; it does not mean much.
FOOTNOTE:
1. The Nature of Physical Theory, by P. W. Bridgman, Hollis Professor of Mathematics and
Natural Philosophy, Harvard University: Princeton University Press, 1936. $2.00. (return to
text)

DOES THE LAW OF CYCLES IMPLY PREDESTINATION? H. T. Edge

Some people may have asked themselves this question, wondering how, if all manifestation
runs according to calculable cycles, there can be any possibility of independent action or any
power of originating events. But this comes largely from taking a too rigid and mechanical
view of the law of cycles, as if the universe were a sort of clock with cogs and pinions. In the
universe the cogs and pinions are living beings endowed with spontaneity in varying degrees
according to their evolutionary status. That the course of events does run in cycles is matter
of observation; it is also matter of observation that such cycles do not rigidly confine our
actions. The cycles of day and year come round unfailingly and may be predicted with
confidence for an indefinite future. Are we constrained by them? Well, we have to sow our
grain at the right season and put on our woolens in the winter unless indeed we choose to
do otherwise, which is not wise. Why do we so often boggle over difficulties in the teachings
as to cosmic laws, when we can find the solution within the limits of common experience? As
the small, so is the great. As to freewill, if it means liberty to do what we want, we shall find
that it is necessary to take into account the wants of other beings, two-legged or otherwise. If
we intend to be a law unto ourself, we may get away with it for awhile, but a day of
reckoning will surely come.
The great seers have been able to discover what are the laws of cosmic evolution for the
manvantara we are in. These laws are inherent in the nature of the great Being who is
manifesting Itself, and they unfold themselves in an inevitable course, according to a
calculable plan of cycles. We, being essential parts of that great Being of that Universe
play the several roles allotted to us, thus fulfilling our own sublime destiny and purpose,
which is far greater than anything we may presume to call by the name of freewill or
freewont.

EDGAR ALLAN POE AS SEER H. T. Edge

The object of this article is to show how many of the best-known teachings of Theosophy are
to be found in Poe; an undertaking which seems to be by no means superfluous, judging by
the prevalent ignorance of the fact. Misconceptions concerning Poe have prevented people
from even reading his best writings; and even those who may have read them cannot be
wholly exculpated from the charge of judging the value of ideas rather from preformed
notions concerning their author than from an estimate of the intrinsic worth of the ideas.
To write a criticism of the man and his works in general is not our present purpose, and a few
brief remarks must suffice as introduction to our main topic. To whomsoever the fault may be
due, the fact remains that Poe was defamed by his literary executor, and that this false picture
was accepted without examination by the writers in encyclopaedias and works on literature,
who are not always so wise as their claims would suggest. Later, certain writers who
possessed the ability to assess values by intrinsic merit, and to judge the author by his works
rather than the other way round, succeeded in exposing the calumnies. No doubt some of
these carried the reaction too far in the other direction; but at the present date it is easy for
anyone to obtain a fair and balanced judgment concerning the life and character of Poe.
He was an over-sensitive and badly balanced temperament, a sad misfit in the world into
which he was born. He suffered from misunderstanding, frustration, and continual poverty.
Like a being deposited by a passing comet upon an unfamiliar globe, he lived in a realm
strangely apart from ordinary human interests. His intense and one-sided temperament carries
him to great heights, and by inevitable reaction to morbid depths. His tales are all in this
strange aloof world of his: he fails when he tries to introduce the usual components of a
fictional narrative human interest, dialog, etc. Some of these tales are beautiful, others
morbid; all are chaste. His attempts at humor are distressing. It is in his prose writings rather
than in his scanty verse that he justifies his title of poet.
Poe's almost invariable habit of writing in the first person has probably led some not very
competent critics into the belief that many of his tales are autobiographical. But such a
technique comes natural to a genius whose object is intensity and vividness. To write a tale in
the third person is to give an outside view; the true artist thinks himself into that which he
designs to portray, realizes the drama in his mind, identifies himself with the character. How
much more vivid instead of "Mr. So-and-so came of a race noted for vigor of fancy, etc."
to write: "I am come of a race noted for vigor of fancy."
Psycho-analystic experts have dissected his character in a way that impresses you only so
long as you fail to realize that any other complex character yours or mine could be
dissected in precisely the same way and with the same results. We one and all have subtle
motives which we suppress until we can find an opportunity of expressing them under some
respectable disguise; Poe is a long way from being the only writer who has sought relief by
expressing in imagination what he has failed to express in actual life.
There will be some who, having prejudged Poe in consequence of the misrepresentations,
will either not read his best writings or will dismiss them as the lucid intervals of a
dipsomaniac; which perhaps will seem to them a good reason for discounting anything he has
said, regardless of possible intrinsic merit. There will be also what we may call the
supernaturalists, who regard manifestations of genius as due to some occult inspiration from a
power behind the scenes, said power being in turn but the medium for a still higher power;
and so on, so that the source continually recedes like the rainbow. This doctrine contravenes
the idea that man contains within himself the potency of all knowledge, and this potency can
be brought into actuality by his own efforts. Poe shows no sign of indebtedness to the Orient
or to ancient Greece; and whether his intuitions were his own, or were breathed into him by
somebody else, let each decide for himself.
In his prose poem Eureka, Poe shows the universe as proceeding from an original unity to
multiplicity, and back from multiplicity to unity; the two tendencies being continually
operative, their perpetual interaction causing the movement, the stress, the joy, or life; the
close of a cycle of manifestation being marked by the final predominance of the unifying
tendency. But this universe is only one of an infinite number of universes. These surely are
Theosophical doctrines. Gravitation is the desire of separated particles to return to unity; they
seek the center of spheres, not because these are centers, but because such is the shortest road
towards unity. This general principle is worked out at great length and much detail in a
consideration of the stellar universe and its mechanics. But it must not be thought that he
leaves us with a dry mechanism or views the universe as a cold crystal. For him, all is life,
down to the smallest atomic particle; the entire universe is sentient. In this he bears out his
own contention that a mere mathematician cannot reason, but that a man must be a poet as
well as a mathematician. See The Purloined Letter: "As poet and mathematician he would
reason well; as mere mathematician he could not have reasoned at all." The following extract
from the conclusion of Eureka will illustrate what we have said:
There was an epoch in the Night of Time, when a still-existent Being existed
one of an absolutely infinite number of similar Beings that people the
absolutely infinite domains of the absolutely infinite space. It was not and is
not in the power of this Being any more than it is in your own to extend
by actual increase, the joy of his Existence; but just as it is in your power to
expand or to concentrate your pleasures (the absolute amount of happiness
remaining always the same) so did and does a similar capability appertain to
this Divine Being, who thus passes his Eternity in perpetual variation of
Concentrated Self and almost Infinity Self-Diffusion. What you call the
Universe is but his present expansive existence. He now feels his life through
an infinity of imperfect pleasures the partial and pain-intertangled pleasures
of those inconceivably numerous things which you designate as his creatures,
but which are really but infinite individualizations of Himself. All these
creatures all those which you term animate, as well as those to whom you
deny life for no better reason than that you do not behold it in operation all
these creatures have, in a greater or less degree, a capacity for pleasure and for
pain: but the general sum of their sensations is precisely that amount of
Happiness which appertains by right to the Divine Being when concentrated
within Himself. These creatures are all, too, more or less conscious
Intelligences; conscious, first, of a proper identity; conscious secondly, and by
faint indeterminate glimpses, of an identity with the Divine Being of whom we
speak of an identity with God. Of the two classes of consciousness, fancy
that the former will grow weaker, the latter stronger, during the long
succession of ages which must elapse before these myriads of individual
Intelligences become blended when the bright stars become blended into
One. Think that the sense of individual identity will be gradually merged in
the general consciousness that Man, for example, ceasing imperceptibly to

feel himself Man, will at length attain that awfully triumphant epoch when he
shall recognise his existence as that of Jehovah. In the meantime bear in mind
that all is Life Life Life within Life the less within the greater, and all
within the Spirit Divine.
It is superfluous to point out the many ideas familiar to Theosophists which occur in this
passage. In another passage he speaks of the "law of periodicity":
Are we not indeed more than justified in entertaining a belief let us say
rather in indulging a hope that the processes we have here ventured to
contemplate will be renewed forever, and forever, and forever; a novel
Universe swelling into existence, and then subsiding into nothingness, at every
throb of the Heart Divine?
We also note the familiar analogy between the Great Breath and the pulse of the heart. But as
to this heart, he continues:
And now this Heart Divine what is it? It is our own.
This redeems the philosophy from all suspicion of being that of an external universe, a
universe purely objective, omitting the subject, and therefore unreal and abstract. Such an
external objective universe is familiar enough to scientific philosophy, and to many
metaphysical systems. This cutting off of object from subject not only shuts out one half of
reality but precludes a just comprehension of the remaining half.
Poe's criterion of truth is its beauty, its consistency, the conviction which it brings to the
mind, the response as of recognition which it evokes from the heart. He makes great fun of
the inductive and deductive methods, which he dubs the method of creeping and the method
of crawling. The pedants who rely on either of these methods do not care whether a truth is
true; all they want to know is the method by which the alleged truth has been arrived at; if it
has not been arrived at by their favorite method, it is not true. We are reminded of those
earnest truth-seekers who are always demanding "proof people who, to be logical, would
have to deny their own existence. Here is a passage from Mellonta Tauta ('These things are of
the future'):
Do you know that it is not more than a thousand years ago since the
metaphysicians consented to relieve the people of the singular fancy that there
existed but two possible roads for the attainment of Truth! Believe it if you
can!
Then with his cumbrous humor he makes fun of the Aristotelians and the Baconians, who
started from axioms and sensations respectively, or from noumena and phenomena. These
notions operated to retard the progress of knowledge which makes its advances almost
invariably by intuitive bounds.
No man dared utter a truth for which he felt himself indebted to his Soul alone.
It mattered not whether the truth was even demonstrably a truth, for the bulletheaded savants of the time regarded only the road by which he had attained it.
They would not even look at the end. "Let us see the means," they cried, "the
means!" If, upon investigation of the means, it was found to come under
neither the category Aries (that is to say Ram) nor under the category Hog,
why then the savants went no farther, but pronounced the "theorist" a fool, and
would have nothing to do with him or his truth.
Is it not passing strange that, with their eternal prattling about roads to Truth,
these bigoted people missed what we now so clearly perceive to be the great
highway that of Consistency? Does it not seem singular how they should
have failed to deduce from the works of God the vital fact that a perfect
consistency must be an absolute truth!
The problem of the origin of evil presents no difficulty to one who views the universe in this
way; he sees that we have imposed sorrows upon ourselves for our own purposes. The
passage quoted below also connects this thought with the idea of the unity of all souls in the
one Oversoul:
No thinking being lives who, at some luminous point of his life of thought, has
not felt himself lost amid the surges of futile efforts at understanding or
believing that anything exists greater than his own soul. The utter
impossibility of anyone's soul feeling itself inferior to another; the intense
overwhelming dissatisfaction and rebellion at the thought: these, with the
omniprevalent aspirations at perfection are but the spiritual, coincident with
the material, struggles towards the original Unity are, to my mind at least, a
species of proof far surpassing what Man terms demonstration, that no one
soul is inferior to another that nothing is, or can be, superior to any one soul
that each soul is, in part, its own God its own Creator: in a word, that
God the material and spiritual God now exists solely in the diffused
Matter and Spirit of the Universe; and that the regathering of this diffused
Matter and Spirit will be but the reconstitution of the purely Spiritual and
Individual God.
In this view, and in this view alone, we comprehend the riddles of Divine
Injustice or Inexorable Fate. In this view alone the existence of Evil
becomes intelligible; but in this view it becomes more it becomes
endurable. Our souls no longer rebel at a Sorrow which we ourselves have
imposed upon ourselves, in furtherance of our own purposes with a view
if even with a futile view to the extension of our own Joy.
In a piece called The Power of Words our poet illustrates views familiar to Theosophists as to
the power of vibration, especially of the spoken word. It is in the form of a colloquy between
two beings liberated from earth-life, and we quote the concluding passage:
Agathos. And while I thus spoke, did there not cross your mind some
thought of the physical power of words? Is not every word an impulse on the
air?
Oinos. But why, Agathos, do you weep and why, oh why do your wings
droop as we hover above this fair star which is the greenest and yet most
terrible of all we have encountered in our flight? Its brilliant flowers look like
a fairy dream but its fierce volcanoes like the passions of a turbulent heart.
Agathos. They are! they are! This wild star it is now three centuries
since, with clasped hands and with streaming eyes, at the feet of my beloved
I spoke it with a few passionate sentences into birth. Its brilliant
flowers are the dearest of all unfulfilled dreams, and its raging volcanoes are
the passions of the most turbulent and unhallowed of hearts.
The universal sentience of Nature is expressed in The Island of the Fay, from which we quote
the following:
I love to regard the dark valleys, and the gray rocks, and the waters that
silently smile, and the forests that sigh in uneasy slumbers, and the proud
watchful mountains that look down upon all, I love to regard these as
themselves but the colossal members of one vast animate and sentient whole
a whole whose form (that of the sphere) is the most perfect and most
inclusive of all; whose path is among associate planets; whose meek
handmaiden is the moon, whose mediate sovereign is the sun; whose life is
eternity; whose thought is that of a God; whose enjoyment is knowledge;
whose destinies are lost in immensity; whose cognizance of ourselves is akin
with our own cognizance of the animalcula which infest the brain a being
which we in consequence regard as purely inanimate and material, much in the
same manner as these animalcula must regard us.
As to the plurality of universes we find this in Eureka:
Have we any right to infer, let us rather say to imagine an interminable
succession of the "clusters of clusters," or of "Universes" more or less similar?
. . . I myself feel impelled to fancy without daring to call it more that
there does exist a limitless succession of Universes, more or less similar to that
of which we have cognizance to that of which alone we shall ever have
cognizance at the very least until the return of our own particular Universe
into Unity. // such clusters of clusters exist, however and they do it is
abundantly clear that, having had no part in our origin, they have no portion in
our laws. They neither attract us nor we them. Their material, their spirit, is
not ours is not that which obtains in any part of our Universe. They could
not impress our senses or our souls. Among them and among us
considering all, for the moment, collectively there are no influences in
common. Each exists, apart and independently, in the bosom of its proper and
particular God.
A few miscellaneous quotations:
Each law of Nature is dependent at all points upon all other laws, and all are
but consequences of one primary exercise of the Divine Volition. Eureka
The development of Repulsion (Electricity) must have commenced, of course,
with the very earliest particular efforts at Unity, and must have proceeded
constantly in the ratio of Coalescence that is to say, in that of
Condensation, or, again, of Heterogeneity. Thus the two Principles Proper,
Attraction and Repulsion the Material and the Spiritual accompany each
other, in the strictest fellowship, forever. Thus, the Body and the Soul walk
hand in hand. Ibid.
Space and Duration are one. Ibid.
The incomprehensible connection between each particular individual in the
moon with some particular individual on the earth a connection analogous
with, and depending upon, that of the orbs of the planet and the satellite, and
by means of which the lives and destinies of the inhabitants of the one are
interwoven with the lives and destinies of the inhabitants of the other.
Adventure of Hans Pfaal
Discarding now the two equivalent terms, "gravitation" and "electricity," let us
adopt the more definite expressions, "attraction" and "repulsion." The former
is the body; the latter the soul: the one is the material, the other the spiritual,
principle of the Universe. No other principles exist. All phenomena are
referable to one, or to the other, or to both combined. So rigorously is this the
case so thoroughly demonstrable is it that attraction and repulsion are the
sole properties through which we perceive the Universe in other words, by
which Matter is manifested to Mind that, for all merely argumentative
purposes, we are fully justified in assuming that matter exists only as attraction
and repulsion that attraction and repulsion are matter. Eureka
Poe's theory of aesthetics if this is the right word to use is defined, among other places,
in the following passage:
Dividing the world of mind into its three most immediately obvious
distinctions, we have the Pure Intellect, Taste, and the Moral Sense. I place
Taste in the middle because it is just this position which in the mind it
occupies. It holds intimate relations with either extreme; but from the Moral
Sense is separated by so faint a difference that Aristotle has not hesitated to
place some of its operations among the virtues themselves. Nevertheless we
find the offices of the trio marked with a sufficient distinction. Just as the
Intellect concerns itself with Truth, so Taste informs us of the Beautiful, while
the Moral Sense is regardful of Duty. Of this latter, while Conscience teaches
the obligation, and Reason the expediency, Taste contents herself with
displaying the charms, waging war upon Vice solely because of her deformity,
her disproportion, her animosity to the fitting, to the appropriate, to the
harmonious, in a word, to Beauty. The Poetic Principle
And in the Philosophy of Composition he designates Beauty as the province of the poem,
excluding didacticism of every sort. He sees Wordsworth's defects through a lens, ignoring
the merits; he waxes enthusiastic over Coleridge; he would have had no use for Ruskin's
doctrine. He is however here merely explaining his theory of art and composition, not laying
down a rigid and exclusive dogma; and elsewhere, as we have seen, he gives abundant proof
of his sense of the universal unity. The nameless goal presents itself under various forms to
various minds Truth, Goodness, Beauty, Harmony, Love; but "by whatever name they
worship Me, it is I alone who inspire them with constancy in that devotion."
On the subject of death, so interesting to Theosophists, we find various places where he

enunciates views on which Theosophists would look with approval. The Colloquy of Monos
and Una is a dialog between two souls in the after-life, in which one of them describes his
experiences of death. Though his consciousness and power of thought gradually die down,
there is never a time when he is not sufficiently aware of existence to be able to remember it
afterwards. He is dimly aware of the laying-out, the weeping, even the lowering into the
tomb, nay even the tomb itself. And what is remarkable here is the fact that, when all else of
sensory or conscious experience has faded out, there still remains the sense of Time. Time,
he says, is not a mental abstraction, it is a self-existent reality. It consists in a ceaseless
rhythmic pulsation, so exact and inerrant that, as he lies on the bed of death, he is enabled by
its means to detect the errors in the ticking of a watch. Time, then, is the ultimate essence of
consciousness, the irreducible substratum; and this is surely an idea which might be found in
The Secret Doctrine. And from this condition the consciousness slowly rebuilds itself by
gradations similar to those whereby it had dwindled down. The same idea is found in The Pit
and the Pendulum:
I had swooned; but still will not say that all of consciousness was lost. What of
it there remained I will not attempt to define, or even to describe; yet all was
not lost. In the deepest slumber no! In delirium no! In a swoon no! In
death no! even in the grave all is not lost. Else there is no immortality for
man.
Poe's ideas of cosmogenesis will bear comparison with any system short of that of the
Esoteric Philosophy. He of course finds it necessary, as is inevitable, to assume something as
a starting-point; and he uses the terms God and Godhead without necessarily implying
thereby the dogmatic errors which cause Theosophists to fight shy of them. His starting-point
is one of which nothing can be predicated except in negative terms; and he quotes a French
writer to the effect that, to understand God, one must himself be God. Assuming that this
Being created out of nothing that universe which was to be his own self-expression what
did he first create? Assuming the creator as Spirit, what he first created was "Matter in its
utmost conceivable state of what? of Simplicity. . . ."
Oneness, then, is all that I predicate of the originally created Matter; but I
propose to show that this Oneness is a principle abundantly sufficient to
account for the constitution, the existing phenomena and the plainly inevitable
annihilation of that least the material Universe.
This last remark is summed up elsewhere in the words: "In the Original Unity of the First
Thing lies the Secondary Cause of All Things, with the Germ of their Inevitable
Annihilation."
The proving of this proposition occupies much space and can hardly be even summarized
here. Unity is a condition which, in its very nature, implies multiplicity; a profound thought,
worth reflecting on.
As to pre-existence, we find the following:
Herein was I born. But it is mere idleness to say that I had not lived before
that the soul has no previous existence. You deny it? let us not argue the
matter. Convinced myself, I seek not to convince. There is, however, a
remembrance of aerial forms of spiritual and meaning eyes of sounds

musical yet sad; a remembrance which will not be excluded; a memory like a
shadow vague, variable, indefinite, unsteady; and like a shadow, too, in the
impossibility of my getting rid of it while the sunlight of my reason shall exist.
In that chamber was I born. Thus awaking from the long night of what
seemed, but was not, nonentity. . . . Berenice
Here for the present we conclude a somewhat diffuse and sketchy survey, and one which
might easily have been carried to greater length. The writer has found it a congenial task to
do his little towards rehabilitating a slandered reputation; and he hopes that his Theosophical
readers will find themselves able to share his satisfaction. Poe, in his Preface to Eureka, has
the following:
What I here propound is true: therefore it cannot die: or if by any means
it be now trodden down so that it die, it will "rise again to the Life
Everlasting."

The Theosophical Forum March 1943
ELEMENTALS H. T. Edge
In the Theosophical teachings there is a sevenfold classification of the animate kingdoms of
Nature into Human, Beast, Plant, Mineral, and three Elemental kingdoms. If we regard the
scientific view of Nature as complete, we shall necessarily regard these Elementals as a kind
of addition to Nature, a kind of detached beings hovering around and interfering. But a true
man of science knows how incomplete is the explanation of Nature which science has been
able to supply; how full of gaps it is; how many assumptions have to be made as groundwork
for the superstructure of scientific theory. To such people the existence of Elementals will
seem rather to fill an unoccupied space; these beings might even be regarded as a necessary
hypothesis. The scientific formulas are devised for practical purposes, in which they are very
efficient. But such formulations are built upon certain data things which are said to be
"given." In geometry, for instance, we must assume such things as space, extension, and
enumerate a list of axioms and postulates; after which we may proceed logically with our
theorems and problems. But no attempt is made to prove these assumptions (at least within
the limits of the system for which they were assumed). So in physics we assume attraction,
motion, and various other things, undefined, or perhaps mutually defined in terms of each
other. A workable universe can be built on matter and motion, but these two all-important
things have to be assumed and left unexplained. In a word, science shows us how the
universe (the physical universe, at least) works, but cannot explain how this universe comes
to be alive and intelligent which it obviously is.
Thus there is plenty of room for Elementals to fill this tremendous gap; and so far from being
superfluous they are things we cannot do without. (1) The movements seen in matter have to
be accepted without explanation of their cause; but after that they can be studied and their
consequences formulated. Take for instance the movements of the molecules in a gas. From
these can be deduced general laws relating to diffusion and pressure. But there is no
explanation of why the particles should move. Again, while we can calculate the laws of
magnetic attraction, we find no explanation of the cause of that attraction; and the same with
gravitation. Attempts to explain attraction by some theory of pressures in a hypothetical fluid
(or ether) are illogical, since they seek to explain the postulates in terms of the propositions
deduced therefrom. Such an attempt merely confronts us with the original problem over
again. Thus science has been obliged to use words as counters, standing for unrealized
values; and they sometimes forget the entirely provisional nature of these assumptions a
mistake much more often committed by uninstructed people who attribute to scientists more
wisdom than the scientists themselves claim.
There is no final escape from the conclusion that living beings are responsible for Nature's
activity; nor yet from the conclusion that all life implies intelligence in greater or less degree.
Evasions of this conclusion are merely temporary. The electron cannot be analyzed into
anything but a living entity; we may say that it obeys "laws," but it is simpler to endow it
with a modicum of intelligence and purpose, however lowly and instinctive.
It may be asked, Why do we not see the elementals? or alternatively, Do we see them? But
after all it is merely the physical embodiment of beings that we see that part of them which
is correlated to our bodily senses. We cannot truly say that we see the animal or the plant, but
only their physical encasement. As to the mineral kingdom, when scientists probe into its
depths, they pass the confines of visibility. All that our physical senses can show us of the
elementals is comprised or summed up in the visible forms of the beings, animal, plant, or
mineral, into which they enter as constituents. Can we see what science calls a "force'? Or is
it not rather the effects of force that we see?
Many things, well known to experience, but usually scoffed at, or met with an indulgent
laugh, as superstitions, are explained when we take elementals into account. Some people
seem to have a touch which benefits plants; other people seem to kill the flowers they handle.
Workers may have quarrels with their tools, find a particular tool more responsive than
another tool, object to letting other hands use their tools. Our typewriter, our razor, what not?
may seem to have a sympathy with their owner. Similar instances will occur to the mind of
the reader. These elemental creatures must needs be amenable to the superior influence of the
human mind and feeling. The generality of us blunder blindly among these beings, creating
unknown confusion. But the adept may learn how to handle them, as men can learn how to
handle other laws of Nature, without violating those laws. Thus are produced "phenomena,"
sometimes wrongly called miracles or interferences with the laws of Nature.
FOOTNOTE:
1. In Isis Unveiled we read that Professor Le Conte specifies four kingdoms of Nature:
Animal Kingdom, Vegetable Kingdom, Mineral Kingdom, Elements (I, 329). The BhagavadGita says: "For the accomplishment of every work five agents are necessary, as is declared.
These are the substratum, the agent, the various sorts of organs, the various and distinct
movements, and with these, as fifth, the presiding deities." (Chapter xviii). (return to text)
------
OCCULTISM and the philosophy of the East, whether true absolutely, or
relatively, are teachings coming to us from an immense antiquity: and since
whether in the writings and traditions of the East; in the numberless
Fragments, and MSS. left to us by the Neo-Platonic Theosophists; in the lifeobservations of such philosophers as Porphyry and Iamblichus; in those of the
medieval Theosophists and so on, ad infinitum; since we find in all these,
the same identical testimony as to the extremely various, and often dangerous
nature of all those Genii, Demons, Gods, Lares, and "Elementaries," now all
confused into one heap under the name of "Spirits'; we cannot fail to recognise
in all this something "enduring the test of universal experience" and "coming
unchanged" out of every possible form of observation and experience. H. P.
Blavatsky: "Thoughts on the Elementals," Lucifer, 1890.

FALL AND REDEMPTION H. T. Edge

This is a universal doctrine; none can be more solidly based; the wise and experienced of all
ages have agreed to regard the drama of life as a descent from the divine to the earthly and a
reascent from the earthly to the divine. And this applies not only to man but to every living
creature in the universe and to the universe itself. Great thinkers, seeking for the roots of all
things, have found nothing more fundamental than the Great Breath, eternal motion, the
principle of alternation; they have seen the cosmic process as the self-realization of an
ineffable spirit, the self-manifestation of a supreme Being. The One becomes the Many; the
Many return to the One. Outbreathing and inbreathing follow each other in endless
succession; and this is a universal law, applicable alike to the smallest as to the greatest.
Man is a spark of the Divine Fire, which has descended on earth and is working amid the
manifold toils of material life, like leaven in the mass, and thereby accomplishing a work of
regeneration. The primal unity which was Man has been shattered into fragments and has to
be reassembled. Christian mystics have thus interpreted their religion, but in many forms of
Christianity the true meaning has been lost. The Fall of man has been represented as a great
calamity, inspired by the spirit of evil. Man is supposed to become corrupt in nature through
the sin of his first ancestor, and to require the intercession of a Savior for his salvation. But
the real doctrine is that the Divine Spark, which is the real man, descended to earth for the
purpose of fulfilling his destiny and accomplishing his evolution. The Serpent that tempted
him in the garden was no evil spirit, but a divine teacher, who instructed him, awakened in
him the sleeping fire of intellect, so that he became endowed with free will and the power of
conscious choice. It resulted in his being banished from the state of passive bliss (figured as
the Garden of Eden) in which he had been living. In brief, we have in the early chapters of
Genesis an account (much mutilated it is true) of the early history of mankind, and of the
passage of man from an undeveloped and unawakened being to a self-conscious and
responsible one. The Devil is said in theology to be a Fallen Angel, a rebel against God, and
cast out of heaven, so that he becomes henceforth the head of a host of fallen angels who war
continually against God and man. But these Fallen Angels were spirits of light, who
descended from heaven in order to bring light and life to earth. The same allegory is found in
the story of Prometheus, who so compassionated man that he stole fire from heaven and
brought it down to earth. The very name Lucifer, which theology uses as the name of an evil
spirit, means "light-bringer."
Man is no helpless sinner, born in hereditary corruption. He is a divine pilgrim, on his way to
regain that which he has lost. His Savior is the divinity within him, his own real Self. It was
by his own choice that he strayed; it is by his own will that he must be saved. How otherwise
could he be a responsible being? Jesus Christ was a great and inspired Teacher, who had
solved the mysteries of life for himself, and came to show the way to other men. There have
been many such. He was not the Christ, but a Christ; and any man may become a Christ. For
the Christ is the divinity in man, which is said to have sacrificed itself by being born in the
flesh in order that it might raise the flesh. This teaching will be found in Paul's epistles.
Consider now how this principle of descent and reascent applies to the doctrine of evolution.
We are told about the ascent of man from the lowliest beginnings through many stages; but
there could be no ascent unless there had previously been a descent. Spirit descends into
matter, and matter is thereby evolved into more and more perfect forms for the expression of
spirit. A seed may produce a tree; but the essence of the future tree must have entered into the
seed. The tree produces the seed, and the seed reproduces the tree. If man is from the lower
creation, what was it that entered into matter to give it the power to evolve into such
wonderful forms? Can we evade the question by saying that it was a power inherent in matter
itself? That would be making matter the equivalent of Almighty God.
It is sad to see how wrong religious teachings have affected the whole thought of the world.
The great novelists give us masterly pictures of human lives, portrayed with consummate
skill and insight; yet the whole drama is brought to nought by death, which is represented as a
final end; and one wonders what is the use of life at all if it is all to end in nothing. But as
death is the end of life, so life is the end of death. Birth and death are recurrent events in a
long life-drama, and each man's appearance on earth is but one scene in a drama. It is only a
knowledge of this truth that can make sense out of the drama of human life. Death and
rebirth, descent and reascent, fall and redemption, are the world's eternal ways.

FALLACIES IN OUR THINKING Henry T. Edge

The topics treated of in this book (1) may seem from the reviewer's point of view to be
somewhat hackneyed, yet it is by constant repetition that new ideas of such importance seep
into the public mind. The ground covered coincides largely with that covered in C. E. M.
Joad's recent book on God and Evil reviewed in the June issue of The Theosophical Forum.
The postulates and constructions used by the science of last century as a framework for
physics no longer prove adequate for an interpretation of even the physical universe, and new
ones have had to be sought in their place. While competent minds fully recognised that the
system was merely temporary and provisional, yet this circumstance had been lost sight of;
provisional hypotheses were mistaken for universal laws and became the basis for
materialistic and mechanistic views of life in general. The consequence has been that the
revolution in physics has meant a revolution in our general ideas and outlook, as has been the
case with similar epochs in the past, such as those of Copernicus and Darwin. Sir James
shows his usual perspicacity and ability to hold our interest, and has arranged his chapters so
that both the expert and the layman may be catered for.
The book might well have been called a study of fallacies in our thinking, applicable not only
to science but to everything else about which we speculate. Thus it deals largely with general
principles, such as the relation of subject and object; the apparent antagonism of determinism
and freedom; the difference between reality and appearance, or between an intelligent force
and its physical manifestation; the war between atomism and continuity, whether in blocks of
stone or in those other blocks which we carry on our shoulders; the relation of apprehension
by the mind and perception by the senses; what knowledge, if any, is a priori, and what
inferred; and the like. Science and philosophy are dancing coyly around each other like a pair
of birds in the Spring: what they have in view seems to demand their co-operation.
The failure of mechanical explanation is fully admitted: it is impossible to separate organic
Nature from its physical manifestation, for each implies the other, and they are comprised in
a unity. "Forces" have no objective existence and are mere mental constructs, differing with
the observer (as Relativity shows). The difficulties of attempts to formulate the behavior of a
quantum are due to the fact that fundamental activities cannot be represented as occurring in
time and space. A mechanical explanation explains x in terms of y, giving us an
indeterminate equation whose terms cannot be evaluated. Under the heading of epistemology
we learn that knowledge can be attained only by establishing a relation between the inner and
the outer. The mind apprehends of itself without the aid of senses, number, quantity,
sameness and difference, etc. Plato's innate ideas.
Science has to cope with three worlds: the man-size world, the infinitely great world, and the
infinitely small world. Some may say that the same laws are not applicable to all; but this is a
mistake, and we should find it hard to define the limits which mark off a change of laws. The
same laws apply throughout, but different features of these laws predominate in different
cases; and some such features, slight enough to be ignored in the man-size world, may loom
portentously great in the other worlds. This fact, says Sir James, is of tremendous importance
to philosophy as a whole, for it provides a test for claims made by rationalists as to alleged a
priori knowledge. Knowledge found to be true in the man-size world may prove to be untrue
in one or both of the other worlds:
The a priorists have told us that the Creator could not make a world in such
and such a way; we study the world of the electron or nebula and find that He
has done so already. Thus the alleged a priori knowledge can only be
empirical knowledge of the man-sized world.
Thus the proposition that the sum of the angles of a triangle equals 180 is true of triangles in
the man-size world, but is found unworkable with triangles of astronomical size, so that this
cannot be classed as a priori knowledge, apprehended by direct intuition.
Most controversy over Space and Time is due to overlooking the various senses in which
these words can be used. The author enumerates conceptual space, perceptual space, physical
space, absolute space; and the same with Time; and he defines each of these kinds. He goes
on to speak of the Space-Time unity, and shows that while Space and Time taken separately
are private and special to individual observers, the Space-Time unity, as conceived by
Relativity, is public, common to all observers. An important point is the following:
Space and Time cannot contain the whole of reality, but only the messengers
from reality to our senses.
To meet a possible objection from Theosophical students, we will observe here that it is
physical Space and Time that are meant, so that there is no contradiction of any statement
made by H. P. Blavatsky or others as to Space and Time used in other senses duly defined by
the users.
Under the head of Relativity theory we find the usual statement as to the impossibility of
synchronizing distant clocks. If I want to set my clock by a clock on Mars, I shall need to
allow for the twelve minutes of time taken for light to travel before I can see the signal. But
how do I know that twelve minutes must elapse? Because light travels 186,000 miles a
second. How do I know that light travels 186,000 miles a second? Because I have estimated it
by means of light signals. I have to assume what I am trying to prove; I am reasoning in a
circle.
Philosophy, says the author, deals with qualities, science with quantities. This leads to
conflicting conclusions from each: philosophy says heat and cold are incompatible; a body
must be either hot or cold. Science says heat and cold are merely relative terms applied to a
continuous scale of temperature. This instance illustrates the fallacy of thinking of the world
as black and white without any half-tones; and the author proceeds to point out the logical
fallacy of the "excluded middle term." A man, says logic, is either old or young; he cannot be
both at the same time. But common sense asks, Just when did he leave off being young and
begin to be old? As the transition must take place at some point, the youth of a man must pass
away in the twinkling of an eye. This kind of logic (or you may choose to call it philosophy)
is atomistic, it thinks in separate parts. But practical experience recognises no such
separations, and deals in all kinds of half-tones and compromises; and even physics has now
spewed atomism out of its mouth. Formal syllogistic logic is not a safe guide for practical
policy: the "either-or" technique is not satisfying; a little of both is better. Zeno and his arrow
are of course mentioned. By applying the either-or method he demonstrated the impossibility
of motion. When we carve up the universe and reduce it to a bundle of paradoxes, it may after
all be our tools that are at fault.
The question of causality is involved in this strife between atomism and continuity. There is
no scientific justification, says Sir James, for dividing occurrences into detached events:
changes are too continuous and too interwoven. The cause and the effect are one and
inseparable; every event is connected with every other event. This is of course fully in accord
with what we have been taught by Dr. G. de Purucker, who, while necessarily using the terms
"cause and effect," has been so careful to guard us against a too mechanical view, and has
always insisted on this interdependence of every part of the universe. Man's individual
Karman, for instance, is not the end product of a single chain of linked causes and effects, but
is the resultant up to date of an incalculable number of causes. A complete action includes
within itself both cause and effect, though on our plane of consciousness these two halves,
though in essence inseparable, seem sundered in time and in space.
Connected with this is the problem of actio in distans, a problem in which reasoners have
tried to solve a difficulty created by themselves. For the problem is based on the assumption
that things are separated, an assumption which, as we have seen, is not valid. In a word, we
have cut the Gordian knot by the simple process of abolishing distans; what was never
separated does not need to be reunited.
The question of Subject and Object, or of Perceiver and Perceived, is next brought up; and we
see that it is impossible to set a boundary between the two: our senses can perceive objects;
our minds can view our sense-perceptions; and we can use our mind to examine some of our
mental processes. The two terms are relative to each other; the distinction is provisional and
for convenience.
The destruction of scientific determinism does not overthrow science or the uniformity of
Nature. Free-will is freedom to follow the laws of the universe of which we are an integral
part. Einstein is quoted to the following effect:
Honestly I cannot understand what people mean when they talk about the
freedom of the will. I feel that I will to light my pipe and I do it, but how can I
connect this up with the idea of freedom? What is behind the act of willing to
light the pipe? Another act of willing? Schopenhauer once said: Der Mensch
kann was er will; er kann aber nicht wollen was er will. (Man can do what he
wills; but he cannot will what he wills.)
The truth compels its own recognition, however long and winding the roads by which that
recognition is reached. A universe is a living organism, comprising innumerable hosts of
lesser organisms, each of which is a self-acting unit, living its own life in harmony with the
general laws that direct the whole. Science has been studying the outside, but is learning that
there can be no outside without an inside.
FOOTNOTE:
1. Physics and Philosophy. By Sir James Jeans. Cambridge, at the University Press; New
York, the Macmillan Company. 1943. $2.75 (return to text)
FALSE TIME AND REAL TIME H. T. Edge

Dr. J. W. Dunne has written a new book, The New Immortality (1) which is a continuation of
his previous books, An Experiment with Time, and The Serial Universe, reviewed in our
numbers for May and November, 1938. But it is much briefer and in more popular form, and
the author must be congratulated for having made things as clear to the ordinary
understanding as it is possible to make such a subject. But of course it will be necessary that
the book should be studied through, since we cannot condense what is already a
condensation.
It will be remembered that Mr. Dunne in his previous books speaks of an indefinite number
of different orders of time, moving relatively to one another; but here, for simplicity's sake
and as a first step, he limits himself to two, which he calls false time and real time. The false
time, that which we wrongly call time, he represents as the traveling of a point of attention
along the field of the real time. The present-moment view which we have of a thing is an
abstraction from reality. The reality is four-dimensional, and we are to conceive ourselves as
three-dimensional beings traveling through this four-dimensional world. Here we may
appositely quote from The Secret Doctrine:
Time is only an illusion produced by the succession of our states of
consciousness as we travel through eternal duration. (I, 37)
What we call time therefore is a sort of spatial dimension, or, since it represents a velocity,
the term "vector" may be more applicable. Past and future events exist in the real time, but
we classify them as past and future according as we have left them behind or not yet arrived
at them. This view of the world has a notable bearing on the philosophy of materialism, as
shown in the following quotation:
If you mistake the hybrid thing of which I am speaking for real time, you will
come inevitably to the conclusion that everything in the universe is transient
and rushing to destruction. In real time the exact contrary is the case.
Everything which has established its existence remains in existence. A rose
which has bloomed once blooms for ever. As for Man, he is not accorded
distinctive treatment; he merely remains with the rest.
This is the basis of the new immortality. This immortality is not a condition upon which we
enter suddenly at death, as not having been in it before. It is a condition which exists now, but
which we have overlooked. It is quite in accordance with the beliefs of Theosophists that
immortality should be thus regarded.
The mistakes made by physicists, according to Mr. Dunne (more fully explained in his Serial
Universe) are largely due to their having confused the false time with the real, confused the
abstraction with the reality from which it was abstracted. How many vexed problems can be
cleared up by correcting this mistake is a matter too deep to go into here, but we understand
that it has already profoundly impressed some competent scientific and philosophic thinkers.
One is glad to notice that Mr. Dunne complains of the absurdity of requiring people to prove
the postulates which they have assumed for the purposes of an argument.
To demand that a writer on problems which are based upon the acceptance of
space and time as elementary indefmables shall begin by denning either term,
is to demand that he shall abandon these as terms, discover something more
fundamental than either, and proceed to discuss a different problem.
This logical error is one of the most fertile sources of futile logomachy.
The first part of the book is devoted to "The two Nows," which is a way of naming the two
sorts of time; one is a moving ever-changing now; the other is a fixed and unchanging now.
Birth and death, says the author, are not episodes; they are states; they are there permanently
in the real Now. We are three-dimensional beings with a four-dimensional outlook. We have
at least two selves, one of which is the owner of the other. This is implied in the term
"myself."
A good deal is said about the dream state. When we fall asleep, our senses cease to act, and
our moving point of attention is no longer chained to its direct line; hence it becomes free to
wander over the vast range of experiences, past, present, and future. But, not being
accustomed to such a state of affairs, we stumble about and mix things up, so that events
separated by lapses of time are seen together. If it be objected that this is a state of illusion,
Mr. Dunne asks us wherein is this state more illusory than the waking state; and further
reminds us that, in thinking of a dream, we are comparing a present experience with a mere
memory an unfair comparison; we should rather compare our memories of dreams with
our memories of waking experience.
There is one place where the author says what will remind Theosophists of certain after-death
states which are described as subjective or illusory. When liberated from the tyranny of the
present moment, either by dream or in some other way, we can hold apparent communion
with our loved ones. And, what seems best of all, these loved ones are far more agreeable
than they were in life, for they respond to our every wish. But here comes the hitch: the
reason they are so facile and complacent is that we have made them to order. And further,
though we seem to be with our friend, yet our friend is not with us; he is enjoying a little
paradise of his own. When we meet on earth, the attention of both parties is focussed on the
same instant of pseudo-time, and there is a true meeting. But in this other state
You may hear again the spoken words, you may receive and give the same
caresses. But the attention of that other may not be there. In that case there is
no meeting.
This may sound discouraging, but there is a remedy, a sure and safe one. It is the old
medicine escape from self.
To avoid or to escape from that, you must be willing to surrender some of your
sovereignty. You must be prepared to build to please others. Where there is
unselfish love there must be obviously the required measure of agreement.
Then you will meet very fully that other whom you seek. You will encounter
once again that difference in outlook and desire which makes that other other
than you. You two will do things together. Your solo will cease and become
part of a duet.
And elsewhere we read that "God is the escape from Self. . . . He is Love. But he is not a
distributor of rewards for "virtues" and of punishments for "iniquities." "
But the author does not see why we should not reach these conclusions by way of
mathematics; nor did Pythagoras. Perhaps it is a fault of our times to consider mathematics in
a derogatory or a jocular sense.
We regard these books of Mr. Dunne's as part of a movement now going on, by which we are
escaping from what might be called a one-plane view of the universe. The universe as
conceived by science has been a picture correlative with the physical senses. But this is only
a partial picture, a cross-section of the universe, as some might call it. It has been found
insufficient to explain the facts of experience. Science has found it necessary to go beyond it;
and we have now so much evidence of supernormal faculties that it is no longer possible to
explain it away. We have to admit that, if our physical senses can become inactive, our mind
may thereby be enabled to function in another way, to contact the universe through other
channels, and thus to make for itself a new picture of the universe, a new form of objectivity.
This, in Theosophical language, would be called planes of consciousness and planes of
objectivity corresponding thereto. Mr. Dunne's method of approach is original and highly
suggestive. He has put his finger on a common logical error regarding "time," which many
must have felt without being able to analyse; he has shown, as others have done before him,
how science has been giving a fictitious reality to abstractions.
FOOTNOTE:
1. The New Immortality, by J. W. Dunne. Faber and Faber, London, 1938. 3s. 6d. (return to
text)

FREE WILL H. T. Edge

An absolutely free will would be action without a motive, or motion without a direction,
which are inconceivable; so that free will means the power of choice within certain
restrictions. And since voluntary action must have some motive, the exercise of free will
means the predominance of one motive over another; as when we follow the call of duty in
opposition to a desire. If man has the power of choice, what determines his choice, if it be not
love, fear, desire for the good or the true, or some other incentive? As the essence of human
nature is the Divine Monad, a spark of Cosmic Divinity, his Will or his Destiny (which are
the same thing) must be to fulfil the laws of the Universal Harmony; and any other purpose is
but a temporary aberration therefrom. Man's will is restricted by the natural laws of his
environment, by other human wills, and ultimately by the eternal laws of the universe; he has
greater freedom of movement than any of the beings below him in the scale of evolution.
Man is free to do what is right, but not free to set up his personal will in persistent opposition
to every other will.
The controversy as to free will and destiny, whereby fatalism is often inferred, is due to
undefined terms, muddy logic, the attempt to apply analogies drawn from physical science to
matters to which they are not applicable, and similar confusions. Any chain of cause and
effect which is rigid within the limits of its own system, may yet be interfered with by some
agency from outside the system; and this principle may be applied indefinitely, so that a
being may achieve continually greater degrees of freedom. The plant is free relatively to the
stone; the animal relatively to the plant; and man relatively to the animal; and man himself
achieves various degrees of freedom according as he lifts himself to higher planes. Yet in no
case are the laws of Nature contravened; in no case is man's will uninfluenced by motive.
If our confused logic should lead us to the conclusion that free will is an illusion, we have but
to try this as a working philosophy and see whither it leads us. It will be found to mean a
surrender of ourselves to idleness and self-indulgence that is, a subjection of our own will
to other and hostile wills which are not subject to the same paralysis.

FREEWILL AND ORDER Henry T. Edge

The object of this article is to help those who may be laboring under the idea that the
existence of order in the universe is somehow inconsistent with the freedom of the will. Such
a notion is contrary to the teachings of the Theosophical Leaders and also to the views of the
leading thinkers of today in the ranks of science. With such an array of authority against
them, the holders of this view may feel that their belief is due to their not having considered
the matter deeply enough.
WHAT THEOSOPHY TEACHES
That the universe is composed, not of a host of dead atoms, but of a host of living beings,
monads, sparks of the universal Life-Consciousness. This makes all the difference in the
world. For even the lowliest of these Beings must (by definition) be endowed with some
degree, however limited, of consciousness and volition; while among the Beings higher in the
scale we shall find greater degrees of consciousness and volition, greater degrees of freedom.
Hence freewill must be, in this view, at every point in the universe. Yet this universal
freedom does not mean chaos and why? Because the universe has laws. Whence these
laws? As far as our conduct is concerned, it may be enough that we should recognise their
existence; but if we wish to dig deeper
"First come the SELF-EXISTENT on this Earth. They are the "Spiritual Lives"
projected by the absolute WILL and LAW, at the dawn of every rebirth of the
worlds." The Secret Doctrine, II, 164.
Man has relative freedom, according to his environment and the degree of his evolutionary
attainment. As long as he is on the physical earth, he must recognise (at his peril) the laws of
physical matter. But this does not prevent him utilizing those laws. As long as he dwells in
the halls of illusion and follows personal desires, he will be more or less the servant of lower
influences. But he can emancipate himself; and the whole Path is a path of progressive selfemancipation, until the final freedom is achieved.
Tis from the bud of Renunciation of the Self that springeth
the sweet fruit of final Liberation.
The way to final freedom is within thy SELF.
The Voice of the Silence.
We cannot set our own will against the laws of the universe, and against all other wills
unless we feel able to start a little universe of our own which might be lonesome.
WHAT SCIENCE SAYS
Christopher Caudwell, in his recent book The Crisis in Physics (reviewed in THE
THEOSOPHICAL FORUM, April, 1940), has a chapter on "The Collapse of Determinism," on
which the following remarks are largely based. Scientists have been forced to become
philosophers and to question the very foundations of their world-view; the doctrine of
Determinism is seen to require restatement. The problem of causality has to be reconsidered.
In the 19th century the basis of determinism seemed to have been settled by 17th century
philosophy; but this view is now becoming chaotic, and a principle of Indeterminism is
taking its place.
Heisenberg established this principle when he found that it is impossible to ascertain both the
position and the velocity of an intra-atomic particle; and, commenting on this, Caudwell says:
The importance of this principle is that it states an absolute or intrinsic
uncertainty as a law of Nature. This has been interpreted by many well-known
physicists as meaning that Indeterminism is a law of Nature.
It presumes a fundamental discontinuity in Nature, which had hitherto been supposed always
continuous. It upsets the differential calculus; immutable laws have now become only high
probabilities. We can analyze masses into molecules, molecules into atoms, atoms into still
smaller particles, but then we reach a point where we can no longer calculate. We have
reached the confines of physics, and can no longer summon its laws to our help. It is
important, however, to observe that this uncertainty does not apply only to the very small, but
also to the very great; and that our calculations as to the workings of the stellar universe carry
us equally beyond the sphere of terrestrial physics, so that we are confronted with
incompatibilities and alternative theories.
Eddington points out that Causality and Determinism, so far from being equivalent are
incompatible. That is to say that the sequence of Cause and Effect does not imply
predetermination, but does imply freedom. This proposition is the opposite of that held by
some people as mentioned at the beginning of this article. Yet it is justified by this eminent
man of science, who shows that:
The relation of cause and effect involves a flow of power from the cause to the
effect, and therefore a certain freedom on the part of the cause. But if every
event is completely and necessarily determined, then how can any event be
regarded as a cause, since it is absolutely determined from the start by prior
events? It is not in that case the cause, but the cause is shifted back, and there
is an infinite regress.
The following quotation from Caudwell is eminently in accord with what we have been so
often told by Dr. de Purucker:
Into every effect all the previous events of the universe flow as a cause, and,
lacking any one of them, the effect would be in some measures slightly
different.
CONCLUSION
The essence of human nature, we are taught, is the Divine Monad, a spark of Cosmic
Divinity; and this manifests itself through a series of vehicles, so that its presence and
influence are always active in greater or less degree. Man's real will (and destiny, which is
the same thing) is to fulfil the laws of the Universal Harmony, and he achieves the highest
freedom by self-identification with the SELF. Karmic law may determine our experiences, but
cannot determine our acts, because at every moment we have this Divine source to draw
upon. Every moment is a beginning. Karma is not a rigid chain, like that imagined by
physicists or philosophers at one time; it is a chain of cause and effect; and, as we have seen,
these two are not alike and interchangeable, but essentially different; for Cause implies
volition. Let us throw off this nightmare of determinism and act.

The Theosophical Forum June 1943
FROM COPERNICUS TO EINSTEIN (1) H. T. Edge

This book deals with the problems of space, time, and motion; which, as the author says, are
not merely academic questions, but interesting to man as contributing to an understanding of
his place in the universe. He remarks, as others have done, that the work of Einstein marks a
revolution in ideas similar to that brought about by Copernicus. And we would add here that
it is possible that people are a bit one-sided in their criticism of the opponents of Copernicus,
Galileo, and others. Ideas which are so familiar to us that we take them for granted, came
upon the contemporaries of Copernicus like a vast earthquake, overwhelming not merely
their ideas of celestial mechanics (a matter of little or no concern to the majority), but their
entire outlook upon human life; uprooting every holdfast, and providing nothing instead
except what looked like shifting sand. No wonder there was resistance; and, as to the form it
took, those were rough days; when they roasted and pricked people they did it in gross
physical form, not in subtle genteel refinement, as we do today.
The world picture which had existed for so many centuries before Copernicus and his
compeers, was not so wrong as we are accustomed to think, says Mr. Reichenbach; for both
pictures are but convenient representations of unattained realities; and the new views now
being developed under the guidance of Einstein will make us hesitate before pronouncing
Ptolemy wrong and Copernicus right. Rather we shall vision a pair of alternative theories
superseded, and therein reconciled, by the new and more inclusive theory of Einstein, which
shows the advantages of both the old theories. The Ptolemaic system, though kinematically
workable, was not so simple as the Copernican; but the chief objection was the alleged
dynamical inadequacy of the former. This objection, however, as we shall see later, has now
been overruled by Einstein.
The first part of this book deals with the Copernican view of the world; and though this
subject may seem trite to some readers, yet, in view of prevailing ignorance among the many,
it is by no means superfluous. It is so well and clearly expounded, that it will doubtless serve
to provide for such readers a clearer idea of "what it is all about" than they have previously
had. With Copernicus go Tycho, Kepler, Galileo, and Newton, each one contributing some
element to the development of the theory. It would serve no useful purpose for us to linger
over this branch of the subject, as we should merely be offering an inadequate summary in
place of what is much better done in the book itself; to which accordingly readers are hereby
referred. Of special interest is the section on the newest theories. This begins with a chapter
on the (alleged?) Ether.
The theory of relativity, we are here told, has sprung from ideas of motion and gravitation;
but also from ideas of electricity and light. The attempt to make light a mechanical
phenomenon has failed: instead of explaining light by mechanics, we find that mechanics
have to be explained by optics. Exposition of the work of Roemer and others, as to the
velocity of light, follows; as also Newton's emission theory, and the wave theory of
Huyghens and others. The phenomena of interference are explained, and adduced in support
of the wave theory. But what is so strongly insisted on here is that we must not transfer
familiar physical experience to regions where it does not necessarily apply. Our notion of a
wave is founded on our experience of various kinds of waves on the physical plane, such as
water waves, and sound waves in air or denser bodies. This makes us imagine that a wave
must necessitate a "medium." But can there be a wave without a medium? We may find a
better answer to this question if we call the wave something else. We may call it an
alternation, an oscillation, a rapid and incessant change of polarity. And after all that is all
that optical phenomena justify us in assuming. Light has been first suspected and then proved
to be an electrical phenomenon; and electricity is characterized by these changes of polarity.
Thus we do not really need any ether; and in fact we have already replaced the words
"medium" or "matter" or "fluid" by the word "field." A field is considered as the arena of
forces, not as a container of physical substances: thus we speak of the magnetic field around a
magnet, and the field of wireless waves spreading at right angles to the direction of a current.
Two electrical fields can occupy the same space at the same time, points out the writer, as an
instance of the fact that the properties of fields are not necessarily those of physical spaces or
bodies. Electrical waves, he adds, are advancing fields, which should not be regarded as
bound to a material medium. Light is only a small fraction of the total radiation of electricity
from the sun. Light is not related to water waves or sound waves; the process is an electrical
rather than a mechanical one.
The often quoted Michelson experiment, devised to detect, by observing interference, any
relative motion between the earth and the (alleged) ether, is here described at length. Its
negative result has been explained away by various devices; but Einstein's simple and direct
inference is that there is no such thing as the ether; leastways, there is no fixed framework out
in space, to which motions may be referred. Newton had assumed such a fixity as a basis for
his mechanical system; wherefore he could speak of absolute motion. But in its absence all
motion becomes relative, and we can only speak of bodies as moving relatively to each other.
This always gives us a choice of two alternative explanations of a phenomenon, according as
we may choose to regard either one of the two bodies as fixed, and the other as moving. The
importance of this will appear in connexion with the relativity of force.
Another conception of Einstein's is the relativity of simultaneity. In order to determine the
simultaneity of events separated by a distance, we must know a velocity (that of light); and in
order to measure this velocity, we must be able to judge the simultaneity of events separated
by a distance. So we move in a vicious circle; we must assume one thing in order to
determine the other. We have alternative explanations, both equally valid. Simultaneity is
relative. Light may be used as a measurement of time, and even of space; a geometry of light
may be constructed.
As to the relativity of the force concept, Ernst Mach is quoted. When we ride in a merry-goround, the room seems to revolve, while we seem to be at rest. Yet we feel the effect of
centrifugal force, pressing us against the outer arm of the seat. Newton had used this as a
proof of his doctrine of absolute motion; for, said he, the centrifugal effect shows that it is the
merry-go-round which is in motion, and not the room. But Mach showed that the two cases
are not opposite; for, if they are opposite, we must regard not merely the room but the whole
earth and even the stars as revolving around us. In this case the centrifugal force might just as
well be attributed to a gravitational force. So that gravitation and centrifugal force are seen to
be alternative explanations. What appears as the effect of inertia when we conceive the
machine as rotating, becomes the action of gravitation when we conceive the machine as
resting while the earth rotates around it.
What is known as Einstein's "box experiment" is described; by means of this he showed that a
particular effect may be equally well explained as due to accelerated motion or to gravitation.
It had been shown that curvature of light rays occurs in a case of accelerated motion; hence
we must infer that such curvature would occur in a gravitational field.
One important point is here stressed: the misunderstanding which many people, without
scientific training, have as regards the time dimension. They imagine it to be a sort of fourth
dimension of spatial extension, and worry themselves in striving to achieve an impossible
visualization of such a thing. But the time dimension is still time, not space; it is not
interchangeable with the three spatial dimensions. All that is meant is that, in order to fully
specify an event, we must know its position in space and also its position in time.
In speaking of alternative explanations of certain phenomena, we do not mean to suggest that
it is immaterial which we adopt. And it is common knowledge that Einstein's way of
interpreting Nature has proved its pre-eminent value, not only by explaining things that older
views could not explain, but also by enabling him to predict things which have since been
verified by observation. As the writer says, Einstein, by pointing out arbitrary additions made
by us in our description of Nature, has made objective truth stand out more clearly than ever.
Instead of confusing he has clarified the situation. But it will take us some time to grow
accustomed. Views of Nature have always to be based on certain postulates assumed as
foundation for the erection of workable theories. When scientific investigation reaches a
point where these postulates are no longer found adequate, we must dig deeper and assume a
new set of postulates. We must strive to realize that the former familiar postulates were not
universal laws, but only temporary conveniences. We must be ready to admit that customary
ideas about space, time, matter, motion, etc., do not necessarily apply to those regions of the
very great and the very small into which the scientific eye has penetrated. Experiment has
proved that they do not, and all attempts to explain the phenomena by the old postulates
result in what we call "paradoxes." We can recommend this book to the attention of those
wishing to clear up their ideas as to celestial mechanics and Einstein's work in particular.
FOOTNOTE:
1. From Copernicus to Einstein. By Hans Reichenbach. New York: Philosophical Library,
Inc., 1942. $2.00. (return to text)

HOW TO ATTAIN KNOWLEDGE H. T. Edge

We all desire knowledge, and it is right that we should. The desire for knowledge is the
divine spark that makes man more than beast. If it is quenched, the man is asleep perhaps
even dead. Some religious teaching has discouraged knowledge, and has made a false
distinction between holiness and knowledge, as if the one excluded the other. Religious
allegory has been perverted to suit this doctrine. The Serpent in the Garden of Eden the
wisest of all the animals stands for the divine power which imparted to man the desire for
knowledge and the power to know. He was called man's Tempter, because he gave man
freedom of choice. The Genesis allegory tells of an early race of mankind which dwelt in a
state of ignorant innocence and harmless bliss; this state is called the Garden of Eden, and its
presiding deity is the "Lord God" of the narrative. But there comes the time when man has to
awaken and move on; he is confronted by the Serpent, who arouses in him the slumbering
intelligence, so that man becomes a responsible being, no longer an unintelligent follower of
fixed routine. The Greek version of this story is found in the legend of Prometheus, who
brings heavenly fire to man in defiance of the authority of Zeus. Lucifer, Phosphoros, LightBringer, are other names for man's divine instructors. Similar allegories are to be found in the
sacred books of India and other cultures; and they all refer to that stage in human evolution
when man acquired self-consciousness and free will.
This universal allegory has however been perverted, so that Lucifer, the Serpent, etc., are
made into evil powers, seeking man's destruction, and ruling over a hierarchy of evil spirits in
rebellion against God. This libel on human nature, this perversion of history, is responsible
for a world of trouble and perplexity. There is no antithesis between the desire for knowledge
and the practice of virtue. The attempt to make such a separation drives the quest of
knowledge into directions that are useless or harmful, and leaves religion dry and barren.
But knowledge cannot be the handmaiden of self-seeking, or it will but increase the descent
into woe which self-seeking, if persisted in, must inevitably bring. The only real knowledge
is self-knowledge. Knowledge does not consist in an accumulation of information or facts or
theories; but in an opening of the vision. Moreover it is not knowledge till we have confirmed
it by practice. Hence knowledge is inseparably united to conduct; if it does not influence our
conduct, then it is only a half-hearted belief.
Earnest students of Theosophy may desire to know more, and may perhaps complain that
they do not seem to progress. They may compare themselves or their opportunities
unfavorably with other people and with the opportunities which they suppose the other
people to enjoy. But particular circumstances can make no difference, if we view the matter
aright; and all Theosophists, whatever their circumstances, stand on equal footing so far as
circumstances are concerned an equal footing as regards the ability to acquire real
knowledge. For wisdom comes from purifying our faculties, "removing the covers of the
soul," as W. Q. Judge puts it; and our eyes can be cleared by following the path of duty. The
veils which we put up are of our own making, and by ourselves can be withdrawn..
Those who would win the truth must woo the truth. They must practise sincerity and
truthfulness always, practise them in secret, be true to themselves in every thought and
motive. Yet how many of us live in an atmosphere of falsification! Do we not often strive to
maintain our position when we know we are wrong, thus sacrificing the truth to a desire to
save our face? Do we not make for ourselves excuses which we would not make for another,
thus permitting self-love to blind our eye to justice? How can we expect to win truth if we
flout her in this way? What right have we to complain? And how simple the remedy!
We should like to understand more about Karman. Karman may be the law of cause and
effect philosophically, but on the moral plane, if it means anything, it means justice. Then, if
we are to understand justice, we must practise justice, surely; and this, for our purpose, means
much more than ordinary fair-dealing in the world of men. It means perfect justice and
sincerity in our own private thoughts; we must never fool ourselves in the interests of selflove. The law of Karman is said to bristle with difficulties, and perhaps some of that may be
because we talk about it too much; has it ever occurred to us to practise Karman?
There is a rule which says we must not be continually concerned with attempts to justify
ourselves. It is a wise rule. This anxiety for self-justification springs from a desire to
accentuate our personality as against other personalities; it emphasizes the feeling of
separateness. But the feeling of separateness is the greatest obstacle to knowledge. How then
can we attain knowledge if we are so constantly defeating our own purpose?
Criticism of other people is in exactly the same case. What could emphasize personality more
than this setting up of our own notions and prejudices against those of others? This is
understood easily enough if, instead of taking our own case, we consider the case of some
other person who criticizes. We can realize that he is hardening his own prejudices and
building a cactus hedge around his mind against the entry of new ideas.
Mental culture, self-culture, in various guises, forms the stock-in-trade of many cults
nowadays, which attract a numerous section of the public because they appeal to human
wants. Some of these appeals are of a frankly acquisitive nature the attainment of objects
of desire of one sort or another. There can be no doubt that we have within us latent powers,
not normally active, but which can be called forth, and which can be made to subserve our
desires for gain, influence, or what not. But a Theosophist would regard this as simply
feeding the enemy, for it increases the force of those very personal desires which he knows
that he must allay if he is to attain his object of self-knowledge. Moreover personal gain of
this sort is made at the expense of others, just as in the case of any other kind of pushing
oneself to the front and pushing others back. Sometimes self-culture does not take this
acquisitive aggressive form, but aims rather at tranquilizing the mind, reaching a state of calm
imperturbability and inward blessedness. Here is another danger which the truth-seeker has to
guard against; he desires not to be any kind of hermit, and the walls which we build to shut
out discomforts may also shut us from sympathy with our fellow-beings.
Thus it is easy to explain the Theosophical idea of attaining knowledge, and to point out the
obstacles which we ourselves create, and how they may be overcome. But in actual life mere
precept is not enough, and to it must be added experience, often taking the form of sharp
lessons. It is only thus that truths become vital and acquire for us a real meaning. If we try to
define our motive for pursuing the Theosophical path, we are not likely to satisfy ourselves.
We feel that such motives as can be defined in words are not adequate; we may fear to
convict ourselves of hypocrisy. The motive is a sublime aspiration, felt from within, but
taking many forms in its passage through the analysing mind. How many such aspirations are
wasted for want of the means to make them fruitful! Theosophy gives these means, and the
desire to render them available to those who have them not must arise in the heart of a
disciple who has truly understood the Theosophical teachings.

H. P. BLAVATSKY'S WORK IN THE WORLD Henry T. Edge

In considering H. P. Blavatsky's work in the world we must first ask what was the condition
of that world in her time. It is customary to depict it as in an altogether deplorable condition,
but I propose to paint a somewhat different picture. We must bear in mind that the Victorian
era in England was one in which shone brilliant minds in many departments of thought and
endeavor; an era of unexampled progress; an era of emancipation of thought from old
grooves and of venturing forth into new and brighter prospects. Art, literature, philosophy,
science, flourished and I need not pause to enumerate the great pioneers of these several
departments. But more than all the era was one of moral and spiritual advancement,
distinguished by noble philanthropy, social and political reform. Yet the same cyclic wave of
energy which had fostered so much fine growth had also brought forth many harmful weeds.
Moreover its force was becoming spent and hardening and restrictive influences were
supervening. In particular the true progress of mankind was threatened by the growth of
scientific materialism or mechanicalism; matter was threatening to drive out mind;
automatism, to oust purpose from life. It was therefore to steer humanity round a dangerous
corner, to check the downward and backward ebb by a forceful tide in a new direction, that
H. P. B.'s work was directed. She came to wage war against materialism, and that not only in
science but in religion, in politics, in social theories as well.
Her work was many-sided, not confined to any one particular point; so many-sided was it that
it is difficult to comprehend it under one word or phrase. She had to lay new foundations, to
strike a new fundamental tone. Thus she found herself at loggerheads with everybody who
had any vested interest in the preservation of things as they were. The familiar strife between
religion and science was lost sight of in the common war against materialism and dogmatism
in both. She brought down upon her head priestcraft both Oriental and Occidental, scientific
dogmatism, sundry occult and psychic movements whose foundations she threatened to
undermine. There existed a comfortably settled intellectual culture, represented by scholars in
various fields; and the foundations of this were menaced. In a word, people were scared. It
was not because they believed her false, but because they knew she was true. And, finding
themselves unable to refute her they had resort to the invariable substitute defamation. But
such is the fate which every reformer must necessarily encounter; has he a right to expect
anything else? Yet where there is no resistance there can be no victory; the greater the
resistance the greater the victory when it is overcome.
And so it required one of titanic energy and perfect self-dedication to accomplish the work.
At first the world had to be startled. Hence the phenomena; permitted for the special purpose
in exception to the general rule; bringing upon their performer results foreseen but bravely
accepted. Attention being thus attracted, the teaching began.
First in America, where the work was organized and incorporated and a seed sown which
yielded the future growth. Here she works among the Spiritualists, descrying there an
influence away from materialism, but trying to lead them on above their low level to what
was better. Later in India she strives to arouse the people to a new sense of the essentials of
their own religions and philosophies. But for the great literary work in view, England was
seen to be at the time the best harbor. Accordingly it was in London that she wrote that
marvelous work The Secret Doctrine, which bears its own internal testimony to the greatness
of its author. Not even the most jealous and vindictive critics have been able to dispose of it,
and have been obliged to let it alone or dismiss it with a simple falsehood. The question as to
who was the author is one which, as it seems to me, cannot be answered on ordinary lines. It
is easy to understand that Madame Blavatsky herself, speaking of her mere personality
(despised by herself, as we know), might indulge in a modest and candid disclaimer; and
point our eyes to those Teachers whom she so much reverenced. Yet let us not forget the
distinction she herself made between H. P. Blavatsky and H. P. B. In a word, when the
illusion of personality has been overcome, such questions of authorship take on quite a
different aspect; there is no longer such a thing as your mind and my mind, but a great ocean
of mind to which all may have access.
It has often occurred to me that, since the Wisdom Religion is universal and of all lands and
peoples, it must always require translation, so to speak, into the mental language of particular
peoples-and the S. D. is a truly marvelous instance of how it has been translated into terms of
Occidental thought. The author or authors show an intimate acquaintance with the whole field
of scholarly, scientific religious, archaeologic, etc., thought; evincing a mind at once
comprehensive and detailed. The S. D. is in its single self a phenomenon worth a million
buried teacups or precipitated letters. Her assistants, secretaries, were kept busy going to the
British Museum Library to verify the numerous quotations which she made. The declared
object of this work was (1) to state the outlines of the Secret Doctrine (2) to show its
existence in the records of all ancient faiths (3) to contrast its teachings with those of modern
science, religion, and thought in general. Also, there were at that time many imperfect forms
of occultism, on the wrong tack, which needed correcting by the exposition of the true
teachings thereon.
The Voice of the Silence performed a like function with regard to the more ethical and
mystical teachings; for it enunciates the doctrine of the purest Buddhism, the right-hand path,
the path of renunciation; thereby laying the true foundations and correcting all the harmful
and erroneous cults. Thus her work in the world was to strike keynotes everywhere, to lay
foundations; and this was done with Titanic energy, such as she alone was capable of
wielding.
Isis Unveiled, as her first work, exercised enormous influence and is still in great demand
with the public. Its defects in composition can serve only to give a handle to those interested
in depreciating her, and are no obstacle for earnest truthseekers who are in search of the gold
wherever they can find it. If we are able in this day to handle the churches and sciences in a
gentler way, it is only because H. P. B. knew how they needed to be handled in her day.
Before reconstruction could begin there was dynamiting to be done.
And today we see wherever we cast our eyes the harvest of all that seed-sowing, the result of
that ground-clearing and reconstruction. As said before, amid the crops grew up many tares;
and to deal with these was the arduous work of later Leaders and their faithful followers. We
see the same mixture around us today; and our duty is to keep the flame of the pure doctrine
bright and clear, so that a greater power and permanence shall eventually win through and
outshine and outlive all imperfections and shams. May we not already say that this is being
accomplished? Do we not see on every side hands stretched out for aid, in the churches, in
science, philosophy, social planning, everything? Hands stretched out for the help which true
Theosophy alone can give. But if we have cause for rejoicing, let us beware of resting on our
oars. Let success be not a sedative but a stimulant to ever-continued endeavor.

INITIATION Henry T. Edge

This word denotes a topic much to the fore nowadays; but it is customary to lay too much
stress on the formal and ritualistic aspect of the question, to the neglect of its all-important
real meaning. This shows a materialistic attitude, such as that whereby religions have
deteriorated so that the outward and visible form has overshadowed the inward and spiritual
grace. We have here a touchstone by which to distinguish the spurious from the genuine.
It is doubtless true that a day will eventually come to any aspiring pilgrim on the path of
Wisdom when he will be called upon to undergo some special and formal initiations and to
pass or fail to pass certain severe tests of his character and worthiness. But towards such a
prospect as this it would be well to observe an unexpecting attitude, and not try to forestall it
in our thoughts; for in the meantime there are so many vital opportunities occurring at every
step in the life which we have to lead, by which we may win either success or failure in the
apparently insignificant, but really all-important incidents of ordinary experience. These are
the real initiations, and it is upon them that our eyes should be fixed on the now rather than
the distant prospect.
Initiation means the progressive unification of the personal self and the Higher Self; a process
which can go on all the time, and by which we may ascend step after step if we are
sufficiently in earnest. Further, we may be sure that we shall never be judged fit to undergo
the higher and more formal initiation until we have shown by our success in these daily trials
that we are deemed worthy of being so tested with any chance of success.
The necessary preliminaries to true initiation are to be found set forth in The Voice of the
Silence, Third Fragment.
The first is:
Dana, the key of charity and love immortal.
The Sanskrit word means "giving." The motive for entering initiation must be unselfish. This
rules out all systems of "initiation" which appeal to personal ambition. It is a thing which we
may cultivate all the time; and until we have mastered it, our further progress will be barred;
but what vistas may open up to us if we succeed in this first step! Think of the chances we
miss; think of our complaints that we do not progress.
A pure strong unselfish thought beaming in the mind lifts the whole being to
the heights of Light.
Thus said a Teacher. True, we cannot leap at one bound from selfishness to unselfishness, nor
would it be wise to attempt it; but we can progress continually, and go forward in spite of
many slips back; we can "grow as the flower grows."
2. Shila, the key of Harmony in word and act, the key that counterbalances the
cause and the effect, and leaves no further room for Karmic action.
This means acquiescence in whatever Karma has in store; so that we shall not be forever
carping, running away from one thing and running after another harmony in thought and
act, the Gita attitude. This again will come gradually; in its turn this is an acquiescence of the
lower mind in the wisdom of the Higher; so that its purport is the same as that of the first key.
3. Kshanti, patience sweet, that nought can ruffle.
This involves Faith, reliance on the wisdom of the Higher Self, on the Buddhic light that can
illumine the Manas and blow away the dust from the mirror. Union between lower and
Higher again, as in the first two keys. The lower mind gets busy trying to fix things, and thus
worries us and interferes with the steady patient wisdom of the Higher. Impatience is of the
lower passional nature.
Such are a few hints as to the true meaning of initiation. If we can turn our minds more from
speculating on the grandiose aspect of the question, and condescend to stoop to the less
spectacular but far more important and really weighty affairs of the passing moment, we may
pass successfully (or miss another fine chance) at any time. The lower man, not wishing to be
dethroned, will use the mind for devising all sorts of excuses for evading what it fears so
much. You do not want to become pious or a prig; it is unhealthy to be always brooding over
trifles and so on. But it is possible that some people may view the matter rationally rather
than emotionally, and be enough in earnest to experiment.

IS MAN BORN IN SIN? Henry T. Edge

Religions have had their origin in that Ancient Wisdom which Man in ages long gone by
inherited from his Divine Ancestry. This explains at once the uniformity and the diversity of
religious systems, for they are alike in essence but different in external form. In each religion
the fundamental truths have become obscured by man-made dogmas, and dogmatic
ecclesiastical systems have been engendered. The story of Christianity illustrates this, and
there are movements today towards a reconstitution of Christianity. Theosophy rightly claims
to be the champion of Christianity, inasmuch as Theosophy points out the ancient and
sublime truths which underlie the superincumbent mass of dogmas.
Our endeavor has been to uncover the ruin-encumbered universal foundation
of religion. . . . To rescue from degradation the archaic truths which are the
basis of all religions. H. P. Blavatsky
The most important of these archaic truths is that of the Divine origin of Man and his
consequent ability to achieve his own salvation by invoking the Divine power which is
incarnate in every man. This truth is taught in the Bible, for in Genesis we are told how Man
was first created a living soul, and afterwards was created in the image of God; and in the
Gospels Jesus exhorts his followers to become like unto himself. But in spite of this the truth
has been perverted by a theological dogma that man was born in sin and can be saved only by
a special intercession. It is supposed that Adam and Eve sinned by adopting physical
procreation, and that every man born since has been under a curse in consequence. The effect
of this teaching is to take away Man's confidence in his own Divinity and to render him
dependent upon the services of ecclesiastical systems; and it has caused many intelligent and
intuitive people to rebel against religion altogether. It is well to know that religion never
taught anything of the sort, and that our own Bible lends no support to the idea.
To understand our own religion aright, we ought to study other religions, because in this way
we can discover those fundamental tenets which are common to all. And one such common
tenet will be found in the doctrine that mankind was at first an innocent creature, devoid of
the power of self-knowledge and freewill; and that after that stage had been passed he
became awakened by Divine power communicated to him, and he left his state of ignorant
bliss to enter upon a career wherein he had freewill, the knowledge of good and evil, and
responsibility for his own actions. This doctrine is to be found in allegorical form in all great
religions and many philosophical systems; and we find a version of it in the early chapters of
our Bible, which was derived immediately from Chaldaea. Man is found dwelling in a
Garden, which stands for his state of primitive irresponsibility. But there comes to him a
Serpent, the wisest of all created beings, who persuades him to eat of the Tree of the
Knowledge of Good and Evil, whereby his latent faculties become awakened, he loses his
paradisiacal ignorance, and becomes like unto a God having freewill and responsibility. This
power is at first abused, so that Man brings upon himself woe; but ultimately it will be his
salvation, as he gradually learns how to deal with all the forces in his nature and to
subordinate the evil ones to the good.
This Serpent, Man's great teacher, has been turned by theology into the Devil, Man's enemy
and the enemy of God.
One form of this universal allegory is the myth of Prometheus, and what here follows is
based on a chapter in H. P. Blavatsky's Secret Doctrine, Vol. II, pp. 410 sqq. It is time, she
says, to dispose of the pernicious dogma relating to the 'curse' under which mankind is
alleged to have suffered since the supposed disobedience of Adam and Eve. The creative
powers which Man acquired were the gift of Divine Wisdom, not the result of sin. There was
nothing sinful in performing the functions of natural union; only a false hypocritical
asceticism could make a sin out of that. It was not this natural act that brought any curse on
mankind. The 'curse,' if we must call it so, consisted in the trouble which Man brings on
himself by his wrong use of his new power of freewill. But, as said above, this curse is only
temporary, and is moreover accompanied by the priceless boon of freewill.
According to the myth of Prometheus, and its analogs in other mythologies, a Divine Being
took pity on nascent humanity, shut up in a Paradisiacal prison where there was no prospect
of progress; and brought down the Fire and Light from heaven to inspire Man. This he did at
great sacrifice to himself, willingly made through his compassion. The natural program for
Man was to go through a long and slow process of evolution; but this act of the Divine
Messenger hastened that evolution, by bringing the Divine Fire to Man before he was ready
to receive it. And yet, as we are told, this act by Prometheus, though in one sense a rebellion
and interference, was nevertheless preordained, foreseen. This is a teaching which we may
find hard to understand; but it is not harder than many doctrines which theologies require us
to accept; and it does what they do not do explains actual facts of life.
The holy mystery of procreation was turned into animal gratification; thus the Serpent
'bruised man's heel,' as the Bible tells us; man's nature was changed mentally, morally, and
physically. So that now, in this Fifth Race of humanity, we suffer from the abuse, and
Prometheus's gift may in this sense be described as a 'curse.' The Divine Titan, who brought
the boon to mankind, took upon himself the retribution consequent thereon, and so is shown
in the allegory as being chained to a rock and tortured. But Prometheus stands for mankind in
general, so that his tortures represent the woes of mankind. At last, however, appears his
deliverer, Herakles, typifying the Divine saving power in Man himself.
In the Bible allegory Adam and Eve are shown as disobeying the Lord God; and similarly in
the legend of Prometheus, Zeus is disobeyed. The clue to this is to be found in the ancient
Grecian Mysteries, wherein Zeus represents no higher principle than the lower aspect of
human intelligence. So this 'God,' against whom they rebelled, was not the omnipotent allwise Deity, but simply the guardian of unawakened humanity. The rubric at the head of
Genesis, iii, says, "The serpent deceives Eve"; which is a theological gloss, not warranted by
the text. The Serpent tells Eve, "God doth know that in the day ye eat thereof, then your eyes
shall be opened, and ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil."
The above will probably shock many Christians who cherish the familiar doctrines with deepseated reverence; but others it may help over a difficulty. They will see that Christianity need
not be thrown overboard; it only needs to be better understood. There has always been
difficulty in reconciling the idea of a wise and beneficent Deity with the idea of anger and
punishment and eternal damnation. This difficulty we have created for ourselves: the AllWise never ordained
any such thing. The will of God need not be altogether inscrutable; we have our own Godgiven intelligence to guide us to an understanding. Time-worn dogmas are a misfit in this
age; the ancient teachings may prove better adapted.

The Theosophical Forum November 1940
JUSTICE RULES Helen G. Steward

Nothing "just happens." If things just happened there would be no system of planets.
Everything would be a jumble; there would be no order, no system anywhere; because what
holds good in one place, as far as cosmic law is concerned, holds good in all places. Chaos,
destruction, death would be the rule if things "just happened."
But the truth is that all moves in a sequential, orderly manner. Nothing ever really dies,
nothing is lost. Everything, everywhere, is balanced. Action and reaction are equal and
opposite. Let us remember that the aggressor of today is but the defender of yester-year. Old
scores, old hates, old debts must be met, must be balanced, if not in this life then in a
succeeding earth-incarnation. Fundamentally, perfect justice rules the world. We should hold
tightly in our hearts to this fundamental idea: out of the welter of seeming injustice something
better, finer, nobler will be born; some thing, some lesson or lessons the world needs will be
born out of the seemingly impossible situation stalking abroad today on this stage called Life.
Remember too that nothing can come to us either for good or for ill but what is ours: ours to
be met, ours to be repaid, ours to conquer, but never ours to "get even with." "Hatred ceaseth
never by hatred, hatred ceaseth by love" uttered centuries ago is still applicable today.

KNOWLEDGE WITHIN YOUR REACH H. T. Edge

Our path in life is mostly determined by what we call chance or accident. But if laws of cause
and effect are universal, there can be no such thing as chance or accident. True, we may use
such words for convenience, to denote events whose cause we cannot trace; but chance in the
real sense of the word would mean an effect without a cause, which is impossible by the
hypothesis.
Hence we must accept the conclusion that even the most casual events come under the
general law of causation; and we dare not take refuge in the argument that, because we
cannot explain a thing, therefore it does not exist.
If I toss a coin to decide which of two things to do, it is usually said that I am leaving the
decision to chance. But what can this mean? What is it that determines whether the coin will
show heads or tails? The same with cards and many other such things. Divination is based on
this. Those who practised divination knew that the fall of the cards, etc., was not due to mere
chance, but that it was governed by law.
There is a whole universe of unexplored territory here waiting investigation. We do not
discern the connexion between events: events seem to us like physical atoms, separated from
one another by empty space. Yet we know the atoms can act on one another, so our idea of
the empty space must be wrong.
Scientific discovery is continually extending the range of our knowledge respecting the
connexions between things: the connexion between sanitation and epidemic disease, between
mental habits and insanity, between what goes on on the sun and what goes on on the earth,
between what the moon does and what the fishes do, and so on. And where or why should we
set a limit? The possible cannot be made to end just at the point where our knowledge at any
given date leaves off. Astrologers know the connexion between planetary positions and
terrestrial events, between a natal figure and a character. What is an omen but an indication
which someone has been able to read, and based on one of these invisible and unexplored
connexions?
It has been said of modern science that it is after all but a very narrow selection of subjects
for investigation, affording at every point clues that lead off in every direction, but the vast
majority of which are ignored because they would conduct the investigator off the beaten
track. It is not very likely that the science of the ancients would follow the selfsame beaten
track. They probably followed up other clues and discovered things in Nature of which we
have not obtained so much as a glimpse. For what is Nature to us but just so much of the
world as we are able to see? How very much more there may be that we cannot see. There
may be other planes, but before we begin soaring to them, why not learn a little more about
the one we are on? All this seems to show that knowledge has not much to do with booklearning, and that it is the height of folly to pay fees to someone who offers to teach us, and
that the gates of infinite knowledge lie open to anyone who can find in himself the keys to
unlock them.

LITTLE MAN AND HIS BIG UNIVERSE H. T. Edge

When we consider the vastness and complexity which astronomers have revealed to us with
regard to the starry heavens, we must often have been struck by the want of proportion
between this particular view of the universe and the views which we take as regards other
matters. Here we deal with distances utterly beyond the conception of the most soaring
imagination, and with time periods on a corresponding scale of immensity. Nor is it only in
the starry heavens that we see such vastness and infinite variety. In the stratigraphical scale of
geology we find the same immeasurable extent both of time and space; in reviewing the
animate kingdoms of Nature the same infinite variety and complexity confronts us.
Everywhere we explore, it is the same.
Yet, in comparison with this, how feeble, how small-scale, how timorous, are our theories
and speculations on such topics as the origin of man and the creation of worlds! That in a
universe of such illimitable range and such viewless perspective, man should have appeared
at an epoch which by comparison we may fitly describe as yesterday this balks our sense
of proportion. Again, consider the microscopic scale of our daily round, compared with the
vast size and duration of the visible universe. But yet again, it is with our own mind that we
conceive this vastness; and how great and how small is man! Great enough to comprehend
his own littleness, small enough to marvel at this greatness. Verily this which we know as
ourself cannot be but a minute fraction of our real self. Have we not then a greater self, whose
range of experience is commensurate with the vastness of this universe whose outer shell we
can contemplate with our eyes? Many people have asked themselves this question, glimpsing
what must be the truth; yet such a speculation is after all but a first crude guess, a leaping at
one bound from the finite to the infinite. Nature is far more complex than that; it is too simple
to say that man has just a mortal and an immortal part, and no degrees or stages between.
Man is a slowly evolving creature. There are many planes of nature, many universes
interblended with each other; and man has many stages of conscious existence, corresponding
with all these various planes in the universe, so that he is capable of living consciously in
many states. There is more than one "heaven'; there are many heavens many mansions in
my Father's house.
People may talk about being practical and living in the world in which we find ourselves; but,
as said, we have reached a stage where our intellectual speculations have outsoared our
ordinary life, and an adjustment between the two is due. It is not too much to say that we are
living in a state of infancy, with most of our possibilities undeveloped, and in ignorance of
what we really are. And people, so fond of hypnotizing themselves to sleep with a catchword,
will say that human nature is always the same. This either amounts to saying that things
which don't change don't change, or to saying that we cannot grow. Human passions may
remain the same, but that does not prevent us from mastering them. And after all what is
human nature? We cannot dogmatize on this until we have explored its possibilities.
Our ordinary daily consciousness is limited to earth; but there are actually within us faculties
which extend beyond the earth, and whose home is in the greater systems of which the earth
is but a part. But those higher faculties are for the most part latent; they are not present to our
awareness. Yet it is within the power of any man to enter on that mysterious path of selfevolution by which the light of his inner selves can be focused upon the screen of his
conscious awareness, so that he will thereby attain a larger consciousness and transcend the
limits of the ordinary personal earthbound life. Though humanity as a whole evolves slowly
and will not, as a whole, attain such stages for a long while, yet individuals can and do
outstrip other individuals belonging to the same human family. On earth today, and
constituting part of our present mankind, are men who have attained these heights in previous
cycles of evolution, and who are here now for the purpose of acting as torchbearers to those
who are to follow them. And also, the mankind of this earth includes people in many different
stages of evolution; even in a great modern city are grouped together people wearing the
same clothes, and yet differing vastly in the stage of evolution which they have reached. Such
is the complexity of Nature. Who then can say where he himself stands, or where his fellow
man stands?
The idea of familiarizing the world with these ideas can hardly be overestimated, because the
world has been kept back for so long by ideas that discourage progress, whether they be
religious dogmas or scientific dogmas tending to give man a paltry view of his own nature
and powers. When we have once vividly realized the possibility of attainment, we have
already taken a long first step to an ultimate realization of the actuality. For our mind has
made a call upon the light within, and a ray can be shot down which will at once begin its
clarifying work on our minds and our lives.
Physically speaking, man is very small, the universe very great; but true greatness is not
measured by physical proportions.

Universal Brotherhood Path June 1900
MAN'S MIGHTY DESTINY Henry T. Edge

To help the human race to realize its grand and mighty destiny that is the declared object
of the Universal Brotherhood Society; an object familiar to all who have read its prospectuses
and are conversant with its literature and phraseology.
To some this may be a mere form of words, an idle phrase, a grandiloquent expression,
designed to stand in ornate capitals at the head of a prospectus, or to sound sweet in the
mouths of some exotic clique of cranks or dilletanti. Our modern world is so full of gaudy
shams and big, swelling advertisements that phrases have lost their meaning and fall
ineffectual upon our deafened ears. But let us consider the present state of humanity and the
open and declared work of the Universal Brotherhood Organization, and see how true and
real that avowed object is in its bearing upon the problem of human life.
To begin with, let us ask: What is man's mighty destiny? And in answering the question, let
us invoke the aid of no set creed nor authoritative gospel, but see if we cannot infer our
conclusions from the observed facts of human nature.
Looking, then, at man, we find him to be a creature endowed with a restless and ever-aspiring
spirit, but surrounded by circumstances and conditions which fetter and limit that spirit, so
that man is always striving to alter and improve them. Humanity has for ages been
discontented, has not found its circumstances adequate to its aspirations, and has always been
seeking and striving after something higher and better. There is in man a something which is
greater and grander than the bodily and circumstantial environment, a something which
demands ever more perfect expression a growing force like that which unfolds the acorn
and spreads the ample and perfect tree. This growing force can never be repressed; it makes
itself felt in every rank of life. Even the professed materialist, though he would fain secure
harmony by trying to stifle this importunate voice and make it move to the slow measure of a
humdrum life, is obliged to yield to it when he frames his strange, uncouth theories. It drives
him to extremes in his vaunted moderation; he has to be an out-and-out materialist; he must
deny everything; and his "atom" assumes the proportions of a deity of the first order. Even
the selfish recluse is driven by this ever-aspiring, illimitable fire to actions which frustrate his
desired retirement; and, taking a partner to his pleasures, becomes the father of a family,
being thus forced by nature's laws which he has invoked to undergo the sacrifices and
generous toils of parentship. No one can remain still; all must move in some direction.
Let it be admitted, then, that man is growing; for it is a fact which no one will be disposed to
deny, resting as it does upon no dogmatic sanction nor authoritative dictum, but on the
observation and experience of all. The next question that arises is: Is there any limit to man's
growth?
To this question the members of the Universal Brotherhood Organization answer an emphatic
"NO." There is that in us which forbids us to entertain for a moment the idea that we have
ceased or can cease growing. Man is full of unrealized aspirations and ambitions, restless and
searching as ever; not like an old man, who has learnt all he can for one life and is resting on
the fruits of the past, but like a man still young and ambitious. All around us are questions
and searchings and strivings; we all feel the approach of a more gladsome day; our present
condition is not so comfortable but that we can one and all imagine a better. Looking around
upon Nature, teeming with its countless marvels of perfection, wherein the Divine Spirit has
expressed Itself in endless and unfathomable beauty and variety, we find man the only
incomplete and inharmonious being. The greater part of his wondrous nature remains as yet
unexpressed: he is like a plant that has so far produced only leaves; the blossom is still
stirring and struggling within, awaiting the day of its unfolding. Man's life is not a perpetual
joy, even if it is ever a joy in the true sense of the word. Men have asked, "Is life worth
living?" Weary bards have sung odes of woe, and pessimistic philosophers have invented
marvelous cut-and-dried schemes of materialism. Religion gives up this life in despair and
points to death as the gateway to possible bliss of an uncertain character. A "favored" few
spend their days in the fever of pleasure or the monotony of cultured ease, and perchance
mistake that for joy; while a far larger host grind an endless mill of labor to feed their bodies,
harassed by worry and want.
Is this the goal for which Humanity was placed upon earth? To toil and sweat and snatch his
uncertain pleasures at the expense of his neighbor, or to die and go to heaven?
Is it not possible that a day will dawn when man can call himself happy, and sing from his
heart, "Verily life is joy?" Will he never finish learning his toilsome and tedious lesson, and
become serene and joyous and beautiful like the other products of creation? Will he always
be a creature of doubt and despair, anxiety and fear? Why is man so unhappy and discordant
in so harmonious and peaceful a universe?
Surely it is because he alone of all creatures is endowed with a free will, an intelligent power
of choice. It is this tremendous and hazardous power that makes his life such a critical and
significant one. It enables him to overleap the protecting and guiding laws that limit other
creatures to their proper and safe spheres, and to rush wildly into adventures in his search for
a larger and fuller life. Thus he has strayed away from the peaceful and divine life from
which he came and has become lost in the darkness of outer regions, where glimmer the fires
of selfish lust and low cunning, where self-seeking and cautious expediency replace holy trust
and the certainty of knowledge.
But man has lost paradise only in order that he may regain it, for there is more joy in heaven
over one soul that, being lost, has returned, than over many who have never strayed. To quit
the joys of an innocent Paradise, to combat evil, and, combatting, to conquer it, and to choose
the right that is man's destiny. He is a divine messenger upon earth, charged with the
glorious task of informing and controlling the lower kingdoms of nature. He descends into
the nether world, loses for a time his sight of heaven, fights with the lusty dark forces, and
finally wins and returns with the spoils of his conquest a perfect man, having dominion
over that which is above and that which is below.
Man's mighty destiny, then, is to regain the knowledge of his soul. By doing so he will unite
heaven with earth, for he has explored all the regions of the lower creation until he has
identified himself thoroughly with earth. Now he has to regain his original divine and
spiritual knowledge, so that he may make a heaven upon this earth; not waste his time in
waiting for a dim heaven after death and up in the clouds, but make a heaven here whither he
has been sent.
He has to remember that the Soul is immortal, eternal, and that the body is as a garment
which suffices for the needs of one day's work. Death must be regarded as a sleeping, for the
resting of the Soul, before it resumes in another body its task upon earth. Hence the Universal
Brotherhood upholds the forgotten truth of REBIRTH, and seeks to dispel that fatuous
delusion which assigns to man but a single short life upon earth, and which makes every
question of life seem so difficult and insoluble.
He has to remember that the Soul is ONE and not many. Man has strayed into the life of
selfishness, and dwells in a narrow prison-house of self, isolated from the limitless and
teeming life around him. He shuts himself up in a little world of his own, feeding on
prejudices and caprices and personal aims and desires; this narrow life has grown so familiar
to him that he can scarcely imagine a wider. The ideal of unselfishness has been presented to
him in an unpalatable form as a painful obligation, a kind of mortification, a penance
undergone in view of possible post-mortem recompense.
The Universal Brotherhood holds up unselfishness as a joy, a liberation, a glorious and happy
awakening from troubled dreams. For it means the awakening of the SOUL. When the Soul
awakens, man will arise with a shout of joy and say that "Life is Joy." There is a heaven for
man, and it is here on earth; it will come when he has realized the fact that all Life is One.
The selfish man is a fool, for no joy can penetrate into his narrow cell; the warm, bright glow
of Soul-life cannot be felt in any single isolated breast, but must find response in a harmony
of human hearts. This is the true "fellow-feeling." Lovers know the joy of escaping from self,
when for a time they lose their sense of personal isolation in conscious blending with another
soul. This is the ever-present reminder of the far fuller life, the far deeper joys, that await us
when we throw aside the intolerable weight of personal life and live for humanity instead of
for self. Let that one universally known fact of the lovers' bliss be an example to us of the
certain joy and freedom that attends the forgetting of self.
The Universal Brotherhood aims at bringing back into humanity the joy of soul-life. All its
efforts and activities are means to that end, and they can all be explained by that one clue.
Otherwise they might seem to be diverse and incoherent. Music, the elevation of the drama,
the promotion of community-life, the practice of hygienic living, the training of children, the
teaching of Rebirth and other half-forgotten truths all are carried on with this same object
in view, to bring back to forlorn humanity the joy of life and the knowledge of its grand and
glorious destiny.
Universal Brotherhood Path

MATHEMATICS AND THE IMAGINATION (1) H. T. Edge

Mathematics, as the authors say, like other familiar things, is easier to describe and to
illustrate than to define: it is hard to find one general idea that will embrace all the manifold
applications. But the impression we have received after reading this book is that mathematics
is an attempt to systematize the universe: first some small part of the universe, then a larger
part, and so on, until we begin to suspect that we shall need a formula as complex as the
universe itself if we are to embrace all. As viewed from the standpoint of the intellect,
mathematics is the most abstract and fundamental of all the sciences, being a sort of masterscience underlying all the rest. To give the layman some notion of what it is all about has
been the laudable aim of these writers, who have produced a most interesting and informative
book.
First we have chapters on numbers, especially very large numbers. It is explained that
primitive minds count without the use of numbers, by the simple process of matching one
plurality with another; and that the idea of number apart from a particular plurality of objects
is an abstraction which comes later. The existence of the very large numbers is an inference
rather than a conclusion from observation. One very large number, facetiously called a
"googol," is 10 to the power of 100, or a 1 with a hundred zeros after it. But Eddington
estimates that the number of electrons in the entire universe is only 10 to the power of 79. If
we wish to climb to farther heights we can speak of 10 to the power of one googol, which
would be represented by a 1 with so many zeros after it that there would not be room to write
them if you wrote one every inch all the way to the farthest nebula. Such a number may have
no use in mensuration, but it may in the calculus of probabilities, as estimating the probability
that my typewriter may suddenly jump off the table and land on the bed, or that an electron
may do some excessively unusual thing.
Then follow chapters on the meanings of the word "infinite," the infinitely large, the
infinitely small, the unbounded, the undivided; and the numerous paradoxes and fallacies
which arise from a neglect to distinguish these meanings. The very big and the infinite are
entirely different; there is no point where the very big begins to merge into the infinite;
however large a number or magnitude you may reach, you will still be no nearer the infinite
than you were at the start. The idea of the infinite is arrived at through "reasoning by
recurrence': what we have done once we can do again, and we assume that we can go on
doing it indefinitely. The paradoxes of Zeno are considered. Some of them are due to his
failure to recognise that an infinite series may have a finite sum, and some depend upon a
relation between position and motion which has engaged the attention of the profoundest
mathematical minds. Leibniz tried to explain the infinitely small to Queen Sophie Charlotte
of Prussia, but she said the behavior of her courtiers had made her so familiar with it that she
did not need to be taught.
The principle of logarithms is clearly explained, with the remark that it is wonderful it was
not thought of before. This may suggest to some that it has been thought of before; many of
our mathematical discoveries may be rediscoveries, and there may have been things known to
our remote ancestors that have not yet been rediscovered. Transcendental and imaginary
numbers, i and e, come in for consideration, and a great many formulas for approximations
to are given.
In the sections on assorted geometries we are introduced to the four-dimensionalists and

flatlanders, and it is shown how they neglect to distinguish between physics and pure
geometry, between physical space (that of our sensory experiences) and ideal space.
Euclidean space is ideal and abstract; a three-dimensional geometric solid is as imaginary as a
two-dimensional figure, and quite distinct from a solid physical body. The word "dimension,"
as used in mathematics, does not necessarily mean an extended line at right angles to other
lines. Its meaning must be abstracted from that of physical space, and it is better to substitute
the word "co-ordinate." Physical space is a three-dimensional manifold. When
mathematicians speak of multi-dimensional manifolds they have no reference to physical
space; such manifolds (or "spaces') have only the properties expressed by the postulates and
axioms of the particular geometry concerned.
Euclidean geometry is shown to be only a theory, in which the propositions are deduced with
faultless logic from the axioms and postulates laid down. But Lobachevsky, Bolyai, and
Riemann have constructed equally consistent geometries upon other postulates, and these
geometries are better adapted for the mensuration of curved surfaces than is Euclid's. Here
again we see that geometries are an indefinite number of different systems invented for the
purpose of co-ordinating certain groups of experiences which we have of the universe.
The chapter on mathematical puzzles will prove of great interest to many readers; we have
here quite a large selection of such posers: various versions of the problem of a man crossing
by a ferry and having with him a fox, a goose, and a bag of corn, only one of which he can
carry at a time; the problem of the eight-quart jug of wine which is to be divided into two
equal shares by means of jugs holding five and three quarts; mechanical puzzles with wires
and rings; etc. The International Beer-Drinking Problem is as follows:
In a town on the border between the United States and Mexico the state of
exchange was such that an American dollar was worth only 90 cents in
Mexico, while a Mexican dollar was worth only 90 cents in America. So a
man crosses the border into Mexico and orders ten cents worth of beer, which
he pays for with a Mexican dollar, receiving an American dollar as change.
With this he recrosses the border and buys another ten cents worth of beer
with his American dollar, receiving a Mexican dollar as change. He keeps this
up all day until he is quite full of beer. Question who pays for the beer?
Another chapter is on paradoxes or inconsistencies, many of them hoary with antiquity. The
paradoxes of Zeno naturally come in for consideration. That of Achilles and the Tortoise
depends on the fact that Zeno confuses an infinite distance with a finite distance infinitely
subdivided; but his problem of the moving arrow involves considerations which have
exercised the greatest mathematical minds. Motion, when analysed by our logical mind,
appears to become reduced to a series of disconnected stationary positions, which our
perceptions synthesize in a way similar to that by which the separate images on the film are
made to resemble figures in motion. In the same way a continuous line may be analysed into
a series of separate points, or a continuous solid body into an aggregate of disconnected
atoms. It would seem that the analytical function of the mind is bound to lead to dilemmas;
and is not this what Zeno was aiming to demonstrate?
The section on chance and probability carries us into deep water. The calculus of
probabilities succeeds to perfection on the large scale, but breaks down utterly in the details.
It is thanks to the former virtue that our insurance companies can profitably enable us to sit in
our armchair and smoke at forty for the rest of our life; but they cannot for the life of them
tell whether it is going to rain tomorrow. I can toss a coin a thousand times with the assurance
that the proportion of heads and tails will be almost exactly 50 50; but I have not the least
idea, if I only make one toss, whether it will be heads or tails. According to the rules the
chance of heads or tails is always equal, no matter how often I may have thrown heads in
succession. But what about the betting odds?
Edgar Poe calls attention to this discrepancy: the fact of sixes having been thrown twice with
dice is warrant for betting the largest odds that sixes will not be thrown a third time; yet the
intellect cannot see how the past throws can influence the ones that follow them. The error
involved, he says, is one of an infinite series of mistakes which arise in the path of Reason
through her propensity for seeking truth in detail. This can only mean that the successive
throws are connected; that the Reason is wrong and the intuition right.
The kinetic theory of gases explains their expansive pressure by an elaborate integration of
the kinetic energies of all the molecules; but when we consider a single molecule, we
visualize it as flying about at its own free will like a midge in a sunbeam. This may help us to
reconcile our doubts about the compatibility of free will with law. If you only have a
sufficient number of individual free wills, they will together fulfil the law: the calculus of
probability proves it.
The authors point out that classical physics regarded as immutable laws of Nature phenomena
which had been shown to hold good within a limited range of experience; and that modern
physics has extended its observations to regions wherein some of those rules do not hold
good. Thus natural law has been largely replaced, perhaps even ousted, by statistical
inference. The laws of Nature are no longer regarded as "simple and constant." We used to
say: "All men die; Socrates is a man; therefore Socrates will die." Now we say: "All men die
so far as we know; Socrates is a man; therefore he will probably die."
Mathematics is formulation, and formulation is a method of approximating the truth by
stages. Such is the impression we receive.
A word should be said on the subject of abstractions. The meaning of this word depends on
the point of view. If moving bodies are considered as real, then motion becomes an
abstraction from this reality. But if motion itself be regarded as real, then moving bodies must
be regarded as only particular manifestations of motion. Is the infinite merely the negation of
the finite? Or is the finite a limitation of the infinite? Which is the prior term? Descartes held
that the infinite is the positive idea, and the finite the negative, and that therefore the infinite
presupposes the finite. Kant held that space is not a general conception, abstracted from
particular ideas of space, but that particular spaces are arrived at by limitations of the one
infinite space that is prior to them. This is of course the way space is viewed in The Secret
Doctrine; and so also is number. Number, which from our viewpoint is an abstraction, is
viewed as a reality. That may seem unthinkable, but the universe is not likely to be
conditioned by the infirmities of our conceptual powers. We can form no idea of what a
number is in itself; we can only think of a plurality of objects or parts. So long as we have to
rely on the argumentative and analysing faculties, we are bound to come up against dualities,
antinomies, contradictions; and mathematics has sought to palliate the difficulty by all sorts
of subtle and ingenious devices. But Theosophists believe that the human mind is able to rid
itself of this kind of Maya and thus to be able to grasp ideas beyond the scope of our ordinary
powers. The book concludes with a chapter on the Calculus and the meaning of Change and
Changeability as understood by mathematicians. Much praise must be given to the excellent

illustrations and diagrams by Rufus Isaacs.
FOOTNOTE:
1. Mathematics and the Imagination. By Edward Kasner and James Newman. Simon and
Schuster: New York: 1940. $2.75. (return to text)

MEMORIES OF H. P. BLAVATSKY Henry T. Edge

May 8th was White Lotus Day, which is celebrated annually by Theosophists in
commemoration of the death of H. P. Blavatsky; and this anniversary, the 52nd, was thought
a suitable occasion for an address in the Temple at Headquarters by the only surviving
member of the Theosophical Society (Covina) who was a personal pupil of our great
Founder. It was further requested that this address, in an expanded form, should be prepared
for publication in this magazine, and what follows is the outcome of the author's response.
Though he has treated the subject before (The Theosophical Path, February, 1930, March,
1931; THE THEOSOPHICAL FORUM, March, 1938), it is felt that such a record means much to
members, many of whom are new, and the older articles being difficult of access or
unprocurable. This is sufficient excuse for many repetitions which must necessarily occur.
The very nature of the subject, the reason for writing such memoirs at all, requires that
matters personal to the writer should be touched upon. But this, for the sake both of readers
and writer, shall be limited to as much as may be necessary to give composition and
background to the picture which he must try to present.
I may describe myself as an individual with a mental temperament, born in a quiet country
parsonage. The ancient church dating back to Norman times, where my father officiated,
imbued my sensitive mind with an atmosphere of religion in its mellower and less exacting
form, such as is inspired by stately Gothic cathedrals and sublime church music; so that
Christianity meant for me far more than the harsh dogmatic formalism met in some quarters,
and which Theosophists sometimes assail under the impression that they are impugning
Christianity. Besides this foundation of aspiration towards the sublime, I had from early years
a great interest in science and preferred scientific books to any other. It was such a man as
this who found himself in 1887 studying science at the University of Cambridge. But already
before this date my mind had acquired a bent towards the mystical and occult in Nature. I had
read, among other books, The Night-Side of Nature, by Catherine Crowe, a book in which
that able writer has brought together a collection of testimony to the reality of ghosts,
apparitions, and other related phenomena, from all countries and ages. To a mind sufficiently
unprejudiced to be able to form a just estimate of the value of evidence, such a record was
convincing; and I naturally sought further information from any available source. Bulwer
Lytton's occult novels were among the number, and I dabbled in Swedenborgianism, Psychic
Research, and other matters.
A trouble at this stage was due to the fact that Bulwer Lytton's magicians belong to the dark
side of Nature, or are unattractive in other ways; so that a conflict was set up in me between
the aspiration for knowledge and power on the one hand, and the voice of conscience and
lofty feelings on the other. Here my words will surely find an echo in the hearts of many
readers who have had inner conflicts of one kind or another. That this conflict was soon
destined to be resolved by Theosophy, with its presentation of Masters of Wisdom and
Compassion, will appear in what follows.
The year 1887, then, found me studying science at Cambridge University, and the date
August 15 is a memorable landmark; for it was on that day that a chance meeting with a
friend, who mentioned Sinnett's Esoteric Buddhism, sent me to the University Library to
study the very few Theosophical books then available, such as The Occult World, Light on
the Path, Incidents in the Life of Madame Blavatsky, books by Eliphas Levi and Franz
Hartmann, Theosophy, Religion, and Occult Science, by Olcott. Thus I discovered the
existence of White Magicians, the conflict above mentioned was resolved, and I had found an
ideal which did not run counter to my feelings of rectitude.
On the other hand, being a member of the Psychical Research Society, which had an
important center in Cambridge, and where I met F. W. H. Myers and Professor Henry
Sidgwick, I had read the Society's alleged exposure of Madame Blavatsky; and having no
means of knowing its falsity, I was troubled in my mind. It is however to be observed that
this circumstance did not in the least discourage me in my determination to pursue
Theosophy. Having written to the then Headquarters, and obtained an introduction to a lady
member residing near Cambridge, my doubts about the Psychical Research were speedily
removed: and indeed Madame Blavatsky's real character stood revealed in her works and
the same may be said of Myers, Sidgwick, and Co.
It was at the close of 1887 that, taking advantage of the ending of the autumn term at
Cambridge, I found my way to London to visit H. P. Blavatsky for the first time. It will easily
be understood how every detail of the circumstances connected with that momentous
expedition has impressed itself indelibly on my mind and lingers fondly in my memory
throughout the years that have passed; such associations are familiar to us all. Those were the
days of the smoky Underground Railway and the horse omnibuses with the "knife board" on
the top, and where you might get a seat beside a purple-faced driver in the style of Mr. Tony
Weller. The now ubiquitous tea shop was then totally non-existent, nor had the cheap popular
daily paper and the weekly scrap magazine as yet begun to spread their influence on the
public mind. This London has vanished into Limbo, and it is likely that a visit to the actual
localities might result in disillusionment, as usually happens when we vainly seek to
reconstitute experiences which live only in our memory.
Madame Blavatsky at that time was living in the house of Bertram Keightley and his nephew
Archibald Keightley, two young men of nearly the same age, who have earned lasting merit
by the generous hospitality which they accorded her. It was a semi-detached residence,
standing in small grounds, and situated in a residential neighborhood between the West-End
proper and the western suburbs, and just north of the great east-west artery in the part where
it is known as the Bayswater Road. I arrived just before the time for the evening meal, and,
after being received by Bertram Keightley, we went down to the dining-room, which was in
the rear and connected with H. P. Blavatsky's reception room in front by folding doors. Soon
the wonderful personage whom I was so eager to see made her appearance, and I must try to
convey a picture of my first impressions.
In person she was rather short, and, as is visible in many of her portraits, she was at this time
corpulent, owing to maladies caused by her labors and sufferings; the effect being enhanced
by the need for loose and easy apparel. It may be added parenthetically that her physician had
found her blood in a state which ordinarily would be inconsistent with continued life: a proof
of the mighty will and devotion which kept her at her labors in spite of such appalling
obstacles. My first impression was that of a perfectly natural person, free from all
affectations, artificialities, and formal disguises, such as we all habitually wear in deference
to social convention and to hide from each other our nakedness. She talked easily, passing
from subject to subject, in much the same way as a child might talk, though of course with
the knowledge of a much traveled and experienced observer. Her ease of manner evoked a
sympathetic response in the listener. For a most eloquent portrayal of her character and
bearing, reference may be made to the article by "Saladin" (W. Stewart Ross), editor of The
Agnostic Journal, printed in Lucifer, June, 1891. It is much too long to reproduce here, but
two sentences may be quoted:
She was simply an upright and romantically honest giantess. "Impostor"
indeed! She was almost the only mortal I have ever met who was not an
impostor.
I cannot give anything like a diary or chronological record, as the details are blurred and form
a general picture interspersed with isolated incidents. As I did not live in London, my
meetings with H. P. B. were confined to transient visits, when I might either be passing
through London or on a short stay with some friend. She used to sit in the front room in the
evenings, in a large armchair, and receive any visitors who might call. Among members of
what might be called the household staff, I recall, besides the two Keightleys, the Countess
Wachtmeister, whose name occupies a notable place in the pages of early Theosophical
history; Mr. George Mead, H. P. B.'s secretary; Mr. Claude Wright; Mrs. Cooper-Oakley and
her sister Laura Cooper; Miss Kislingbury; Charles Johnston, Sanskrit scholar, who married
Vera Jelihovsky, H. P. Blavatsky's niece; Mr. Richard Harte, American. Other notable names
not included among resident members, are Herbert Burrows, leading Socialist; Dr. Franz
Hartmann, well-known writer on occult subjects; Mrs. Alice Gordon, long resident in India
and mentioned in early Theosophical annals; William Kingsland, who recently visited Egypt
and wrote a book on the measurements of the Great Pyramid, then a young electrical
engineer; Colonel Olcott. Among Hindus may be mentioned U. L. Desai and Rai Baroda K.
Laheri. Another personality mentioned in the early annals was Dr. Charles Carter Blake, who
had had a prominent career as a member of the British Association for the Advancement of
Science, in which he figured as a zoologist, following the school of Richard Owen in
opposition to Huxley, who advocated evolution by natural selection. Dr. Carter Blake had
great erudition, owing to a photographic memory, but was not able to turn it to much account.
While receiving visitors or sitting with members of the household, H. P. B. used to smoke,
rolling cigarettes of the finest Turkish tobacco, and ready to make one for anybody who
might ask. She also generally played "patience," or solitaire as it is called in the United
States. These occupations did not interfere in the least with her ability to engage in
conversation. Mrs. Campbell Praed, in her novel, Affinities, which contains a vivid and
sympathetic portrait of H. P. B., speaks of her as being able to carry on an animated
discussion in English and turn suddenly to interject words into a conversation in French going
on behind her. The same writer discusses the remarkable features of H. P. B. the unusually
large light-gray eyes, contradicted by the small alert nose, and this contradicted again by the
massive lower part of the face: all this indicative of the remarkable character and attainments.
But in estimating the character and conduct of such a being, we must bear in mind the very
difficult, the well-nigh impossible task which she had to accomplish that of living in two
very different worlds at once. For, as a messenger of the Lodge of Masters of Wisdom, she
must keep in touch therewith; while at the same time she must accommodate herself to the
world around her. And what a world was this to her sight, to whom conventional screens
were transparencies, who read people for what they were at a glance? This alone is enough to
account for eccentricities of demeanor which ordinary critics, ignorant of the real reason,
would attribute to reasons within the limits of their own comprehension. What produced more
impression on me than any one thing may here be mentioned. Standing on an easel in one
corner of the sitting-room was a framed portrait in oils of H. P. B.'s Master, "M." This was no
imaginary picture, but a genuine portrait of a real man. It must be understood that, the effect
produced being the paramount concern, questions as to how this portrait was made were of
quite secondary interest and unable to influence my judgment. Rather than estimate the
authenticity of the portrait in terms of available evidence as to its production, I should reverse
the reasoning and infer the means of production from the result achieved. So I am only too
ready to accept the statement that the artist, (Schmiechen) was caused by H. P. B. to see a
visual image of the Master. However this may be, I seemed to have now become aware of the
reality of such a being, and my life was thereupon and ever since inspired by the presence of
an ideal that was no mental abstraction or reasoned construct, but something actual.
On my second visit to H. P. B. she spoke of a visit which she said I had made before my first
visit, and in which I had told her about myself. The things which she reported me as having
said tallied with fact and could not have been got from anyone but myself. On my inquiry as
to whether it was in my astral form that I had come, she replied, No, he was just as he is now.
She described my dress and the description was verified by a friend who was with me as
being one which I had actually worn. I cannot give the explanation, for the simple reason that
I do not know it; so readers may exercise their own wits upon it.
She also said at one time that, when she first saw me, she said to herself: "Here is a young
man who has an eventful occult life before him. He has two paths before him: in one of them
he will be happy; in the other miserable. I wonder which he will take."
It was at this time that Lucifer began to be published; and the Esoteric Section, for more
advanced students, was founded. In this connexion it will be understood that the more
important things are precisely those about which the most reserve must be kept. I was brought
into intimate relationship with H. P. B. the Teacher. (Does she not endorse one of her books:
"dedicated by H. P. B. to H. P. Blavatsky, with no thanks'?) I then knew that she could see
into the depths of my being, responding to a sincere knock, showing me my faults and
advising as to overcoming them. And thus I acquired unshakeable evidence that she was what
she was. I dedicated my life to the cause for which she had sacrificed so much; and found the
anchorage which has never failed to keep me safe through many trials, many successes.
On one occasion she put into my hands the MS. of the forthcoming Voice of the Silence and
sent me to another room to read it. As illustrating the difficulties of carrying on work in those
times, it may be mentioned that, as the private pupils did not include any printers, it was
necessary for private instructions to be written out in copying ink and reproduced, page by
page, by the old-fashioned gelatine graph, the pages being afterwards collected and stitched.
This says much for the industry and devotion of the volunteer workers on this task.
Such are a few scattered details of my recollections; it may be that others might be given, but
they do not all recur to the memory at one time; or they are too fragmentary, too much
involved in the context to be of any significance when isolated therefrom; or they are such as
might be found in H. P. B.'s writings and thus do not come within the sphere of my special
subject. It remains to offer a few concluding remarks. Truly, as I often think, this meeting
with H. P. B. was a most marvelous adventure. In the heart of the teeming life of that vast
metropolis of the materialistic nineteenth century, to encounter face to face, at the dawn of
one's manhood, a real ! But why use a word as counter for an abstract idea, when, as we
all know, the living individual is the complete summation and full embodiment of all that our
thoughts and feelings can dimly foreshow. One of the writers whose impressions are recorded
in Lucifer for 1891 says that he felt for the first time that he was in the presence of a Reality.
He was one who beheld the Truth before him and did not need to go through the tedious and
often vain process of discovering the truth by first eliminating every possible (and
impossible) source of error. Perhaps it may here be well to bring to a close these personal
reminiscences; for the life and teachings of H. P. Blavatsky will be found adequately treated
elsewhere.

MOTION WHAT IS IT? Henry T. Edge

It isn't anything, because there isn't anything else for it to be. It is one of the primary
postulates of philosophy and of the Secret Doctrine. Motion is motion, we may say; or we
may say it just is, and that's all there is to it. To define a thing we must resolve it into simpler
elements, but must eventually reach the end of our tether, and such is the case as regards
motion. We cannot resolve it into anything more elementary, though we can produce
synonyms and perchance fool ourselves in that way. We can say motion is change of position
or the act of moving (as Noah Webster does); but where does that get us? Old Zeno proved
that there was no such thing as motion, because his arrow must always be somewhere; he
analysed motion into a number of successive positions but could not for the life of him
explain how the arrow got from one position to the other. As Balzac says, speaking through
the mouth of one of his characters:
Between each point of space occupied in succession by that ball there is an
abyss confronting human reason.
Hobbes makes motion an attribute of "body," with a co-ordinate attribute called "spatialness."
Descartes makes motion a form of extension. Leibnitz makes it a manifestation of force. And
you, Reader, can make of these definitions anything you like. Continuing from Balzac:
Everything is movement, thought itself is a movement, upon movement nature
is based. Death is a movement whose limitations are little known. If God is
eternal, be sure he moves perpetually; perhaps God is movement.
Are we not told that "God moves in a mysterious way, His wonders to perform'? And cannot
we also say that God moves not, for he is motion? "O Thou who changest not," as the hymn
says. If motion denotes the beginning of manifestation, then beyond this, in the realms of
absolute Rest, we must place That which moveth not, for it is motion, or the root of motion.
That is why movement, like God, is inexplicable, unfathomable, unlimited,
incomprehensible, intangible. Who has ever touched, comprehended, or
measured movement? We feel its effects without seeing it; we cannot even
deny them as we can deny the existence of a God. Where is it? Where is it
not? Whence comes it? What is its source? What is its end? It surrounds us, it
intrudes upon us, and yet escapes us. It is evident as a fact, obscure as an
abstraction; it is at once effect and cause. It requires space, even as we, and
what is space? Movement alone recalls it to us; without movement, space is
but an empty meaningless word. Like space, like creation, like the infinite,
movement is an insoluble problem which confronts human reason; man will
never conceive it, whatever else he may be permitted to conceive. (1)
Physics defines velocity, space, and time by each other in accordance with the equation, s =
vt and its transformations; thus each of these three fundamentals may be expressed as a
function of the other two. Oluf Tyberg in his Science of Nature, says, "Space or distance is
not a magnitude but a function, the product of two magnitudes, s = vt." Time, Space, Motion;
functions of each other. But is not Time itself a form of motion? Or again is it a kind of
space? Many people use it in both senses without perceiving the difference; which results in
endless perplexities, puns, paradoxes, etc.
We have to be satisfied that motion or change is inseparable from our conscious life on any
possible plane we can reach and let it go at that. Seek not to define the undefinable. "Who
answers errs; say naught." But why should we want to define it; our life is mostly made up of
things we cannot define. To define is to cut up and hence to devitalize, to label and shelve;
not to use. Life is motion, rest would be annihilation. An idle man sitting in a bucket may
imagine he is keeping still, but he is going down towards the bottom of the well. We may be
told to keep moving, but we cannot help it anyway; what matters is which way we are
moving.
A vibrating particle changes its direction diametrically, hundreds of times a second; which
implies an enormous acceleration, hence an enormous force. Try if you have enough
muscular power to waggle your finger back and forth a hundred times a second. When we
come to millions of times a second it gives us some idea of the force there is in vibratory
motion, whether as cause or effect; some idea of the energy locked up in an atom. What was
thought of as "mass" or indestructible matter, turns out to be congealed motion, infinite
energy stored up. The seeming dead is very much alive. This idea about the atom makes us
wonder if ceaseless motion and eternal rest are not the same thing after all. For what is an
atom but a miniature copy of the primordial One? The word atom means an indivisible unit;
in physics it is no longer that, but it still keeps the name given to it when it was thought to be
indivisible.
FOOTNOTE:
1. Quotations from The Wild Ass" Skin, translated by Ellen Marriage for Gebbie Publishing
Co.'s edition, 1897. [ne1[

NOTHING TOO MUCH H. T. Edge

We often quote that maxim, used by several of the ancient Greek authors, , "not
too much of anything, nothing in excess, moderation in all things"; but perhaps not always
realizing sufficiently its import. The genius of our race is in an important respect the opposite
of that of these ancient Greeks. Strenuousness is rather our cult, the philosophy of the utmost;
and this we carry into everything we do, from manual labor to devotional aspirations. But the
Greeks cherished the ideal of balance and eschewed the notion of excess in anything; some of
their stories depict the retribution that comes on those who pursue one line of endeavor too
strenuously. Proportion is the keynote of their art. Astrology books tell us that certain
prominent occidental nations are under the fiery sign Aries, the Ram; and that the Chinese are
ruled by its opposite, Libra or the Balance. Contrast our philosophies and religions with those
of ancient China.
Yet even in speaking of the Tao philosophy, so deeply engrained is the racial genius above
spoken of, that we are apt to try and translate the words of Lao-Tse and Chuang-Tse into
terms more consonant with our own ideals, as though these philosophers were concealing
their meaning under some guise of indirect speech But there is no need to seek to evade these
teachings, for they are what we find in ancient India and in many Theosophical books which
we revere. They amount, philosophically speaking, to the finding of the true Self by
progressive rejection of all that encumbers it; and, as regards action, they imply the finding of
the real actor in man, by relegating to their proper place all the minor impulses to action,
which are only the qualities of nature, as the Bhagavad-Gita tells us.
Indian philosophy runs to vast masses of detail, terms innumerable, categories,
classifications, doctrines, schools; but the Chinese eschews every complication and avoids
terminology and formal doctrine, all world-systems and theories of the constitution of man.
There are many roads to truth, but all have the same goal.
Occidental people are afraid that if they abandon strenuousness they will fall into inertia.
There are many tools in the workshop of life, and he would be a poor craftsman who should
use one tool for all purposes. If we have neglected the balance wheel in our mechanism, at
least a flywheel is not much good without power; and on the other hand an engine without
any sort of governor runs amuck.
No doubt the remaining signs of the Zodiac, besides Aries and Libra as mentioned, denote
various implements of necessary use and all contributory to a well-balanced outfit.
Individuals may be divided into a classification on this basis, each showing the idiosyncrasy
pertaining to the particular cosmic potency in question; and so with the seven symbolic
planets.
If Karman is connected with any particular sign it must be that of the Balance, for it is the
great adjuster of equilibrium.
No doubt it is wisely said that one should act according to his own nature, rather than seek to
imitate the nature of another; and if the racial type to which we belong imbodies a particular
Genius, we probably do well to manifest that Genius. Let each do his own job. But, this much
having been allowed, it may be interesting and helpful to consider the matter further.

The Theosophical Forum April 1941
OUR DESTINY IS OUR WILL H. T. E.

John Stuart Mill says somewhere that "the interference of human will with the course of
Nature is not an exception to law" which may prove helpful to those who get themselves
into a boggle over the question of free will and karman. It is quite an orthodox Theosophical
tenet that every least operation of Nature is ultimately analysable into an act of will. The
universe, we say, is an assemblage of living souls interacting with each other. What else,
then, can Karman be but a manifestation of the action and reaction of the wills of living
beings? When met with a manifestation of the effects of Karman (supposing it to be of the
kind we do not relish), we can say with Faust: " "Tis thou, proud heart, "tis thou hast willed it
so." In other words, we are but finishing something we had begun.
As to destiny and fate, see what is said in The Secret Doctrine, II, 605, where the author is
speaking of , Fate [Karmic Ego], whose business it is to lead the man to the end
appointed for him. She explains that Moira is destiny, not "Fate'; and it is clear that this
Destiny is the will of the true Self in man, so that destiny is equivalent to self-realization in
the highest sense of that word. So we can say that our destiny is our will, so long only as we
do not mean the will of any lesser ego in our compound nature. Destiny, then, may be said to
be a force outside of man, in one sense; while, in another sense, it is the will of the man.

PERPLEXITIES ABOUT KARMAN H. T. Edge

The purpose of this article is to describe some of the difficulties which occur in our endeavors
to understand the doctrine of Karman, to show why they occur, and to indicate the way out of
them.
Karman is one of the doctrines of the Ancient Wisdom, as widespread as the lands of earth,
as old as mankind; it is one of the Seven Keys of Knowledge. To grasp it in its entirety would
require a mind of scope vast enough to transcend the limits of race and time; but, since the
peoples of earth are restricted by race and time, the doctrine must be presented in forms
adapted to their comprehension; a process similar to that of translation must take place. But,
while the doctrine may be adapted to our minds, we must adapt our minds to the doctrine
the process must be mutual.
In the modern Occident we have inherited a cast of mind derived from the religion,
philosophy, and science in which we and our ancestors have grown up. We are prone to
interpret Karman in terms familiar to our modes of thought. When there is a clash, there are
several things which we may do. We may insist on trying to make the doctrine conform to
our familiar molds of thought. This may involve us in a dilemma like that between free will
and predestination. Then either the doctrine is wrong or our logic is wrong. Perhaps we may
seek to evade the difficulty by saying that it is a "paradox," or by laying aside reason
altogether and falling back on "intuition." But the doctrine of Karman must be reasonable and
logical; and if there is a clash between what we call logic and reason on the one hand, and the
doctrine of Karman on the other, it is sure to be the former that are at fault.
Much controversy of course arises, as is bound to be the case in this as in other discussions,
from the lack of precise definition of the terms used. This enables each party to base his
arguments on different data, with the result that they must reach different conclusions; but
neither of them attacks the position of the other, and the reader sees that both are right within
their respective limits.
The word "Karman" itself is used in a variable sense: it may mean a principle of causation; it
may mean an accumulated tendency. When we speak of a man having a lot of bad Karman to
work out, we use the word in the latter sense; but when we say that Karman will cause an
action to bear consequences, we use it in the former sense. This is all very well for ordinary
purposes; yet, if we are to reason logically, it is imperative to distinguish these meanings. If
this is not done, we may find a person using the word in one sense at one stage of his
argument, and in the other sense at another stage; or two people using the word in different
senses and disagreeing accordingly.
Another such vague word is "man." When we say that a man suffers the consequences of his
action, we are apt inadvertently to assume that man is a unitary being. But we know that he is
a compound unit, having many spheres of action and many fields of experience. This must be
taken into account, otherwise there is bound to be confusion; and what right have we to
blame any teaching or any teacher for what so obviously arises from our own neglect of
elementary rules of logic?
Karman is usually defined as an extension of the law of causation (a law recognised in

science) to embrace the entire universe of mind and consciousness, of events and living
beings. Now what do we understand by this law of causation? We imagine a series of events,
the one following the other, each link in the chain being supposed to be an effect of the
preceding link, and at the same time a cause in relation to the link which comes after. In
physics we have a similar arrangement, but with particles instead of events. Now the
difficulty experienced in physics is this: if matter is composed of an assemblage of separate
particles, how do these particles act on each other? We can only get over the difficulty by
supposing that there is something that acts as a connecting link between the particles,
transmitting motion from one to the other. But this is really no explanation, but merely an
evasion; for if we inquire into the physical structure of this supposed medium we are faced
with the same difficulty over again. The proper inference from this an inference which we
often fail to make is that our original hypothesis about the isolated particles was wrong.
Our difficulty was of our own creating. The properties of matter cannot be explained by
assuming it to be merely an assemblage of particles; and the recent studies in intra-atomic
physics have demonstrated the truth of this statement. Instead of any such ultimate particles,
we can only discover flashes of living energy coming into manifestation from an invisible
source; and in place of discontinuity, we see everywhere continuity and oneness. Physicists
see the necessity of visualizing a new picture of the material world; it is difficult. In spite of
ourselves we still try to construct a material world more or less on the old plan, and one
scheme is suggested and then abandoned for another. But our conceptual powers are not
static; we little realize how greatly those powers have grown since the days before Newton;
such notions as we have about time and space, velocity, energy, force, inertia, are recent
acquisitions; and surely we have the right to expect that we shall in due course acquire a new
set of notions that will enable us to get a better idea of the physical world than the old atomomechanical ideas.
Taking this analogy from physical science, and applying it to the world of men, we find that
we are apt to treat events as the physicists have treated atoms that is, as separate detached
elements, acting on each other by some unknown process, like a row of dominoes knocking
each other down. We have transferred the mechanical way of thinking from physics to the
moral sphere. Some philosophers, reasoning in this way, have been unable to find any
connecting link between successive events, and so have denied any principle of causation,
saying that all we can affirm is that events do actually follow each other in a particular way,
and with a degree of probability amounting to virtual certainty. But events are not separate,
except only in the sense that the leaves of a tree or the fingers of a hand are separate. They
form the integral parts of a whole, not isolated units. Where is the necessity for trying to find
links between things that never were separated?
Now let us see how this applies to the doctrine of Karman, so far as that doctrine concerns
human conduct. It has been supposed that my acts or my states of mind or my experiences are
detached units, separated from one another like a row of particles, and each one fully and
solely determined by the ones before it. Thus a system of fatalism is set up; and when our
instincts rebel against it, we blame the laws or the teachers, instead of our own faulty
comprehension. But man is, as said above, a compound unit. Every external phenomenon is
at all times connected with the central source, just as the leaves of a tree are all connected
with the tree itself. If the law of Karman extends to all planes of manifestation, it must
include elements going back to the very roots of my nature. The causes which determine a
given act or a given experience must therefore be extremely complex; and to know what I
will do, you must be able to know my whole nature to its utmost roots.
We have grown accustomed to regard the universe as a great clock, which, once started, will
move with inevitable motion ever after. Has it occurred to those who propound such a theory
to inquire how the clock was ever started? To explain this, it is necessary to postulate an
initial act of will and intelligence; and why will and intelligence, if once operative, should
thereafter be banished utterly from the universe, it passeth comprehension to understand. Man
is not a clock; he is a living being; and at all moments in his life, causes may be operative
from sources deep within his nature. The law of Karman is not contravened by this
explanation; it is affirmed. What is contravened is our absurd mechanical ideas as to
causation, our mechanical notions of human nature. My acts are determined by what I am;
and what I am is my Karman. Is it not evident how confusion arises from using the word
Karman at one time in a limited sense, and at another time in a universal sense?
The only kind of predestination which Theosophy can recognise is that by which the Divine
Monad, which is Man, will fulfil its eternal destiny, will realize its essential nature. If in the
viewless unimaginable ages of the past, at the dawn of a vast cycle of manifestation, certain
laws were impressed upon every living Monad, to be fulfilled during the flowing cycles,
should such a thing provoke me to grumble about my rights and my wrongs, my freedom and
my restraints, or should it rather exalt my soul to the contemplation of sublimities that shrink
personality to its appropriate pettiness?
In a word, this free will and necessity paradox is a jumble of bad logic, based on the attempt
to interpret a universe of living conscious souls as though they were a row of dominoes
knocking each other down.
As to the principle of causation in general, it may be said that of course Theosophy
recognises this, if we may regard the term as meaning order and invariable sequence
throughout the universe. But there is one great difference between the Theosophical
philosophy and philosophy in general as understood in the West that the latter deals with
abstractions, such as Will, Consciousness, Mind, and the like; whereas Theosophy recognises
only entities, living conscious beings, of which these abstractions are merely attributes. To
speak of an act as determining an act is to deal with abstractions as though they were
realities. It is a question of the action of living souls upon each other.
Our daily experience furnishes abundant examples of the combined action of freedom and
law. The laws of nature, as recognised in physics, are inexorable and cannot be evaded; yet
do they interfere with our freedom of action? Does the law of gravitation prevent us from
walking or flying? Do the various mechanical and chemical laws prevent us from achieving
marvels in construction and invention? These mechanical laws form a causal sequence,
which, if left to itself, will pursue its way with the inevitability of clockwork; but which
admits of the interposition of force from another plane the will and intelligence of some
conscious being. Yet such interposition in no wise abrogates any of the laws. Passing from
physical phenomena to mental ones, we may imagine that there are people whose lives are
mechanical, ruled by habit and by fixed ideas; and it is possible to predict with considerable
accuracy what they will do under given circumstances. But the predictability is not so sure as
in the physical world; and when we come to people of highly complex character, the problem
of relating cause to effect becomes hopelessly complex. In short, man is relatively free, to a
greater or less extent, according to the plane from which his motives proceed. The more
highly evolved he becomes, the more free does he become, because he is able to stand apart
from the workings of the lower planes. Yet, his doing so does not set aside the laws of those
planes.
To theological writers, and to many philosophical ones, the problem of free will and necessity
seems a hopeless dilemma. But when we reflect that they separate God from the universe,
and man from nature, we can see the root of their perplexity. To the ordinary thinker, of
pessimistic turn, a want of the knowledge of reincarnation is a fatal stumbling block. Intuitive
minds among religious people have said that so vast are the purposes of God that he can
afford to let man have the utmost free will without any fear that his (God's) purpose will not
ultimately be fulfilled. And with necessary changes, this is the Theosophical view: man may
wander far from the path of his true destiny, yet even his errors are made by the eternal
wisdom to contribute to the fulfilment of Law. But let no one think this gives license for evil;
we may incur evil, but we must not will it; "It must needs be that offenses come; but woe to
that man by whom the offense cometh." (Matt, xviii, 7)
Perhaps the worst fallacy is that which leads some people to imagine that any doctrinal
statement whatever about Karman can excuse us from our natural duty of rendering service.
It is to be hoped that there are not many people who have any desire for such an excuse, or to
be relieved of concern about their neighbor's affliction; but those, if any, who have such a
desire, will find no justification for it in the doctrine of Karman. Nor will those who reject the
doctrine because they think it justifies such an idea, or tends to breed such an idea, find
justification. If a person cannot see that we act just as much by refraining as we do by
executing, then indeed his mind must be sorely confused. It may be part of my neighbor's
Karman that I should help him, or that somebody should help him. It may be in his Karman
that my efforts to help him will prove futile. But who is to know this? How can I tell how the
matter stands? Obviously I am left free to exercise my natural or unnatural instincts, and the
law of Karman can be trusted to take care of itself.
Thus causation prevails throughout the universe; or, to use an equivalent word, one which
pertains rather to morals than to science, justice prevails. Yet, while accepting this as a
general truth, if we aspire to discern the details, it is evident that we are undertaking a vast
project. The universe is very complex; and if I were to aver that I can fully work out such
details, I should feel that I was claiming for my intellect much more than it merits. Nor
should I have much respect for a law of Karman that could be expressed in so limited a
scope. I should prefer to think that my difficulties were due to my own impatience and
presumption, and I should go in for further study and reflexion. A knowledge of the law of
Karman is of immeasurable help and comfort to the perplexed soul of the sufferer; it restores
his sense of equity and teaches him where to look for help. It shows him his responsibility for
his every act and thought. Those who try to make Karman a matter of adjusting personal
accounts are sure to land in perplexities; for the law concerns our relations with each other.

PERSONALIZED KARMAN H. T. Edge

In pondering over the workings of Karman in our own destiny, we must not become so
interested in our own fate as to overlook the consequences of what we have done to other
people. It is pointed out by H. P. Blavatsky in "The Beacon of the Unknown," in the October
number of this magazine, that to have one's own sins forgiven does not undo the wrong we
may have done to other people. In Dickens's Little Dorrit, Mrs. Clennam, a sombre typefigure of extreme Calvinism, has committed a grave wrong against others. But, instead of
making the reparation, easily within her power, but involving self-sacrifice, she considers that
her own protracted sufferings from paralysis have sufficiently expiated her guilt. Dickens is
of course indignant at this selfish keeping of a personal balance-sheet with the Almighty,
regardless of the interests of injured parties. If I have caused much mischief and suffering
among other people by my misdeeds, does it set matters right, or ease my feelings, if I am
made to undergo the same sufferings in my own person?
What we can glean about Karman from competent teachers is that by it we are all linked
together; and it would seem that to dwell too exclusively on the personal aspect of the
question is to reintroduce the old evil which so often attaches to the idea of vicarious
atonement.
We are taught that the first step to knowledge is to overcome the sense of personal
separateness, and to give up making self-interest the mainspring of our life. It may well be
that failure to make enough progress in this first step is at the root of our failure to understand
Karman. And so we call it abstruse and contradictory; and well it may seem so, to such
distorted vision. But the universe is not constructed on any such plan; and what seems so
mysterious when we try to fit it into our own scheme, may appear in its grand simplicity
when viewed in the clear light of an unobstructed vision.

"PHILOSOPHY AND LIVING" (1) H. T. Edge

Under the head of "Penguin Books," these publishers are bringing out a series of low-price
reprints Mr. Stapledon's book, "First and Last Men" has thus been reprinted; the present two
volumes were written specially for the series.
As indicated by his title, the author uses the word "philosophy," not for a barren intellectual
discipline, but in a sense akin to its original and etymological meaning. Philosophy is a way
of life; it must seek an answer to such questions as, Shall I live forever? What am I? Is there a
God? What ought we to do with our lives? And, since the question of immortality or survival
seems the central problem, he devotes thereto his next chapter.
Mr. Stapledon has a tidy mind and is commendably lucid and concise; his meaning is not
obscured by verbiage or terms and phrases unfamiliar to the non-philosophical reader. In
enumerating the arguments for and against survival, he recognises that the first requisite is to
state the question accurately, and shows that this is not done by the average inquirer. This
vagueness in stating the question renders it impossible to give either a positive or a negative
answer. To do so, we must first answer a number of other questions. Do we mean immortality
or survival? What is meant by "I'? What is the nature of selfhood? What is the relation of
mind and body?
Do we envision a time-sequence, as here on earth, or will our present conceptions of time,
space, and other things, prove not to be universals but merely peculiar to our earthly
existence, and therefore not applicable to the afterlife? Is our condition to be a repetition of
earthly experience, or a static condition, or a progressive condition?
Hence the answer has to be deferred until these questions have been considered in his other
chapters. We see that no single problem can be settled by considering it in isolation. Our
knowledge must be comprehensive; in default of which our reasoning is based on false
premises, and our questions involve implications contrary to fact, and are therefore
unanswerable.
We see here what an advantage is gained by those who approach these problems in the light
of the teachings of Theosophy. It is true there are some people who, when Theosophy is
presented to them, insist that its doctrines shall be validated by some familiar process which
in their minds amounts alone to demonstration, and without which a doctrine is a mere article
of faith and may be disregarded. But in books of this kind we see that much discussion and
reasoning leads up at last to a cautious and tentative admission of doctrines which, to a
Theosophist, are presented at the outset. For instance, the author cites the views of C. D.
Broad regarding the evidence of survival offered by Spiritualists. This evidence, says Broad,
is not sufficient to establish the survival of the deceased personality, but does prove the
survival of something which he calls a "psychic factor." Now Theosophists are taught from
the beginning that man is compounded of different principles, and the nature of each of these,
together with its destination after the death of the body, is fully explained. Thus the
Theosophist starts with a map of the country in his hand, instead of having to wander about,
stopping at every cross-road, compass in hand, until he either loses his way or finds it by
accident after much tribulation. A study of philosophy should certainly include a sufficient
acquaintance with the systems of ancient India, which go so fully into the composite nature of
man and the various states in which human beings exist after physical decease.
What is it that survives? The ordinary man is not interested in mere survival; he wants to
know if he survives. To answer this we must have some knowledge of what is meant by true
and false personality, of the Self and its vestures, of the dual nature of man while still in the
body, and many other such questions. Also it is futile to argue as though man is merely an
immortal essence in a mortal body, and that he passes at once from his present state to "the
other world." The infinite complexity and amplitude of the mere physical universe, with its
countless orbs, should suffice to suggest a similar plenitude and variety in other parts of the
universe.
In all processes of reasoning we must inevitably assume certain things as "given," and which
we must therefore not try to prove. This being so, why not begin by assuming survival? If we
do not assume this, it is pertinent to ask, Then what shall we assume? Careful examination,
such as we find in this book, will show that those who argue against immortality, or those
who posit the question pro and con, assume quite as many unprovable or unwarrantable
things as they can accuse their opponents of assuming. And if it be found that the assumption
of survival makes sense out of life, while the contrary assumption makes nonsense or
perplexity, what more in the way of demonstration can be asked?
After considering various arguments for survival, the author glances at arguments against,
and finds them in general trifling and futile. The alleged overcrowding of the "other world'!
No wonder the author complains that this generation has neglected the power of constructive
imagination. Yet even in this world an overcrowded omnibus may have an upper deck, and
we imagine it was Jesus who said there were many mansions in his Father's house. Besides,
as we are admittedly not speaking of physical bodies, we cannot venture to dogmatize as to
the methods by which disimbodied souls may be warehoused in the "other world." The
objection that there can be no survival because the mind is dependent on the body, is either an
indirect begging of the question, or it is reasoning from a mere dogma.
The author concludes that the problem cannot be solved in the present state of human
knowledge, as it depends on so many other problems which must be solved first. "Is there
perhaps," he asks, "some other kind of knowledge, which is not subject to the disabilities of
intellect, and which apprehends and enters into its object intuitively?"
We must content ourselves with a mere enumeration of the chapter headings in the rest of
these volumes: Mind and Body, the External World and I, Reasoning, the Scope and
Limitations of Reason, Ethics, Personality, Community, Social Change, Metaphysics. The
result is summed up in "The Practical Upshot." Here the conditions of the world are
reviewed. Science is transforming the world. (Or is it that some more potent underlying
influence is transforming science and everything else as well?) The economic motive in
civilization has run to seed; and, despite of wild theories, we must look to some more
equitable distribution of material goods. The East seems destined to play a greater part in the
future. We have lost faith in intangible values; man has risen by the "critical and imaginative
intelligence and the capacity for community," but these powers are declining in scope and
even coming into disrepute.
This is certainly a good diagnosis of the patient's ailment; and it is true enough that an
accurate diagnosis is a necessary preliminary to a cure. And there are such diagnoses in
plenty today. But more is needed.
Whence is the source by which humanity progresses on its march through the cycles of its
evolution? Before we can answer this we must see what we understand by evolution.
Evolution is commonly viewed merely as process, though by a strange confusion of thought
that process is in some way spoken of as if it were also cause. What is called the materialistic
view, or what we might perhaps call the one-plane view, presents us with a picture of a
machine moving itself, or generating the power which moves it. The history of humanity
becomes a succession of linked cause-effects, running in what science calls a closed system,
without interference from without itself. Such a machine could only run down by the gradual
frittering away of energy never renewed. Humanity is to be saved by intelligence and
imagination, and is at the same time expected to create these powers. It is just the same
doctrine as that by which the human organism is supposed to create those hormones by
whose power it is actuated. All logic and analogy demand that evolution, progress, demand a
continually renewed access of power from without the "closed system." A study of history
reveals that progress is achieved by the work of inspired individuals who appear from time to
time and initiate mighty tidal waves of renewal. The doctrine of reincarnation teaches us that
there is a constant accession of human egos enriched, ennobled, made potent, by their own
past experience. It is not inconsistent with any doctrine of evolution that there should exist
human beings who have evolved beyond the level of the common human attainment; and
Theosophy teaches that these perfected human beings now discharge their role of inspiring
humanity from behind the scenes. Study history without prejudice, and you shall find ample
proof of their existence and their work in all ages and climes.
It is they who have inspired the Theosophical movement, and we can best help humanity by
spreading the knowledge of that marvelous all-embracing philosophy which they have made
accessible to us; for without it life must remain an insoluble enigma, without purpose or
hope.
FOOTNOTE:
1. Philosophy and Living, by Olaf Stapledon, M A, Ph D Penguin Books, Harmondsworth,
Middlesex, England 1939 2 volumes, each 6d. (return to text)

"PHILOSOPHY IN A NEW KEY" (1) H. T. Edge

The meaning to be attached to the word "philosophy" is changing; it is sheering away from
the older sense of a dry and formal speculation what one critic has called "philosophical
engineering' (2) and veering towards a meaning that embraces art and a more truly
practical bearing upon life as life is lived. The present volume is a case in point.
Theosophists claim that the influence of Theosophical thought upon the world is not only
direct, through the channels of voice and pen, but also indirect through the scattering of seed
in the world-atmosphere or cosmic mind. And their claim is justified, for it cannot reasonably
be held that great movements in thought arise spontaneously, by "chance'; on the contrary,
such movements must have an adequate cause, and the cause is the impact of minds, like
leaven quickening the mass. And do we not see the germination of such seeds in the flood of
books from all quarters, dealing with every phase of mental activity, and one and all aspiring
to a new world-view based on a retreat from the old formalism and mechanicalism, and an
approach to the due recognition of the "intangibles" which after all constitute the major part
of our life?
This author speaks of a new key and a philosophical reorientation which cuts across familiar
lines of cleavage and changes the questions of philosophy. She treats of the meaning of
symbols and symbolism, and of the relation of art to epistemology. Such a reorientation, she
holds, occurs in every age; every age has its particular genius or common factor, which so
characterizes it as to color its views in every department of inquiry, thus making the special
character of separate inquiries a matter of minor import. A philosophy is distinguished more
by the formulation of its problems than by the solutions offered for them. Whitehead is
quoted to the effect that, in criticizing philosophies, we should not attend to the intellectual
positions they defend so much as the preliminary assumptions which they unconsciously
presuppose. The reactions of Congo negroes and Esquimaux towards the Christian gospel are
entirely different: what happens is more due to the national intellectual horizon than to the
subject-matter of the Gospel. The Ionian philosophers were interested in matter; but Socrates
introduced the idea of purpose and the "Why'?
The Christian gospel eventually runs to seed in an era of logic-chopping, and is succeeded by
the Renaissance. Our traditional epistemology is now based on the dichotomy of subject and
object, the division of reality into inner experience and the outer world. But the springs of
philosophic thought have once more run dry. We are at the end of an epoch. Once more we
have arrived at the counsels of despair. Again we seek a reasoned faith. The age of science
and technology fails us. A naive confidence in sense impressions furnished science with
"facts" for conviction to rest on; there was passion for observation rather than disputation; the
experimental technique had the floor.
Yet, says the author, behind all lay a universal key, that of mathematics a key-science.
Number and geometrical relationships are not known by induction from observation;
mathematics, though so applicable to physics, can be applied to anything else. Mathematical
constructions are only symbols; they have meaning in terms of relationships, not of
substances. Science works abstractly in mathematics, and then seeks experimental
verification.
The point we wish to emphasize here is that the author descries, underlying all the changing
swings of thought, a single invariable factor, seen as form, number, relationship, symbolism.
The vaunted inductive method is but a passing over-emphasis of one aspect of inquiry. It was
preceded, and is being succeeded, by other phases. But, mark well, these successive changes
are not mere replacements, they are transformations. Transformations of what? Of something
that is permanent throughout. Now, in H. P. Blavatsky's Secret Doctrine, what can be more
predominant than her insistance on Number, Form, and Symbol, as the golden keys that
unlock the mysteries of universal Law? Perhaps, says the author, the philosophic study of
symbols holds the seed of a new intellectual harvest, to be reaped in the next season of the
human understanding. The new epistemology is no longer satisfied to rest on sensa, but
demands a recognition of symbols to attain and organize belief; our interest has shifted from
the acquisition of sensory experience to the uses thereof.
A large section of this book deals with "semantics" or the science of "meaning'; a subject
which, having a special terminology, may be found somewhat difficult to grasp for those not
familiar with it. It represents an important and significant movement towards a due
recognition of the meanings behind words; and it would seem that many people who have
been accustomed to think in words rather than in ideas have seen the error of their ways.
Emphasis is laid upon the relation of all kinds of forms, whether words or otherwise, and the
ideas or meanings of which they are the expression; and the author quotes copiously from an
extensive literature, both recent and older, upon these topics. All this is part of the
characteristic trend of these times away from mechanism toward the forces that move it,
away from matter to spirit, from a temporary and assumed reality to a truer reality of which
the former is the mere shadow.
Anthropology also occupies considerable space; and we note here likewise an advance upon
views recently held on that subject. The myths, customs, and legends of earlier and
presumably more primitive humanity are not regarded here as the mere feeble attempts of an
infantile mind to understand things, but as a different way of formulating ideas, which way is
peculiar to people who translate their ideas into pictures rather than into language. Imagemaking was the mode of our untutored thinking, and stones are its earliest product.
The reader will find much interesting matter concerning ritual ceremonies, cults, rites, animal
symbols, myths, fairy-tales, legends, epics, etc., and the distinctions to be drawn between
them: fairytales, a form of wishful thinking molding the world closer to the heart's desire;
myths showing a more closely woven fabric and forming cycles; myth as primitive
philosophy, legend as primitive history, fairy-tale as simply entertainment. The moon is cited
as an instance of a "condensed symbol expressing the whole mystery of womankind." Great
epics and national poems have enshrined in fixed form the fables and mythologies. When we
begin to inquire into the literal truth of a myth, we pass from poetic thinking to discursive
thinking. Nevertheless emotional attitudes still persist: the vital ideas embodied in myth
cannot be repudiated because someone discovers it is not a "fact." The epic is the first flower
of a new symbolic mode, the mode of art. It is not merely a receptacle of old symbols, but a
new symbolic form, ready to express ideas that have had no vehicle before. Take for instance
musical significance (which has a chapter to itself).
Theosophists, in their labors to spread Theosophical ideas in the world, need the co-operation
of ripe scholars in the various departments of thought. Both groups may regard themselves as
working from different starting-points towards a common goal of convergence, each
supplying the deficiencies of the other. Theosophy is able to supply keys and symbols of a
most universal and comprehensive character, the use of which, if applied at the outset of an
inquiry, would save much labor, just as a map will shorten the wanderings of a journey. On
the other hand scholars can furnish that special knowledge in particular fields with which no
Theosophist short of an Admirable Crichton would be expected to possess. We may therefore
fitly conclude this notice by extending the hand of fellowship to a co-worker whose work we
would gladly have reviewed, had it been possible, at greater length.
FOOTNOTES:
1. Philosophy in a New Key: A Study in the Symbolism of Reason, Rite, and Art. By Susanne
K. Langer. Harvard University Press. 1942. $3.50. (return to text)
2. See The Theosophical Forum, Feb. 1942, p. 87. (return to text)

The Path November 1889
POPULAR MISCONCEPTIONS ABOUT THE FOURTH DIMENSION

H. T. Edge
In referring to an article on the Fourth Dimension in the April and June numbers of the PATH,
I give the writer full credit for the able way in which he has expounded Mr. Hinton's views.
But I must at the same time point out some fallacies in the usual course of reasoning adopted
on this subject. The first mistake is to regard "space" as capable of existing independently of
matter. Occult Science teaches that "space" (better called "Extension") is one of the several
properties of matter, and cannot exist without it. Three-Dimensionality is an attribute of
"extension," and is essential to it, so that there can be no extension except in three directions.
Mr. Hinton starts with the assumption that matter is three-dimensional, but if the view of
occult science be right as above given, it is not matter, but extension, that has this quality. His
inquiry may be translated in two ways: "Are there beings possessing extension in two
directions?", or, "Are there beings without the property of extension at all?" The answer to
the first question is, No; it is essential to extension that it be in three directions. Mr. Hinton's
ideal square is impossible, for who can conceive of a square which has only one side and
cannot be turned over?
The answer to the second is, There probably are entities without extension, but they are not
matter as we know it, and cannot be visualized in any way.
Mr. Hinton's reasoning is very specious, and his deductions from his premises are very
correct; but it must be borne in mind that forms are merely symbolical and not real, and
should be relegated to the same category as algebraical expressions. Nobody regards
quadratic or cubic equations as actually existing entities, but simply as symbolical
conceptions, and all reasoning with regard to forms should be treated in the same way. One of
his deductions is that to a four-dimensional being all points of a solid are equally accessible.
This is an attribute of the astral man with his astral senses, and is coexistent with the abolition
of extension, not with the presence of a more developed form of it, as Mr. Hinton holds.
Certainly, on reading A New Era of Thought one is impressed with the conviction that the
author has arrived at important occult truths by the application of his method, among which is
the idea of the unity of the higher self in all men; but I venture to suggest that by means of
this arduous system of mental discipline he is developing his astral senses, and that, instead
of being able to travel mentally in four directions, he will find that there is no necessity to
travel in any direction at all, extension having been entirely abolished.
In conclusion I will quote Secret Doctrine, Vol. 1, p. 251, which your readers will find very
suggestive:
"To begin with, of course the superficial absurdity of assuming that Space
itself is measurable in any direction is of little consequence. The familiar
phrase ('fourth dimension of Space') can only be an abbreviation of the fuller
form the fourth dimension of Matter in Space! But it is an unhappy phrase
even thus expanded, because, while it is perfectly true that the progress of
evolution may be destined to introduce us to new characteristics of matter,
those with which we are already familiar are really more numerous than the
three dimensions. The faculties, or what is perhaps the best available term, the
characteristics of matter, must clearly bear a direct relation always to the
senses of man. Matter has extension, colour, motion (molecular motion), taste,
and smell, corresponding to the existing senses of man, and by the time that it
fully develops the next characteristic let us call it for the moment
Permeability this will correspond to the next sense of man let us call it
'Normal Clairvoyance'; thus when some bold thinkers have been searching for
a fourth dimension to explain the passage of matter through matter, and the
production of knots upon an endless cord, what they were really in want of
was a sixth characteristic of matter.
The three dimensions belong really to but one attribute or characteristic of
matter extension; and popular common sense justly rebels against the idea
that under any condition of things there can be more than three of such
dimensions as length, breadth, and thickness. These terms, and the term
'dimension' itself, all belong to one plane of thought, to one stage of evolution,
to one characteristic of matter. So long as there are foot-rules within the
resources of Cosmos to apply to matter, so long will they be able to measure it
three ways and no more; and from the time the idea of measurement first
occupied a place in the human understanding, it has been possible to apply
measurement in three directions and no more. But these considerations do not
in any way militate against the certainty that in the progress of time as the
faculties of humanity are multiplied so will the characteristics of matter be
multiplied also. Meanwhile, the expression is far more incorrect than even the
familiar one of the 'Sun setting and rising.'"
The Path
Universal Brotherhood Path February 1902
PROVIDENCE AND CHANCE H. T. E.

Of the things which happen to us, some are obviously due to our own conduct, and others are
not so easily explainable. In the latter case we may find it necessary to introduce a Deity or
Providence to account for our lot.
For example: If I am ill from over-eating, I blame myself; but if I am ill from birth up, I
blame God.
Or again: If I jump off a cliff and break my leg, it is my fault; but if a shingle falls on my
head as I walk along the street, it is God's inscrutable will; or, perhaps I may prefer to say it is
Chance's inscrutable will.
Doubtless one could find some events that would be on the border-line between these two
categories, and where it would be difficult to decide whether to blame God or one's self.
There is no valid reason for thus partially using Providence by bringing him into some of the
affairs of our life and leaving him out of others. He must be involved in all or in none. Man's
destiny is as much a part of his belongings as are his character and his clothes. He spins and
weaves that destiny as he goes along, like a spider with its web. This fact is generally
admitted in the case of many events; but surely, if it is true at all, it must be true throughout
and must apply even to the smallest detail, such as the falling of a brick on one's head.
There may be no apparent connection between the trivial and so-called "casual" incidents of
life and their causes in ourselves; but then our knowledge of the universe is extremely
limited. When we consider what vast realms of nature remain yet unexplored, and what huge
gaps there are in our knowledge, we shall not wonder that many things remain unexplained.
Many Theosophists have a general belief in the law of Karma, but that is not the same thing
as understanding the machinery by which that law works out its operations.
Nevertheless it is beyond question that advancing knowledge will reveal more and more of
the subtle links that unite character to destiny, and thus leave ever less and less to be assigned
to the inscrutable will of Chance or to blind Providence.

The Theosophical Forum November 1939
"REINCARNATION FOR EVERYMAN" (1) H. T. Edge

The truths of Theosophy, brought to us by H. P. Blavatsky seventy years ago, have gradually
infiltered the world of thought until today we find Reincarnation and Karman the subject of
essays and novels by well-known popular authors. This means that those doctrines will reach
a public larger in numbers and different in kind than could be reached by the usual channels
of propaganda: it is only a minority who go in search of truths; a majority wait until it is
brought to their doors; moreover they will attend to teachings which reach them in this way,
whereas prejudice and habit might have left them long unaware of the existence of the
teachings if conveyed through the medium of societies and cults.
Any doctrine, in thus passing from its source through successive strata, undergoes
modifications in accordance with laws of evolution. It becomes less abstract and universal,
more particularized and adapted to conditions. Its technical terms are translated into familiar
equivalents. It is an interesting question to consider the phenomena of such an evolution. It is
not feasible to regard the process as wholly one of gain or of loss. Conservation and change
are inseparable components of growth; an excess of either is disastrous hide-bound
dogmatism on the one hand, unrestrained license and promiscuity on the other. It may be
supposed that H. P. Blavatsky neither expected nor wished to force upon the world a hardand-fast ready-made creed, like some desk-made constitution palmed off upon a nation
striving to rebuild after a revolution. What she anticipated was a leavening of thought along
the lines she laid down. And is not this what we are witnessing? There are certain things
which must be kept intact, not because they are dogmatic creeds, but because they are
universal truths; and it is the duty of Theosophists, while watching the spread of their ideals
in the world, to preserve inviolable the source whence the stream has flowed, and to balance
the claims of permanence and flexibility.
We have seen the noble truths of Reincarnation and Karman take many strange forms in the
hands of some; for the husbandman had scattered his seeds generously, fall where they might.
But no such charge can be brought against the present writer, who dwells on a high plane of
thought and feeling. He is the author of World-Birth, We Do Not Die, and several novels; he
has a wide public, and his little book will serve as an admirable introduction of his subject to
those for whom it is untrodden ground. In short, we may regard it as a popular Theosophical
manual. We are taken over ground familiar to Theosophists: the definition of reincarnation,
the testimony in favor of it, the internal evidences of its truth, answers to the usual objections,
and so forth. The author writes as a Christian, but, it must be conceded, a very liberal one,
since he includes reincarnation as a part. God is for him the supreme ruler of the universe.
While admitting the compound nature of man, he prefers to limit himself chiefly to a tripartite
division into body, soul, and spirit, or (as might be said) the lower, intermediate, and higher
nature. In this we think he is wise, considering the end in view; as is also his refusal to be
drawn into the discussion of origins and questions of infinitude. His inclination to present life
under the aspect of love and beauty may prove a useful antidote to anyone who tends to
represent the universe in a too cold and abstract guise. In speaking of the justice of Karman,
he does not view that justice as the decree of an emotionless lawgiver, but as a manifestation
of universal Love; which reminds us of Portia. Love is for him the universal law and spirit of
all things; it is also the goal of human endeavor, after ages of successive rebirths shall have
cleaned away the dross of self-seeking. Jesus is for him what we should call a Nirmanakaya,
no longer necessitated to reincarnate, but accepting birth out of compassion for those yet on
the way. And here we may point out that he represents the discarnate soul as having the
choice whether or not to reincarnate, though he qualifies this by the statement that,
nevertheless, that soul must sooner or later elect to visit earth again for purposes of its own
necessary experience. Theosophists say that the soul is drawn back to earth by trishna, the
thirst for physical life, which cannot be resisted but by those who through long experience
have succeeded in overcoming that thirst.
On this question of love, however, the author expresses some views with which most
Theosophists will hesitate to concur. For instance we read the following:
We are passing from a materialist to a spiritual view of life and death, with
Man and his partner, Woman, realizing, not only by faith but by
demonstration, that they are immortal spirits, (p. 7)
Again and again we drop the thread of our love-story, but to pick it up either
here or "Over There," which is the home of the "twin soul." I say it with all
seriousness. The "twin soul" is fact. We do so return over and over again to
earth to meet her or him whom we have loved and lost but to find again, (p.
95)
Difficulty in discussing this question arises from the fact that it so readily lends itself to the
raising of false issues. Theosophists, in stating their case, may be charged with a lack of
appreciation of the power of love between the sexes, or with some temperamental or physical
coldness, or lack of experience, or cynicism due to disillusionment, and so forth. This
however is by no means the case; the kind of people thus indicated would not find themselves
at home in the ranks of a society calling for energy and enthusiasm, depth of feeling and a
fully developed nature. If fault is to be found with this writer, it is surely not with his ideals,
of whose elevation we have such abundant proof, but with his manner of expressing some of
them. What means purity and nobility for him will mean something quite different for others
of a different mental caliber; and the experience of many Theosophists has taught them what
such a term as "twin soul" may be made to stand for.
We would observe that what the author himself says about reincarnation scarcely bears out
the idea that sex pertains to the reincarnating entity. Is it not rather, conformably to the
author's own expositions, one of those qualities which belong to the temporary and changing
embodiments? Human love between the sexes derives its power and sublimity from its being
a manifestation of that cosmic and impersonal love of which the author speaks so finely; but
from its mixture with earthy and passional elements it also derives that alloy which
notoriously and proverbially makes it as fruitful of gall as of honey. Love between the sexes
is truly a redeemer, opening for man the gates that lead him beyond selfishness and
acquisitiveness; and the vicissitudes of feeling which it engenders are man's teachers. But
many a soul, while still on earth, has passed beyond to regions where love, undisturbed by
passion, unlimited by personality, has revealed its sublimer mysteries. Much more so, then,
when the liberated Soul, no longer snared in the illusions of earth-life, rests in that land where
they neither marry nor are given in marriage.
This writer dwells on psychic survival, spiritualistic phenomena, and similar matters, usually
passed by or disparaged by Theosophical writers. But we must remember that he is not a
Theosophical writer, but one who writes for the world he lives in. And it may be added that,
while it is incumbent on Theosophists to draw clearly the distinction between psychic and
spiritual, they would do so to better effect if they had a more intimate knowledge of what is
actually going on in the world. To dismiss a matter lightly with a few vague and general
statements will not satisfy people who want an explanation of real experiences.
One finds in this book, as elsewhere in advocacy, the attempt to prop a good case with bad
arguments, and the use of arguments which neutralize each other. Thus, while the frequent
mention of reincarnation by writers of all ages is adduced in support of a universal belief in
reincarnation, yet when it comes to the silence of the Old Testament writers on the subject,
that very silence is adduced in support of the same thesis. They were silent because
reincarnation was so well known that it was needless to mention it. Again, it is stated that
They also forget that their objections do not make reincarnation any the less a
fact! Nature shows a magnificent indifference to human revolt!
That is, the argumentum ad hominem, the appeal to feeling, is rejected on logical grounds; yet
it would be difficult to show that this same appeal to feeling is nowhere used throughout this
book as an argument in favor of the case. But we are all guilty of this; and in a world where
people are moved by their feelings, it is legitimate to use rhetoric as well as logic.
The question of reincarnation and heredity presents no difficulty, for the teachings as to
Karman and Reincarnation are seen to be complementary to the scientific findings. The
adducing of physical resemblance and habits between Elijah and John as evidences of
reincarnation involves the assumption that successive incarnations have such resemblances;
whereas from what is said elsewhere we might infer differences. According to Theosophy
there may even be a difference of sex. There is a good deal in this book as to cases which are
regarded as direct proof of reincarnation, the memory of past lives, recognitions, etc. This is a
question fraught with grave danger of delusion, and such mental impressions may be
explained otherwise than by reincarnation. The author makes a quotation often made by
Theosophists "In my Father's house are many mansions" which he interprets as
meaning that many different experiences await us in the course of our incarnations. He
believes that there is no permanent and unchanging heaven or hell; that inspiration and genius
are memory the familiar Platonic doctrine; that Karma is not fatalism, as it does not
preclude the action of will and freedom of choice; that "good" and "bad" are epithets often
ignorantly applied to our fate; that the physical differences between planes of matter are
differences of vibration rather than of density; that after death we pass to a world which we
have prepared for ourselves by our own desires, good or bad, refined or coarse; that the
personality is a temporary and limited affair, circumscribing the true individuality; and many
other ideas familiar to Theosophists.
But we must close, with the regret that space has allowed us to quote only one of the passages
we had marked:
I, who believe in no dogma, belong to no Church, shall hope to prove, that
every man and woman of us all, from prince to peasant, from queen to
kitchen-maid, gets a second chance. Not one second chance, but hundreds.
That all of us are on a path which leads through eternity as inevitably to the
stars as that the stars themselves hang high above us to beckon us on the road.
And, finally, that, life after life, death is but the dying into new life, more
abundant, more comprehensive.
FOOTNOTE:
1. Reincarnation for Everyman. By Shaw Desmond. London: Andrew Dakers.1939. 5s.
(return to text)

RESPONSIBILITY AND KARMAN H. T. Edge

It is not so easy to change the habits of thought in which we have grown up; and if you adopt
the Theosophical teachings in a short time, it may take longer before you can get rid of these
old habits of thought. You may unconsciously keep the old ideas and simply change their
names. Thus some people speak of the law of Karman as though it were a supernatural
agency which intervenes among the workings of natural law, in the same way as Providence
was supposed to intervene by miraculous aid or special grace. You may hear people
wondering whether a particular illness was due to heredity or errors in living or Karman. This
seems to show that they regard Karman as a sort of supernatural influence which comes into
play whenever natural influences are found insufficient. But all influences are karmic,
whether or not we can point to proximate causes for the happenings; a disease may be due to
intemperance, but all the same it is karmic.
Karman is a general law which acts through many lesser agencies; it may act through bad
habits or through heredity or any other of various proximate causes. It has been wisely said
that acts build habits, habits build character, and character makes destiny. Here we see the
links in the chain. People often confine the use of the word Karman to those effects which
they cannot trace to any cause; but there must always be a chain of causation leading from act
to consequence, whether we can trace this chain or not. Doctors say that a person may carry
about with him for most of his life the germs of tuberculosis, encysted and so made harmless;
and that the cysts may burst late in life and bring on the disease. Is not this a good illustration
of karmic action?
This error as to the meaning of Karman turns about the word "responsibility." Shall we try to
evade our responsibility by shifting the burden onto some outside power some Providence,
some Chance, some Fate, some law of Karman? There are actually people who seem to think
that the law of Karman excuses us, or even prevents us, from fulfilling the promptings of love
and sympathy towards our fellows, or from discharging the duties and services which we owe
them. The fact that what they suffer is due to their own Karman is no concern of ours, and
does not modify our duty towards them in the least; nor would anyone with a truly
sympathetic heart stop to think about the matter at all. Besides, whether you help a fellow or
abstain from helping him, you are equally engaging in action towards him; and if the law of
Karman has any say in the matter, it is difficult to see why it should favor the one mode of
conduct rather than the other. "Inaction in a deed of mercy becomes an action in a deadly
sin."
The various philosophies and sciences have so accustomed us to believe in mysterious
"laws," laws of nature, laws of economics, laws of social evolution, and laws of this and
that that we have got into the habit of waiting passively for something to move us, instead
of getting to work and acting on our own responsibility. If we could think less of the effect of
our surroundings on our own fate, and more of the effect of our own actions on our
surroundings, we should make a first step in learning the lesson of individual responsibility
which Karman teaches.
The Theosophical Forum February 1940
SANTAYANA AND THE KEY TO INTERPRETATION H. T. Edge

A foreword by Irwin Edman explains the purpose of this book, (1) which is to present an
interpretation of the views of this versatile and many-sided philosopher. Santayana has
covered so many aspects of contemporary culture theory of knowledge, aesthetics,
metaphysics, literary criticism, etc. that it is natural to seek an essential unity underlying
and uniting the diversity, a jewel behind the many facets presented to the eye. Such an
interpretation will be valuable to many whose acquaintance with Santayana is less
comprehensive, and also it will serve to vindicate him against misunderstandings arising from
partial acquaintance with his writings. Another reason given for this interpretation is,
however, more open to question; it is expressed in the following words:
To Santayana himself there does not seem to be any essential conflict between
his Greek morality and his Buddhist-Christian detachment. But a philosopher
does not always know himself best and it is a merit of an interpreter at once
responsible and imaginative to elicit what is sometimes hidden from the
philosopher himself, and from many unwary readers.
The above refers to the fact that in Santayana's philosophy we find two contrasted
viewpoints, which to him do not seem to conflict essentially, but which the interpreter finds
irreconcilable. These are what may be called the naturalistic or worldly view, and the mystic,
transcendental, detached, or other-worldly view. For, says Dr. Munitz in his concluding
summary:
[The Philosophy] exhibits two points of view that allow each one to criticize
the other: the one being worldly, naturalistic, humanistic, Aristotelian; the
other otherworldly, supernatural, dualistic, Platonic. Yet no ultimate synthesis
or mixture such as Santayana evidently seeks is possible.
Now it may surely be argued that Santayana felt the truth of the adage that harmony results
from the equilibrium of contraries, and that he felt himself under no necessity for attempting
to reduce all his various points of view to a single formula. The truth must be whole and
single; yet the ratiocinative function of our understanding is unable to present it as a unity,
and can present it only as a series of pictures. But the ratiocinative faculty is not the whole of
our understanding, and a unity which cannot be visualized may nevertheless be felt seen
with the inner eye, if the expression be preferred. A true picture can only be given by
presenting both aspects; the emphasizing of one to the exclusion of the other will result in a
lopsided and partial view. A true philosopher, having presented one side of the picture, will
inevitably feel impelled to present the other side; and cannot be content to stay fixed at any
position.
It should be pointed out here that the word "moral" and its derivatives "designates an interest
in the conditions and ideals of human activity, rather than in preachment." Moral philosophy
in this sense is declared by Santayana to be his chosen subject. The author divides his book
into three sections under the headings: Naturalism and Dualism, The Life of Reason, The
Spiritual Life. The problem of the relation of man and of his spirit to the universe, declared
by Santayana to be the chief problem of philosophy, brings up the question of where man
ends and the universe begins, and what is the difference between man and his spirit. If there
is no essential difference between man and the universe, then the problem of understanding
man's relation to the universe becomes reducible to the Delphic maxim, "Man, know thyself."
In other words, there is nothing else to know. If man is essentially a unity, how can we
distinguish his spirit from himself? However we feel that the philosopher must have realized
this himself, and we need not cavil over distinctions which it is necessary to make for
particular purposes.
The following quotation will be welcome to Theosophists:
What we call life, mind, spirit, are simply the forms, or in Santayana's
language, the tropes that substance assumes when it reaches certain degrees of
complexity. The difference between what Santayana calls the psyche and the
spirit are differences in the level of organization and function that we find in
living beings.
And more to the same effect, which defines the Theosophical teaching of the unity of Life
through diversity in its manifestations.
Under the heading of naturalism, the inadequacy of science is duly recognised, its very
accuracy being obtained by means of strict limitation and exclusion. What is said about
Christianity will also interest us; for, whatever that religion may have been originally, or may
be now in the minds of its best representatives, it cannot be denied that Christianity as a
historical fact has been characterized by a lamentable dualism. We read:
Santayana, in reviewing the point of view indigenous to Christianity, remarks
that according to that view "all history was henceforth essentially nothing but
the conflict between these two cities [the city of God and the city of Satan];
two moralities, one natural, the other supernatural; two philosophies, one
rational, the other revealed; two beauties, one corporeal, the other spiritual;
two glories, one temporal, the other eternal; two institutions, one the world,
the other the Church. These, whatever their momentary alliances or
compromises, were radically opposed and fundamentally alien to one
another."
The more one reads the earnest and intelligent searchings of philosophers, the more is one
impressed by the need for that master-key of interpretation, the Secret Doctrine of antiquity.
No doubt an appeal to this may be classed as an appeal to tradition and authority; but it must
be borne in mind that tradition and authority are as much a concomitant of our faith as are our
intellect, our moral sense, or any other concomitants enumerated by philosophy; and that it is
only when pushed to extremes that any one of them becomes questionable. Moreover the
authority claimed by Theosophists is not to be accepted unquestioningly; it is verifiable,
partly by the evidences of its uniformity and invariability afforded by an examination of the
religious and philosophical lore of all times and lands; and partly by the inner faculties of the
student himself, which may be awakened to a direct perception. It is this ancient and
universal philosophy alone which is sufficiently broadly based and comprehensive to
reconcile all seeming contradictions and reveal the fundamental unity underlying all.
FOOTNOTES:
1. The Moral Philosophy of Santayana. By Milton Karl Munitz. Columbia University Press.
1939. $1.75. (return to text)

The Theosophical Forum May 1939
SILENCE H. T. Edge
"The things which are supposed to have made life easier, such as the
telegraph, telephone, typewriter, motor-car, lift, and so on, have really made it
vastly more strenuous."
So says "Artifex" in the Manchester Guardian Weekly, and goes on to say that prayer and
silence are needed. The more labor-saving devices we invent, the more we labor. Make a
man's work easier, and instead of resting he does more work. If he can go anywhere in as
many hours as it used to take days, he does not save the hours, but travels farther. Give him a
shorthand typist, and he writes ten times as many letters. Comforts and luxuries become
necessities, so that we become more dependent on circumstances and apparatus. We invent so
many new cures, drugs, and treatments, that nothing can keep pace with them except
indeed the innumerable diseases that are invented every day. Our ancestors may not have had
the cures, but at all events they did not have the complaints.
We are chasing our tail, and the faster we go, the farther we have to go. The thing is not
merely accidental or temporary; there is a wrong principle behind it. We are like a machine
without a governor, and will go on accelerating until the wheels fly apart. We are like a
constitution that is being consumed by phthisis, with every function running full blast and the
central vitality wasting away.
And in our very efforts to cure this disease we use the same wrong principle over again; we
try to cure the disease by more of the thing that causes it, as a man might try to overcome the
effects of drink by more drink. The process will end in a cataclysm unless we can adopt an
entirely different principle. It will not be adopted until we are driven to it by sheer necessity;
but it will help much to have it ready when the time comes. We are living in an atmosphere of
constant stimulation, living in externals, living in sensory experience. Silence and solitude are
unbearable to one living in such an atmosphere. A man spends his life strenuously in doing
and achieving; and when he gets old and can strive no more, and finds he has gotten nowhere,
he turns on the gas because he cannot stand being alone with himself; and leaves a note to
save his face.
The silence! Cultivate the silence, love it. Learn to know the fullness of the seeming void and
you will realize the voidness of the seeming full. Theosophy teaches a man not to be afraid of
himself, not to try and run away from himself, but to know himself. This does not mean that
we must become hermits:
Both action and inaction may find room in thee; thy body agitated, thy mind
tranquil, thy Soul as limpid as a mountain lake. The Voice of the Silence

SYMPATHY WITH NATURE H. T. Edge

What may be called the scientific age began (roughly) somewhere about the time of Francis
Bacon, and has been characterized by a view which looked upon man as a being living in a
world of dead matter and mechanical forces entirely external to himself. Whereas in other
times this sharp separation between man and his world did not exist, but man was regarded as
being part of nature, and nature was regarded as being alive, sentient, responsive. This view
was regarded by the scientific age as superstitious, supernatural, poetic, sentimental.
We are now showing signs of a return to the older view. Whatever people's theories may be,
their actual experience has never failed to give support to the older view. Certain people have
a natural sympathy with certain objects, certain kinds of materials: it may be with plants and
trees, it may be with wood or metal; or with fluids or chemicals or electricity or dry goods, or
what not. These people are able to handle their materials and to evoke sympathetic response
therefrom, where other people fail to do so. Such sympathies can be indicated by astrologers
in the horoscope. Again, we find that we establish a sympathy or mutual understanding or
friendship with our own tools typewriter, razor, pen and are reluctant to lend them for
use by strange hands. We may be ashamed to speak of these things, and may treat the matter
jocularly the perversity of inanimate objects, and so forth; but nevertheless we are guided
by them.
If it is the animal kingdom that is spoken of, then no one has any doubt that the animals
respond sympathetically, so that one man may be able to handle dogs, horses, etc., and
another not. Descending a degree we come to the plant kingdom. Some people can make
anything grow anywhere; some people seem to have a deadly influence on plants. In the
mineral kingdom, the world of so-called inanimate matter, the responsiveness there is even
less, but still there is response; the question is one of degree, and there is nowhere that we can
draw a sharp line.
Theosophists speak of elementals, without having particularly clear-cut ideas of what they
mean. These are beings with a certain limited amount of intelligence, which operate in nature
and are essential for the workings of things. They fit in very well in the gap left by the
scientific explanation of the universe; for science measures the operations of forces but does
not know the origin of the forces.
In this view, the material world ceases to be so much dead matter outside of ourselves, and
becomes a member of the great family of living beings. We can get into sympathetic relation
with it. There can be no doubt that, by living with a wrong idea of nature, we have thereby
shut ourselves out from much knowledge; but it follows that, once we have begun to entertain
a juster view, we shall enter a path that will reveal to us things we did not see before.

The Theosophical Forum Spetember 1938
TELEPATHY H. T. Edge
When people speak of telepathy or extrasensory perception, they view man as a being
endowed with five distinct faculties, called the five senses; and they contemplate the
possibility of his being also endowed with another faculty to be called the sixth sense. But
there is another way of looking at the matter. What if man is a being sensitive to influences of
all kinds, from everywhere, and that he has around him a shell of flesh which shields him
from most of these influences, but leaves open just a few chinks, such as the eye, ear, or nose,
through which perception may pass? And what if this shell is beginning to break down so that
more perceptions can penetrate through other than the usual channels? Man may be living in
a common thought atmosphere, as we live in a common atmosphere of air. It may be normal
that we should perceive thoughts in other minds, and abnormal that we should not. The
notion of a transference of thought would then be needless, for that notion is based on the
supposition that our minds are apart; but where there is no gap there is no need to build a
bridge. And then as to mechanism: mechanism does not carry us far in explaining our normal
senses; it can explain how the vibration of the fork is transmitted to the ear drum and thence
to the internal ear; but that is where we quit. And sight is in even worse case; for we have had
to invent an ether to convey light to the eye; and there again is where we jump off.
So we need not be so much concerned if we fail to devise a mechanism for telepathy. It
would seem that our ideas are somewhat confined by the familiar expression "the five
senses," and that sensitive people have a great many other vague indefinable susceptibilities
and awarenesses which they cannot group under any one of these five heads. Such people
would not be in a hurry to develop new susceptibilities; they would rather seek protection.

Universal Brotherhood Path November 1901
THE ATOMIC THEORY H. T. Edge

In view of the address of the President of the British Association for the Advancement of
Science, Professor Rucker, at Glasgow, on Sept. 11th, it may be well to recapitulate some
ideas on the Atomic Theory and the attitude of H. P. Blavatsky towards it.
The atomic theory may be described as an attempt to explain, systematize, and account for
the properties of material substances, by supposing them to be made up of very small
particles, masses, or elements, separated from one another by intervals.
This theory affords an admirable and satisfactory means of systematizing and explaining
physical phenomena; but falls short when applied to the solution of ulterior problems as to
the nature and structure of the material universe. Whether true or false, there is no doubt that
the atomic theory is at least a most useful figment or convention in classifying and correlating
physical phenomena; just as the geocentric system of astronomy suffices for the calculation
of eclipses, or the symbol of an imaginary fourth dimension of space may serve as a model
for instructive analogical inference. But, considered as a fact, the atomic theory shows itself
to be self-contradictory and absurd.
Many scientists have come to recognize this, and Prof. Rucker, while admitting it freely,
endeavors to maintain a middle ground between those who would reject the theory altogether
and those who would adhere to it even in its most absurd extremes. He sees the failings of the
theory but cannot bring himself to yield it up.
Let us compare some remarks from The Secret Doctrine with some from Prof. Rucker as
reported in condensed form in the following:
THE SECRET DOCTRINE
PROFESSOR RUCKER
There can be no possible conflict between the

teachings of occult and so-called exact Science,
where the conclusions of the latter are grounded on a
substratum of unassailable fact. It is only when its
more ardent exponents, overstepping the limits of
observed phenomena in order to penetrate into the
arcana of Being, attempt to wrench the formation of
Kosmos and its living Forces from Spirit, and
attribute all to blind matter, that the Occultists claim
the right to dispute and call in question their
theories. I, iii, ch. 1
It is impossible to deny that, if the mere

entry on the search for the concealed causes
of physical phenomena is not a trespass on
ground we have no right to explore, it is at
all events the beginning of a dangerous
journey.
The properties of matter, such as elasticity,

expansibility, and even density, being functions of
its atomic structure, cannot be predicated of the
atoms themselves. Hence these atoms are not
material. I, ii, passim
If it be true that the properties of matter are

the product of an underlying machinery,
that machinery cannot itself have the
properties which it produces, and must, to
that extent, at all events, differ from matterin-bulk as it is directly presented to the
senses.
The position which Prof. Rucker takes up, in his attempt to retain the atomic theory while
admitting its inadequacy to explain ulterior problems, is not a very definite or easy one. He
abandons the attempt to explain the deeper mysteries; but thinks that, since the atomic theory
explains so much and is confirmed by so much inference from experiments, therefore it
should be retained even in the face of our inability to picture the atoms and their properties.
No better theory comes to hand, he says; and, though the atomic theory cannot be true when
carried to a conclusion, it may nevertheless stand for some less fundamental fact immediately
underlying observed phenomena. A few quotations will illustrate his position.
"The question at issue is whether the hypotheses which are at the base of the scientific
theories now most generally accepted are to be regarded as accurate descriptions of the
constitution of the universe around us, or merely as convenient fictions. From the practical
point of view it is a matter of secondary importance whether our theories and assumptions are
correct, if only they guide us to results which are in accord with facts. The whole fabric of
scientific theory may be regarded merely as a gigantic 'aid to memory;' as a means for
producing apparent order out of disorder by codifying the observed facts and laws in
accordance with an artificial system, and thus arranging our knowledge under a
comparatively small number of heads. The highest form of theory it may be said the
widest kind of generalization, is that which has given up the attempt to form clear mental
pictures of the constitution of matter, which expresses the facts and the laws by language and
symbols which lead to results that are true, whatever be our view as to the real nature of the
objects with which we deal . . . [But] the questions still force themselves upon us. Is matter
what it seems to be? . . . Can we argue back from the direct impressions of our senses to
things which we cannot directly perceive; from the phenomena displayed by matter to the
constitution of matter itself? . . . whether we have any reason to believe that the sketch which
science has already drawn is to some extent a copy, and not a mere diagram, of the truth."
"We may grant at once that the ultimate nature of things is, and must remain, unknown; but it
does not follow that immediately below the complexities of the superficial phenomena which
affect our senses there may not be a simpler machinery of the existence of which we can
obtain evidence, indirect indeed, but conclusive ... It is recognized that an investigation into
the proximate constitution of things may be useful and successful, even if their ultimate
nature is beyond our ken. Now at what point must this analysis stop if we are to avoid
crossing the boundary between fact and fiction?"
"[People] too often assume that there is no alternative between the opposing assertions that
atoms and the ether are mere figments of the scientific imagination, or that, on the other hand,
a mechanical theory of the atoms and of the ether, which is now confessedly imperfect,
would, if it could be perfected, give us a full and adequate representation of the underlying
realities. For my own part I believe that there is a via media."
"I have tried to show that, in spite of the tentative nature of some of our theories, in spite of
many outstanding difficulties, the atomic theory unifies so many facts, simplifies so much
that is complicated, that we have a right to insist at all events till an equally intelligible
rival hypothesis is produced that the main structure of our theory is true; that atoms are not
merely helps to puzzled mathematicians, but physical realities."
"If we can succeed in showing that, if the separate parts have a limited number of properties
(different, it may be, from those of matter in bulk) the many and complicated properties of
matter can, to a considerable extent, be explained as consequences of the constitution of these
separate parts; we shall have succeeded in establishing, with regard to quantitative properties,
a simplification similar to that which the chemist has established with regard to varieties of
matter."
Now let us put our own case concisely. Modern physicists find themselves confronted with
an irresolvable dilemma the atomic theory must be true and yet it cannot be other than
false. Some boldly accept one horn of the dilemma and ignore the logical and metaphysical
absurdities of the theory. Others grasp the other horn and seek a new theory which shall
obviate the dilemma. Here we have a professor trying to steer a middle course, and, by
stretching (by means of qualified phrases) each horn a little way, to effect a junction which
shall yield something like the circle of truth. But the dilemma is hopeless, because it comes
from a fallacious point of view assumed by physicists. They have neglected to take into
account the purely illusive, and phenomenal, and sensory nature of what they call "matter;"
and, regarding it as a reality, they have ventured to transfer it and its properties beyond the
sense-world into the subjective world, of imagination. When they scrutinize the world with
the bodily senses, they are secure, for they are studying something which is real to those
senses. But when they shut their eyes and think about "matter," they study what is merely a
mind-picture and has no real existence. "Scientists have nothing to do with metaphysics,"
they say; "that we leave to the metaphysicians." But truth cannot be divided up in this way,
and the results of the attempt to do so are such as we see.
What science calls "matter" is an appearance to the mind. Here let it be noted that we do not
concur either with the objectivists who maintain that everything is external, or with the
subjectivists who hold that all is subjective and phantasmal; but with the Secret Doctrine,
which maintains that there is an objective reality which the mind cognizes in various ways
through the senses or otherwise. What science calls "matter" is the result of a sensuous
cognition of this objective reality. It is this objective reality that H. P. Blavatsky speaks of
when she says "Matter."
To use an illustration the mind is an optical lantern, the screen is H. P. Blavatsky's matter,
and the picture is the "matter" of science. Now we may examine that picture as much as we
please; it is solid, objective, and self-consistent. If it is (for example) a map, it will serve
admirably as an accurate guide. But, if we attempt to discover the mystery of its light and
shade, and to isolate its colors, we shall fail ignominiously, unless we step behind and
examine the lantern.
There is no other escape from this dilemma that that which constitutes matter cannot be
matter; in short, that the atoms cannot be matter. What then are they? Occult science answers
"Mind," or rather, "living conscious beings." And we may claim, in Prof. Rucker's own
words, that this theory "unifies so many facts, simplifies so much that is complicated, that we
have a right to insist at all events till an equally intelligent rival hypothesis is produced,
etc."
We have shown briefly that no sane theory of the universe can be made so long as the
theorizer starts from matter as his premise instead of from mind. We do not propose to enter
into a description of the innumerable false conclusions and dilemmas arising from the logical
elaboration of that false premise; that is a question of study, and we refer inquirers to The
Secret Doctrine and to the authors quoted therein.
It may, however, be worth while in passing, to call attention to the false idea of "space" that
obtains among physicists as a result of ignoring metaphysics. Spatial extension is an attribute
of the appearance called "matter;" in fact, spatial extension is a characteristic due to the
peculiarities of our sense-organs. Spatial extension cannot exist by itself. But physicists talk
as if, when all matter was removed, there would remain an "extended space." Now it is
evident that mere emptiness, nothingness, cannot be extended or have height, breadth, etc.
What they really imagine, then, as "space," is simply a volume of gas or of ether, or a very
large room. But, if all ideas of matter be excluded from the mind (no easy process), it will be
seen that all ideas of distance, relative position, size, and the like, vanish also. So space is a
thing which the imagination cannot picture, and is, in fact, a state of the mind when no object
of cognition is present. Hence the scientific "space" is another illusion, and space as spoken
of by H. P. Blavatsky has nought to do therewith.
It remains to say what we think ought to be done by physicists about their Atomic Theory.
We might say: Keep it on as a "convenient fiction" so long as it will serve, and correct it from
time to time in the light of future experiments; and never mind if you do eventually reach an
atom so loaded with irreconcilable attributes that it would look better in a creed than in a
theory. We might say this, did we not know that the materialistic theory of the universe has
consequences far graver than merely to afford a subject for jests. For, profess what they may,
scientists will overstep the limits of their domain and, from the motion of particles, attempt to
infer laws to regulate man's life, hopes, and duties. Professor Rucker is a man of science of
the best kind, and would never be found in the ranks of pessimism and denial of faith. But we
leave him to determine whether his high ideals of duty and destiny are deducible from the
axioms of physical science, or whether they spring from an inner and brighter light, whether
his higher hopes and his scientific theories support one another readily, or whether they
require much mutual adaptation; and what might be done in the world by other scientists not
having the safeguard of a better intuition to direct their conduct. He may say that his faith and
his moral ideals have nothing to do with his scientific opinions; and, if so, we at once
cheerfully take issue with him on this very point. For, as far as we are concerned, the truth is
one, man is one, the universe is one; nor can we forever tolerate the presence of an
unexplored "buffer-state" between our spiritual and our "scientific" views. And, while there
may be not a few people whose religion suffices for their simple needs, and whose modest
desires and scientific pursuits do not tempt them and lead them astray; yet the world is
growing and growing, and its overwhelming selfishness, impurity and greed, are more than a
match for worn-out theological systems or for sciences that ignore the mind and the Soul.
For these reasons we look for a science that, like the "heathen" Minerva, shall be a goddess,
beaming with light for humanity; that shall aim at showing men how to live nobly and
happily; that shall see conscious life and intelligent mind pulsating through all nature; that
shall speak of man as a Soul not as a compound of "life," "chemical force," and "atoms."
We shall learn all that we need to know about the physical universe, and much more than we
know now. And we shall forget all these misconceptions and intellectual abortions that lend
color to the deeds of those who prey on society.

THE DEATHLESS GERM H. T. Edge

We take as our text a remarkable passage from the writings of a man who would usually be
classed as a type of the scientific materialism and skepticism as to things spiritual,
characteristic of so much of the scientific thought of last century. Yet a devotion to the
proclaimed scientific impartiality in the discovery of truth will inevitably lead to the truth,
though our findings may often be vitiated by our prejudices.
In the article on Protozoa by the late Professor E. Ray Lankester, in the Ninth Edition of the
Encyclopaedia Britannica, we read as follows:
Death. It results from the constitution of the Protozoan body as a single cell
and its method of multiplication by fission that death has no place as a natural
recurrent phenomenon among these organisms. Among the Enterozoa certain
cells are separated from the rest of the constituent units of the body as eggcells and sperm-cells; these conjugate and continue to live, whilst the
remaining cells, the mere carriers as it were of the immortal reproductive cells,
die and disintegrate. There being no carrying cells which surround, feed, and
nurse the reproductive cells of Protozoa, but the reproductive cell being itself
and alone the individual Protozoon, there is nothing to die, nothing to be cast
off by the reproductive cell when entering on a new career of fission. The
bodies of the higher animals which die may from this point of view be
regarded as something temporary and non-essential, destined merely to carry
for a time, to nurse, and to nourish the more important and deathless fissionproducts of the unicellular egg. Some of these fission-products of the new
individual developed from an egg-cell namely, the egg-cells and spermcells are as immortal as the unicellular Protozoon.
Before commenting on the above, let us invite comparison with another quotation this
time from The Esoteric Tradition, p. 336:
It should also be remembered that the First Root-Race strictly speaking did not
"die" at all, but each "generation" melted into its own progeny in the very
beginning. . . . Towards the end of the First Root-Race and during the
beginning of the Second Root-Race, when fission gave place to budding, the
process was pretty much the same because "death" had not yet come upon the
scene.
What Professor Lankester gives here are of course facts of observation; and his materialism
does not come into play to destroy their effect. The student of Theosophy will recognise his
remarks as being illustrative of Theosophical teachings as to evolution. Underlying the entire
cycle of evolutionary changes is a central thread which is persistent throughout, constituting
the true basis of immortality. The bodily structure is but a temporary creation, emerging from
the central stem, living its life cycle and performing its functions, and then disappearing;
while the main stem, undying, sends forth in due course another temporary structure. Such is
biologically the history of animal beings of all degrees above the unicellular physical man
included. This, so far, does not necessarily imply reincarnation; it implies the immortality of
a species say the human species a thing which nobody doubts; and it explains the
persistence of ancestral traits, cases of atavism, the preservation of the integrity of type.
Probably this would be as far as the professor would go; for he would envision a universe in
which a mysterious being called "Matter" lived and worked all these wonders. To him,
consciousness is a manifestation of matter; to the Theosophist, matter is a manifestation of
consciousness. This immortal germ, then, which persists throughout the endless generations,
is verily the physical counterpart of that "thread-soul" or sutratman which is the unbroken
chain that links together all the periodic manifestations which it throws out. There is no
absolute death for man, so long as we regard this central life-stream as the real man. The only
things which can die are compounds, and they die by decomposing into elements. They die as
compounds, though the elements composing them live on and may enter into other
compounds.
So far we have obtained but a sketchy summary of the principle involved; but, as regards
man, its application will carry us into details and elaborations. It is not that man is composed
merely of one immortal essence, and of perishable parts. He is composed of principles having
relative degrees of immortality. We may learn about this from what we are taught by
Theosophy respecting the various monads: the Divine Monad, the Spiritual, the Manasic, the
Psychic, the Astral-Physical; each of which has a life-cycle appropriate to itself, and of
greater duration as we ascend the scale. Again, we have the teachings as to the migration and
return of the life-atoms; so that the complexity of the whole overleaps our powers of
conception, utterly simple as the principle is.
And in what state is that unicellular being (plant or animal)? In it the thread soul is never
interrupted by the throwing out of temporary vehicles; it lives always in its central essence. Is
it in Nirvana? Extremes meet; lines run full circle; there is nothing high, nothing low, in a just
view. We are fond of viewing the universe as a long ladder up which we slowly climb from
the mineral to the kingdoms above man; but how can we be sure which direction is up and
which is down? This is said in all reverence and sincerity. The answer can be found by
studying the Theosophical teachings. All motion is dual; cycles run right and left; simplicity
begins and ends the scale; involution down means evolution up. The lowliest atom is the
shrine of a God. And do not beings who have achieved heights in evolution "descend," in
accordance with natural law, into simple imbodiments in what we classify as the lower
kingdoms?

THE FATHER AND THE SON H. T. Edge

The most important doctrine of essential Christianity, which links it with the Esoteric
Philosophy, with Platonism, Neo-platonism, the Hindu philosophies, and countless others, is
the doctrine of the Father and the Son. It is strange how little the usual church interpretation
of Christianity has made of this: the ignoring or twisting of this vital truth is a most
significant sign of the decadence of the original gospel. The Father is the Divine Spirit within
every man: it is Atman. See The Key to Theosophy, chap, vii and chap. x. The Son is Manas,
or (more accurately) Atma-Buddhi-Manas, the Christos, the SELF, the Ego or thinking Manas,
the Logos or Son of soul and spirit, the Man-God, the Word-made-flesh. (See Key, chaps, v
and x). The most frequent mention of the subject in the Bible is found in John's Gospel,
where we read:
The Son can do nothing of himself, but what he seeth the Father do: for what
things soever he doeth, these also doeth the Son likewise. For the Father
loveth the Son, and sheweth him all things that himself doeth . . . for as the
Father raiseth up the dead and quickeneth them, even so the Son quicken-eth
whom he will. . . . As the Father hath life in himself; so hath he given to the
Son to have life in himself, (chap, v)
The servant abideth not in the house for ever: but the Son abideth ever, (viii,
35. Referring to the mortal personal man and the permanent Man.) If the Son
therefore shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed. (36)
This Gospel is clearly, in part at least, a Gnostic gospel; but we find the same Gnostic
coloring elsewhere. See for instance Matthew, xi, 27:
All things are delivered to me [Christos] of my Father: and no man know-eth
the Son but the Father; neither knoweth any man the Father, save the Son, and
he to whomsoever the Son will reveal him.
Reference to the Gospels will reveal many other apposite quotations, with which we cannot
burden the present writing. The God-Man is a cardinal doctrine of religions in their original
purity, though this sublime truth has either been ignored or degraded into something evil or
absurd. The Mithras of Mithraism was such a God-Man, as was the Gnostic Abraxas; we
have the Father and Son in Osiris and Horus; and so on, for instances of which see The Secret
Doctrine. All this gives the true key to the evolution of Man by convergence of an evolution
from below upwards with an evolution from above downwards; and declares the existence in
Man of an immortal Divine Self, who crucifies himself on the Cross of mundane existence, in
order to make fully manifest on earth the Divine Nature, and who thereby redeems the lower
nature of man. This is the true salvation, and it is our own Christos who is the real Mediator
between God and Man, the real accomplisher of the At-One-Ment. Truly Theosophy, so far
from being the opponent of Christianity, is its interpreter, its redeemer.
It is not faith in a particular person that saves man, but faith in his own Divine Nature; so the
same way of salvation applies equally to all men, whatever their religion. What can be
thought of those who, whether in the name of religion or of science, deny this Divine Nature,
making of man either a creature born in sin and unable to help himself, or a mere intellectual
animal?

THE FORK OF THE ROAD Henry T. Edge

How often in life's journey do we come to points where ways diverge, and we
stand in indecision as to which course to pursue. There is nothing to determine
our election. One road presents as much or as little attraction as the other. Yet
an election must be made, and eventually we discover that the whole turn of
our after-life depended on the selection a selection made with eyes blinded
to the consequences. S. Baring-Gould in The Queen of Love
The person here referred to comes to a fork in the road and stands hesitating as to which route
to take, finally selecting one almost at random, and goes to her death. The question here is,
What determines our choice? We know that the outcome is the result of causes generated in
the past, and this we term an operation of the law of Karma. But this Karmic action works
through a chain of many links, and here we find a link to which it is usual to apply the word
"chance." But chance is only a counter used to denote some unknown cause; to say that any
action of ours is casual is simply to confess that we cannot explain why we do it. A
competent astrologer (if such there be) might have predicted which fork she would choose; a
clairvoyant or some kind of diviner might have foretold the issue. For these prophets would
have been able to contact some of the hidden links in the chain. They would have seen that
the person could not have chosen otherwise than she did. Yet this last statement must be
qualified; for, if she had previously undergone a change of heart, then the destiny might have
been changed, so that she would have selected the other path.
We learn from this and from innumerable cases of which it is an instance, that our slightest
movements must be controlled by momentous causes, and that there is a vast machinery of
Karmic links beyond our normal ken. We also learn the vast importance of our every thought
and emotion as determining factors in our destiny, in our luck and ill-luck. Finally we can
understand that divinatory arts depend on a power to discern some of these hidden links and
interpret them, and on a knowledge of the correspondences between apparently casual events,
such as the fall of the cards or the marks made by a geomancer, and the equally "casual"
happenings of daily life.

THE FOURTH DIMENSION H. T. Edge

Those people who try to imagine a four-dimensional world by drawing geometrical analogies
between the properties of lines, surfaces, and solids, commit some egregious fallacies. Thus
we hear of one-dimensional creatures, living in a one-dimensional world, meeting and being
unable to pass one another. Why not? What physical obstacle is there to prevent their passing
one another? A one-dimensional world is not physical; the physical world, the world of
obstacles, is three-dimensional neither more nor less. These reasoners are mixing up physics
with pure geometry. Pure geometry treats of abstract magnitudes, which are usually
represented by diagrams on paper. These have no physical properties whatever; not even the
geometrical solids. A geometrical cube is as abstract as a geometrical square; nobody ever
handled a geometrical cube, though he may often have handled solid bodies having a cubical
shape. In plane geometry, two-dimensional figures can pass freely through or over each
other; there is nothing to prevent; lines can intersect without any splicing or gluing; no
amount of superimposed squares will ever attain to any thickness, as would be the case with
sheets of paper. The spatial dimensions, or rectangular co-ordinates, usually called length,
breadth, and thickness, fill up physical space; no more of such dimensions exist. If one of
these three dimensions is reduced to zero, the other two vanish also.
Whatever unit of measurement we may use for the linear dimensions, if one of the numbers
denoting these dimensions is zero, the product is zero, and the volume is zero. If there are
two-dimensional existences, they do not exist in physical space; their dimensions are not
spatial.
We might speak of time as a one-dimensional magnitude (using the word "time" in one of its
senses); but we do not regard this as a physical dimension, though in a diagram it may be
convenient to represent it by a line. In science the word "dimension" is used in a wider and
more general sense; we speak of the dimensions of units, which consist of space, mass, and
time.
Any such dimension can be represented on a chart by a line and thus we obtain graphs, like
those made by recording barometers, etc. Advanced science now speaks of time as a fourth
dimension, but the four dimensions do not characterize physical objects but "events " Now an
event may be a sufficiently real thing, but we can hardly talk about what would happen if two
events met one another out walking. We cannot make our events have so many faces and so
many edges, and so many angles, etc.
We can calculate an abstract mathematical construction with four dimensions, on the analogy
of the cube, and say how many faces, edges, etc. it ought to have; but this is not the same
thing as imagining an actual physical "tesseract" somewhere in space. We say it is not the
same thing; but we do not say that such a thing as a four-dimensional being does not exist; we
merely say it is not a physical being.
Some people who mix up pure geometry with physics seem to think that we can build up a
line out of points, a surface out of lines, and a solid out of surfaces. This cannot be true in a
physical sense; for the point has no magnitude and cannot build up anything. Moreover,
unless we begin by presupposing three-dimensional physical space, we shall have nowhere to
place our point, and it cannot be regarded as having position or distance in relation to other
points. Such reasoners do what generally is done in arguments they assume their
conclusion; they assume physical space and then proceed to construct it. They should begin at
the other end and assume as a unit a point having dimension, an atom in fact; and then a line
becomes a row of points, and so on.
But if we step beyond the physical plane, and use the word "dimension" in its general sense
as "the degree of manifoldness of a magnitude," the case is different. We may evolve our
universe out of points, lines, triangles, etc., always remembering that these are not physical
distances or pieces of string. Points, lines, triangles, etc., are frequently mentioned in The
Secret Doctrine in reference to existences on other planes non-physical planes; in one
passage there is a definite distinction made between "solids" and "solid bodies." The point, as
a symbol, stands for a monad, a unitary center, a logos; the line is a motion or force, it has
length; a triangle (or, more generally, a superficies) has shape, and shape represents quality or
character; and so on, as we prefer to leave such interpretations to the fancy of the individual
student, not being sure enough of our own personal dogmas. Analogy is a useful servant, but
a bad master.

THE GREATNESS OF THE SMALL H. T. Edge

I am watching an airplane gliding through the sky. It is very big, yet it is too far off for me to
see what makes it move. But I know that the motive power and the skill of movement are all
due to a man who must be sitting there, though at the distance he is reduced to such a speck
that I cannot see him. Very well; the man moves the plane; but now what moves the man? It
is his brain, comes the answer; and that brain is smaller than the man himself. And the power
of the brain lies hid in some minute cerebral center, and the power of that center again lies
hid in the ultra-microscopic particles that compose it. The smaller a thing is, the more potent
it is. It is always the speck that does it, the atom lies at the root of matter, and the electron lies
at the root of the atom. The potency of a medicine is all in an infinitesimal proportion of
some one ingredient; all the rest is merely padding, vehicle. It is Gideon's band. For the
instruction of those who do not know, and the reminding of those who have forgotten, we
may recall that Gideon was to fight the Midianites. He had 32,000 men, but the Lord said this
was too many; and the number was successively reduced to 300, and the victory thereby
secured. Is there not a saying of Lao-Tse that the wise man deals with things when they are
small? The point, the atom, is the basis of anything, and is the right handle by which to lay
hold of it. In our efforts at reform we labor on details, leaving untouched the principles, like
one who cuts off weeds instead of uprooting them. But we are told to seek the root of evil in
ourself and tear it out. Who knows but any day he may discover in himself some error of
principle, and by correcting it transform his whole life?

THE LAND OF THE CULT OF CAVES H. T. Edge

In the January number of The Review of Religion (Columbia University Press) is the report
of a lecture delivered last November at Columbia by Spyridon N. Marinatos, Professor of
Prehistory at Athens University. It is entitled "The Cult of the Cretan Caves" and gives an
interesting and sympathetic account of the many subterranean shrines found in Crete since
this site of the ancient Minoan civilization was unearthed by Sir Arthur Evans in the early
years of the present century. Professor Marinatos was himself a partaker in this more recent
work of exploration. As we shall see, this account furnishes valuable items of confirmation
for H. P. Blavatsky's thesis, that all cults have sprung from one ancient and universal parentcult, which she called the Secret Doctrine or Wisdom-Religion. But, whereas H. P. Blavatsky
takes the existence of that Secret Doctrine as a starting-point, and then proceeds to
substantiate her claim by reference to recorded facts, archaeological research, on the other
hand, proceeds in a contrary direction, theorizing on the basis of its knowledge up to date,
and enlarging its theories step by step in order to accommodate new facts. These two roads to
truth are destined to converge. The immediate acceptance of H. P. Blavatsky's thesis would
mean a thorough recasting of prevalent ideas as to the nature of man and the immense
antiquity of civilization ideas which archaeologists are not ready to adopt and in the
meantime their inferences are handicapped by the persistence of narrower preconceptions
which the light of knowledge has not yet dispelled.
Professor Marinatos says that the oldest civilizations were born in the lands surrounding the
eastern Mediterranean, and that the Minoan civilization was the first upon the soil of Europe.
The former of these statements seems too dogmatic, in view of the fact that it is based on the
latest information, and hence is as liable to change in the near future as it has changed in past
years. Indeed it is doubtful whether it would meet with general concurrence among the
archaeologists of today. The date assigned by the author for the Minoan civilization is from
the early part of the third millennium b. c. to about 1200 b. c. This does not carry us very far
back even in the history of the Fifth Root-Race of humanity, and says nothing of the
preceding Root-Races or of the immense antiquity of civilization in Egypt, India, America,
and other lands.
The religion, he says, was a kind of monotheism with a supreme goddess at the head, who has
several aspects as goddess of sky, water, earth, domestic affairs, etc. One name for this
divinity is Eileithyia (variously spelt as Ilythyia, etc.), connected with childbirth and
mentioned in the Odyssey. The ancient cave-worship in Crete is described by Greek writers,
and the caves of Dicte and Ida are also mentioned by them. The author comments on the
curious absence of temples and of large monumental buildings and plastic works in general;
and regards the large caves as the Cretan substitute for such buildings. Crete is connected
with the child Zeus, who was said to have been born here, and who must be distinguished
from the Olympic or heavenly Zeus. In fact these caves were the seat of chthonic worship, the
cult of earth-divinities.
Professor Marinatos says that Crete may be thought of as the classical land of the cult of
caves, and that, in the light of archaeological research the Cretan cave cult is to be recognised
as the origin of one of the most persistent motifs in religious history. But cave-worship is far
more widely extended and far more ancient than that. Norse mythology provides us with
Gimil's cave; Moses is said to have been initiated in the cave Horeb; we have the cave-
temples of India; the site of the Delphic oracle was a cave; and so on. Caves were habitually
used as places for a particular stage in initiation rites. The candidate, at this stage, had to
descend into the underworld, there to undergo the mystic crucifixion. The major divinities in
every land have their earthly or chthonic aspect as well as their celestial. What is done above
is repeated below, whether in the sense of cosmic deities or of candidates for initiation. It was
no superstitious awe that led to the use of caverns for such purposes, but a knowledge that
caverns were the naturally appropriate sites therefor.
The author takes us through a detailed account of the structures and artifacts found in the
numerous caves, and makes a special point of the magnificent stalactite formations in the
spacious cave of Eileithyia. He represents the ancients as being impressed with superstitious
awe by these superb spectacles and as having regarded them as the work of Gods. But, we are
told, science has now revealed their true origin. Others may hold that there is nothing in
nature which is not due to divine power, and will regard the scientific explanation as
concurrent, not alternative. We may be aware that the stalactites are formed by precipitation
of calcium carbonate, but why should this detract from our feeling of reverence before a
sublime manifestation of Nature's divine creative power? Does the dissection of a human
body abrogate our faith in the immortal glory of the human soul?

THE LANGUAGE OF SYMBOLS H. T. Edge

Poets and prophets, heathen and Christian, alike express themselves
symbolically, and, if we believe that this language prevailed in the early ages
of the world, before the external and intellectual life had predominated over
the instinctive and emotional, we must conclude it to be the natural language
of man, who must therefore have been gifted with a conformable faculty of
comprehending these hieroglyphics; and hence it arose that the interpreting of
dreams became a legitimate art. Long after these instinctive faculties were
lost, or rather obscured, by the turmoil and distractions of sensuous life, the
memories and traditions of them remained, and hence the superstructure of
jugglery and imposture that ensued, of which the gipsies form a signal
example, in whom however there can be no doubt that some occasional
gleams of this original endowment may still be found, as is the case, though
more rarely, in individuals of all races and conditions. The whole of nature is
one large book of symbols, which, because we have lost the key to it, we
cannot decipher. Catherine Crowe: The Night-Side of Nature
We recognise here an intuition of that universal mystery- language spoken of in The Secret
Doctrine. The author is writing of symbolic dreams, of which she narrates many instances.
She points out that the interpretation of the symbols is the same with all peoples, as, for
instance, deep water means trouble, and pearls mean tears; and comments on the quickness
and facility of this language as compared with the labored process of verbal speech. It is to be
observed that this symbol language, as here conceived, is not of the nature of an arbitrary
code, agreed upon by persons desirous of conveying information to those possessing the key,
while withholding it from those who do not. It is a natural language, based on existing facts.
In this language a single symbol, such as a tree for instance, conveys a sort of compound or
general idea, a root-idea underlying a variety of particular manifestations. The intuitive
faculty would grasp the whole of the meaning at once, as a thought without words; whereas
the ordinary mind has to decipher the various meanings laboriously one by one, and any
Teacher trying to explain the matter may be thought guilty of contradicting himself by saying
one thing at one time and another at another. Or take the geometrical symbols, triangle,
circle, cross, etc. Is it not possible that, to the unclouded inner vision, no interpretation
whatever would be needed, because the mere symbol would convey the entire meaning in a
flash?
In the language which we customarily use, words stand either for concrete objects or for
abstract notions. These abstractions are based on our experience in the physical world of
consciousness. But what about other worlds and their conformable planes of consciousness?
Is it to be expected that we should find there the same objects and the same abstract ideas as
here? If so, it would be the same world and not a different world. Then why may there not be
a world where the language is in wordless pictures, and the mind exercises a corresponding
faculty of seizing the import of these pictures in a flash? The writer quoted above surmises
that the highly intelligent in the ancient world could not have been satisfied for so long with a
mythology which to us seems idle stories, if this mythology had been really such and nothing
more. And it may be that they never troubled to "interpret" what to them seemed in no need
of interpretation.
We think here of the true nature of art and poetry, of the ability of some minds to appreciate
them, while other minds do not; and of attempts by these latter minds to explain and analyse
the poetry and the art and reduce it to some system. We think of the minds of little children
and of primitive peoples; and we begin to realize how the intellect (which of course has its
own proper uses) clouds over these natural primitive faculties, these intuitions, these direct
perceptions. All this links up with the doctrine of universal correspondences (also treated of
in the book just quoted), and of how all things are interrelated one with another. Upon the
knowledge of this natural fact rest such things as sympathetic cures, amulets, sympathies and
antipathies, totems, etc. There is a vast fund of knowledge about Nature which we do not
possess, or perhaps have forgotten; and our attempts to explain these mysteries in such a way
as to make them fit in with our own systematized acquaintance with physical Nature seem
rather crude.
It is suggested in the quotation at the beginning of this article that our loss of knowledge has
been due to a lack of simplicity, and that our inherent faculties have been obscured by our
physical senses and our reasoning mind. And in this respect children, animals, and primitive
peoples may be our superiors. It is of course true that we must become as little children in
order to enter the Kingdom of Heaven, and that the pupil must regain the child-state which he
has lost. Yet this return to simplicity does not imply retrogression; it is futile to attempt to set
back the hand of the clock. Our philosophy shows us that evolution winds along a spiral path,
ever bringing us back to a phase similar to one which we have left behind, yet always one
rung higher. The concentration of attention on physical matters, and the development of
intellect are necessary stages in evolution; but we have to develop our intellect, not allow it to
develop us.
Symbols then are not arbitrary chosen signs, but pictorial representations of compound ideas,
which ideas cannot be grasped as wholes by the reasoning mind, but only in successive
aspects; while to grasp the entire meaning in one flash requires the use of a higher faculty,
which we may call intuition one of the things we are called on to develop.

THE LOVE OF NATURE H. T. Edge

It is often said that civilization is hostile to the love of nature, but there is much to be said on
the other side. Macaulay, in a well-known passage of his History, shows how the appreciation
of natural beauties has been enhanced by civilization. He is describing the horror with which
Scottish Highland scenery was once held, by contrast with the enthusiasm with which its
beauties are now courted. That scenery was the same at the end of the seventeenth century as
it is now: the crags, the glens, the woods and waters, the broom and wild roses, the roaring
cataracts and the snowy mountain tops. Yet in those days they inspired nothing but horror and
loathing; for before a man can be charmed by scenery, he must be assured that he will not be
robbed, stripped and mangled, or killed outright; that he will not fall down the precipices,
drown in the cataracts, or die of exposure on the hill-sides. "Indeed law and police, trade and
industry, have done far more than people of romantic dispositions will readily admit, to
develop in our minds a sense of the wilder beauties of nature."
And truly nature has a rough side, and needs to be wooed and won. But why cannot man
himself, as one of the animate orders, be regarded as a part of nature? If so, then his works,
whereby he tames and subdues nature in her harsher aspects, must also be considered as
works of nature.
In short, to avoid being misled by false issues, the real issue seems to be, not between man
and nature, or between civilization and wildness, but between the artificial and the natural,
between excess and balance, between discord and harmony. And here the following will
serve as an apposite text:
Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they
spin: and yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not
arrayed like one of these.
This saying, by whomever said, is an aphorism of ancient wisdom; and its counterpart may be
found throughout all times and lands, including many wise men of our own day who have
earnestly advocated simplicity. A book called Power Through Repose, while dealing largely
with physical aspects of the question, nevertheless gives the key. In that book we were
enjoined to relax. Owing to wrong habits of thought and to various emotions, such as fear and
anxiety and hurry, we are grown accustomed to live in a state of strain, which extends even
to our muscles, kept unconsciously in a state of tension, and to our every nerve and fiber. If
we can but let go and relax, this state of tension may cease, and then the fount of real power
within us will be allowed easy flow and expression, and thus we shall accomplish with ease
and without effort what previously we have struggled in vain to achieve by worry and effort.
This then is the chief lesson we are to learn from "nature': to work easily and without effort.
And, as just said, it is not the rustic who is immersed and involved in nature, who is best
qualified to learn that lesson, but the cultivated man, who knows what artificiality is, but who
also knows its opposite; and whom the progress of civilization has placed in a position where
he can utilize the advantages of nature profitably.
In antiquity there was a cult of nature; we find it in classical antiquity; we find it still among
"primitive" tribes. Certain learned people have squashed, or tried to squash, all this under the
name "animism." It was a superstition, they say, marking early states in the evolution of
intelligence or religion. Those simple-minded ancients believed that nature is alive; whereas
we enlightened moderns well, what do we believe after all?
Let us try to go back from that modern notion that nature is not alive (that is, it is dead), to
the old idea that nature is alive and conscious. Then the feelings of artists can be explained
otherwise than by regarding art as a pleasing illusion of the imagination. Artists indeed! Are
we not all so to some extent, however small? "Lives there a man with soul so dead" that he
has not, sometimes at least, when surrounded by the works of nature, felt the presences
around him; indulged himself in what he may have called a game of make-believe, and
"endowed" the trees and rocks with mind and life? Let us get rid of that idea of make-believe
and try to think that there is no illusion but merely a perception of reality; that the rocks and
trees, both severally and in conjunction, constitute living presences, with whose soul we may
commune. In that way we may purge our mind and our heart of their contractions and
dislocations, and attune ourselves to the tranquil harmony of our surroundings; and, just as
the earth and the water may purge away the humors from our body, the soul of nature may
cleanse our minds and our hearts.
No doubt many of the ancients indulged in a good deal of nonsense about nymphs and naturespirits; but the superficial folly need not blind us to the fundamental truth. Nor need we seek
to wear other people's clothes. We can get back to the spirit of antiquity without donning
ancient habiliments; and we do not need to imitate those poets who made their poems
artificial by an anachronistic introduction of Pan and Arcadian shepherds into an English
landscape. Let us go back to nature in our own way, in a modern way. Let us not throw away
the advantages of civilization, but use them. However crowded and artificial may be the outer
circumstances of our life, we can always carry simplicity about with us in our hearts, and
show it in our manners.
There are perhaps some people who show more enthusiasm in their talk about nature than
they evince in their behavior. And there are surely others whose appreciation of nature is
genuine, but who find that they are likely to get more sympathy out of the silence than out of
any rash attempt to communicate their feelings to anyone else. But silence is one of the great
mysteries which nature can communicate to us; and, deeper than the communication of minds
through talk, lies the silent communion of hearts attuned to the same ideal.
Nature is a great initiator; and, as we are reminded, imparts her secrets only to those who
worship at her shrine. Remaining a sealed book to those who abuse her, or who walk blindly
through her beauties, she stands ever ready to reveal new wonders to all who will but open
their eyes and their hearts, and attune themselves by sympathy, so that they may resound like
a resonator to her vibrations.
In an important sense, then, nature is just what we are able to see. The ant, the nocturnal toad,
the cow in her pasture, know one kind of nature. The holiday tripper may know nature only
as a very capital place in which to deposit paper bags and tin cans.
Nature is waiting, wistfully, for Man. It is his to play positive to her negative; for she is
receptive, and her art is to respond. And with what boundless wealth can she respond! She
needs to be wooed. She stands ready to resound to any chord we can strike; to imbody any
glory to which we are capable of attaining. She is now, as always, the Great Mother, of
infinite resource and bounty. But he who would receive must know how to ask.

THE OCCULT NOVELS OF BULWER-LYTTON H. T. Edge

These novels, especially Zanoni, are quoted by H. P. Blavatsky as expressing in beautiful and
dramatic form the teachings which she herself was expounding; and this fact alone will be for
Theosophists a testimonial to their merits, if such be wanted. But Theosophists of today
probably do not realize how much Bulwer-Lytton's books meant to some Theosophists whose
experience, like that of the present writer, dates back more than half a century, to a time when
occult books were few and far between, and the atmosphere of satisfied scientific materialism
reigned more unchallenged than it does today. Zanoni and Mejnour lived in the mind as
almost solid realities, and the sublime passages in which their thoughts were expressed dwelt
in memory as a daily companion.
To the conventional critic of some literary cyclopaedia these novels will be classed among
the author's vagaries; and his microscope will be focussed on what to him will seem faults of
construction and wanderings of an unruly fancy. Though we intend to confine ourselves
mainly to the particular works in question, we can hardly criticize them without at the same
time criticizing the author's novels in general. Let it be our first duty to protest against
attempts to measure a genius with calipers; to dissect a grand living whole until all reality and
significance is lost in a confusion of meaningless details; to censure an author for failing to
do that which he never attempted to do; to overlook his purpose while concentrating only on
the means by which he has achieved it. It can scarcely be doubted that so competent and
versatile a writer as Bulwer-Lytton could easily, had he so desired, have written things that
would fully satisfy the demands of conventional literary criticism; and it is also just possible
that he had other aims that seemed to him more worthy of his powers.
Those endowed with the sympathetic faculty of recognising greatness can see in the author a
man of lofty imagination, imagination in the true sense, the imagination that lifts us to the
heights of vision and insight; a man of rich and teeming nature, full of human sympathy, of
vast experience of life, of wide culture and tireless industry a genius in short. The writings
of such a man are outpourings from a full heart; they come in no ruled and ordered array;
they ride roughshod over the laws of formal logic; they come like flashes of many-colored
light. Such is not only the way in which genius communicates its message, but such is also
the way in which that message is received; for our lives are not ruled by formal logic. The
human heart and mind is a phantasmagoria of changing scenes, thoughts and emotions
chasing each other helter-skelter in a way which the prim brain-mind would consider very
disorderly, but which obey a superior principle of order, beyond the capacity of that brainmind to measure; and which consequently achieve the effect intended. The Hebraic Solomon,
of mighty experience in life, pours forth his teeming heart in a succession of vivid pictures,
now rising to the heights of faith and hope, now sinking to the depths of despair; and his
songs find their echo in ordinary human hearts who find their own joys and sorrows so
faithfully reflected. The finest poem may present a series of images that are inconsistent with
each other if measured by rule and compass; but if we can drop the mathematical instruments
we may perchance glimpse the total effect.
So it is easy enough to convict our author of looseness in construction, of discursiveness, of
long digressions, sermonizing the reader, and many other such alleged faults. But be it
understood that we are not satisfied with saying that he achieved his purpose in spite of these
faults; for we think it nearer the truth to say that he achieved his purpose because of these
(alleged) faults. In Poe's poems we often feel how his genius was cramped by his elaborate
theories of construction; and in many of Stevenson's works we realize that plain ordinary
language would have suited the occasion better than the unusual words and over-choice
phrasing which he so often employs. The Strange Adventure of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde may
be full of inconsistencies and faulty analysis of the human constitution; but would it have
been half so vivid and telling if the author had allowed his brain-mind to get to work on his
vision instead of taking the advice of his wife to leave the vision as it was? Was Katherine
Tingley's Aroma of Athens full of anachronisms and all sorts of features which the critics
would condemn as faults? Likely enough, but little they care who were privileged to drink
into their souls, to incorporate into their lives, the wondrous magic that was evoked not in
spite of, but (we insist) because of these alleged faults. And so, if Zanoni had been
constructed by Act of Parliament it would scarcely have outlived the brief day in which it was
first published, and we should not now be reading it for the hundredth time without a hint of
satiety.
What may perhaps be considered another hall-mark of genius is the fact that Bulwer-Lytton
was mercilessly attacked by the established powers for a bad influence on morals the exact
opposite of his intent, the exact opposite of the effect he actually produced. In his Word to the
Public, published after the attacks on his Lucretia, or Children of the Night, he appeals to the
public and to people of real intelligence, against these pygmies in high places.
As to the source of his truly wonderful portrayal of occult mysteries, we have always to bear
in mind that every man has innate within him the faculties which can bring him into direct
contact with the unseen. Next, he was a man of great erudition and untiring industry, born
into circumstances which gave him command of ample literary resources. One is tempted to
surmise that the author's own personal experience of trial on the path must have had
something to do with the matter; but in the absence of anything sufficiently definite on this
subject, we must let it pass.
"Zanoni"
It will not be necessary to load our pages with extracts from books that are well known and
easily accessible. In Zanoni it strikes us at once that there are only two adepts (ultimately
only one) in the whole wide world, a world so multitudinous and varied in all its other
denizens. We have no hierarchies, no orders, no degrees. This is indeed an anomaly, but
serves its purpose in concentrating attention on the picture to be presented; to have attempted
to cover too much ground would have shallowed and faded the result. Also, we are at liberty
to take Zanoni as a type; though here again it might be objected that his association with such
historical realities as Robespierre and the guillotine militates against this. But our previous
remarks about consistency and inconsistency will save the situation here. We have in this
work a number of different lessons shown in a vivid light. And what adepts they are!
Mejnour has been described by H. P. Blavatsky herself as resembling a desiccated pansy
between the leaves of a book of solemn poetry. Zanoni, it is true, is a sublime figure; yet his
lonely isolation offers no enviable prospect, and is used in the story as a contrast to the
healthy life of human love and companionship to which he eventually either attains or
succumbs. Again, he has prolonged the exuberant vigor of youth by quaffing the elixir; which
seems to make a sensualist, though a refined one, out of him.
Then there is the affair of his love match: it must be realized by the student of Occultism that
Zanoni, in order to win the glorious heights to which he is represented as having attained
in order to have overcome the dread guardian of the threshold must once and for all have
put himself beyond the possibility of falling prey to the particular temptations to which he
yielded. This is not to underrate the power and holiness of a pure earthly personal love; but,
however great and holy such a sentiment may be, it is still mortal, still earthy, and Zanoni has
risen above all mortality and earthiness. Nay, does he not by his yielding lose the power of
invoking the glorious Adonai, and find that his call is answered only by the dread specter? It
would seem that, whatever initiation he may have passed, it was incomplete: there seems
about him that which brings to mind the Pratyeka-Buddha, who enjoys bliss at the cost of
severing himself from his kind. If so, then we may welcome the sacrifice which Zanoni
makes, and see in it the willing sacrifice of the true Buddha, who forsakes his bliss in order to
follow the dictates of his Heart. This is surely the lesson the author intends at this point.
The contrast between the loneliness of head-learning the Eye Doctrine and HeartWisdom is a favorite theme with Bulwer-Lytton, and often takes the form of a pre-occupied
self-satisfied intellectual introvert, who falls prey to the attractions of a simple girl who is an
incarnation of the qualities of the heart. We shall find this theme in the Strange Story,
illustrated by the love of Fenwick and Lilian. We see it here again in Glyndon, oscillating
between the lures of head and heart, too young to know what he wants and rashly plunging
into everything to find out by the test of bitter experience.
In the experiences of Glyndon we have a most dramatic portrayal of what awaits him who
through rash ambition forces himself into realms for which he is all unprepared. It may seem
to some that the adepts unduly lured the aspirant to his doom; but, as explained to him by
Zanoni, it was the demand of Glyndon's own impetuous desire that prompted him to make a
call such as no Master has the right to refuse. The Master may warn and point out the
dangers, and if the call comes from the passions alone, he may refuse; but if he discerns a
spark of genuine aspiration, he may not spurn it. Thus Glyndon goes through the fires of
purification, due to the admixture of unworthy motives; and success awaits him in the future.
In this drama we have an actual fluid elixir, and other physical means, employed by the two
Adepts; and while it may suit some to regard these as merely symbolical, yet we must
remember that analogy runs throughout nature. That actual fluid elixirs exist and are used
cannot be denied, unless we are prepared to reject evidence as strong as what in other cases
we are ready to accept. It may be that Adepts of a high order do not require, or do not resort
to, such physical means; yet physical means are not in themselves to be despised. It is only
when the physical replaces the spiritual that the opprobrium of black magic is applicable; to
the pure all things are pure, and there seems no reason why a Master of White Magic should
not avail himself of the bounties of Nature on all her planes.
The Dweller on the Threshold has passed into language: it is the great Lord of the
Underworld, the ruler of the lower kingdom, the Satan that tempted the Christ with all the
riches of earth. It lurks in the recesses of every human nature, harmless and beneficent so
long as its power is not challenged; but once we make up our mind to scale the heights, we
must either master it or succumb. Glyndon tears aside the veil while he is yet fresh from the
fires of lust and filled with the pride of passion; and evokes the dread presence. Once
summoned, it cannot be dismissed; and we learn how he goes forth from his trial, his blood
tingling with quenchless desires to attain, but doomed to perpetual dissatisfaction. It is only
when plunged in worldly pursuits that he is free from the presence; but let him for a moment
aspire, even though it be in painting a picture, and the Dweller is by his side. Only one thing
can lay it unselfish love; but it is his sister, not himself, who by her sacrifice of life for
him, evinces this love.
Contrasted with the Rajah of the Senses we have the glorious Augoeides, the Shining Form,
the Manasaputra in man; and perhaps we may see in Adonai (though not clearly distinguished
from the other) that Atman which, shining in all men, is universal, and particular to none.
We cannot but feel that Zanoni ultimately chooses right in abandoning his glorious isolation
at the dictates of his heart. When he took his first initiation, far away in the past, he must have
left an important part of his belongings behind, and had to come back a long way to fetch it.
The object of his love makes but a poor figure, considered from a worldly standpoint; but the
real bride was veiled from sight behind the earthy vestures; and the marriage is
consummated, as alone it could be, beyond the tomb in a region left vague, tenanted only
by God and his angels and the souls of the blessed.
"A Strange Story"
In the Strange Story a different chord is struck; for instead of the romantic atmosphere of
Zanoni, the setting is that of conventional upper-middle-class respectability. Not amid Italian
moons and spouting volcanoes, not amid brigands and guillotines, does the occult manifest
itself; it obtrudes itself upon the tea-table and flusters the prim old maid. At the very
beginning we have a most important lesson: the effects of Karman, as concentrated by the
curse of a dying man. The narrator and hero, thoughtless in his physical vigor and intellectual
pride, so mercilessly attacks the beliefs of the poor old doctor who believes in hypnotism and
consults clairvoyants, that he brings about his death from the poverty due to the ruin of his
practice and the mortification attendant upon the loss of repute. The curse is fulfilled in detail
throughout the book. It is by the very magic whose existence he has denied that Fenwick is
thwarted in ambition, success, reputation, and love; and brought well-nigh to the scaffold.
But note well: his fault was not due to want of heart but to wrongness of head and to
heedlessness. The Karman is therefore restricted in its sphere of action, and he ultimately
wins through. Those who tend toward a too narrow and rigid interpretation of Karman may
find a difficulty in analysing the situation that arises from the curse of the dying man; but
Karman acts on all planes, and all men are inextricably interwoven with each other; so that
the problem of tracing the complications of this universal law is one of infinite difficulty.
Here again we have Bulwer's favorite theme of the contrast between cold intellectualism and
sympathy; and illustrated in his favorite way that of love between a man of intellectual
pride and a woman who is all heart, a man with a complex and "logical" mind and a girl who
sees with the intuitive eye of the heart. Those who have understood the teachings in The
Secret Doctrine about the Divine Hermaphrodite will know that these two sides of human
nature exist (or existed) in the so-called past as an undivided whole, which has become
separated. May we not see did not the author see in these attractions between the
two representative types of mortal beings, an attempt to recombine the sundered fragments of
the soul; ending so often, in earthly life, in anticlimax, and to be realized only in that land far
away where alone ideals are found? Leaving aside the personal mask, we see that, in the idyll
of Fenwick and Lilian, a victory is achieved, whose full meaning pertains not to this muddy
vesture of decay.
As in Zanoni, we note the isolation of the magician (in this case a black one) and the absence
of anything like lodges and orders of adepts. But we may perhaps suppose these to be
implied, while recognising that an artist is neither a photographer nor a map-maker, and that
he necessarily and of intent eschews the vagueness of comprehension and of detail in order to
present a vivid picture. We can hardly suppose that a novelist who should be scrupulously
exact would be very interesting; so no fault can be found with this circumstance. Here
however we have a new feature introduced in the contrast between the white magician,
represented by Derval, and the hideous monstrosity Margrave; while the existence of a lodge
is indicated by the fact that Derval is said to have obtained his wisdom and power from
Oriental dervishes.
There can be nothing more graphic and at the same time accurate than the description of the
three fires in the brain of the entranced Margrave, as seen by the also entranced Fenwick. The
red fire of animal life; intertwining with it, the azure flame of the intellectual life; while
sitting apart and enthroned is the silver spark of the essential spiritual being. Even for
Theosophists, well-read as they may be in the teachings as to man's compound nature, this is
well worth reading for the intense power with which the truths are brought before the eye and
made real. And what could be more vivid than the portrayal of the loss of the soul; how, in
the vision, the whole career of Margrave is compressed into an episode, which in the actual
narrative spreads itself out in what we know as time. The red fire waxes lusty, and calling to
its aid the azure flame, it wages war against the silver spark, until at last that spark, with
many a tear and lamentation, forsakes its desecrated shrine, leaving that shrine to the
devastation and destruction of the triumphant foe. We are reminded of Poe's "Haunted
Palace," where the "Spirits moving musically to a lute's well tuned law," are replaced by
"Vast forms that move fantastically to a discordant melody . . . and laugh, but smile no
more." Ah, pity that Manasaputric light, for it has failed, and must slowly and patiently build
itself a new shrine; yet in the realms wherein it dwells, perchance even sorrow is a melody
sublime. Far more is our pity due to the doomed rebel, who, in his attempt to carry captive his
own immortal Soul, has eternally cut himself off from that Soul the root of his existence.
In Arabian tales some potentate builds himself a palace replete with all the riches that earth
can furnish, and craves but one final boon a roc's egg to suspend within the dome. The egg
is found and suspended: the whole fabric instantly vanishes in ruin and nameless dust. Such
likewise was the fate of those who strove to pierce the vault of heaven with their tower, and
thereby brought down the celestial fire to their utter destruction.
The whole mystery of the man who loses his soul unfolds gradually and is not made clear
until we have reached the last chapter. Beginning as the headstrong Louis Grayle, he falls
foul of his comrades and starts a career of selfish ambition. In the East, when stricken to
death by the fatal scourge, he is rescued by a holy dervish who administers the elixir. He
murders the dervish to obtain the elixir. Wakes up, not knowing who he is, whence he came.
Believes himself to be the natural son of Louis Grayle, whom he but dimly remembers and
about whom he strives to get information. Takes the name of Margrave. As Margrave he
evinces a curious double consciousness, working evil spells in his astral body, and knowing
nothing about it in his waking life. The evil genius guides his acts, yet in the waking state he
is only dimly conscious of it. This is brought out in the scene where Fenwick casts him into a
trance with the magic wand and compels the disclosure.
This book is so replete with details of magic lore, pointing to a very extensive research by the
author, and filled in by his wonderful truth-seeing imagination, that we can only refer briefly
to a few. Here again we have the elixir, as an actual fluid, and we have the magic wand, the
circles with lamps burning a mystic spirit, the double triangle, and other appurtenances of
ceremonial magic. In the hands of Margrave, these things may be considered orthodox; but
Sir Philip uses some of them also.
Between the incredulous (or credulous) scientific skepticism of the unconverted Fenwick, and
the occult truths brought out in this book, we have the ingenious brainy hair-splitting Faber,
an intolerable old bore, whose theories are set up only to be knocked down; and whose
discourses provide the reader with ample opportunity for skipping. Worthy of note is the utter
contrast between the beautiful Margrave, whose radiant presence is a delight, and Stevenson's
Hyde, who has an aura which gives everyone the horrors at first sight. But then Jekyll is also
a detestable character, and the whole analysis is faulty which does not at all prevent the
book from accomplishing its purpose.
"The Haunted and the Haunters"
The story called The Haunted and the Haunters: or the House and the Brain is most
unfortunately nearly always found in its mutilated form, accompanied by a note which tells
us that the author suppressed a part of it (when republished from its original form in
Blackwood) for fear that it would interfere with the plot of his Strange Story. But the part
suppressed is far and away the most important part. We are left with a very capital ghost story
and with speculations that the phenomena are due to the distant workings of a black
magician. But in the missing part the narrator actually meets this black magician. This being
is unique; he is the only one of his kind in the whole world, so far as we can make out. And
this is of course impossible. But again it is pertinent to say that the author's aim is to paint a
vivid picture, unencumbered by unnecessary details and elaboration. For those who have not
read this latter part of the tale, it may be well to summarize its purport. The man (whose
portrait, it may be remembered, is found in the hidden room in the haunted house), is a being
endowed with immense force of will and a natural power of concentration and attraction
towards the occult. But he is wholly without conscience, and is a sensualist. By means of his
mighty will, and the secrets he has discovered, he can defeat death and prolong his life
indefinitely. From time to time he arranges an apparent death, schemes the transfer of his
enormous wealth, and reappears in a new age and a new guise. He is identified with several
distinct characters in history. He throws the narrator into a trance, wherein the narrator
obtains the power of supreme clairvoyance and reads to the magician his future: how he will
yet live to play a part that will fill the world with amaze; but how in the far distant future he
will be hunted down by all humanity and will perish amid polar snows, his titanic will
subdued at last.
Such a man might exist; such a man as I have described I now see before me
Duke of ___, in the court of _____, dividing time between lust and brawl,
alchemists and wizards; again, in the last century, charlatan and criminal, with
name less noble, domiciled in the house at which you gazed today, and flying
from the law you had outraged, none knew whither; traveler once more
revisiting London with the same earthly passion which filled your heart when
races now no more walked through yonder streets; outlaw from the school of
all the nobler and diviner mysteries. Execrable image of life in death and death
in life, I warn you back from the cities and homes of healthful men! back to
the ruins of departed empires! back to the deserts of nature unredeemed!
This story is written with great power; it produced a great and lasting effect on the present
writer, who first read it a few years before he heard of Theosophy. But it produced a weary
conflict within him, because, the magician being so black, an antagonism arose between the
ideals of power and knowledge on the one side and conscience on the other. This discord was
happily resolved by the discovery that white magicians existed. If we wish to use this tale as a
symbol, may we not say that such an evil entity as is here depicted forms a part of the makeup of most of us? On any theory which supposes that such elements of our compound nature
can be isolated, and thus stand naked in all their good or evil qualities, as the case may be, we
may contain within us such a being, seeking to master the possession of our instrument and
tending towards the production of a Margrave or a Hyde.
The theory of hauntings propounded in this story represents the effects of a powerful mind,
aided by application of occult means of a more or less physical nature, in vivifying the astral
light, so that its preserved images of crime and misery clothe themselves in visible forms and
enact mechanically a drama of events of the past. The struggle between the narrator and the
overpowering evil will of the black magician is especially worthy of notice. Though every
faculty of body and volition is crushed down, though he yields even to fear, yet he summons
a courage that is above even that fear pride, he calls it rises to a plane whereon the
sorcerer cannot act and conquers.

Universal Brotherhood Path March 1902
THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE SUBLIME H. T. E.

"The Sublime" is a phrase that is applied to certain moods and to the objects that arouse them.
These moods are temporary and evanescent, having no substantial and lasting relation with
life as we know it. Hence they are by many relegated to the category of things fanciful and
delusive, where they serve as ideals for the poet and artist and as will-o'-the-wisps to allure
men with an occasional fitful gleam.
It is our present purpose to seek the cause, the nature and the import of these feelings of
sublimity. They are common to all humanity, and should be treated as unassailable facts from
which a philosophy may be safely induced. It behooves people living in a scientific age to use
the methods of science; that is, to frame a "working hypothesis" to account for the facts
before them; to confirm, enlarge, or reject that hypothesis in the light of further facts; and to
consider it as established in default of any better theory offering itself.
If we examine the ideas of current thinkers on the subject of the sublime, we shall find the
following theory largely held: that sublime ideas are artificial and delusive states produced in
the mind, having no real relation with life, and partaking of the nature of intoxication. For
example, take Macaulay's definition of poetry as the art of producing an illusion upon the
mind, and Tolstoy's notions on music and art.
Thus, to put it concisely, this theory depicts the Sublime as a vain dream and an abnormality,
ordinary life being real and normal.
We propose to offer as our working hypothesis the contrary view, namely, that the Sublime
consists of glimpses of real life, ordinary life being abnormal, or rather, infranormal.
With regard to the former theory, we believe that it is a capital example of a great fallacy
peculiar to all materialistic philosophy. This fallacy is the notion that there can be an illusion
without a corresponding reality, a shadow without a substance, a copy without an original.
We believe that it is impossible for a man to conceive what cannot be, and that all
conceptions and ideas represent actualities. The dreams and visions of a brighter, nobler life
that all experience in rare moments, and that artists depict and poets sing, are not idle fancies
representing non-existent and impossible things, but memories of what was, forecasts of what
is to be, or visions of what elsewhere is.
We postulate, then, a real life, better, grander, happier than what is called normal life; and
consider "the Sublime" as the fleeting and imperfect foretaste which now represents all that
we can attain of that life.
But let us keep to facts and to the realities that alone can interest men, and not sail away into
the realms of unapplied and inappreciable speculation. The one great fact from which there is
no escape is the fact of one's own existence. Theorize as we may, speculate as to origins and
ends, question God's justice the fact remains that here we are and must live our life,
willingly or unwillingly. Also, we know when we are happy, and when we are miserable; we
like to be happy, we must be happy. Give a man a feeling of real happiness, and he will not
ask for more, nor try to reason it away. It is a real fact that he has got and needs no propping
up with arguments.
Now, it is a fact that the average life of man, as he is today, is not ideally happy or noble or
wise or beautiful. And it is a fact that, in rare moments of inspiration we have tastes of a life
that is all of these. If those glimpses could become full visions, and that fleeting life a
permanent existence, we should be happy, and the saying, "Life is Joy," would pass from an
ideal into an actuality, from a paradox into an axiom.
Man is only half alive. Occasionally he warms up for a moment into fuller life, but only to
relapse into his customary dormancy. Can he be awakened? The answer in the affirmative
forms the root-principle of Theosophy and the motive-power of the Universal Brotherhood
Organization. Man is a far grander and happier being than he knows, but he sleepeth. Let us
awaken him!
All religions represent man as having fallen from a former glorified state into a state of
ignorance and drudgery; but as destined to rise again to a state made yet more glorious by the
added need of toil and pain. This is what is symbolized by Eden, the Fall, and the
Redemption sacred emblem, revealed by every religion, by every priestcraft degraded into
a dogma. Let us reinstate it as a symbol of man's origin, nature, and destiny.
The sacred fire once breathed into the clay still smolders in the breast of man, nor can any
load of earth smother it. It urges him ever on toward the ideals enshrined in the heart-temple
where it burns; and it will surely regenerate the whole being and become a glorious sun once
more.
Man is still a "living Soul," despite his "coat of skin." That living Soul reveals itself in
dreams of beauty and bliss, but the conditions of its shrine and the turmoil of daily life soon
smother the light. The purpose of Theosophy and of the Universal Brotherhood Organization
is to evoke the Soul of Man, to call it back to dwell in a shrine meet to receive it, and to make
life on earth once more a joy. Thus will "the Sublime" become a permanent reality.
How, then, can the lost Soul-Life be restored? By finding out the necessary conditions and
providing them. For no power can manifest itself unless the proper conditions are observed.
Electricity cannot be had where damp reigns and rust clogs. Music cannot be evoked by
broken strings. The Soul cannot shine, nor flash, nor resound amid a chaos of human
emotions and a conflict of hearts. The analogy of the orchestra will serve us best. The
condition for the manifestation of Soul is Harmony. For the very breath and being of the Soul
is Music. As various tones blended yield entrancing harmony, so various hearts blended in
accord yield that sublime harmony of being that is the true Life of Joy.
Brotherhood is the known watch-word of Theosophy; but, for Brotherhood, Theosophy has a
motive that is more inspiring than the customary incentives. We are to blend our interests and
subordinate our jarring personal notes not merely that all may eat a fair share of bread and
butter and work three hours a day, not because Jesus said so, or because it is right but that
the Soul may be evoked, that man may live.
But men have lost the key to harmony; they do not know how so to blend their aspirations
and doings as to evoke Soul-Music. Their attempts at harmony are blundering, and often a
mere repetition of their customary personal and disunited action. Again taking the symbol of
the orchestra, we may illustrate men's strivings after harmony thus: They all try to play the
same tune on the same instrument. They exchange instruments, you playing my fiddle for me,
and I relieving you of your duties with the flute. They try to arrange conditions under which
each man may play his own tune uninterfered with by the rest. All these mistaken methods
are capable of yielding some variety of noise, but not harmony.
To produce harmony in an orchestra, each player must have in mind the tune that is being
rendered, and must have an attentive ear to the general effect. The performers do not try
merely to keep together, but they all strive after a common result. Also it is well that they
should have a conductor to mark time and supervise with his watchful ear the general result.
So, in the co-operation of our lives, we must have a common aim to bind us together. Mere
attempts to co-operate for the sake of co-operation, are insufficient. A group of workers all
anxious to finish a piece of work will co-operate better and yield better and quicker results
than a body of men whose only object is to work together without regard to the end.
The chief cause of the failure to achieve brotherhood is this lack of a common goal of
aspiration. If each man strove to evoke the Soul, then all would be blended in their common
striving. Again, there must be the aspiration after something higher than what is. If the aim is
mere bread and butter and peace and plenty, then there will be a leveling down rather than a
leveling up, and we shall have a typical social Utopia of dreary monotone.
The Sublime is too vast and expansive to be cultivated by a single mind and a single heart.
The recluse, the solitary student, the sequestered poet, be they ever so ethereal and ecstatic,
will never achieve the sublime. They will achieve a narrow form of intoxication which will
not fit the needs of other people, and they will be ignored or laughed at. The Soul needs a
Temple built of many hearts, and an organ in which each life is a separate tone.
Music is not the jarring of dissonant sounds, nor the unison of many identical tones; it is the
blending of diverse but consonant notes. Soul-music is evoked by the accord of diverse but
sympathetic hearts.
The presence of soul-music can be known by the joy and sublimity it breathes. For, as grand
music is to noise, so is the true Soul-life to the clashing life of the modern world.
Are we not weary of a life that is a monotony, when not a burden; where pleasures first
warm, then burn, then poison; where people cannot move without treading upon each other's
toes; where aspiration and speculation lead to vast, inapplicable philosophies and whole
libraries of word-books; where poetry is material for critics, and art copies the antique, or
slavishly depicts the outer crust of nature; where everything ends in nothing?
How hard we have striven, by shutting ourselves up with our books and our dreams, to blot
out the jarring world and conjure up some sweet breath of that fragrant and invigorative air
that the ancients breathed in the days when their Soul-life took form in those buildings and
symbols that now you pore over in helpless wonder. Our life expresses itself in sky-scrapers
and factory chimneys, and can only copy and burlesque the art of others greater than we.
Strive, then, no more to ape the emblems of the spirit that was, but evoke anew that spirit in
modern life. Seek the "Sublime." We are all sick to death of the vulgarity, pettiness,
paltriness and precision of modern ideas. Let us breast the wave of generous reaction and
revolt against the mean and narrow life of selfish care. True life laughs at death and change;
these are but incidents; the Soul wills all happenings for the purposes of its own experience; it
is superior to all and can outlive all obstacles and shine down all clouds. Let us throw off the
sordid sentiments that have poisoned our very gospels and turned the sublime truth of the
Union of Souls into a servile meekness or a noisome itching to do somebody else's duty. Let
us blend our hearts and bring back to earth the lost Soul-music.

THE PROBLEM OF GOD AND EVIL Henry T. Edge

Theosophists with a message for the world must know what that world is thinking and
saying; else there can be no point of contact, and Theosophists may fail to command
attention. So this magazine fulfils an important function in reviewing current literature on
topics interesting to Theosophists; and we accordingly welcome this book by so competent a
pen as that of the well-known philosopher, Professor Joad. He reviews, at considerable length
and with much perspicacity and masterly sorting and arrangement of topics and headings, the
question of religion in its relation to the life of today; giving special attention to the problem
of evil in a world supposed to be ruled by a beneficent deity. Present stress has forced most
people, including Professor Joad himself, to take stock with a view to recasting their ideals:
evil is so conspicuous that we cannot afford to explain it away and put the problem on a high
shelf. Though the author has marshalled a vast array of opinions and -isms and -ologies, he
admits that he has not covered as much ground as might have been possible, had he taken
more account, for instance of Oriental philosophies. Such a limitation of field is however in
accordance with his main purpose of giving a picture of what the Occidental world is
thinking today.
In his introductory remarks he makes an important distinction between the meaning of
knowledge as viewed respectively by religion and by reason the contrast between faith and
reason, or between intuition and intellect. The latter insists on the separation of Knower and
Known, or Subject and Object; the former merges this distinction by the declaration that in
real knowledge the Knower becomes identified with the thing Known. A dialectical treatment
of the subject, like the present one, must necessarily take the rational view, albeit it may
recognise the existence and value of the religious viewpoint. The latter would have given us a
book of sermons or an IMITATIO CHRISTI.
But the religious way of life cannot be lived without assistance; we are inherently sinful (says
religion), and therefore need the help of divine grace, which is evoked by prayer. This view
has been fortified of late by our inability any longer to interpret evil as a byproduct of
circumstance; it must be endemic in the heart of man.
The truths of religion, he finds, are not self-evident; for in reading "The World's Bible," a
large book containing lengthy extracts from most of the world's sacred books, he finds that
there is no consensus as to whether God created the world, or whether existence or nonexistence came first. A great deal is said as to the numerous theories about evil; by-products
of free-will (but pain exists among the insects); that good and evil are opposites (but then are
they "logical opposites," such as the outside and inside of a basin, the one of which entails the
other; or opposites in the sense of wet and dry, either of which can exist apart?). He decides
that they are not logical opposites; if they differ only in virtue of their mutual contrast, why
prefer the one to the other? Since men do not pursue evil just because it is evil, but for some
expected benefit, it would seem that good is independent, just as a light may exist without a
shadow. Evil does not answer an end in itself, but good does. But those who wish to travel in
this maze of speculation must read the book for themselves.
As to the supposed need of a God to account for a universe, he points out that we have only
shoved the difficulty a step farther; for how account for God? We may just as well accept the
mystery of a universe without God as accept the mystery of God. Then comes the question
whether God is within or without the chain of causation. If he is without, how did the chain
originate? If within, what becomes of his absoluteness? This leads to discussion as to views
that have been held, and views which are now held, as to the nature of Cause. The last
century view was inconsistent in itself: matter was conceived as made of separate units; how
then could cause and effect operate between them? And the same in philosophy, as regards
events: if they are separate, where is the causal nexus? And Hume's opinion on that subject is
cited. But today, both in science and in philosophy, we recognise that there is no such
separation: atomism has been replaced by continuity, whether it is particles or events that we
are considering.
Such a full and detailed survey as we have here does not lend itself readily to a brief review,
but the author is considerate enough to provide us with a short summary, which we must in
our turn attempt to summarize. The balance of logical argument is against the view that the
universe is the creation of an omnipotent benevolent God. But argument must be
supplemented by data from other realms of experience, aesthetic and moral. We must take
into account "values," here regarded as outside the evolutionary process of change. The claim
of mystics may thus be allowed; and though their findings differ, the balance seems to favor
those who assert a "personal" deity, as against a universal impersonal consciousness. The
impersonal God obviates the objections as to omnipotence and benevolence, but affords no
firm foundation for the significance of moral experience. The Christian claims as to the
uniqueness of Christ and original sin and redemption are implausible. God did not create evil,
nor is it wholly due to man's misuse of freewill: the principle of evil is probably independent
of God. This is the dualistic view. Finally, the author judges in favor of a religious view of
the world, and his agnosticism has now inclined toward the positive side of agnosticism. This
means that the universe has a purpose, this life is not all; otherwise this life is a cruel and
incomprehensible joke.
Coming now to a few comments on the above topics, as seen from a Theosophical viewpoint,
we must mention first the Esoteric Tradition, or Wisdom-Religion, the common parent of all
faiths and great philosophies. Though the tenets of this parent religion can be discerned in
each of its children, and thus the existence of a uniform foundation can be proved, yet
religions in their present form are found to be obscured by overgrowths and corruptions
which have rendered their differences more apparent than their unity. Nevertheless there do
still exist, in many cases if not all, schools of esoteric teaching behind the outer veil of these
faiths; and this is particularly the case with Oriental religions. To take an instance, Professor
Joad refers to Persian dualism, and though allowing that such a duality implies a synthesizing
or primal unity, does not give sufficient weight to this circumstance. The conception of unity
in duality was an essential part of the original Magian doctrine, and we must draw a
distinction between esoteric teaching and exoteric, as also between the original teaching and
its later degenerated forms. Ormuzd and Ahriman are emanations from Zerouana Akarana or
Boundless Time, which latter itself issued from the Supreme and Unknowable Principle.
Thus we have not only a One behind the Two, but another One behind the first mentioned:
the analysis carries us two stages farther. This teaching is confirmed by reference to other
ancient systems, and is thus identified as a cardinal tenet of the Esoteric Philosophy. Ormuzd
and Ahriman represent Good and Evil Thought. Further, it is necessary to take into account
Cosmic Evolution, for the appearance of this duality represents a particular stage in such
evolution. We see from this that what appear to be contradictory or alternative hypotheses
may really be supplementary, each giving a view of the Universe at a different stage of
evolution, and neither view complete without the others.
The problem of Good and Evil fits in well here, since this contrast arose at the stage when the
One became Two, when there set in that duality which is the inalienable characteristic of the
whole manifested universe. Neither quality can be predicated of the One. There is no such
thing as Evil in itself, no personal Devil or evil power. Good is harmony, wholeness; and
Evil, like a shadow, is revealed as a contrast, discord, incompleteness. Moreover the two
terms are relative to each other and thus variable in their meaning. The existence of strife and
pain in the lower kingdoms is a concomitant of the stage of cosmic evolution in which we are
at present. Man must encounter evil, but should not will it: this is a mystical as well as a
Biblical injunction. More might be said on this subject, but we may conclude it with the
remark that our author would certainly agree that, if we could only define the words Good
and Evil satisfactorily, there would probably be no problem left to solve. As to the practical
or pragmatic aspect, is it not that man must cease to importune the heavens and must pull
himself out of his scrapes by the use of his own innate divinity?
Another important point, which makes a vast difference in our views on every subject, is that
the universe is not static but is ever-becoming. Science today is giving up the idea of
examining a stationary world, and is recognising that "everything flows." We live in a fourdimensional world, but have not yet acquired free movement in the time dimension, so that
we can only see the universe in slices. We thus get a distorted view, or rather, many distorted
views, like the attempts to draw a plane chart of a spherical globe a set of compromises,
disagreeing with each other, but all blending into one truth when we survey the globe itself.
Unless we keep this in mind we shall fall into error by assuming that conditions which are
merely local and temporary are universal both in time and space.
The term "God" stands for a variety of conceptions, which should be regarded as
complementary rather than alternative. Platonism and Neo-Platonism postulated a
Demiourgos or workman as the builder of this world, but did not confuse him with the
Supreme Deity. The existence of imperfection is thus accounted for without impugning the
benevolence and omnipotence of the All-Wise; for this Demiourgos was but a minor power in
a hierarchy of powers. Moreover this world is but one of a number of worlds preceding it and
following it both in space and in time. It may be sufficient and prudent, when restricting our
inquiries to regions which more immediately concern us, to ignore these other worlds and the
whole subject of cosmic evolution; but if we "presume God to scan," we must be prepared to
find that we cannot measure his mighty works by our own local foot-rules. In Christian
theology we find that lesser creative Gods have been confused with the Supreme Deity, thus
giving rise to the vexed problems alluded to above.
The above may be summed up by saying that the difficulties are due to taking a too limited
view. For practical purposes it is convenient to take such a limited view; only in that case we
must be content with suitable assumptions without probing into their essential validity or
their mutual consistency.

Universal Brotherhood December 1898
THE REBIRTH OF BEAUTY H. T. Edge

Just before the death of our great Teacher, H. P. Blavatsky, there appeared in Lucifer one of
her thundering editorials, entitled "Civilization the Death of Art and Beauty." In it she
referred to the desolation of landscapes by smoke and refuse-heaps, the meanness of modern
architecture and decoration, and the dreary, prosaic, and desecrated aspect of modern life in
general. Surely, in this swan-song of hers, she struck one of those key-notes which she was
sent to strike, and which it is the duty of her pupils to echo. Beauty is one of the age's
departed glories that it has to win back, for ugliness is a thing of evil.
Modern ugliness is the expression of internal discord and gloom, and cannot be altered until
harmony is felt in the souls of men. Artificial attempts to produce beautiful forms only lead to
greater incongruities; for scenic and decorative beauty are like human beauty not to be
won by cosmetics, but the symbol of a healthy vitality within.
It is said that the beautiful has been sacrificed to the useful, but never was worse blasphemy
uttered. As if the truly useful could ever be dissociated from the truly beautiful! But "useful"
and "beautiful" have come to have quite different meanings nowadays. Nearly all our
"useful" things are ugly, and very many of our beautiful things are useless to us. But this is
only because we have lost that canon of art and construction which can produce objects that
combine the greatest utility with the greatest beauty. Surely this canon is of universal
application; if it is recognized in bridge-construction, why could we not also make our grandpianos and steam-rollers beautiful? But this is a question for artists.
The first essential to beauty is harmony or concord. In music, painting, sculpture,
architecture, this principle is obvious. In Nature, whether in her mineral, plant, or animal
kingdoms, harmony is preserved. But civilized humanity is like an orchestra in which each
instrument plays a different tune. The members of our human choir must be trained to have
one ear for their own part and one ear for the general effect, or they will get out of time and
tune. Which of our great money-makers ever has an eye to the effect which his doings will
have upon society generally?
This exclusiveness, pushed to extremes, may become very ridiculous, even to our hardened
eyes. For instance, we often see two semi-detached houses with a common portico, one half
of which is painted red and the other half green; or two members of the same family in
church, one turning to the east and the other to the north. Sights like this make one say,
"Verily, un-brotherliness is the insanity of the age."
To achieve beauty, then, we have to practice harmony. We may as well begin at home, in our
family circle. We can make the experiment of living henceforth with a view not to our
own personal interest but to the general harmony. To try to fit in to the general pattern,
instead of shouting our own favorite note regardless of other notes this will be a first step
in the direction of practical harmony. This harmony does not mean subjection to prevailing
prejudices, for harmony is not the same as unison.
There is need to welcome back the old mystic idea that every family, as also every
community, has a special Over-soul of its own, apart from the souls of the individual
members thereof. We speak of the "family interest" and the "commonweal," but the ideas are
not concrete enough to furnish strong motives for collective action. If we could look upon a
family as an actual conscious being, of which each member is a part, the motive for
harmonious action would become more real. Such a being could be invoked in cases of
disagreement among the members, and thus the family would become a unit and its parts
would be in mutual adjustment. I have taken the family merely as a type of communities in
general, and the same principle applies throughout.
It is in Individualism and Selfishness, therefore, that the cause of ugliness lies; nor will
beauty reign again in our midst, until harmony rules our lives. Aesthetic movements, artistic,
musical, or what not, will fail, as they have failed, unless the basic truth of soul-harmony is
made their foundation-stone. In default of this, they fall an easy prey to the harpies of greed
and sensualism. Lovelier far a cottage, where love reigns, than the most aesthetic mansion
that rots in stifling atmosphere of selfish seclusion.
Oh! let each of us who loves beauty keep his great, angular, jarring personality muzzled, and
blend unobtrusively with the mass. Let us not ask the beauties of Nature to degrade
themselves by clustering around our personality in some isolated palace-prison. Let us devote
our humble life to the endeavor to sing in tune in whatever choir we may find ourselves. Thus
we may do our part in restoring that lost harmony which is the soul of beauty.
Universal Brotherhood
KATHERINE TINGLEY, EDITOR
VOL. I
JULY, 1911
NO. 1
THE REBIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY:

by H. T. Edge, B. A. (Cantab.)
A M O N G ideas which Theosophists have been proclaiming for many years, and which are now finding expression through other channels, though in piecemeal
and modified form, are those connected with the Christ
story and Christianity. Curre~zt Literature,, in reviewing " The Christ Myth," by Professor Dr. Arthur Drews of
Karlsruhe, says :
In essence the argument of the book is that all the main ideas of Christianity
existed in the world prior to the birth of Christ, and that the hero of the New
Testament is an imaginative conception rather than an actual personality. The
opening chapters illuminate the history of the Messianic idea. This idea, Professor Dretvs contends, is rooted in Persia and Greece, as well as in the Jewish
consciousness. The Persians dreamed of a divine " friend " or " mediator "
who should deliver them in the eternal struggle between light and darkness,
between Ormuzd and Ahriman. The Greeks conceived a mediatory " W o r d "
or Logos which should come to the aid of human weakness and identify man
with God. Even more strongly, among the Jews, persisted the thought that " a
Son of God " must intercede with Jehovah in behalf of his people.
Such utterances as the above are growing coninion, both from

without the churches and from within. People are beginning to
realize that they have not made the most of their religious traditions;
that there is more in them than they have so f a r gotten out of them.
They suspect that the Gospel narratives contain valuable truths that
have been missed. The Christ is not merely a personality, but also
a symbol, as is shown by the above writer; a symbol of the Divine
in Man, recogmized by the worId ages before the Christian era. .
12
THE REBIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY
The. importance of the Christian Gospel today consists in its

power to help us to realize that we are Divine in essence, and to
aid us on the Path or Way which leads to a realization of that
Divinity. Is it possible that now, for the first time, after all these
centuries, the real import of that Gospel is about to be grasped? that
the age-long worship of a wrong ideal -that of the personal God
and his rewards and punishments, his propitiations and forgivenesses
- is about to depart and make room for a more virile and ennobling,
as well as more rational and holier faith?
Is it possible that a Resurrection is in progress, a Resurrection of
Christ from the tomb in which we have buried him? *
What we understand by a Resurrection of Christ is the Resurrection of the ancient but buried truth that Man is essentially Divineto replace the idea that he is essentially evil. This latter idea emphasizes the lower side of man's nature and actually weakens his faith in
the Divine Power. Having thus lost his faith, he assumes an attitude
of expectation and deprecation, praying to an imaginary deity instead
of invoking by action the real Divinity within.
Ancient symbology, to which the above writer refers as being
substantially identical with that of the Christian Gospel, speaks of
the " Father " and the " Son." By the word " Father " was understood the Supreme; the " Son " was the Word, the Divine life in
Man, which turned him from an animal being to what he is. Through
the Son we approach the Father ; that is, man must invoke the' power
of his own Higher Self. Another ancient teaching, taught in fables
as well as sacred allegories, is that only by acting can man invoke
the Divine aid. The Divine gift to Man is the Will, and he himself
is the only one who can exert it. The fable tells that a carter invoked
Hercules to lift his cart out of a rut, and Hercules told him to put
his own shoulder to the wheel. For Hercules means strength, and
strength is invoked by exerting it. I n the same way we have to
assert our Divinity by acting in a Divine way; and it seems that
the Gospels give us ample instructions.
It may be that this was after all the real message, and that those
who gave it have been waiting all this time for man to get up off his
knees and be somebody.
* The reader of course will not think any allusion is here made to a possible physical
appearance of Christ. Such preposterous suggestions are made in some quarters, but it is
needless to say Theosophy has nothing t o do with them.-H. T. E.
13
There are many religious gospels in the world, but they are all
modifications of one great eternal gospel. That one gospel, clothed
in many garbs, legendary, allegoric, theological, is the Drama of the
Soul in its pilgrimage through life, its struggles with great adversaries, and its final victory. Christianity contains the same ancient
wisdom; it has been covered over with accretions of theology and
ecclesiasticism: it is now being disentombed. The process is a long
and eventful one; for people cling fondly to old habits, and illany still
hope that they will be able to admit everything and yet set early
medieval theology on the summit as the crowning revelation. The
success with which they can do this depends upon what they can make
of Christianity, for the less cannot contain the greater.
The personal Christ and the doctrine of the Atonenlent (in its
fainiliar theological form) together constitute the rock on which
there is most likelihood of a split. But this doctrine (that is, in its
present form) will have to go, for it is inconsistent with the views of
life that are now gaining ground. For one thing, it is not sufficiently
international; it is too much like a gospel of salvation peculiar to
Western civilization. Eastern religions are already amply provided
with similar machinery in their own systems, and are not likely to
give up their own for ours.
Again, the theological doctrine of Atonement includes the rernission of sins, in the sense that the sinner is relieved from the consequences of his sins by a special act of intercession and vicarious suffering.
It is useless for Christians to deny that such is the teaching, for it is
expressly stated thus by eminent authorities whom we might quote;
besides it is this very fact of remission that lends force to the appeal
made to our weak desires and hopes; it is held up as a great advantage possessed by Christianity. This teaching is repugnant to our innate sense of justice, to our manliness, and to our best conceptions of
Divine Wisdotn. It is felt to be more in harmony with Law that Inan
should work out the full consequences of all his acts, both good and
bad, reaping the consequent joy and grief. The remission of sins
does not mean an excusing from the penalty, but a purification of the
inan so that he will not commit any more sins. Man is justified, sanctified, and saved, by the Divine grace acting within and changing his
heart - not by a propitiatory sacrifice and a mere formal act of
belief.
And so the real doctrine of Atonenlent will have to take the place
14
of the other. The making one, or reconciliation, between the hunlan

soul and its Divine counterpart - that is the real Atonement. By it,
man repudiates his false " self," and recognizes his real Self; deposes the anillla1 nature from the throne of his heart and establishes
the kingdom of righteousness therein. But in the world just now
there is a mighty battle between powers that tend to enslave man and
keep him down, and powers that tend to liberate him. The former
will try to perpetuate theological dogmatism and man's fear of himself. The latter will ever strive to give him back his self-respect and
faith in his own Divinity.
Christians love to speak of the greatness of their religion, but
little do they realize how great it is. The Bible is printed in hundreds
of millions, and enthusiastic evangelists place a copy in every hotel
room; but it is a more precious treasure than they wot of. Enshrined
within the verses of that strange literary compost, preserved in the
misunderstood symbols of that religion, are records of the WisdomReligion, the world's eternal gospel of Truth. Its teachings can
indeed " make us free," for they show us how to evoke the power
of the " Word." Unless we can use our Will -the Spiritual Vl'ill,
not the feeble, selfish, personal will - we cannot be saved; else would
the Creator have his heaven furnished with rescued dummies. When
Man was gifted with Divine prerogatives of Will and Intelligence,
he was thereby made a responsible self-acting being; he must redeem
himself by his own (God-given) volition, not lay aside his initiative
in weak reliance on some other will.
And the Spiritual Will is of'the Heart; and of the Heart also is
Wisdom; yet man in his unredeemed state obeys the leading of the
desires and the false images they breed in the imagination. Therefore he will remain enslaved to these desires and will fail to understand the meaning of life unless he cultivates the impersonal Divine
life within him. The teaching of the Gospel is directed to showing
us how to enter this Way. To the ignorant the Master speaks in
parables; but " to you it is given to understand the mysteries of the
kingdom." A priceless privilege, but how repudiated! If we would
but carry out the injunctions of Jesus the Christ, instead of making
his personality into a God - which surely he himself would never
have wished-we should be worthier disciples and the greater gainers.
THE SACRED TREE SCRIPT (1) H. T. Edge

In a well-known passage in the Introduction to The Secret Doctrine, H. P. Blavatsky avers
that the Secret Doctrine of antiquity will be rejected in the nineteenth century, but that in the
twentieth century scholars will begin to recognize it as a fact. The present volume is one
evidence of this forecast, for it deals with innumerable matters with which H. P. Blavatsky
was concerned when she outlined the tenets of the Secret Doctrine and the evidences for its
universal diffusion as the groundwork of all religions and great philosophical systems. The
author, so far as we have been able to discover, shows no knowledge of H. P. Blavatsky's
teachings, or of the numerous literature that has sprung therefrom; but he quotes a great
number of authorities English, French, and German, and we have no means of knowing
whether any of them had contact with Theosophical writings. But however the case may be, it
is evident that the subject of a universal mystery and symbol language, which at once reveals
and conceals ancient lore, is being widely studied by scholars of many lands. The author
states in his Preface that he is about to consider several topics which may seem unrelated: the
esoteric basis of Plato's science of numbers, the origin of the Runic script, the origin of some
Old Testament legends, and the historical implications of Plato's metaphors. His endeavor is
to show how these are related; but students of Theosophy know how very much wider a field
is covered by such researches, and how not merely the few things mentioned by the author,
but the sacred lore and symbolism of all lands and all times is included in the scheme. The
author's scope, apart from occasional references, does not extend beyond the Aryan peoples
(in the usual linguistic sense), and is confined mainly to ancient Greece. He takes a very high
view of Plato, whom he regards as in possession of an esoteric knowledge, with numerical
keys, and as being obliged, like Jesus, to address the multitude in parables.
It is still a mystery to me whether Plato actually knew the initial source of all
his inspirations. Was it intuition or schooling which led him to his "vision" of
the cultural past of humanity?
The ancient thinkers knew how to conceal their esoteric doctrine from the
laics. In order to get access to their treasury we must pass through Plato.
Speaking of references by Plato to the Sun as the source of Wisdom, he says:
The above-mentioned passage seems to indicate that for a "true philosopher,"
who understands the relationship between the shadows, images, reflections,
pictures of things and their "ideas," the access to "true knowledge" is open. He
actually sees "truth" as such. His eyes possess the power of penetrating into
the very essence of things. Like the Solar God, Apollo, a "true philosopher," is
able to approach the "eidos" [archetype] of a thing and to reveal it to his own
view and to that of congenial fellow thinkers.
The worship of the sun is pan-Aryan. We find it among the Hindu, the
Persians, the Greeks, the Goths, the Slavs.
The Apollonian myth is one of the few keys to the "Delphic mysteries."
There is a great deal about numbers and their correspondences here, reminding us of such
books as Higgins's Anacalypsis and Skinner's Source of Measures; studies which involve us
in intricacies, as students well know. The author has detected the existence of an octaval
system of numeration (we forbear to risk the word "notation," which usually implies the use
of a zero and positional value). Students too readily accept a group of digits, like 777, or 600,
for instance, as denoting numbers in the ordinary decimal scale (an argument for photostatic
reproduction!), whereas there is no knowing what numbers they may indicate.
He speaks of a "pre-logical" school, as representing an ancient cast of thought contrasted with
the "logical" school initiated by Aristotle, and which has set the pattern of subsequent
Western thought. Plato was a mathematician of the Pythagorean school, he says, and this
book is very largely on numbers. Students of The Secret Doctrine are aware of the
importance attached to this subject, and Mr. Efron bears out H. P. Blavatsky's contention that
numbers were formerly considered in a different way from the merely numerical way in
which they are considered in our mathematics. A German author, G. Albert, is quoted to the
effect that "the digits determine and are the skeleton of number; the zeros are in so far
without importance." A French author, Shure, says that 7 represents the union between the
divine and human, represented respectively by 3 and 4; also that 7 represents the law of
evolution and complete realization. (But we observe that he cites and endorses a statement by
Plato that the number 5040 has 44 factors, whereas it will be found to have 58).
The Sacred Tree Script is a figure found in the Runic inscription on the Gothic stone of
Kylfver; it looks like a diagram of a fir tree, and speculation is made as to the meaning of the
number and size and arrangement of the branches on each side, with a view to finding a
numerical key of interpretation.
The first section of this book is on the Ideal Numbers; the second is on the Ship of State,
described as Plato's leading metaphor which seems to determine the main features of his ideal
city. Noah's ark is compared with it. Much is said in The Secret Doctrine about the symbol of
the Ark, ship, boat, crescent, moon, etc., as denoting the feminine aspect of the Universal
Spirit, the Great Mother, Isis, etc., the receptacle or container of all. The author has a chapter
on the "Indie and Indo-German Background of the Genesis," in which he points out some of
these analogies. Thus he has hold of a part of the scheme of the Wisdom-Religion.
FOOTNOTE:
1. The Sacred Tree Script: the Esoteric Foundation of Plato's Wisdom. By Andrew Efron.
The Tuttle, Morehouse and Taylor Co., New Haven. 1941. (return to text)

THE SATAN MYTH H. T. Edge

Exploding the Satan myth was an important part of the work undertaken by H. P. Blavatsky
in bringing to the world the message of Theosophy. This curious perversion of the truth has
done much harm during the ages from which we are emerging; its rectification will be
coincident with a new gospel of hope and help to humanity.
H. P. Blavatsky threw down the gauntlet to theology by boldly naming her new magazine
Lucifer. This name, as its etymology shows, means 'Light-bringer,' and is applied to the
morning star which heralds the light of day. Its equivalent in Greek is Phosphoros, which
means exactly the same. It is strange indeed that an angel with such a name, indicating such
attributes, should have been transformed into an angel of darkness, a synonym for Satan the
evil counterpart of God, foe alike to God and man.
The better to understand how this has come about we must refer to the sacred allegory found
in the early chapters of Genesis, whose meaning has been similarly perverted. If it be asked
what reason we can give for preferring the Theosophical teaching to the usual theological
interpretation, we can give two answers. One is that to understand any given scripture it is
necessary to compare it with other scriptures; for by adopting this method we sift out from
each whatever is accidental and arrive at what is essential and common to all. The other is
that the true explanation is found to conform to the facts of human experience, whereas the
false interpretation conflicts with those facts.
During Christian times there has always been an antagonism between religious sanctions and
the spirit of free inquiry; the authority of churches and of representative religious leaders has
been unfriendly and often hostile to individual initiative in the search for truth. Often there
has been war to the knife, at other times mutual indifference; and at the best, attempted
adjustments between elements assumed (by those very attempts) to be naturally diverse. But
the natural intelligence of man has felt that the truth must be one and single, not divided into
two opposite species; and that an all-wise and all-loving God cannot rightly be conceived as
an obscurantist. Then there is the well-known problem why such a God could create man,
allow him to fall or be led by Satan into corruption, and then provide for his rescue by a very
doubtful means and one that (in strict theological interpretation) comprehends but a minute
fraction of the human race, after all. It is things like these that have driven so many worthy
souls out of religion altogether, all unaware that there was any genuine truth to replace the
spurious article which they have rejected; and this is what is meant by saying that the
theological interpretation conflicts with human experience instead of explaining it.
This divorce between two vital aspects of truth has also had a disastrous effect on science,
causing it to propound a view of man's origin and nature based on purely physical influences.
But the duality of man's nature is the commonest fact of experience, constituting as it does
the entire motive of the drama of human life. It is surely the function of any body of doctrine,
whether it pose as religious or scientific, to explain this fact of man's duality. If we compare
the stories of man's creation as found in the various scriptures and mythologies, we shall find
everywhere a dual creation of man recorded. He is first created as an innocent being, without
knowledge of good and evil, without free choice, living in a state of harmless and
unprogressive bliss; and afterwards he is enlightened by the gift of divine fire, which turns
him into a responsible being, made in the image of his divine creators, and destined
thenceforth to learn wisdom by experience of pain and pleasure, wrong and right.
Such is the true interpretation of the allegory in Genesis. It is the 'Serpent' who is man's real
Savior. It is this Serpent who teaches man the knowledge of good and evil and makes him
like unto the Gods. The Serpent is actually the Lord God himself in another form, perfecting
his own original work and making of the earlier mindless' man a complete being, a fitting
image of his divine author. The Greeks tell the same thing in the story of Prometheus, who
takes compassion on helpless mankind and brings down fire from heaven in a tube; whereby
man is enlightened. There is the same apparent hostility between Zeus and Prometheus as
there is between the Lord God and the Serpent. It is evident that the man of Eden, and the
man whom Prometheus enlightened, were little better than automatons; and that such a being
could only become a real man by having a choice given him. Only thus could he exercise
free, that attribute of divinity. Accordingly the exercise of free will choice can be construed
into an act of rebellion, for so it is in a sense. Satan himself is said to have rebelled against
God and fallen from heaven; but he did so in compassion for man, performing an act of selfsacrifice for the salvation of man; just as Prometheus sacrificed himself and was ejected from
Olympus to be fastened to a rock. Satan is the head of a host of angels, who with him rebelled
against God and fell from heaven. They were the true enlighteners of man.
This allegory of the Fallen Angels has been so misrepresented that it may seem to some as
though we were being very profane in so speaking of it; but in fact it is one of the most holy
and sublime teachings of ancient wisdom. The kind of evolution studied by science cannot
produce anything higher than animals; the human self-conscious intelligence can never have
been evolved from the animal mind; it is a gift apart. This gift of the divine intelligence is
passed on from beings who have it to those who come after them. It is brought to men from
above, not worked up from below. The scriptures say that in ages long gone by, man 'walked
with the Gods' or had intercourse with divine beings; and it was thus that man received that
marvelous intelligence which, all obscured as it is by his mortal clay, yet makes him so
immeasurably above the animals. The earliest races of mankind were of the kind called
'mindless,' sinless, devoid of initiative; but later in the progress of evolution came the stage
when man was enlightened by the passing on of the divine light or fire to him from beings
who had acquired it before. All this concerns the teachings as regards the evolution of human
races, too long to be entered into here, but to be found in Theosophical books. It is
allegorized in the Bible and other sacred books and mythologies as has been indicated above.
The temptation of flesh in the Garden of Eden is a gross misinterpretation of the allegory, and
God has been represented as cursing for ever what was a purely natural act and function.
Here is another false antithesis, by which natural functions have been connected with the idea
of sin, man has been set at war with himself, and endless moral confusion has gone down
through the ages.
But if this Biblical Satan is a name for man's enlightener, and not the arch-fiend and enemy
of God and man, nevertheless there may be a real devil among us. But this devil is our own
personified passions and evil thoughts. We all know this devil by experience, and how the
alliance between fleshly passion and human self-consciousness can engender a sort of evil
personality, which steps into our clothes and wears the mask of ourself. But here again it is
not mere physical immorality, harmful though that may be, that is the worst foe of man; but
selfishness, hate, anger, cruelty, heartlessness; for these wither and petrify the very soul. And
it is not those who have been most noted for sanctimoniousness who have been most free
from this kind of sin.
Man's true redeemer is that Divine Spirit which was breathed into him when from being an
un-self-conscious creature he became like unto the Gods. Good, for man, is what expands;
evil contracts. Good sets the common weal above so-called personal interest; evil seeks to
promote self-interest regardless of the common weal. Good is constructive and makes for
harmony; evil is destructive and makes for discord.
Equally fatuous are those who accept the Eden story in its literal sense, and those who scoff
at it as foolish superstition. They both make the same mistake, are guilty of the same lack of
proportion. The story is so evidently symbolic and allegorical; and the same symbols are
universally found. What is that Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil? That Tree of Life?
That pleasure-garden? The Garden is the state of primitive innocence in which dwelt early
man, when as yet the light from Heaven had not kindled the latent spark within him. The
Tree, the Tau, and the Cross are universal symbols of the Wisdom-Religion, as is the fruit
which hangs near the top of the Tree. Around the Tree we often find a Serpent coiled the
universal emblem of Wisdom ('Be ye wise as serpents'). This is the origin of the Christian
Cross, which should symbolize the sacrifice of self for Self, the salvation of man by
exchanging the mortal for the immortal, the true Resurrection from the dead. See how these
most sacred symbols have been turned into a dogmatic system, in which man is made to
believe himself doomed by the sin of Adam to eternal damnation, only to be saved by an act
of homage to a crucified God; and how good and evil have been mixed up, that which is holy
profaned, and man made to damn his own god-given faculties.
It is hoped the above will not be interpreted by anyone into an advocacy of anything like
'Satanism' or devil-worship, or any such evil cult as may be found lurking in dark corners
today. The distinction between good and evil is clear enough. If Satanism means the
deification of evil passions, and black magic and sorcery, then the name of the divine
archangel has again been traduced. Such unhallowed cults are simply one of the natural
results of denying to man his own natural power of self-directed evolution; by cutting him off
from the true light, we drive him to seek refuge in false lights. The Bible is one of the world's
sacred scriptures; when we know the keys we can interpret it aright; but it can be, and has
been, interpreted entirely wrong, so that a fraud has been practised on humanity. The above is
written with a view to trying to clear away some of the confusion. It is time that the crucified
Christ were resurrected from the tomb wherein his so-called followers have cast him; and that
man should recognise once again his true Redeemer in the Christ within all men.

THE UNIQUENESS OF MAN (1) H. T. Edge

One must look into this book to see what the title means; but the title under which it was
published in England is more informative: The Uniqueness of Man which is also the title
of the first of the essays. These essays, fifteen in number, are very miscellaneous, being
reprints of magazine articles between 1927 and 1939, to very diverse readers. In seeking a
thread to bind this collection, the author points out that they were all written during a period
when an old order was passing and the birth-throes of a new order were supervening; so that
they may be regarded as contributory to a general aspiration towards social amelioration. To
the reader however a much closer bond of unity may be found in the fact that they together
constitute a revelation of the mind of Professor Huxley himself, and of whatever school of
thought he may be taken as representing. The author is no scientific recluse, but a man
interested in human welfare and desirous to promote it. He is also greatly interested in the
biological side of science, and has much knowledge in this field. The remaining question
therefore is how to bring these two elements into useful relation to one another. It may seem
to some however that the two elements do not mix very well, and even get in each other's
way; so that we could be happier with either, were t'other fair charmer away. For Professor
Huxley is charming when he describes and comments on interesting facts in biology and
zoology and anthropology; of the way of the snake in the grass, the birds in their courtships,
the untutored savage in his inspired ignorance. He has also a pretty good notion of what is the
matter with us today, and of how much better things might be if they were not what they are.
The same might be said of Mr. Wells. But his scientific philosophy seems rather a hindrance
than a help.
In the essay on The Uniqueness of Man, he says that the gap between man and animal,
lessened in the earlier days of Darwinism, has again widened, and that man stands unique in
the powers of conceptual thought and of formulating principles by the aggregation of facts.
His view of the plan of evolution is far broader than the narrow views of bygone times; in
place of a single line of development, he sees innumerable lines of deviation from a main
trunk. The general law is one of dispersal into variations; the continuity of development is
preserved only by the rare exceptions which do not thus become lost in unprofitable
variation. It short, it is a series of experiments, of which most are failures, but which are
ultimately crowned with success. (In this we are reminded of what is taught in The Secret
Doctrine as to the various abortive attempts to produce man in the earlier stages of cosmic
evolution.) But then comes the question, Who is trying the experiments and making the
mistakes and achieving the ultimate successes? The work is the work of Mind. But Mind is
excluded as an agent, because it is represented as a product of the process. The animals are
shown not to possess it in the requisite degree; it is only in man that it arrives and this
because his brain is so much more plastic. "Mythical gods," and "philosophical absolutes"
are waved away; but what takes their place? Is the universe automatic? Very well, but
automatic means self-moving, voluntary as opposed to influenced, possessing inherent power
attributes applicable to the Causeless Cause of ancient philosophy, or to the God of
theology. Such a power, such an intelligence, such a purpose, has to be assumed at the outset,
in order that the machine may be set running at all. And yet these attributes are represented as
the result of the process. Such an upside-down outlook as this may well prove an obstacle in
the way of social planning. The only conceivable evolution is an evolution of beings.
Moreover evolution cannot be a creating, by blind experiment, of things entirely new; but it is
a bringing into manifestation of things that have pre-existed in potency. Mind must be at the
beginning, not at the end only. Mind brings into being a series of vehicles for its own
progressive expression.
We are left quite in the dark as to the origin of these powers of conceptual thought and
generalization, to which Professor Huxley assigns such importance. He calls upon us to use
our powers ("Let us not put off our responsibilities onto the shoulders of mythical gods or
philosophical absolutes, but shoulder them in the hopefulness of tempered pride.") It is an
interesting speculation at what precise point in the evolutionary process blind
experimentation and haphazard forces gave place to responsibility and the power of
conscious planning. We are whole-heartedly with Professor Huxley in the wish that man
should use his powers to further his own betterment; but we are not at all satisfied with his
account of the manner in which man became possessed of those powers. And that is why we
say his philosophy gets in his way. The same confusion between cause and effect is seen
elsewhere: as for instance in speaking of a nation whose character has undergone a great
change in a short time, it is said that biological causes could never have produced such an
effect, and that it must be due to the social changes. But social changes are elsewhere spoken
of as effects which we must bring about. However some justification may perhaps be found
by saying that there is action and reaction between man and his environment, so that each
alternately features as cause or effect.
Professor Huxley takes a just view of the relation between the agent and the machine,
condemning alike those who say that change of heart alone is enough, and those who say that
change of circumstances alone is enough. We must of course work at both ends. The final
essay, "Life Can be Worth Living," illustrates well what we have said. There is earnestness of
purpose, intuitive grasp of essentials, breadth and balance of ideas; but everywhere a cautious
dread of arousing old specters of theology or some other -ology. Much faith in the power of
human intelligence and goodness.
Man, as individual, as group, and collectively as mankind, can achieve a
satisfying purpose in existence. . . . I believe that there exists a scale or
hierarchy of values, ranging from simple physical comforts up to the highest
satisfactions of love, aesthetic enjoyment, intellect, creative achievement,
virtue. I do not believe that these are absolute, or transcendental in the sense of
being vouchsafed by some external power or divinity; they are the product of
human nature interacting with the outer world.
He believes that among human personalities there exist the highest achievements of the
universe; and that the State exists for individuals and not individuals for the State. An
individual is not an isolated or separate thing; he is a transformer of matter and experience.
It is in the devotion of the sacrifice that he becomes most himself. . . . Finally,
I believe that we can never reduce our principles to any few simple terms.
Existence is always too various and too complicated. We must supplement
principles with faith. And the only faith that is both concrete and
comprehensive is in life, its abundance and its progress. My final belief is in
life.
Yes; truly man's destiny is in his own hands. He is a being endowed with innate creative
powers. All philanthropists recognise this, if not directly, then by necessary implication. Yet
it is an immense advantage to have a philosophy which gives an understandable account of
the origin of such powers, rather than a philosophy which can give no rational explanation.
The efforts of all sincere philanthropists, whatever their beliefs, must be respected as
contributory to the general forward movement. This book, as previously noted, combats the
idea that attention to the spirit alone is enough, and that the circumstances will then adapt
themselves without direct attention; it insists on the need for attention to outward things also.
We have to put food into the children's stomachs before we can put knowledge into their
heads. Social planning, it is true, tends to deal with mankind too much in the abstract, and to
rely on the formula. But living people are many and various, and actuated by forces that will
not submit to formulation; so that progress is achieved by experience, opportunism, the
application of various means to particular ends as they come up, rather than by attempts to
apply formulas and rules. People will not of their own accord mold their lives by fixed rules
and cold logic; and if force is used in the effort to make them do so, then we get tyranny and
the suppression of free choice.
This book shows how greatly earnest and intelligent aspirations may be hampered by a
fantastic philosophy of the origin and nature of man and of the world of which he is a part.
Could there be a better way of helping progress than by replacing these ideas by a philosophy
which gives a consistent and adequate account of the universe and its living components? The
teachings of Theosophy have already infiltrated into the world of thought to a degree which
causes wonder to those with an experience of half a century; and this process may be
expected to continue with acceleration in the years to come.
FOOTNOTE:
1. Man Stands Alone. By Julian S. Huxley. Harper Bros., 1941. $2.75. (return to text)

Universal Brotherhood Path April 1901
THE UNIVERSE A LIVING SOUL H. T. Edge

Our philosophy rejects the dead mechanical view of the Universe and Nature fostered by
modern science, and favors the far more widespread, ancient, and reasonable notion of the
Universe being a conscious and intelligent Soul. The mechanical way of regarding Nature,
which has grown up under the auspices of modern physical science, is to be regarded as a
particular phase of human thought peculiar to the periods of material prosperity. Modern
science has grown up in such a period, and the commercialism, luxury, individualism, and
general ugliness and want of idealism of our civilization have led to the sceptical and
materialistic theories which alone such circumstances can engender.
It would seem more natural that man, being himself conscious and intelligent, should infer a
similar consciousness and intelligence for the universe of which he is a part; rather than resort
to such abstract unrealities as "force" and "atoms" for an explanation of the workings of
nature. In fact our own mind is the one positive and indisputable fact that we have from
which to start our speculations, whereas the premises of modern physics are mere
abstractions having no real existence. Hence the auto-mechanical theory of the universe
hangs in midair and has no root in fact; whereas the theory that Nature is conscious is based
on the ultimate fact of our own consciousness.
The absurdity of the materialistic position becomes more obvious when these reasons go the
length of trying to explain the phenomena of human thought and feeling in terms of their
"force" and "matter;" for then they become involved in a vicious circle of reasoning which
represents the atoms of the brain engaged in mechanically weaving a theory about
themselves.
Considerations like the above can very easily show us that materialistic science is based on
abstractions, and that its inferences lead to contradiction and absurdity. This demonstration
has been made fully and in detail in books dealing with that special subject, (1) and need not
be more fully entered into here. But the results that such a mistaken view inevitably leads to
are even more indicative of its falsity. These results are to be found in many of the crying
evils in our midst today. For instance: the horrors of the vivisection room may be traced to
the wrong notions with regard to the body and the nature of vitality, which lead to the attempt
to discover the laws of life by mechanical operations and scrutiny of the material structure;
and to the hardened and blunted state of the mind which makes all questions of sympathy,
kindness and respect for intelligent life subservient to a morbid intellectual curiosity, The
exaggerated worship of money and of all material comforts that it brings and the sacrifice of
all art and beauty to a hideous "utilitarianism" are the outcome of this perverted materialistic
view of life. In short, materialism tends rapidly towards ugliness and meanness, towards
doubt and uncertainty, towards dreariness and its accompaniment of sensual excess; and
away from the inspiring, the poetical, and the beautiful. We educate our children to these
materialistic ideas and then wonder why their conduct takes color therefrom and why they
lack the reverence of their parents. The truth is that no one dares to live consistently with
such ideas, or all basis for morality would be lost. No arguments for virtue and self-sacrifice
can be drawn from the postulates of modern scepticism; and so we unconsciously and
inconsistently cling to the principles of conduct that are derived from an older and more
spiritual philosophy of life, and whose rightness we recognize though we may have forgotten
their rationale. In other words our conduct shows that we do not believe in the nonsense we
teach, and we often act, in spite of ourselves, as men who are divine and know it.
It is natural to children, and to all minds that have not been tinctured with civilized
artificiality of thought, to look upon nature as alive and sentient. Ancient literature shows us
that most people have seen in Nature intelligent powers and beings, where we descry only
"blind forces" whatever these may be. Certainly it takes a cultivated mind to conceive of
forces acting blindly and of themselves, like our forces of attraction, heat, etc. Intelligent
action, volition, will, desire, are easy to understand; we feel them in ourselves. Where we see
design we should infer the presence of a mind; and where we see motion and growth, we
should infer volition and conscious life. Otherwise we must invent abstractions like "force"
and "affinity" that have no actual meaning.
The true philosophy then depicts the Universe as a mighty Soul, what is visible, being the
body, organs and functions thereof, just as our own body is the visible manifestation of our
own Soul. Every tree and plant is alive and has a consciousness, though that consciousness is
different from ours, just as the form is different. It is not very unfamiliar even to modern
speculation to suppose intelligence in plants, so obvious is the absurdity of trying to account
for their behavior on any other theory. But how can a line be drawn anywhere between what
we may choose to consider conscious life and what blind force, between intelligence and
whatever else science substitutes for it? Why cannot the very stones and soil be alive and
intelligent? Why not the waves and the winds, and above all the sun and the stars. If part of
the universe is ensouled, must not the other part be so, too? And if not, in what other
condition can it be?
No sane and reasonable philosophy of existence can tolerate such abstractions as chance,
destiny, affinity, and the other mysterious words used to denote materialistic substitutes for
mind and will. The only conception that harmonizes with sane and consistent philosophy of
life is that of an intelligent Universe, of a great World-Soul, of which our own souls are part;
of a universal Intelligence in which we partake; of an omnipresent Will from which our own
wills derive their force.
Surely the all-pervading order, beauty, and design of the Universe compels the belief in a
Mind and an intelligent will behind it. Any other theory results in the substitution of
meaningless words like the terms of science for words like "mind" and "purpose" which
everybody understands.
But there is no need, in acknowledging the existence of a universal Intelligence, to accept
along with it all the theological dogmas which any particular religious tradition may entwine
around it; nor to suffer our conceptions of eternal power and wisdom to be narrowed/and
dwarfed by the stunted notions of meaner minds. Let us learn the grandeur of the creative
Intelligence from the results which we see and feel manifested all around us.
FOOTNOTE:
1. See Stallo's Concepts of Modern Physics and H. P. Blavatsky's Writings. (return to text)
Theosophical Siftings
Theosophy and Modern Science
Vol 6, No 4

by H.T. Edge, F.T.S.
Reprinted from "Theosophical Siftings" Volume 6
The Theosophical Publishing Society, England
[Page 3] IT has been the part of the Wisdom-Religion or Esoteric Philosophy, now being given to the
world under the name of "Theosophy", to upset many of our most cherished sentiments and opinions
with regard to the great questions of life and problems of the universe; and one of the most striking
instances of this is of course its attitude towards modern physical science, that fabric with which so much
of our nineteenth century glory is interwoven. It is unnecessary here to discourse upon the prowess of
science and the blessings it is supposed to have conferred upon humanity; plenty of eloquence has been
exhausted over that topic, especially when science was forty or fifty years younger than it is now.
Theosophists may coincide with the admirers of science in the opinion that it has rendered good service
in clearing away the fetishes of mediaeval superstition, and paving the way for a higher form of
knowledge; but they must beg to deny that it has power to wrest more than a very small pittance of
information from nature as to her laws. Scientists themselves have begun to recognise this of late. As
Edward Carpenter, in his " Civilisation, its Cause and Cure", says :
"While admitting that science has done a great work in clearing away the kitchen-middens of
superstition and opening the path to clearer and saner views of the world, it is possible and
there is already a growing feeling that way that her positive contributions to our
comprehension of the order of the universe have in late times been disappointing, and that
even her methods are at fault and must lead to failure. After a glorious burst of perhaps fifty
years, amid great acclamations and good hopes that the crafty old universe was going to be
caught in her careful net, science, it must be confessed, now finds herself in almost every
direction in the most hopeless quandaries." (Ist Edition, p. 51.)
The fact is that the sudden violence of the contrast between the rapid advance of science and the dense
ignorance of our forefathers on such subjects, combined with our native Western self-sufficiency of
temperament to puff us up, and to make us think that by virtue of this science we were entitled to place
ourselves at the summit of human attainment. Two violent assumptions are thereby made, which the late
awakening of Occult science is beginning to deny, viz., that physical science is the only science, and that
the ancients were ignoramuses. The first effect produced by the acceptance of the views of the Esoteric
Philosophy will therefore be a [Page 4] mighty change of front as regards the estimation of our position in
human history. Instead of looking down upon our ancestors with pity from our tower of intellectual
arrogance, we shall look up to them for instruction, and shall come to regard physical science as a kind
of mushroom which has sprung rapidly up in the dark, at a time when the absence of the sun of wisdom
prevented any healthy growth from appearing.
Now what are the chief objections to modern science, which foredoom it to failure and justify Occultism in
decrying it ? They are these:
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(1) It is exclusively materialistic, and therefore cannot afford any knowledge of the most important planes
of nature and principles of man. "Advocates of science will answer here "But science does not pretend
to deal with anything above matter, it leaves that to metaphysics or to religion. This is all very well as long
as scientists keep to what they profess, and confine their studies and speculations to the observance and
consideration of physical phenomena; but when we find them setting themselves up as popes and
dictating laws to other departments of human enquiry, we are justified in objecting to the narrowness of
their sphere of investigation!! Scientists may study their own material plane to their hearts' content, but
they must not confine their consciousness so entirely to the gross earth that at last they become blind like
moles, and cannot see that there is any air or light above them. It is a great advantage to be able to
tabulate physical phenomena, to know the reaction of chemical compounds upon one another, or to have
an intimate acquaintance with the parts of a plant or animal; but when matter is exalted to the throne of
the universe and made supreme, and other departments of nature are forced to acknowledge its
supremacy and obey its laws, the case is altered, and scientists have transgressed their own domain.
The first count against science then is that it has stared at the earth until it cannot see, and denies the
existence of the sky. But this is not all; for I contend that even were scientists content to be mere moles
and grovel in the dirt, they would be incapacitated from discovering anything of importance, even about
that, by their blindness to the other planes of nature that are so inextricably interwoven with it. The very
failing that prevents a mole from seeing the light, prevents him from seeing even the dirt, and later on we
shall see into what contradictions and absurdities science has wandered from this cause.
(2) It proceeds by the inductive method, i.e., it collects observations; and from them constructs theories.
This method is capable of giving us the truth, provided we have all the data to base our theories upon
a condition which can obviously never be fulfilled. Approximations can be made to the truth in proportion
to the number of data possessed. But our science has so few data that its theories would be more
appropriately named [Page 5] "deviations from the truth". Mr. Edward Carpenter is very incisive upon this
point; in the work above quoted he says (p. 52):
"The method of science is the method of all mundane knowledge; it is that of limitation or
actual ignorance. Placed in face of the great uncontained unity of Nature, we can only deal
with it in thought by selecting certain details and isolating those (either wilfully or
unconsciously), from the rest. That is right enough. But in doing so in isolating such and
such details we practically beg the question we are in search of; and, moreover, in
supposing such isolation we suppose what is false, and therefore vitiate our conclusion. From
these two radical defects of all human enquiry we cannot escape. The views of science are
like the views of a mountain; each is only possible as long as you limit yourself to a certain
stand-point. Move your position and the view is changed."
It is necessary here to observe that, as the author says, this is a radical defect of the human intellect, as
opposed to spiritual knowledge, and therefore presents itself in our occult studies, as well as in our
scientific ones. For example, if we are given certain data as to the septenary constitution of man, and
begin to theorise thereupon, we are theorising from incomplete data, and are liable to have to alter our
theories when new data are supplied to us. Similarly when we speculate about Karma and re-incarnation;
we cannot know all the causes acting to produce a given result unless we have a higher means of
obtaining knowledge than the intellect. But in science the data are more incomplete than anywhere else,
on account of its non-recognition of metaphysical nature. Our author gives the following instance among
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others:
"We are accustomed to say the path of the moon is an ellipse. But this is a very loose
statement. On enquiry we find that, owing to perturbations supposed to be produced by the
sun, the path deviates considerably from an ellipse. In fact in strict calculations it is taken as
being a certain ellipse only for an instant, the next instant it is supposed to be a portion of
another ellipse. We might then call the path an irregular curve, somewhat resembling an
ellipse. This is a new view. But on further enquiry it appears that, while the moon is going
round the earth, the earth itself is speeding on through space about the sun, in consequence
of which the actual path of the moon does not in the least resemble an ellipse ! Finally, the sun
itself is in motion with regard to the fixed stars, and they are in movement too. What then is the
path of the moon ? No one knows; we have not the faintest idea the word itself ceases to
have any assignable meaning."
(3) The third objection which I shall make to science is, that it is so utterly divorced from the religious or
spiritually-aspiring element of human thought. I do not deny that there are religious scientists or scientific
divines; but I assert that in such cases the relation between the religion land the science is rather of
mutual tolerance than of mutual help. A man may be religious in spite of his science, or scientific in spite
of his religion. The general tendency of religion and science is, however, apart, and, this is quite an
abnormal state of affairs. Here we recognise that dualism which [Page 6] is of evil and is the antithesis of
that unity which is of good. The ancients knew of no such sundering of human enquiry into hostile
factions. They had their Wisdom-Religion which contained a homogeneous philosophy of life, and
provided for the aspirational and intellectual parts of man's nature by the same food. This is not the place
to enter into an apology for the Wisdom-Religion and its oneness in all antiquity there are plenty of
Theosophical writings on that but the case may be summed up by saying that an impartial view of all
the historical records we possess will show that such a system existed and still exists, that it was known
at all periods and in all parts of the inhabited world, and that different writers confirm its identity by their
marvellous unanimity on the subject. Modern speculators have missed this knowledge because they do
not take this impartial view. They read all works which support their own beliefs, and refuse even to open
books dealing with what they have previously condemned as "superstition". And now what is the result of
this divorce between religion and science ? The death and decay of both. Religion, expurgated of its
rational element, cannot satisfy intellectual hunger; science, confined to the earth, can only provide us
with a philosophy of life as cold and dry as earth, and must sooner or later be rejected as fit only for the
governing of gnomes. The characteristics of the material world are squareness, rigidity, darkness,
concretion, inertia; applied to the moral life of man they produce the corresponding qualities, and the
result is, not a man, but a machine.
The narrowness and one-sidedness of science is producing visible effect in the host of monstrosities it is
breeding, moral, intellectual, social, and physical. Its physical consequence becomes daily more
apparent to our eyes in the ungainly forms and constructions that meet them in every quarter, showing
how ugliness is the outward manifestation of imperfection. Says H. P. Blavatsky in "Civilisation the
death of Art and Beauty", (Lucifer for May, 1891): "Owing to the triumphant march and the invasion of
civilisation, nature, as well as man and ethics, is sacrificed, and is fast becoming artificial. Climates are
changing, and the face of the world will soon be altered. Under the murderous hand of the pioneers of
civilisation the destruction of whole primeval forests is leading to the drying up of rivers, and the opening
of the Canal of Suez has changed the climate of Egypt as that of Panama will divert the course of the
Gulf Stream. Almost tropical countries are now becoming cold and rainy, and fertile lands threaten to be
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soon transformed into sandy deserts. A few years more and there will not remain within a radius of fifty
miles around our large cities one single rural spot inviolate from vulgar speculation. In scenery the
picturesque and the natural is daily replaced by the grotesque and the artificial. Scarce a landscape in
England but the fair body of [Page 7] nature is desecrated by the advertisements of 'Pears Soap' and '
Beecham's Pills'. The pure air of the country is polluted with smoke, the smells of greasy railway-engines,
and the sickening odours of gin, whiskey, and beer. And once that every natural spot in the surrounding
scenery is gone, and the eye of the painter finds but the artificial and hideous products of modern
speculation to rest upon, artistic taste will have to follow suit and disappear along with them". For further
instances I refer the reader to the eloquent tirade from which the above passage is extracted, and
recommend him to study the underground railway and the steam-roller as object lessons in the effects of
science. For instances of corresponding effects produced upon the moral, social, and intellectual planes,
I refer the reader to the other denunciatory articles forming the editorials of Lucifer during Madame
Blavatsky's lifetime, and to a host of writers on modern social evils. I now proceed to a consideration of
the methods and theories of science more in detail.
First as to the "working hypothesis", which constitutes a prominent feature in scientific methods. A
working hypothesis is simply a provisional theory awaiting proof or disproof, as the event may decide.
For example, suppose a chemist has discovered that the alkali potash, hitherto believed by him to be an
elementary substance, can be decomposed and made to yield the metal potassium. He forthwith frames
a hypothesis that all the alkalies can be made to yield similar metals. He applies this hypothesis to the
discovery of fresh facts and finds that soda does really yield sodium, lithia lithium, etc., and the
hypothesis is proved. This is the ordinary method of science; but sometimes it becomes necessary, or at
any rate convenient, to frame a hypothesis which does not admit of actual proof, but which nevertheless
affords a good temporary basis to reason from, and even to discover fresh facts from. This is the
"working hypothesis", and every new fact discovered by its aid goes to increase its probability, though it
does not prove it. For instance, in order to explain the laws of chemical combination, chemists have
postulated that matter is divisible into minute particles called atoms, separated by comparatively large
spaces. This is a working hypothesis and cannot be proved; yet it has sufficed as a basis upon which to
build the structure of modern chemistry, and from which a vast number of facts have been able to be
discovered, which without its aid would have remained unknown. Again, the undulatory theory of light is a
working hypothesis, insusceptible of direct proof, but fitting in so well with facts subsequently discovered
as to have justified its retention.
Now, as regards the value of the working hypothesis, it is all very well so long as it remains a working
hypothesis, and is not put to improper uses. But unfortunately hypotheses are continually subject to
modification, [Page 8] as new facts, which do not fit in with them, are discovered; and different scientists,
specialising in different branches of science, modify them differently, so that they become converted into
the most inconsistent and self-contradictory figments of the human brain. As I am much indebted to Stallo
at this point of my subject I had better quote his own words from "Concepts of Modern Physics",
(Introduction to second edition, p. ix.):
"Generally speaking, hypotheses are more than mere arbitrary and artificial devices for the
enchainment and classification of facts. They are in most cases guesses at the ultimate truth
suggested by the analogies of experience, and are primarily used as working hypotheses only
in the sense that they afford a basis for further experiment and observation whereby their
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Vol 6, No 4
ultimate validity is to be established or overthrown. In the progress of the various attempts at

their verification they are almost always modified and transformed, so as to bring them into
conformity with the facts. And not infrequently these transformations are different in different
departments of scientific investigation, in each of which the hypotheses are tested by different
methods, and confronted with different orders of facts. The result is that in many cases not
only serious discrepancies but radical inconsistencies are developed between the several
forms into which the hypotheses are formed on different lines of research. A very good
illustration of this is afforded by the hypothetical aether, which has played a part more or less
conspicuous in physical astronomy, in ordinary physics, and in chemistry. By the astronomers
this aether was originally regarded as a fluid of extreme tenuity and mobility, offering no
sensible resistance to the movements of celestial bodies; and the question of its continuity or
discontinuity was not seriously mooted. Its main function in modern astronomy has been to
serve as a basis for hydrodynamical theories of gravitation. In physics this fluid for some time
appeared in several rles in connection with the 'imponderables'; some physicists going so far
as to identify it with one or more of them. But since the promulgation of the kinetic theories of
these imponderables, and especially of the dynamical theories of heat, it has been in
requisition chiefly in optics as a substratum for luminar undulations. And here, to account for
the dispersion of light, physicists came to insist upon its atomic or molecular structure, finding
it necessary to assume that the particles of the aether were separated by finite intervals
bearing a sensible ratio to the length of a luminar wave. Moreover they had to endow it with an
enormous elasticity, so that its resistance to deformation far exceeded that of the most rigidelastic bodies. But presently, in other departments of physics, the admission of the molecular
or atomic constitution of the aether led to consequences subversive of a number, of wellascertained facts. . . . . And in chemistry too it was found impossible to concede the enormous
elasticity of the aether without depriving it of those properties upon which its serviceableness
in the construction of chemical theories mainly depended. Furthermore, the exigencies of the
atomo-mechanical theory have led distinguished mathematicians and physicists to attempt a
substitution, for the traditional atoms of matter, of peculiar forms of vortical motion in a
universal, homogeneous, incompressible, and continuous material medium, which (unless the
attribute of impenetrability is to be dismissed from the concept of matter) must of course be
identical with the all-pervading aether."
He then explains that there can be no objection to each specialist [Page 9] maintaining his own particular
hypothesis about the, aether, so long as he uses it as a working hypothesis as a temporary peg on
which to base further experiments; but he must not foist it as a finality upon science at large. Science is a
consistent whole, and its division into departments purely arbitrary. These departments cannot have
diverse theories about the same thing.
"The atom cannot be a cube or oblate spheroid for physical, and a sphere for chemical
purposes. And a group of constant atoms cannot be an aggregate of extended and absolutely
inert and impenetrable masses in a crucible or retort, and a system of mere centres of force as
part of a magnet or of a Clamond battery. The universal aether cannot be soft and mobile to
please the chemist, and rigid-elastic to satisfy the physicist; it cannot be continuous at the
command of Sir William Thomson, and discontinuous on the suggestion of Cauchy or
Fresnel."
H. P. Blavatsky quotes this latter passage in "The Secret Doctrine". (Vol. I., p. 482, first edition) under the
heading, "Modern Physicists are playing at blind man's buff", her object being to show that, as scientists
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have not even agreed among themselves what to believe in, they are not in a position to confute the
beliefs of Occultism.
Next let us consider the Atomic Theory, upon which; modern chemistry, and in a less degree modern
physics, are founded. A materialist i.e., a believer in the reality and not the illusiveness of matter, must
postulate one of two things: either that matter is, or is not, infinitely divisible. To admit that it is infinitely
divisible is to admit that matter is reducible to nothingness, and thereby to "confute the materialistic
doctrine. Therefore there is a limit to the divisibility of matter; it is composed of minute masses called
"atoms", themselves, "not further divisible. But the acceptance of this hypothesis soon lands us in a
dilemma. For, in order to account for vis viva, for energy, for activity in matter, we must postulate motion
in the atoms; and for motion, to be continuous, the atoms must be elastic must be capable of bouncing
off, or of repelling one another. Otherwise the motion would soon come to a dead stop, all energy would
depart from matter, and it would become more hopelessly dead and inert than can easily be conceived.
Hence the atoms must be elastic. But all elasticity is itself a function of atomic structure it depends on the
power of the atoms of a body, when subjected to pressure, to approach one another, and to regain their
former distance apart as soon as the pressure is relieved, thus reproducing the force which caused the
pressure. But since atoms are not composed of atoms, they can have no-elasticity ; they are
incompressible; hence they cannot rebound off one another.
[See "Secret Doctrine," Vol. I., p. 519, first edition, where Butlerof is quoted to this effect]
"See now what a curious contradiction this fundamental principle of [Page 10] the materialists
is leading them into. The atom is indivisible, and at the same time we know it to be elastic. An
attempt to deprive it of elasticity is unthinkable; it would amount to an absurdity. Absolutely
non-elastic atoms could never exhibit a single one of those numerous phenomena that are
attributed to their correlations. Without any elasticity the atoms could not manifest their energy,
and the substance of the materialists would remain weeded of every force. Therefore, if the
universe is composed of atoms, then those atoms must be elastic. It is here that we meet with
an insuperable obstacle. For what are the conditions requisite for the manifestation of elasticity
? An elastic ball, when striking against an obstacle, is flattened and contracts, which it would
be impossible for it to do, were not that ball to consist of particles, the relative position of which
experiences at the time of the blow a temporary change. This may be said of elasticity in
general; no elasticity is possible without change with respect to the position of the compound
particles of an elastic body. This means that the elastic body is changeful and consists of
particles, or, in other words, that elasticity can pertain only to those bodies that are divisible.
And the atom is elastic."
This goes to show that the atom is not indivisible and that matter is therefore infinitely divisible. But if it be
infinitely divisible, then the atom is not matter at all, but something quite different. The above and similar
objections to the theory of the materiality of the atom might be summed up in the following concise
proposition:
If the properties of matter are functions of its atomic structure, then the atom, having no atomic
structure, can have none of the properties of matter, and consequently cannot be matter.
It is difficult to avoid visualising the atom as something like a small shot, and though scientists would
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probably deprecate such a practice, there is no doubt they are involuntarily influenced by it. If we
consider that an atom, having no parts, can have no centre and no circumference, and consequently
cannot rotate nor be turned upside down, we shall realise better what an abstraction it is.
All the foregoing tends to support the occult axiom that atoms are "Souls, or "Jivas", or "Lives; [The
Secret Doctrine, vol I, p 567, first edition] something not ordinary matter at all, but on a different plane of
existence, and forming one of the links between the physical and metaphysical worlds, which links are
quite unknown to modern science. We must bear in mind that what is commonly called "matter" has no
real existence as such, being merely a concept formed in our imagination by detaching the two qualities
of visibility and resistance to touch from the thing in which they inhere, and exalting them into an actual
existence. We may provisionally regard "matter" as existing, by way of framing a working hypothesis, but
if we give this hypothesis the value of a proven theory and proceed to argue from it, we are landed in
absurdities very soon, e.g such an absurdity as the "atom". [Page 11]
The "vortex-theory" of atoms is a later substitute for the ordinary atomic theory. A vortex is a spiral bent
round into a circular form, and the most familiar instance of it is the smoke-ring. It is found that these
smoke-rings behave in many ways as atoms are supposed to behave, expanding and contracting,
repelling and attracting each other, etc. ; and that, if made in a "perfect fluid" i.e., a hypothetical fluid
without friction they would be indestructible, as atoms are supposed to be. Hence, according to the
vortex-theory, atoms are vortical motions in a perfect fluid, the fluid being naturally our old overloaded
friend the aether. The worst of it is that the same old difficulties arise about the structure of the aether as
about the structure of matter. If it be continuous there can be no motion in it; if it be atomic, then what are
the atoms ?
We have seen how scientists postulate the existence of a matter composed of inert atoms; we now come
to the consideration of the necessary correlation of this, which accounts for the change and activity which
nature displays on every hand. Absolutely inert, motionless, dead atoms obviously cannot by themselves
account for a universe where all is life and activity. The terms generally used to denote this other
constituent of the universe are "force" and "motion". But neither of these terms has any definite meaning
when divorced from matter. Force is always a stress between two bodies, and cannot be conceived as
existing apart from the bodies which manifest it. It is defined as "that which produces, or tends to
produce, a change in the state of rest or motion of a body"; but that which produces motion in a body is
always either motion in some other body, or else some unknown "cause" such as gravitation. The fact is
that the word "force" can be used in two senses. If it be used to denote that, which, acting on the atoms,
produces in them motion, then it denotes some unknown metaphysical cause, entirely beyond the range
of physical science. But if it be used in the sense in which it is used in the mathematical part of physics,
then it is not the cause, but the effect, of motion in matter. Force is the effect which one moving atom
produces on another atom.
H. P. Blavatsky, in The Secret Doctrine," (I., 517) says, after Butlerof:
"Force is simply the passage of one state of motion into another state of the same: of
electricity into heat and light, of heat into sound or some mechanical function, and so on."
Thus "force" used in this latter sense is not an entity at all, but merely a "concept". (See "Stallo", p. 167.)
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It is the same with motion". Motion cannot be conceived apart from the moving body. It is a mere
condition of matter, which cannot be accounted for without reference to some higher or spiritual plane
beyond it.[Page 12]
I do not propose to continue any further the consideration of scientific fallacies, and shall content myself
with having shown the falsity of the main principles of scientific methods, and with the illustrations given
above. The position I have taken may be summarised as follows: Modern science is a mere
intellectual mushroom which has grown up in the dark. So long as it confines itself to the study of
physical phenomena, and does not lord it over other departments of thought, no great harm is done;
though even then it is hopelessly incapacitated by its severance from the other planes of nature. It proves
its insufficiency by its failure to be reconciled with religion. The attitude of scientists towards the ancients
is one of complete reversal of the normal state of affairs, and the Wisdom-Religion has been forgotten.
The chief failings of science are its habit of using hypotheses as proven facts, and is reasoning from
incomplete data; the result of which is seen in the self-destroying conceptions of the "atom", "force", etc..
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TIME AND SPACE H. T. Edge

Looking into the sky at night, we may think of the vast distances which, as we are told,
separate the celestial bodies from us: a light year, a hundred, a thousand; nay, one has
recently heard of super-galaxies one hundred million light-years away. But we are apt to
forget that these bodies are not merely spread out in space, but in time also. If a body is 100
light-years distant, it means that what I see is not what is there now, but what was there a
century ago; and for aught I know, it may have ceased to exist for a century. And what of the
super-galaxy? What we see there through our large telescope is what existed in one of the
earlier Root-Races of mankind! Truly I may say that I am not looking into space, but into
history.
It is impossible, by any means now known to us, to view the heavens as they are at any one
given time; every body that we see is at a different epoch in time. And yet, if I am not careful,
I may find myself speculating and making calculations about the transference of energy
between these bodies, as though they all existed together at one time.
How can I measure the distance between the earth and Sirius? To speak of this distance is
like speaking of the distance between me at Point Loma and Socrates in Athens. I can only
measure from where I am now to where the star was then. What am I measuring? Space or
time; or space-time? This may help us to understand what Einstein and others are engaged
with trying to find formulas that will mean something when applied to problems of
interstellar space.
The velocity of light is so great that we can afford to ignore it for terrestrial purposes. But
suppose that the velocity of light were diminished proportionately. If I saw you in the
distance, it would be no use shouting to you, because I could only see you in the place where
you were a minute before I shouted. It would be futile to shoot at any moving object, for there
would be no means of knowing where it was at the time of shooting. This gives some idea of
the hash we may make if we try to apply terrestrial notions to celestial affairs.
But this is no reason for despair. We are on the threshold of an advance like that inaugurated
by Galileo and Newton, and it is producing much the same kind of consternation. Before
those pioneers, nobody had any conception of gravitation or of many other mechanical
principles now familiar to all. Einstein and the others are pioneering; for some time there will
be perplexity and confusion, mistakes and corrections; but it will settle down into a new
formulation; and in time the masses will become conscious of it.
It does not seem wonderful that the Theosophical teachings should contain many things hard
to explain; they have to be translated into terms familiar to us, and in the translation they are
of course deformed. When H. P. Blavatsky's Secret Doctrine was written, these ideas about
space and time were not in the air. But read The Esoteric Tradition, (1) pages 388-9, where
the ideas are given full credit.
Space and time do not seem so different from each other. The distance between objects is
generally considered as spatial; that between events, as temporal distance. But, as has been
shown, these two kinds of distance seem strangely interblended when we are dealing with the
heavenly bodies. If we settle on a ratio between spatial and temporal quantities in this case
the velocity of light we can equally well express the distance of a star in years or in miles.
The sun is 93,000,000 miles away, or eight seconds away.
If we regard the earth as still which it is often convenient to do we are able to rest still
in one place for an hour, a day. But if we are to take into account the motion of the earth
round the sun, the motion of the sun round some other body, and so on indefinitely, it is clear
that we can never remain in one place for even the smallest fraction of a second. Nor can we
ever come back again to the same place (unless indeed it be at the completion of some vast
cyclic period). In a word, we are eternally shifting, in space or in time, whichever you like. It
is thoughts like these which urge us to realize our entry upon a revolution similar to that
ushered in by the heliocentric theory. We cannot afford to be geocentric or fiat-earthist, or we
shall be left behind in the march of thought.
FOOTNOTE:
1. The Esoteric Tradition, by G. de Purucker, Theosophical University Press. (return to text)

TIME THE CHILD OF ETERNITY H. T. Edge

You are in a square room with a high ceiling, and from the middle of the ceiling hangs a wire
with a heavy ball at its lower end, so as to make a sort of pendulum. Only, instead of
swinging to and fro in a straight line, the ball moves round and round in a circle. On one wall
of the room a bright light throws a shadow of the wire and ball; and this shadow represents
exactly the motion of an ordinary pendulum swinging to and fro in simple harmonic motion.
Now, if you are a being who lives in shadow-land, you will say that this represents
alternation, cyclic ebb and flow, the perpetual vibration between pleasure and pain, good
fortune and ill, that constitutes the drama of human life. And truly it is a symbol of the course
of Nature in general on the lower planes of manifestation. Yet, look at the real pendulum
itself: there is no alternation there, no periodicity. The motion of the ball is uniform and
invariable, it is the same at every part, every moment, of its path. Considered apart from its
surroundings, there is no point which can be called a beginning, no point which can be called
an end; so that no question of period can be raised.
Here we have an illustration of time and that which is beyond time. Some call the latter
duration, others may prefer to call it eternity. Time, as we know it, is divided; divided into
periods which have definite relative lengths. But that which is beyond time is not divided.
Yet our illustration shows that the undivided duration is parent to the divided time. The latter
is produced from the former by a shadow on a wall; it is the material world which splits up
infinitude into finitude. The motion of the circular pendulum is uniform and invariable; the
motion of its shadow is alternately accelerated and retarded; there are points where it comes
to a stop and turns back.
This kind of illustration is not fanciful but real; for it means "as above, so below." Doubtless
an indefinite number of other illustrations of this same principle could be found in the
physical world. Periodicity born out of invariability, multiplicity out of unity. We see that
temporal life, instead of being comprehended in a single and whole view, is spread out in a
long series of successive scenes. Perhaps the life-view experienced at critical moments of
death or birth is rather a single entire vision than a succession of glimpses. Other thoughts
will be suggested, but we should beware of pushing an analogy too far; because any one
analogy illustrates some one particular aspect of the question, and if we forget other analogies
which illustrate other aspects, we shall land in absurdities. There are not simply two planes in
Nature, one right and the other wrong: there are many planes, and the terms "real" and
"unreal" must be used relatively. Neglect of this precaution is mainly responsible for our
difficulty in reconciling prevision with freewill.

TIME H. T. Edge
Time is the destroyer of worlds; another time has for its nature to bring to
pass. This latter, according as it is gross or minute, is called by two names
real and unreal. Surya Siddhanta
Here at least we get one clue to the mystery that the word "time" stands for a good many
different things. If there is confusion in discussions, surely the fact that the same word is
being used in two or more different senses, without the discussers suspecting it, is reason
enough for the confusion. To begin with, we habitually speak of time (1) as an extended
magnitude, a sort of line reaching forward and backward; (2) as a motion along this line, a
velocity. So that we speak of traveling through time; but (as Mr. J. W. Dunne points out) it
takes time to travel anywhere, even through time. It takes time to travel through time. So here
are two sorts of time already. Mr. Dunne, having thus got two terms of a series, proceeds to
make it an infinite series, so he gets an indefinite number of sorts of time. This is his "serial
time'; and, not satisfied with that, he gives us a serial universe.
Philosophy has discussed whether time is subjective or objective whether it is an element
of consciousness, or whether it is something existing in the world outside of consciousness.
When we see a divergence like that, it is a good indication that both views are wrong and
both right. And we find in a quotation from James Ward, which is given in Webster's
Dictionary, that time and space belong neither to the subject alone apart from the object, nor
to the object alone apart from the subject, but to experience as the duality of both. They are
neither subjective forms psychologically or logically prior to experience, nor are they
objective realities independent of experience.
And in fact, subject and object are abstractions from reality; they constitute a distinction
which we must make in order to define cognition. And that tyrant Time lies deeper in the
mysteries of reality than such distinctions, so that neither a subjective nor an objective view
can compass the whole of him.
The chief difficulty experienced in discussing the nature of time is that our very thoughtprocesses are bound up in it. To view a thing properly it is necessary to stand outside of it.
The essence of time (the kind of time now being spoken of) is succession; and when we think
or reason, we are conscious of a succession of thoughts. Hence we cannot eliminate time so
as to be able to take a detached view of it. To see time, we must stand outside time. That is,
we must stop thinking. ("Mind is the slayer of the real: let the disciple slay the slayer.") And
so we argue about the nature of time, using in our arguments such words as "now" and
"then," which presuppose the very thing we are trying to deduce. It is clear that, to understand
the time of our ordinary consciousness, we must step into another plane of consciousness;
and if succession is an indispensable attribute of time, then we must get into a state of
consciousness where there is no succession, no procession of things following one after
another, but what has to be clumsily called "an eternal present" or an "eternal now."
The Secret Doctrine contrasts Time with Duration (a substitute word borrowed for want of a
better), in the same way as phenomenon is contrasted with noumenon, or manifest with
unmanifest, finite with infinite. There is an epoch (there again we have to use a questionbegging word), "when" eternal Duration gives place to Time, which is no longer infinite but
is measured and divided. The common conception of eternity as simply a very great deal of
time is of course wrong. Eternity or Duration, is not Time at all, whether much or little. What
it is I do not know, and if I knew I could not tell. But if we cannot know what a thing is, it
may help somewhat to know what it is not.
The present, as pointed out in The Secret Doctrine, if it is to be defined as the boundary
between past and future, becomes thereby reduced to a mathematical point, and therefore has
no dimension, and is in fact reduced to nothing at all. But what we call the present is a
blurred impression of a number of such atomic present moments, bound together by memory
and anticipation, much as the successive images in a motion picture, each of which is too
brief to make an impression on the eye, are blurred into a visible image.
As just stated, the present, when analysed, becomes reduced to a dimensionless point, and
therefore no object or event can be said to have any existence at all in the present; it has no
duration, The Secret Doctrine says. Hence we realize the necessity of regarding time (that is,
lapse of time or duration in time) as a necessary component in the specification of an object
or an event. And thus we arrive at the four-dimensional space-time continuum, so dear to
fourth dimensionalists and relativists. Our existence in any moment is only a cross-section of
our total existence; and to represent our totality we must take in every moment from the
beginning to the end of our existence. And the analogy of a solid figure passing through a
plane is adduced. But having passed from three dimensions to four, is there a reason for
stopping there, or may we go further? This method of reasoning is probably one way of
referring to the various "time-series" of Dunne, the various "planes" of consciousness or of
matter, the various "principles" in man and the kosmos, etc.
In thinking of infinity and eternity, we are apt to imagine them as very large; which is a good
deal like imagining God to be simply a very large man. But the characteristic of infinitude is
that it is not bounded. We have instances familiar to experience. A circle is an infinite line,
without boundaries or parts (if we place a point in it, we divide it into one part; before that, it
had no parts). The surface of a sphere is a boundless plane, and it is an interesting effort of
imagination to try to imagine oneself placed on the surface of a perfectly smooth and uniform
sphere. One might wander indefinitely in any direction without ever coming anywhere and
without being in the least aware that one was perhaps traversing the same ground over and
over again. Yet this surface, though infinite in one sense, is not so in another; for it has a
definite size as compared with other objects. Mathematicians would say that it is "doubly
infinite," and the circle "singly infinite." And so, applying this to time, we get the idea of
various orders of infinitude; time may be singly infinite, doubly infinite, etc. This is quite an
advance over the crude notion of jumping at once from finity to absolute infinity. Time, then,
seems to have become a medley of relative velocities, and any difficulty we may have in
defining it is due merely to impatience and the desire to arrive at consummate knowledge
without passing through the requisite grades.
As our conceptions of time enlarge, as a result of study and contemplation, we may escape
some of the horrors and lamentations which ordinarily attend the subject. We may banish the
Nevermore and the Irrevocable and that time which, "like an ever-rolling stream, bears all its
sons away." For, as has been shown, all things have an eternal existence independently of
their brief flitting across the focus of what we call the present; so that the past may be said to
live in more than a mere figurative sense. Again, we view time as cyclic, so that the everrolling stream will some day bear all its sons back again. The able novelist, after portraying
the events of a life and the evolution of a character, is perforce obliged to ring down the
curtain, as the hand of death renders everything abortive and turns the whole drama into a
useless farce. How different is the Theosophical view of a life and a character!
In this impatient age we are too apt to forget how mighty an agent, how useful a tool, is mere
time. We want something that will clean in five minutes or five seconds; when pure water
will do a better job if only given time. And if I can move one end of a piano one inch, I can
move the whole piano any required distance: it is only a question of time. Get time on your
side!

The Path May 1894
UNITED YET INDEPENDENT H. T. Edge

In cooperative work, as in every other problem before students of occultism, there are two
extremes to be avoided and one right course to be maintained; two evils opposed to one good;
a pair of opposites reconciled by a unity; and in cooperative work, as in other problems, many
make the mistake of avoiding the more obviously wrong extreme merely to fall into the other
extreme which is less obviously wrong. A body of workers should neither repel one another
nor lean on one another. The former maxim is so obvious that no one fails to recognize its
truth and to strive to act in accordance with it; but there are many who, in doing so, rush to
the opposite pole of weak reliance on others. Workers should cling to the cause, not to each
other; for if they cling to each other, the failure of an individual will be disastrous for the
whole; while, if each one clings to the cause, each one must be torn away separately ere the
whole fabric can be destroyed. The pillars of a temple do not lean up against one another,
neither do they counteract each other; each stands firmly on its own base and is independent
of the support of the others, yet all unite in the common object of supporting the dome. We
must be as the pillars of a temple, helping one another, yet independent and each on his own
base. The destruction of one or two does not seriously impair the building, for the others still
stand firm.
In unity is strength, and though we must be united in a common object, yet we must not lose
the advantage arising from our individual unity. A body of workers all mutually dependent
constitutes a single united centre of force; but if, while maintaining their unity of purpose,
they retained their independence of individual action, they would be more powerful, for they
would constitute a number of separate centres synthesized by one great centre a number of
unities forming one cardinal unity. When many members of a body are self-reliant, their selfreliance synthesizes itself into a great power and stability, and the total force is much greater
than it would be if they all leaned up against one another. It is a law of nature that a number
of logoi or individualities should constitute collectively a single superior logos or
individuality. Our Egos, though each acts independently, all emanate from a single central
logos, of which they are only parts, but whose quality of egoism each reflects. Our bodily
organs, though each has a separate function, all unite to form the whole man. They do not
thwart each other, nor absorb one another's functions nor combine to do the work of one. We
should be like the rays of the sun, which shoot in all directions and yet are but fulfilling the
separate details of a single organized plan. It is upon this very diversity of course that
depends the successful carrying out of that plan; for were all the rays to shoot in the same
direction the sun as a luminary would be a failure. This illustration also serves to show us
how two people pursuing opposite courses can yet subserve a common end; for to every ray
there is another that shoots in the precisely opposite direction.
Why should we try to persuade our friends over to our own views, or grieve because they
differ from us in details? Would we have all workers do the same work, all climbers ascend
the same path, all occultists follow the same ray of truth? Light has many hues and the sun
has many planets; and though there is a maxim to the effect that those not yet qualified to be
suns may remain for the present humble planets, no reason is given why we should all be the
same planet. A general, in conducting a campaign, assigns to each division of his army a
particular portion of the work he wishes carried out; a master-printer assigns to each
operative his due share of the work in hand, one setting the type, another reading the proofs,
and so on. Each subdivision does its own work without interfering with the work of others,
and through this simultaneous carrying out of many dissimilar details the whole plan, for
which all alike cooperate, is successfully accomplished.
Though most of us recognize this principle in matters of external work, there are many who
fail to carry its application into more interior departments of our work; it applies equally well
to methods of thought and ways of looking at the questions that affect our moral life. One
student may, through the exigencies of his own nature, be impressed most strongly by the
value of fiery energy, while another may pin his faith to the principle of "power through
repose": if these two should try to convert one another, they would be merely wasting time
and labor, and the work of both would be hindered. Each should do what is best for himself,
and leave the other to follow what is best for him. We are all necessarily impressed with
different aspects of the great problem, and must therefore all work on different tacks, but,
while recognizing our own method as the best so far as we ourselves are concerned, we must
frankly acknowledge the equal importance (to the general body) of our brother's plan.
Many are the paradoxes that present themselves to the student of occultism, and among them
this is not the least important to work in perfect harmony with our colleagues, and at the
same time to work as if upon our own individual effort depended the whole enterprise. To
realize this we must be united yet independent.
The Path
UNRECOGNISED INFLUENCE OF THE MYSTERIES H. T. Edge

The cyclic appearance and reappearance of mystery schools implies that there has at all times
existed a source from which these outward manifestations could spring, an undercurrent, a
thread, an immortal basis, never absent, but alternately latent and manifest. This is somewhat
like the familiar idea that the Masters of Wisdom, who collectively constitute the Great
Lodge, continue to exist, while yet it is only at certain specific epochs that they send forth
into the outer world of men their messengers to proclaim anew the tidings of the WisdomReligion or Secret Doctrine which they preserve and guard. But it is not to be doubted that
these guardians of the ancient lore have at all times secret bodies of disciples in various parts
of the world, unknown to mankind, yet secretly preserving the teachings; esoteric schools in
fact, continuous as to their esoteric side, but only periodically exoteric. That this is not merely
inference or speculation might readily be established by historical research; and if this has not
already been done, it is only because the attention of scholars has not been turned in that
direction. On the contrary, the attitude of mind of our historians has been such as to turn their
eyes in a contrary direction. For we have to bear in mind that history is largely an artificial
made-to-order commodity. Historians examine ancient records, and from these they draw and
put together all that they consider worthy of credence, rejecting whatever they regard as
unworthy of credence. Such a selective process must inevitably result in the production of a
biased history. But if a scholar, whose mind was not previously biased against such a subject
as the mystery schools, were to go to a great library in search of all the evidence he could find
would he not then collect all the things which other scholars have rejected and ignored? In
short, I maintain that the evidence will be forthcoming in abundance so soon as any scholar
or historian is prepared to search for it with an unprejudiced mind. Some while ago I
reviewed a book which dealt elaborately with mysticism in Europe throughout the centuries
of the Christian era, and I was astonished to find what a wealth of information is accessible of
which the world at large, even the learned world, is entirely ignorant.
What we know as history may be a mere record of outward events, mere chronicles; or it may
go a step further and be colored by some shade of political opinion, as the Whig history of
Macaulay or the Tory history of Hume. Some historians may seek to give an economic color
to history, others to interpret it according to theories of social evolution, and so on. There is a
subject called the philosophy of history, in which writers seek to define the causes which
produce events. Sometimes history has been viewed materialistically as a causal sequence of
events, the one producing the other in an endless chain, with no cause operating from outside
the chain. But such an interpretation would mean that there could be no progress; the stream
of events would resemble a river running downhill and could never rise higher than it stood at
any previous time. The facts prove that there is progress, and hence there must be forces
operating from outside. One of these, as Theosophists know, is the continual reincarnation of
souls who bring with them the results of their former experience. All great movements in
history start from the dynamic effect of some great personality, who draws around him other
personalities. But another potent force in the molding of events is surely that emanating from
these secret mystery schools. How is it conveyed? It is neither easy nor indeed necessary to
give a concise answer to this question; it hinges upon the general question of what
theologians call inspiration. Whence did such men as Jacob Boehme, Meister Eckhart,
Paracelsus, Giordano Bruno to mention but a few out of an almost countless number
draw their inspiration? In what form or manner did they receive it? There may have been
some who received instruction directly from wise men and who openly acknowledged the
fact. Others there may have been who, though thus being taught, were precluded by vows of
silence from acknowledging it. But apart from these two classes, how many mystics must
there have been who received knowledge from the mystery schools by one of the means of
what is called inspiration? We know not whence our thoughts come to us; and a man of pure
life and high aspirations opens that very door which the unseen helpers of humanity stand
always ready to enter.
We Theosophists cannot afford to forget that, behind this outer world of visible events, there
stands the mighty world of thought, whereof this outer world is but the visible manifestation;
that, behind this stage whereon the actors play their parts, is the great drama itself which they
are enacting, the author whose ideas they are bodying forth. The history of humanity unfolds
itself according to the true laws of evolution: it grows from within. Whatever conventional
historians may be, Theosophists are not metaphysical enough to imagine an evolution which
grows mysteriously out of nothing towards an unknown goal. The drama shows us the
progressive outward manifestation of what is latent within.
Mystery schools throughout the ages even the darkest ages have kept burning the
sacred fires, have kept alive the seeds, as the winter snows preserve the seeds of future
harvests. Had there been no such guardians, where would have been the means by which in
our own time a new proclamation of the Wisdom-Religion could have been made? True, the
sacred fire would have been there, in its own realm; but what of the link? For just as the
human mind is the link between the Spiritual Soul and the man of flesh, so have the mystery
schools been the link between the Light of the Great Lodge and the children of earth a
necessary vehicle that could not be allowed to perish.
The Eleusinia were highly esteemed in the ancient Greek world, for the beneficial moral
influence which they diffused; though there were also, unfortunately, certain other schools
which, through inculcating perverted doctrines and rites, diffused an influence that was
recognised as pernicious. Some important names in Greek history have come down to us as
owing the chief part of their prestige to their being more or less closely connected with one or
another of these genuine schools. For example, we have Epaminondas, the celebrated Theban
leader, who contacted the school of Pythagoras through a friend who had come from there;
and not only his unusual ability but also the magnanimity and justness of his character are
celebrated by the historians. By his influence the Thebans are restrained from the usual acts
of revenge and destruction upon some hostile and conquered neighbors, and these neighbors
are instead treated mercifully and taken into alliance. Even so rapacious a man as Alexander
the Great included in his character an element of nobility and enlightenment which he had
imbibed indirectly through his teacher Aristotle, and which greatly tempered the severity of
his policy towards the peoples whom he conquered. It would be easy to compile a list of
similar instances of the direct and traceable effect of the mysteries upon men of prominence;
and the more so, as I said before, if the minds of historians were directed towards finding,
instead of ignoring, such cases.
Around the time of the Christian era, when the seat of civilization was the Roman empire and
was spread around the Mediterranean as a center, there were many schools of occultism in
Egypt, Asia Minor, and other adjacent territories. These undoubtedly had a connection with
India. Through Egypt, India, Persia, filtered through many channels the ancient teachings of
the Wisdom-Religion; and we have notable examples in the Neoplatonists and Gnostics,
which it may please scholars to define as vague speculations or as syncretistic patchworks of
Platonism and whatever else the professors of these cults could find. But a juster estimate,
such as we are enabled to take, shows that both the Neoplatonists and the Gnostics had their
source in the ancient Mysteries, and that instead of borrowing from religions, they simply
interpreted them. Christianity in its origins was of this nature; and it was only through the
course of some centuries that all the most valuable doctrines were driven out and the later
materialistic and dogmatic religion formed. Yet were these elements not entirely killed; they
were driven out of sight, compelled to hide; and a careful study of all the various secret
schools and cults and isolated writers and teachers between those early centuries and the
present day would prove amply that the contact between the outer world of men and the inner
world of the gods has never entirely ceased.
Perhaps we may see in this theme the solution of a historical problem which has puzzled
many. I refer to the extraordinary vitality and influence of the Christian religion, so out of
proportion, as far as one can see, with the merits of its content. Can it be that this hardy plant,
however stunted or grotesque its visible form may be, is continually nourished from an
inexhaustible fount of life that ever wells up anew and replenishes its dwindling vigor? This
is surely the case, nor can we believe that such power could be brought to the external
organism from the life fount within unless there have always existed intermediaries of some
kind not merely individuals but groups the mystery schools or their equivalent in some
one or other esoteric body.
When the Sanskrit literature first began to be translated, Europe experienced a second
Renaissance. Then was a circuit closed which established contact with the ancient mystery
schools of India. The Transcendental school in America, through Emerson, acknowledges its
indebtedness to this source; in the realm of German philosophy, Schopenhauer profited by it.
Its influence since then has steadily widened more and more, until now it is a source of
inspiration for pulpit, pen, forum, and lecture hall in every quarter. This could not have
happened if the Mystery Schools had not been kept alive.
We have been privileged in our day to witness and to participate in a revival of the lost
Mysteries of antiquity, whose purpose and effect is to restore to actual use the eternal
principles upon which successful living is based; and to counteract the desolating and
destructive effect of those wrong principles which have ensued upon a too exclusive devotion
to an individualistic selfishness aided by scientific discovery. Thus we have seen this
influence diffused ever more widely, everywhere being recognised and applied; so that it
needs only the rise of younger generations and the passing of the older, for great and
beneficent changes in our whole social polity to become apparent and active. And this
influence is conveyed not merely by the visible channels of printed and spoken word, but also
and powerfully through the invisible currents of thought which bring to receptive and
aspiring minds the sacred teachings which we broadcast into the ether from our assemblies
and from our private meditations. Organization is an all-important thing; every living being is
an organism. Our society is an organism; it was formed largely to bring together into a
common focus the many scattered sparks of divine fire cherished in the hearts of individuals
powerless from their isolation. There are individuals who avail themselves of the benefits
rendered available by organizations, without desiring themselves to affiliate with such an
organization. They may have good and sufficient reasons which justly preponderate over
arguments on the other side: it is not for us to judge. Yet for those of us who see the joining
of an organization as being at once a privilege and a duty, the way seems sufficiently clear. It
is ours to promote the work of the body of which we are members, and to stand ever loyal
and true to our fellows and to those to whom we look up as leaders and inspirers.

WEBS OF DESTINY H. T. Edge

This title comes from a saying of H. P. Blavatsky: "From birth to death every man is weaving
destiny around himself, as a spider does his web." There is another well-known saying which
sums up the doctrine in a nutshell:
"Sow an act and you reap a habit; sow a habit and you reap a character; sow a character and
you reap a destiny." That means, leaving out the intermediate links, that our destiny springs
from our acts. Therefore, if man is responsible for his acts, he is responsible for his destiny.
Goethe recognises this when he makes Faust say: "Du, stolzes Herz, du hast es ja gewollt." "
'Tis thou, proud heart, 'tis thou hast willed it so." 'Tis a proud moment for a man when he can
rise up in his might and proclaim his own invincible soul. Then he ceases for a moment to
blame God or Fate or his parents or other people for the unpleasant things of life. For a
moment of illumination he realizes that he himself and he alone is the responsible person,
reaping the just consequences of his own acts. But we do not live continually in such an
atmosphere of exaltation, and for our more ordinary moments the consolations of philosophy
are not to be despised. And, lest anyone carp at the word philosophy, let me remind you that
each one of us has a philosophy of some kind or another, good, bad, or indifferent. If we don't
like the word, we can call it something else; but there it is; and if your philosophy satisfies
you, stick to it; but if not, seek a better.
It matters not what our religion or philosophy may be, we cannot get away from the fact that
here we are. Each one of us has to make the best of the situation in which he finds himself.
We may lean on props, but in the end we are driven back to our own resources, to whatever
strength we can find within ourselves. But in place of outworn theological dogmas and the
negations of materialistic philosophy, it is much better to have a philosophy which explains
and interprets the facts of life; which is what Theosophy does.
Nothing happens by accident; and chance is just a word which covers our ignorance. If we
cannot trace the cause of a thing, we say it happened by chance, but that is no explanation
it is just a convenient phrase. There was a time when men blamed God for epidemics, but
now we know they come from neglect of sanitation, and we do not blame God any more.
That is a feather in the cap of science, by the way. But we still go on blaming God or luck for
things that we cannot explain; who knows but later on we may find the right explanation for
these things too, and so blame them on to the right place our own shoulders?
We see people around us reaping harvests of sorrow, and likely enough we ourselves have
had our share. But then do we not see people sowing harvests of sorrow? Some people are
sowing the wind; others are reaping the whirlwind; some are doing their best to break
themselves up; others are laboring to put themselves together again. Some are ruining good
constitutions; others painfully striving to improve bad ones. Some are squandering; others
painfully gathering. And so on. Life is a mass of effects without visible causes, and of causes
without visible effects. But the reason why we so often fail to connect effect with cause is
that we take too narrow a view of the range of human life; we see but a small part of the
picture. Religious people say that in the eye of God all is just; but Theosophy says that in the
eye of man all may be recognised as just, if only that eye is fully opened. However, we must
not expect to leap at a bound from ignorance to knowledge, but must be content to move by
degrees. Theosophy is able to give quite a new picture of life which gives us confidence in
the universe and its laws in ourselves. The following is taken from an English translation of
one of the novels of Alexandre Dumas:
There is a moment in the affairs of every man which decides his future. This
moment, however important it may be, is rarely prepared by calculation or
directed by will. It is almost always chance which takes a man as the wind
does a leaf, and throws him into some new and unknown path, whence, once
entered, he is obliged to obey a superior force, and where, believing himself
free, he is but the slave of circumstances and the plaything of events.
Note it is chance that is said to determine our actions in a crisis; and we are the plaything
of circumstances and events. But chance is only a name for undiscerned causes, not a cause in
itself. There is no such thing as a mysterious power called chance which rules us; it is only a
word we use when we do not know the real cause. A man's decision in a crisis is determined
by the character which he has stored up by all his past thoughts and desires and acts. Such
moments are testing times, and our subsequent fate is thus decided by the total effect of our
life up to that time.
But what, you may ask, about the apparently casual circumstances that produce such
powerful effects in crises like these? Let us take an illustration. You turn down a side street
and there arrive just in time to meet somebody, whom a little earlier or a little later you would
have missed; and this meeting changes the whole course of your life. Or again, you meet with
a sudden accident, which cripples you for a longer or shorter period, and again alters your
life. Are such events casual? No, we cannot see the connexion, but it must be there; for there
can be no results without causes. But the explanation is quite simple: it is merely that we do
not know all the laws of nature; and consequently many things must happen which we cannot
explain. But this does not mean that we cannot know them or that we never shall know them.
We already know more than some of our ancestors did. It is only a question of more
knowledge when we shall be able to trace the causes of events which seem to us now to be
casual.
I admit that it is not easy to see what is the cause that decides a man to turn to the right or the
left, or that brings upon him sudden accident or bereavement or illness; but we know two
things: (1) that there must be a cause; (2) that there must be many causes which our present
faculties are unable to discern. Our faculties are either complete or incomplete: if the former,
we are all-wise, masters of wisdom; if the latter, there must be things we do not know.
Now let us take a glance at modern civilization and ask what have been our means of
knowledge. Religion has bid us rely on Providence, but has not gone into details; science has
concerned itself with the world of the bodily senses, and with sundry metaphysical
speculations as to what underlies it. So we can see that the reason why we understand so little
is that we have not studied. If we begin to study along these lines we shall know more; but we
neither can nor should expect to know the whole mystery at once. But every student who is
pursuing a course of study has to take some things provisionally on faith, knowing that,
though he cannot prove them now, he will be able to do so later on. If he objects to such a
procedure, he will have to remain ignorant.
In the meantime it makes an immense difference to our outlook on life if we can accept the
idea that the whole universe is pervaded by order, and that our own individual lives partake in
this universal order and harmony and justice. Our experiences in this life are conditioned by
our acts in this life or in an earlier life; but our actions are not determined, because man is
divine in his essence, and this fact gives him the power of regulating his own conduct. It
depends on man himself how he will confront the circumstances which his self-created
destiny has made for him.
We weave our destiny round ourselves by our thoughts. A thought is an act. It is a potent
energy, especially when accompanied by desire or any other emotion. It leaves us, and we do
not trace its subsequent history. Like enough, it will come home to roost; and thus habits are
engendered. And so on, as aforesaid, to character and destiny. But whence come the thoughts
which enter our mind? Have we ever stopped to inquire? Must they not come from a thought
atmosphere, into which all of us are sending thoughts, and from which we are all taking
thoughts? We dwell in a thought atmosphere like fish in water, and there is constant
intercourse. All our destiny is bound up with that of our fellows, for good or for ill. This is an
individualistic age, and people often make a great fuss about the possible effect of their own
actions upon themselves. But what about the effect of our actions on other people? This is
surely the most important point. If a study of the universal doctrine of consequences is merely
to focus each man's attention more strongly on his own personal interests, the great problem
of human welfare will only be intensified and not solved; for what we are suffering from is a
lack of the sense of solidarity and of our duty to others. As has been pointed out by H. P.
Blavatsky, no man can sin alone; so a knowledge of the truth deprives us of the excuse that
we can sin in secret and thus escape doing harm to our fellows. Our evil thoughts will poison
the atmosphere that others breathe; but correspondingly our noble thoughts will help others
through the invisible channels of communication.
Man passes through many deaths and rebirths, but the life of the real man within is
continuous through all these changes of the outer man. Consequently the character and
destiny which we create for ourselves persist throughout and the chain of cause and effect is
continued past the gates of death and rebirth. As the law of analogy is true throughout the
universe, we can compare man with a seed. This seed generates a plant, the plant lives and
dies; but it produces more seeds which perpetuate its essence, so that other plants of the same
kind are produced. When we die, we die down, as it were, like a plant that withers; but there
is no ultimate death; for there is regeneration from the germ that is preserved. At death we
cast off our outer garments, one by one; and at rebirth we rebuild for ourselves new garments;
but the character we have made for ourselves has been preserved latent in the germ and will
be reconstituted. Thus each child born on earth has his own individual character, which
unfolds itself as he grows, taking its materials from his parentage and his surroundings, just
as a growing plant takes its materials from soil and air.
If we can grasp these teachings as to the reign of just and unerring law throughout the
universe; if we can realize that every man is in his essence divine; we shall be able to acquire
a new sense both of our power and of our responsibility, and shall no longer be content to
drift along waiting for some outside power to do our work for us, or trying to escape the
burden of thought by absorbing ourselves in external distractions.

WHAT IS "LIFE"? H. T. Edge

Materialistic philosophy starts by supposing that things are dead, and then has to invent a lifeprinciple to explain how they come to be alive. But what this life-principle is, and where it
came from, they cannot tell us. Ultramaterialistic science declared that the whole universe is
made of inert particles of physical matter; and to account for the activities of these particles,
it postulated something called "energy." Matter and energy were the twin uncreated and
indestructible rudiments of all things. But if this energy is not material, what is it? Science
did not allow of anything non-material in the universe. And so the "energy" of science is
defined as a function of matter in motion; energy and force are made out to be effects
occurring in matter, not the causes of motion in matter.
It is little wonder that such an illogical theory did not satisfy some minds; and so there arose a
school of Vitalists. Vitalism is the theory that the phenomena of organic life cannot be
explained by the properties of physical matter alone, and that consequently they must be due
to some vital principle of a non-physical nature. Attempts to define such a principle have
been vague and various. If it is spirit, what can spirit be, apart from matter? Or how can spirit
act on matter? Perhaps the vital principle is another kind of matter an aether, a fluid. But
the difficulty encountered by the vitalists is not peculiar to the so-called organic kingdoms of
nature; it is fundamental in the entire materialistic philosophy. It has long been known to
intelligent reasoners that there can be no such thing as an inert particle of matter; nor can
there be such a thing as an immaterial force. And both these truths have now been proved by
actual observation. The universe consists of living beings, whose activities, expressed
collectively, may be called "life." The term "matter" has been applied to the static aspect of
this life; the terms "force" and "energy," to the dynamic aspect. And why should a distinction
be drawn between "organic" and "inorganic" beings? Why should animals and plants be
called alive, and minerals dead? If the vitalists require a vital principle for plants and animals,
they should require it equally for the mineral kingdom. But, as said, there is no need to
postulate such a principle in either case. The dead matter and the force of materialistic
science are highly metaphysical abstractions. The minute analysis to which we are now able
to subject physical matter has revealed no such thing as inert material particles. What is
revealed is a living something, that cannot be called force or matter, and yet is both; a
something that may be called streams of electrons, electric charges in motion, light,
electricity, etc. What is this but the universal Prana, in its physical manifestation? For this
Prana is not a disembodied spirit but a stream or ocean of life-atoms, that is living beings.

WHO AM I? H. T. Edge
Enquirers seeking light on their problems, and attending Theosophical meetings, may
sometimes be deterred by the use of technical language and set forms of speaking; whereas it
may be possible to convey the same ideas in simple ordinary terms and by an appeal to
common experience.
Take the case of higher self and lower self for instance. This is merely the expression, in
technical Theosophical language, of a fact of common experience. We all know, to our own
anxious concern, of the existence of these two contrasted elements in our own make-up. We
have to deal with this mysterious human machine in whose workings we find ourselves
involved; but we need somebody to explain the mechanism, the wiring, the switches, etc., so
as to be able to make sense of it and handle it to some useful purpose. Perhaps we have tried
religion, or science, or psycho-analysis, or what not, and failed to find satisfaction; and we
have hoped to find it in Theosophy. We have been scared off perhaps by technical language.
But the essential point is quite simple. Religion offers a God who is outside of man and
outside of the universe; science and psychology are too materialistic: they study the machine
but not the power that runs it. Theosophy tells us that man is essentially divine; that he is a
spark of divinity encased in a fleshly tabernacle.
Theosophy teaches a belief in man's eternal immortal nature.
Our first duty is to keep alive in man his spiritual intuitions.
Let once man's immortal spirit take possession of the temple of his body, and
his own divine humanity will redeem him.
Our Higher Self is a poor pilgrim on his way to regain that which he has lost.
There in a few words from H. P. Blavatsky, you have it in a nutshell. Our nature is dual,
twofold, compact of warring elements. Religion tells us that man was created in the image of
God, but the doctrine has been allowed to degenerate into a mere form of words and its
sublime truth has been lost sight of.
But, leaving religion and science and psychology alone, let us appeal to actual experience.
You want to make sense of your own life: try this idea that man is essentially, first and
foremost and all the time, a divine being, and see how this works. The Theosophical doctrine
of Evolution shows that man began as a spiritual being, and descended into material earthly
life, and is now on the way up again towards the place of his origin. In fact, what we have to
do is to realize our divine nature.
It is because of this divine spark that man can never never find satisfaction in the gratification
of personal desires. His lower nature pulls him one way, his higher nature another. Here is
your problem in a nutshell.
But who am I? you will ask. These two natures, the higher and the lower self, cannot be two
separate beings. Well, again we appeal to experience: you are a self-conscious mind,
endowed with freewill, the power of choice. If I should try to formulate this in words, I
should fail, and mix you up as well as myself; so I will not try; I will just leave you to feel it
and know it as a truth that cannot be denied or explained away. So the practical point is that
you are to get busy and set this mysterious power of freewill to work at unifying yourself.
This contest between the higher and lower nature is to be resolved by teaching the lower to
recognise the higher as its master.
Your personal will is continually frustrated but by what? God, Fate, Chance? No, but by
your spiritual Will; by your spiritual intuition, which knows better than you do what is good
for you. What religion calls the will of God is actually so; but not the will of an outside God.
It is your own will, your Spiritual Will, the voice of your own better self, of your own divine
nature.
Try this as a working hypothesis, and if you find it makes sense of your problems, then look
into other Theosophical teachings for additional light.


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